“We’re going to change all that,” said Max. “Soon.”

  “Very soon,” said Tisa, gently reminding Max, once again, of their deadline.

  “Solar panels are on their way,” said Vihaan.

  Patrick’s son, Emmanuel, who was maybe a year or two younger than Max, offered to show the CMI kids around the village.

  “We all work in the mines,” he said. “My whole body aches every day. Others have it worse. Many of the miners are younger than me. We dig tunnels by hand.”

  “Do you wear masks and gloves?” asked Annika.

  “No,” answered Emmanuel. “We breathe in the dust. Many have mysterious illnesses.”

  “Well,” said Max, “let’s hope bringing electricity into your village will be a first step toward changing all that.”

  “The second step will be shifting to a new economic model,” said Tisa.

  Emmanuel smiled. “You mean some other way to make money?”

  “Exactly!”

  Max and her team set up camp in a small circle of tents on the outskirts of the village.

  They spent their first day finalizing plans for the solar panel installation as well as the wiring of five homes. That night, they ate some of the local specialties, including grasshoppers and caterpillars.

  “We are so far ahead of you,” joked Emmanuel. “Insects are a very cheap and tasty form of protein. Much less expensive than cows. It is, as you say, a new economic model.”

  Max liked Emmanuel. He was smart. She wasn’t crazy about this “new source of protein,” though. She preferred peanut butter. (Even though the bugs did taste kind of nutty.)

  On the second day, Tisa, the chemist, helped the team set up a small lab in a tent.

  “We might need to do some chemistry before we’re done here,” she said. For Tisa, a day wasn’t complete without at least one science experiment.

  Charl and Isabl spent their first days patrolling the countryside, gathering whatever intelligence they could on the bands of marauding outlaws rumored to be roaming through the region.

  On the third day in Kasombumba, Klaus finally arrived with a small convoy of light trucks.

  He’d brought his own security detail.

  Yahav from Shabak. The Israeli agent Max trusted just about as much as she trusted Klaus.

  Which wasn’t very much.

  47

  “Yahav?” said Charl. “What are you doing here?”

  Charl and Isabl were in camp to greet the arrival of the supply convoy.

  Yahav had an automatic weapon slung over his shoulder.

  “This is a dangerous hot spot, sir,” said Yahav. “Vehicle thefts, burglaries, armed robberies, kidnapping. No way was the benefactor going to allow young Klaus to come into the Congo unprotected. I volunteered for the detail. I’m not the type who can sit behind a desk all day. It made my butt ache.”

  Klaus giggled when Yahav said the word “butt.”

  Of course, thought Max.

  “Where are the solar panels?” asked Annika, who, like all the others, was eager to start doing what they came to Africa to do.

  “In the cargo hold,” said Klaus, strutting like a peacock to the back of one of the small box trucks. “Give me a hand here, Yahav.”

  “Yes, sir, Klaus.”

  Interesting, thought Max. One of the growns is calling Klaus “sir,” now. His brown-nosing campaign back in Jerusalem seemed to be paying off.

  They worked open the rear doors.

  “Here you go, ladies and gentlemen,” announced Klaus. “Check it out. A half dozen, three-thousand-watt solar panel kits—that’s six packages of twelve panels each. Perfect for all your off-grid power needs. Want to supply electricity to a business office or whole house or even a garment-making startup in the third world? These solar kits include everything you need—panels, batteries, chargers, wiring, the works—all bundled for your convenience. All you add is the sunshine.”

  “Dude?” said Keeto. “You sound like a used car salesman.”

  “Maybe that’s why I was able to work out such a sweet deal on all this gear.”

  “Sweet deal?” said Max. “I thought we were working with an NGO. A nonprofit group…”

  “Their prices were too high,” said Klaus.

  “They were going to charge us?” said Keeto. “I thought they were a nonprofit, which, hello, means they don’t make money.”

  “SEE was going to give us the panels ‘at cost,’” Klaus explained. “But their kits were still quite pricey. So, I shopped around a little. Why? Because I love a bargain. Plus, the less each installation costs us, the more we can do.”

