by Ponzo, Gary
Kayo had introduced the sniper and the driver to Justin. They were local contacts that the CIS used on special operations like this one. They were independent contractors, and as such, their loyalty came with a price. This was not their first engagement for the CIS, and all prior operations had ended up with a successful outcome. But it was the first time their mission had resulted in a failure.
And my mission as well, Justin thought, then quickly shook his head and dismissed that gloomy thought. This is not a failure, he told himself. It’s a step back, before we reassess the situation, regroup, and resume the rescue.
Who exactly are these rebels? And who is this woman?
He made a mental note to recheck the files. He had obviously missed or dismissed some important fact. He hoped a thorough review would bring it to light.
Justin reached for his mug and took a long swig. The coffee had gone cold, but it still held its strong taste. He finished the mug, then got up for a refill.
Kayo stepped in the kitchen. He still looked tired and worried.
“Coffee?” Justin asked.
“Sure,” Kayo said, and sat at the kitchen table, across from Justin’s laptop.
Justin poured two mugs and brought them to the table.
“How is the report going?” Kayo picked up the mug and took a sip.
“Okay. Still figuring out what exactly to tell my boss. I don’t have Duncan; I don’t have the money; and I need another four million in two days.”
Kayo shook his head. “I’m sorry about what happened at the market. I have no idea how it happened. One moment I was looking at your table and the next someone shoved a gun in my side.”
Justin shrugged. “It happens, Kayo. Let’s not think about it. How are we going to find this woman?”
“Will you be getting the money?” Kayo asked.
Justin frowned. He did not like that Kayo was shifting their course of action. He wanted to find the woman and go after her, not sit on his hands and wait for the money transfer. Then he realized Kayo did not know the details of Justin’s conversation, details which he had highlighted in his report, but had not yet shared with his partner. Justin was not sure he wanted to share them with Kayo. Not yet, not until he was completely certain Kayo was still the right man to assist him in this operation.
Justin studied Kayo’s eyes. He found some uneasiness mixed with a hint of distress. But no greed and no fear. “Yes, I’m sure the office will wire the money. But I have to convince them that this time the exchange will take place and we’ll get Duncan.”
“And how are you going to do that?”
“I’m still working on it. I have to convince myself—the next time our op goes without a glitch.”
He wanted to say “guarantee” instead of “convince,” but thought it was better for the moment if Kayo was left in the dark about Justin’s next moves. The plan taking shape in his mind required Justin to take some steps to ensure the woman was going to play by the rules.
He took another sip while a tense silence hung in the room.
“When are you calling the office?” Kayo asked.
“As soon as I finalize the report. But I’d like to give McClain some good news, and we have none.”
Kayo shrugged. “What do you want me to do?”
“Meet with the commissioner of police. His name is Sunday Chindo. He’s a good friend of McClain and owes him a favor. Perhaps the police can track down the Land Rover and we can get some fingerprints.”
Kayo nodded, then frowned. “If we had planted a GPS tracker in the Rover, we would not have lost it.”
“Yes, but it wasn’t our vehicle, and the rebels most likely would ditch the car as soon as they could. I wouldn’t be surprised if the police find it a few blocks away from the square. They didn’t need the Rover. They just took it to show us they had complete control over us. But they don’t.”
“All right,” Kayo said, and took another sip from his mug. “I’ll head out right away.”
Justin was glad Kayo did not suggest talking to Chindo over the phone instead of actually going to the commissioner’s office. Justin wanted to talk to McClain alone, so he could feel free to disclose any and all intelligence. So he assigned Kayo this busywork, but he was not expecting any breakthrough. The rebels had proven to be quite skillful, and Justin would not be surprised if they found the Land Rover but no useful fingerprints, or if their vehicle was never found.
“Remind Mr. Chindo that we need his utmost discretion in this situation. They need to inform us as soon as they find the Rover.”
Kayo stood up. “I should be back in two hours or so, depending on traffic.”
“Great, thanks,” Justin said.
He walked Kayo to the door of the apartment and locked it behind him. Then he returned to his laptop and reread his report, double-checking the consistency and the rationale of his analysis and his plan. Then he swept the apartment for bugs and after he was convinced it was clean, he picked up his encrypted satellite phone and dialed McClain in the CIS headquarters in Ottawa.
“Hello, Justin,” McClain said after the first ring. “How did the exchange go?”
Justin told him.
McClain listened patiently without interrupting the flow of Justin’s account. McClain had worked as a field agent in East Germany during the Cold War and in northern Africa in the nineties. He knew any operation could go wrong despite careful planning and execution. One of the variables could change into something completely different and even spin out of control. It was always a possibility when dealing with the unpredictability of human nature.
