“Of course you wouldn’t,” agreed Sam. “In fact, it seems like you and I have been blaming ourselves for much too long when in truth only Faraday and the men who carried out the attack were the ones who were actually guilty.”
“I only wish I had the means to find them,” hissed Ekon ruefully. “All of them deserve to die for what they did. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth - and even that would not be a fitting enough punishment.”
“You mean that?” Sam asked, a little taken aback.
“I do,” replied Ekon, with absolute certainty. “Every word. I could go to my grave a happy man if I knew those animals suffered even a little of what they put my girl through - and as for Faraday himself, I would dearly love to wipe that smug grin off his face once and for all.”
Sam considered the man before him for a moment, assessing what he had just heard.
It had certainly not been his intention to reveal the path of retribution he had been on for the past eleven years, believing it would surely horrify a highly principled man such Ekon Sekibo. He might even think the things he had done to be against God’s will.
Now, however, he thought it might offer him a modicum of comfort.
As he pondered this, Ekon spoke again, his expression most sincere. “They deserve the only justice that befits their crime,” he said. “They deserve to die.”
Sam looked at him, reassured by his wisdom.
“In that case,” he replied, “I think you might be interested in what I’ve got to tell you.”
***
Ekon listened intently, totally absorbed by Sam’s amazing tale, greeting the death of each of Claudette’s killers with a smirk of deep satisfaction.
When at last Sam had finished, Ekon’s eyes were teary again and he shook his head in astonished wonder.
“To my eternal shame,” he said, “I have misjudged you twice, my friend. Once when Claudette assured me of your strength of character and a second time when I believed you to have been beaten by the dreadful things that happened on that fateful day.”
Sam smiled. “I was beaten,” he said. “Claudette was my whole world and I loved her with all my heart. But those things that I saw - that those men did, it made me angry. More angry than I’d ever been in my life and that same rage has lasted for eleven years. Now, though, it’s almost spent and there’s only one thing left to do before it’s exhausted completely.”
“Faraday?” Ekon queried.
“Yes,” replied Sam. “Faraday. Then I will be done.”
Ekon looked at him with a mixture of immense pride and admiration. What a wonderful son-in-law he would have made. What a perfect husband.
He wanted to embrace him again, to thank him for what he had done but instead he held out his hand. “Will you let me help you?”
Sam grasped his hand and shook it firmly. “It would be an honour,” he said.
***
A short time later, Miri and Vas joined Sam and Ekon. Then, together with the rest of the Sekibo family they all had a wonderful time getting properly acquainted.
Ekon, remembered Miri and Vas from the funeral and apologised for not being more friendly - or being more appreciative that they had made the journey from England especially to pay their respects. However, he explained that it had been a particularly traumatic time - not only in light of Claudette’s death but also because the safety of his other three daughters had still been under threat.
Yet Miri and Vas completely understood.
In the late afternoon, Ekon and his three guests walked the half mile or so to the large cemetery in which Claudette was buried.
Standing over her grave it was a very solemn affair as Sam, Miri and Vas all said a last goodbye to the beautiful Nigerien girl they had all loved.
When finally they turned to leave, Ekon drew Sam aside and nodded to Miriam who was walking a few paces in front with Vasily.
“You and she are together now, yes?” He asked.
Sam turned to look at him, aware that Miri was within earshot. “We are, yes,” he said. “When this is all over, when we are done with Faraday, we’re going to get married.”
Ekon Sekibo grinned warmly. “Good,” he said, “I thought as much. You’ll make a fine, happy couple I’m certain of it.” He then pulled Sam close and wrapped a fatherly arm around his shoulders, “I know you don’t require it,” he added, “but you have my blessing - and I’m sure Claudette’s, too.”
Upon hearing his words Miri felt a surge of emotion.
She had never really been in any doubt, knowing her as well as she did, but it felt reassuring to hear that her best friend would have approved.
As for Sam, Ekon’s blessing meant that he could finally move on.
Chapter Fifty-One
London, England, one month later.
Quentin Faraday sat in a plush leather office chair beside a walnut writing desk in the bedroom of his luxurious hotel suite.
Wearing nothing but a white towelling bath robe, he was sipping a fine malt whiskey from an antique crystal tumbler as he watched two nubile girls cavorting on his bed.
He had brought them both with him from South Africa along with three more from his Johannesburg stable. The five of them, together with another girl he had recently procured from a specialist source in Amsterdam, were there to please his investors after the presentation later; a further little sweetener from him to ensure their complete satisfaction.
None of the five girls meant anything two him anymore. They had served their purpose, satisfied him for a time, but now he had grown weary of them.
They were under the impression that Faraday had flown them to London as a treat, thinking themselves to be his favourites, and had no idea that they would not actually be returning to South Africa with him at all.