  Annika nodded. “You make a valid point.”

  “I know,” said Klaus. “I’m a genius, remember?”

  “Cheaper is always better,” said Klaus.

  Max wasn’t sure she agreed. Besides, the benefactor was a bazillionaire. They didn’t need to shop around for bargains. But, once again, she’d keep her feelings to herself.

  What was the alternative?

  Wait for a delayed shipment from SEE and pray that the more expensive panels made it past all the security checkpoints—real and fake? That they didn’t get hijacked by a band of marauding land pirates?

  Bringing electricity to the village ASAP was Max’s top priority. Being mad at Klaus would have to wait.

  Well, it would have to wait for Max but not Siobhan. She had what everybody called a short fuse and Klaus sure made it sizzle.

  “Have you gone absolutely bonkers, you dense fool eejit?” she shouted at Klaus, her face turning pink with rage. “We’ve come all this way and you bring us inferior solar panels?”

  “They’re not inferior,” Klaus shouted back. “They’re just inexpensive.”

  “Don’t these people deserve the best?”

  “Just because you pay more doesn’t mean you get more.”

  “Oh, stick a manky sausage in your ear, Klaus. I wish someone would invent a robot to kick you in your backside because your backside definitely needs kicking. You made a right bags of this, Klaus! You botched it!”

  “You guys?” Max said, holding up both hands. “We’ll work with what Klaus brought us. No matter how bad his solar panels are, they have to be better than burning dung.”

  “They already smell better,” joked Keeto. “Even if we can’t say the same for Klaus.”

  “Hey, it was a long, hot ride,” said Klaus. “That truck doesn’t have air-conditioning.”

  Everybody laughed.

  The tension was released.

  Max breathed a sigh of relief.

  She only wished she could crack jokes like Keeto or get red-faced mad like Siobhan.

  Human interactions. Human emotions.

  She still had a lot of work to do in those departments.

  48

  The next morning, Max prepared to lead the team through the installation of the first solar panels.

  Emmanuel and a few of the local kids were there to help.

  “We are very good workers,” he said cheerfully. “Especially when it comes to helping our families and friends.”

  “Great,” said Max. “We’ll start with your house. After all, your father led the group that requested assistance from the CMI.”

  Emmanuel shook his head. “No. Father and I discussed this. We would like to start with Ms. Dayana’s home. She knows some medicine. She helps others. She should have the first electricity.”

  Max nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Emmanuel led the way to the house, which was, more or less, a shack with mud-plastered wooden walls. Working together, the team hoisted the first few solar panels up to the corrugated metal roof of the house.

  “Watch where you step, guys,” said Keeto. “This metal is pretty thin. Like baked-bean-can thin.”

  “We need to have the panels facing true north,” said Toma.

  “No,” said Klaus, flapping a thin sheet of paper. “The instructions say ‘true south.’”

  “Because,” explained Toma, “the instructions were written in the northern hemisphere. This region of the Democratic Republic of the Congo is in the southern hemisphere. Everything gets flipped.”

  “Fine,” said Klaus. “Aim them to the north. But the tilt of the panels needs to be equal to our latitude, plus 15 degrees in winter, or minus 15 degrees in summer.”

  “It’s summer here,” said Hana.

  “So we need to go with twenty-six point six-eight-seven-six degrees tilt,” said Vihaan, the math wiz.

  Klaus rolled his eyes. “Can we just call it twenty-seven degrees?”

  “I suppose,” said Vihaan. “However, I, and most quantum physicists, consider precision to be a virtue.”

  “We’ll call it twenty-seven,” said Max, taking charge, because that was her job.

  Geniuses can be tough to corral, she figured. She knew she definitely was.

  It took nearly six hours to install and wire the array of 240-watt panels on the roof. While the team and the local kids worked, Vihaan tried to explain the quantum physics behind capturing electricity from the sun to Emmanuel, who was super inquisitive.

