Avi muttered something under his breath — Benny was pretty sure it featured “stupid Americans” with some other choice words

Benny was checking on the sleeping kids, making sure everything was in order before he’d start winding down for the night, when his phone rang. It was Avi.

“They found him,” he said tersely. “Cornered him after Arvit. I know these guys, I dealt with them before. I made sure they didn’t touch him, but I have to tell you that they’re not gonna give up on their money. They were expecting to make a nice profit off your bochur, and now they lost out instead. You want to keep him safe and his kneecaps in good shape, make sure they get their money.”

Benny clutched the edge of Momo’s fuzzy blanket, then let it go. “How much?” he whispered, as he backed out of the room. The last thing he needed right now was a crying kid.

“Talk to him, he’ll tell you,” Avi said. “He’s pretty scared. And then call me back and let me know when pickup time is. I’ll be there to make sure they don’t leave any marks on him.”

“Wait,” Benny said. “I have the suitcase. With the khat. Is that what they want? Because I have it.”

“Idiot, why didn’t you tell me?”

Benny shrank from Avi’s anger.

“I—I don’t know,” he managed, “so much was going on.”

Avi muttered something under his breath — Benny was pretty sure it featured “stupid Americans” with some other choice words. But when he spoke aloud, his voice was serene. “No worries, I’ll come get it now. I think it will be very helpful, actually. They’ll want the suitcase back, I’ll have some demands for them. We can negotiate.”

“Okay,” Benny said. He hung up. Then he quietly went back into the kids’ room and pulled the suitcase out from under Momo’s crib.

“I need to bring this downstairs,” he told Tziporah, who was putting the last batch of challah into the oven. “Someone’s coming to pick it up.”