In fact, after they had done what was required of them that evening, three of them would be sold into slavery, another was going to the private harem of a Libyan arms dealer and the fifth would be a gift to appease one of Faraday’s most disgruntled backers who had a thirst for human sacrifice.
Indeed, even though Faraday was feeling extremely pleased with himself for meeting the deadline set, he still had some way to go to get his investors back on side fully. The announcement of the completed building later would undoubtedly help significantly with that but a little more good faith would not go amiss.
There was no denying it, the unscrupulous people he had chosen to get in bed with were extremely violent, immoral men and they had been very aggrieved indeed by the constant delays in construction. Furthermore, it was only by using all of his powers of persuasion, every ounce of his guile and the natural business smarts he had been born with, that had convinced them to give him one last chance.
He was fortunate that they had done so. Luckier still that he had escaped with his life - but it had been a tight run thing.
The project had been the most stressful undertaking of his life and had been the cause of a great many sleepless nights; the threat of violence in the event of failure a constant motivation.
But at last he had done it.
He had been victorious and at the presentation later he was fully intending to bask in the glory of his success; his investors surely seeing that they never should have doubted him.
Nevertheless, in the unlikely event of any residual animosity, he aimed to ply them with champagne, stuff them with caviar and give them free reign to do whatever they wanted with the women he had brought with him.
However, one of the men invited had a taste for something decidedly more innocent so Faraday had personally sourced a fresh young virgin for him to play with.
The girl was currently being prepared in the adjoining room and would be brought through imminently for Quentin’s inspection.
The two women enjoying each other on the bed were merely a temporary distraction while he waited.
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After spending so many months in the desert, he had missed his little pleasures and before flying to London had taken a much needed break back at his ranch in Johannesburg to unwind and indulge himself as he prepared for the most pressurised and important presentation of his life.
Even though he had met the appointed deadline and delivered on all he had promised he still had a niggling sense of unease, knowing that the men he was dealing with were unprincipled tyrants with volatile, unpredictable personalities, so he had to tread carefully.
Yet, with the building completed, he was riding a wave of euphoria and his supreme self-confidence would not let him believe that the presentation would be anything other than an absolute triumph.
Faraday was now sixty-three years old but still in good shape. His cruelly handsome face and muscular forearms were dark brown from exposure to the blazing climate of the Ténéré desert whilst the rest of him, forever shielded from the harmful rays of the sun, was starkly pale in comparison.
Now, however, his trim, six-foot frame was lounging casually in the leather chair, his robe gaping wide. Suddenly, the door to the adjoining room finally opened and the three other women, whom he had brought with him from South Africa, led out the young girl they had been making ready for his examination.
The older three were all wearing expensive lingerie that left little to the imagination whilst the younger one was completely naked.
All four of them came and stood directly in front of their master, immediately to be joined by the two who had been pleasuring each other on the bed.
Faraday smiled approvingly as he regarded the freshly prepared virgin before him.
He knew her to be eighteen but with the right make-up and a favourable light, she could pass for significantly younger.
She had waist length blonde hair, small breasts and a boyish figure, although her legs were long and graceful.
Her pretty face had a sweetly naive quality with heart shaped lips and cheeks that had seen just the merest touch of rouge.
Yet her large blue eyes were completely vacant; the drug that had been administered making her completely malleable yet numb to any emotion.
Faraday appraised her, as if he would a prize racehorse or a nice, tender steak in a butcher’s shop, and he liked what he saw. He had sourced her well and his investor would be more than satisfied with his choice.
However, even under such intense scrutiny her face remained blank, completely void of emotion as if in some sort of trance.
“You’ve given her too much,” Faraday snapped, voicing his irritation, “make sure she’s more responsive tonight.”
“Yes, of course,” said one of the older girl’s obediently, taking the virgin by the hand to lead her away.
“Wait!” Faraday demanded. “Did I say you should leave?”
The older girl bowed her head and let go of the younger one’s hand, suitably admonished. Indeed, she had experienced Faraday’s displeasure before and knew better than to provoke it again; the memories she had of her days in the sweat box with a bucket of her own shit for company still vivid in her mind.
Yet Faraday was too focussed on the virgin to dwell on the error, the idea of the girl’s plump red lips upon him too tantalising a thought to ignore.
“Let’s see what she can do with this,” he said, opening his robe to expose his nakedness as he settled back comfortably in the chair. “The rest of you - show her what to do.”
The five more experienced girls then pushed the virgin down onto her knees and set about instructing her on how best to pleasure a man.
Faraday merely smiled, enjoying their ministrations as he contemplated his triumphant night ahead.
***
New York, New York.
Marcus Ellison was standing behind the technician in one of Beresford Industries’ many state-of-the-art video editing suites located at their World Media Centre on Madison Avenue.