  “It’s a manipulation of atoms,” said Vihaan. “It starts with sunlight because, as Dr. Einstein first suggested, a sunbeam isn’t a wave wiggling through space. It’s a collection of wave packets, each with energy. He called those chunks of energy photoelectrons, which somebody shortened to photons.”

  “Cool,” said Emmanuel.

  “Very,” said Vihaan. “So, when these photons pass through the silicon wafers of a solar panel, their electrons get knocked loose. If we free an electron from an atom and force it to move, we create electricity. Knock enough loose and, pretty soon, you can power all the lights in Ms. Dayana’s home.”

  “We can also power a bunch of sewing machines,” added Tisa. “If we get the job done on time.”

  “We will,” said Keeto. “Don’t worry. We’ve got this. Right, Max?”

  Max nodded. But inside, she was still thinking, I sure hope so.

  “You guys are so smart,” said Emmanuel, standing up to wipe his brow. “Working with you is better than school.” He was smiling broadly.

  Until he wasn’t.

  “Uh-oh.” He saw something off in the distance.

  Max stood up and looked to where Emmanuel was looking.

  A group of six Congolese men toting rifles, with ammunition belts draped across their chests, sauntered into the village. Their faces were masked by bandanas. They were escorting a shorter man whose eyes were cloaked by sunglasses. The shorter man wore a safari vest and a wide-brimmed sun hat. He didn’t carry any weapons. He didn’t need to. His small personal army had brought more than enough firepower.

  “That is Mr. Weber,” whispered Emmanuel. “He is a manager at the mine.”

  “Where are Charl and Isabl?” muttered Klaus.

  “On a reconnaissance mission,” admitted Max. “Up in the hills. Searching for bad guys.”

  “Well, they should’ve stayed here,” said Klaus. “Because the bad guys just walked into town.”

  “Where’s your security detail?” Max asked Klaus. “Where’s Yahav?”

  “I don’t know…”

  The heavily armed men marched up to the home where Emmanuel, his friends from the village, and the CMI were working on the roof.

  Klaus pressed a button on his chest that was wired to a high-tech earpiece.

  “What’s that?” asked Siobhan.

  “Yahav gave it to me. I’m wired for sound. If I need help, I’m supposed to call him.”

  “So, call him, you dense fool eejit!”

  “Hello? Yahav?” Klaus kept thumping the control switch. “Hello? Mayday, Mayday.”

  No one replied.

  49

  “Why are those children up on that roof when they should be down in my mines?” snarled the manager.

  “We are building our future!” shouted Emmanuel, defiantly.

  “You foreigners should leave,” said the masked leader of the armed troops, pointing his rifle at Max and her team. “These children do not need to dream foolish dreams about the future. They need to go to work. They need to earn money for their families. You others need to go back to wherever it is you came from.”

  Max mustered as much courage as she could.

  “We’re not going anywhere, sir,” she said.

  “At least not until our job here is done,” added the fiery Siobhan.

  “Your job here is done!” shouted the soldier. “Leave!”

  “No,” said Tisa. “We’re just getting started. We have big plans for this village. Electricity is just the beginning!”

  “You’re a girl,” said the masked man. “How dare you even speak to me?”

  “I’m not afraid of you,” said Tisa.

  “Me, neither,” said Emmanuel. “Not anymore.”

  One soldier racked his rifle and aimed it at Emmanuel. Another aimed his weapon at Tisa. Max wasn’t exactly sure why, but she stepped forward and stood in front of them both. Tisa grabbed her hand and squeezed it, stepping beside Max to shield Emmanuel.

  “Work in the mines or die!” the gang leader commanded.

  Things were about to get ugly.

  That’s when the cavalry came charging down the hill and into the village square. Actually, it was Charl and Isabl. Their Land Rover bounded over the rocky Mars-scape, kicking up a cloud of red dust and fishtailing to a stop. Isabl, the maniac driver, was behind the wheel. Charl was behind a major automatic weapon that looked to be three times nastier than any of the ones being carried by the warrior bandits.

  “What seems to be the problem, Mr. Kabila?” asked Charl, coolly.

  Apparently, he and Isabl had done their research and knew who they were up against.

  “These children need to be working in the mines,” replied the warlord.

  “Not today,” said Charl. “Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not next week, either.”

  Kabila didn’t like that. Max could see his jaw joint popping in and out of his cheek. He was about to raise his rifle and aim it at Charl.

  “Wait!” said the mine manager. He was touching a Bluetooth earpiece. Max sensed that somebody back at the mines was monitoring the situation and giving the manager new orders.

  “We’re supposed to leave,” Weber reported. “Immediately.”

  “You heard your boss,” said Charl. “Leave.”

  “But the girl insulted me!” the warlord shouted at the mine manager.

  “Now, Mr. Kabila!” the manager shouted back. “We have our orders.”

  The small army of mercenaries reluctantly lowered their weapons.

  Mr. Kabila looked up at Max and Tisa, who were still shielding Emmanuel. “We will meet again, little girls. Soon.”

  “Looking forward to it, sir,” Max said cheerfully, even though her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it wanted to break through her ribcage.

  The intruders slowly turned their backs on Ms. Dayana’s house and slipped out of the village almost as quickly and quietly as they had arrived.

  50

  Dr. Zimm stood in the mining company office, shaking his head.

  “This situation requires a little more finesse, Mr. Weber,” he said into a microphone. “This is much, much bigger than rounding up child labor for your cobalt operations. Return to base immediately.”

  “You heard him,” echoed a senior executive who was also a member of the Corp’s governing board. “Leave those children alone. Come back here, immediately!”

  Dr. Zimm and the high-ranking official were watching the scene unfolding in the nearby village on a video monitor. It was receiving its signal from the tiny camera embedded in the mine manager’s sunglasses frame. The device was also providing some of the sound they were hearing. The rest was coming from the microphone dangling from the boy named Klaus’s earpiece.

  Yahav had given the special forces communications device to Klaus for use in emergencies. He failed to mention that the microphone would remain open at all times, whether Klaus was calling for help or not. This was how Dr. Zimm knew Klaus talked in his sleep.

  The listening device was working even better than the tracking device that Yahav had planted in the solar-powered Einstein toy, which had perfectly pinpointed Max’s location.

  “I better return to the village,” said Yahav, who was in the mining company’s air-conditioned office, sipping tea with Dr. Zimm and the executive. “Klaus will wonder why I didn’t respond to his distress call.”

  “And, if I may, why didn’t you?” asked Dr. Zimm. “Do you have a plausible alibi?”

  “Sure,” Yahav said with a shrug. “Spotty reception. I was up in the hills doing a reconnaissance mission, just like Charl and Isabl.”

  “We need to detain those two,” said Zimm. “They keep protecting the girl.”

  “We will,” said Yahav. “But I’m assuming the girl is still your top priority?”

  Dr. Zimm nodded, grudgingly. “Of course.”

  “Then she will remain my top priority, too,” said Yahav. “But maybe next time, we’ll figure out a way to make certain Charl and Isabl stay out of the picture.”

  “Yes,” said Dr. Zimm. “Make it so.”

  “By the way, it was a pleasure finally meeting you, face to face.”

  He held out his hand.

  Dr. Zimm’s skeletal smile widened. “And, I assume, it will also be a pleasure to pick up your pay in person?”

  “I hate all those banking fees, how about you?”

  Dr. Zimm handed Yahav an envelope thick with cash.

  “Let me know when you’re ready to pounce,” said Yahav, tucking the bundle of money into his cargo pants. “I’ll help coordinate ideal conditions for a snatch and grab. Once you have the girl, I’ll work with some local mercenaries I know to permanently remove Charl and Isabl from the equation. I’m sure they’d enjoy an all-expenses-paid vacation to Siberia.”

  “Excellent. Stand by for operational details. We’ll try again soon.”

  Yahav saluted and left the room.

  When he was gone, the mining executive turned to Dr. Zimm. “How certain are you that this girl can guide us to the revolutionary new computer we desire?”