He was waiting patiently in the dark, soundproof room, adjusting his green paisley bow tie for the umpteenth time as he waited patiently for the satellite feed to come online.
Once it did, they would only have only a very small window of opportunity, so precise coordination with all parties was absolutely essential.
Yet in order to complete his part successfully, Marcus first had to hope other elements beyond his control went smoothly.
Indeed he, like everyone else involved, was well aware that each piece of the puzzle must fall neatly into place if they had any hope of creating the impact required.
It was a one shot deal and Marcus was determined to uphold his end of it.
He would not let Sam down.
***
Ténéré Desert, Niger.
They were embedded on the escarpment, so well camouflaged that someone could stand directly beside them without even knowing they were there.
For almost two days they had been secretly observing the site, monitoring the comings and goings and the changes of the shift; just watching and waiting and gathering intel.
The gleaming new facility, cleverly disguised as a water purification plant, sat deep within the Ténéré desert region of the vast Sahara, hidden away from the eyes of the world.
Indeed, it had taken Mikhail and Pyotr nearly a month to find it.
They had flown to Niger with Sam, Miri and Vas, but instead of going with them to Ekon Sekibo’s house in Niamey, they had set off into the desert with a guide and a translator on a mission to find Faraday’s construction site.
They had spent the next few weeks travelling from village to village, talking to the indigenous tribes scattered across the barren terrain, trying to glean tiny snippets of information that might finally lead them to the place they sought.
In doing so, they collated an image of an infamously slave-like work environment where a great many people had suffered and died under the brutal yoke of the site’s ruthlessly unscrupulous developers.
It had gained a reputation as somewhere to be avoided; the fear of being pressed into service by the cruel regime in charge a very real possibility.
In fact, word amongst the various desert tribes had it that those in charge of the construction were hellbent on finishing it regardless of how many workers were harmed in the process.
Nonetheless, Mikhail and Pyotr had pushed on with their search and their persistence had finally paid off.
Furthermore, having surveilled the place for many swelteringly hot hours, they were now back in position on the escarpment after their successful mission the night before.
Using wire cutters on the recently erected perimeter fence, they had entered the site, swiftly and silently setting about the highly dangerous task Sam had given them.
Yet they were more than up to the challenge. Indeed, they had covered their tracks well, leaving no visible trace of the incursion; the split in the fence expertly clipped back into position so as not to arouse suspicion.
Now all they could do was wait.
So, heavily camouflaged and their bodies covered almost completely with sand, Mikhail and Pyotr did exactly that; the lenses of their powerful, night-vision binoculars trained on the newly completed building beyond.
As night fell once more over the escarpment, Mikhail glanced at the luminous face of his Russian military issue watch, noting the hour hand steadily approaching the designated time.
Niger was on the same time zone as the U.K. so he knew that darkness would be descending there, too, and he smiled with satisfaction.
Not long now.
***
The Dorchester Hotel, London.
Spartak was surrounded by cables; his bleached yellow mohawk wet with sweat after squeezing his stocky frame into the tight crawl space beneath the dais. Now he was wedged with his back against the wall, his head scraping the low ceiling and his knees pushed up beneath him.
&nbs
p; It was pitch black, with only the screen of his laptop and the small pen-torch he was clutching between teeth offering any illumination.
He was wearing an earpiece with a mic attached; his tattooed hands tapping away busily on the keyboard in an effort to keep his mind off the claustrophobic conditions as he waited for the signal.
He had been in St. Petersburg two days earlier, working on something completely unrelated when he received the order from Vladimir Voronin himself, sending him to London for the second time in twelve months, on a mission of vital importance.
Failure, he had said, was not an option.
***
Quentin Faraday was feeling particularly smug as he rode the elevator down to the ground floor.
He looked the epitome of success in a beautifully tailored herringbone suit which he had matched with a pale blue shirt and bright azure tie; the whole ensemble complimenting his tanned face and steel grey hair.
The World Energy Conference, which had finished earlier that evening, had been a great success and points raised throughout had served to increase Q-Core’s legitimate status within the global market.
Moreover, with proposals announced to further tighten restrictions surrounding the sale of uranium ore and, more specifically, highly enriched, weapons grade uranium, it had also significantly strengthened his position with his wholly illegitimate investors.
Indeed, if he played things right, he might even be able to squeeze them for a few more million. After all, if the conference had proven anything, it was that they now needed him much more than he did them, regardless of how incensed they might be at his handling of things.
Upon exiting the elevator, he was supremely self-assured as he strode purposely through the lobby; his bearing that of a man with the world at his feet.
And very soon he confidently predicted it would be.
He skipped lightly up the short flight of stairs to the mezzanine floor above the bar which led to the small event room, with views over Hyde Park, that he had booked especially for the occasion; knowing his guests were waiting for him inside.
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