After Justin was finished, McClain asked a series of questions to better understand a few aspects of the operation, especially the preparation phase. He worded the questions with tact, always asking about “how” and “what” took place, rather than “why” or “why not.” McClain did not point fingers, assign blame, or rush into any premature conclusions.
Then a tense pause followed, and Justin could hear the mental gears turning inside McClain’s head.
“What are you suggesting, Justin?” McClain asked in a hesitant voice.
Justin breathed a bit easier. He had thought his boss was going to order him to pack his bags, and assign another team of agents to take over the hostage rescue negotiations.
“Our best lead at this point is the woman,” Justin said in a firm, convincing voice. “We could try to identify the two men as well, but it could take some time.”
“We’re running short on time.”
“Yes. The woman seemed to have or have had a personal relationship with Mr. Duncan. She called him ‘Marty,’ and I suspect they know each other quite well. Perhaps they met at another conference somewhere in Nigeria or elsewhere.”
“Or perhaps someone told her Duncan’s nickname,” McClain said.
“It could be. But I need a record of Duncan’s travels, dates, places, people scheduled to meet with him, both his professional and personal contacts. Let’s go as far back as three months before his kidnapping.”
“All right, we’ll get those to you.”
The Royal Canadian Mounted Police had launched an investigation in Nigeria right after Duncan’s disappearance. They had worked together with the Canadian Security Intelligence Service, the Canadian Armed Forces, and diplomats from the DFAIT, Canada’s Department of Foreign Affairs, Trade and Development. McClain and the CIS had not been involved at that time, because of Duncan’s close relationship with the DFAIT’s minister. They had been best friends since high school. But the investigation had hit a dead end and after the ransom demand, the minister had reluctantly agreed to allow the Canadian Intelligence Service to handle the exchange.
“And let’s have someone do a wide search on women members of the Free Niger Delta, close associates, and supporters. Anyone fitting the profile I gave your earlier. Tall, slim, British accent. Very skilled with her tongue and her gun.”
“This will take a bit of time. I’ll talk to our friends at the CIA
and MI6.”
“On the topic of background searches, I’d like to access Kayo’s service records.”
There was a brief pause, followed by McClain’s low sigh. “That’s an unusual request. Any particular reason for it? Do you suspect he’s a traitor?”
Justin shook his head, then said, “No, sir. I wouldn’t go so far. I’d . . . I just need to know whether Kayo is up to this task. Today’s course of events left me with some doubts.”
“Hmmm, I’ll see what I can do. Kayo worked in Joburg, and that’s out of my jurisdiction. I have to call in a favor so we can view his personal file. And you know we have to use local operatives because of their knowledge, and also because otherwise we’ll stick out a mile.”
Justin nodded. He had a Mediterranean complexion: dark olive skin and raven, wavy hair, big black eyes, and a large, thick nose, all inherited from his Italian mother, which made him noticeable in most African cities. But Justin spoke Arabic like a native Egyptian, and had a wide network of contacts in northern and central Africa, very handy when dealing with tricky situations.
“Thank you, sir.” I wouldn’t ask for it if I didn’t think it was necessary, Justin wanted to add, but he held his tongue. He said, “While waiting for the money transfer, I’ll probe into this piece of intel that someone in the Nigerian government is also trying to secure Duncan’s release. The woman mentioned Duncan has powerful friends who are throwing their weight around.”
McClain seemed to think about it for a few moments. Then he said, “If she’s telling the truth. And I wouldn’t be so sure. We’ve informed the Nigerian government about our efforts to negotiate with the rebels and pay the ransom, so Duncan could come home, and they agreed to allow us to take the lead. This competing offer, if it truly exists, may come from someone who is not interested in Duncan getting out of this mess alive.”
Justin had not thought about such a scenario. “Duncan must have made some great enemies if they’re being so resourceful,” he said slowly, wondering why someone would go to such an extent to release Duncan just so they could eliminate him. “And I don’t follow the logic: if no one pays the ransom, wouldn’t the rebels kill Duncan?”
“True, but perhaps Duncan knows something, a secret or some information that could be useful or damaging to someone in the Nigerian government. They would like to get to Duncan so they can obtain that information. Afterwards, he is of no more use to them, a liability, so they will have to get rid of him and cover their tracks.”
Justin sighed. There seemed to be much more to this story than just kidnapping a foreigner for a mound of cash. The complexities of this operation, which was expanding into different directions, warranted the help of another set of hands. Someone he could trust beyond any doubt. Someone like Carrie O’Connor, his partner in the CIS.
Carrie had been Justin’s right arm in almost all operations over the last five years. She had come to the CIS from Joint Task Force Two, the elite counter-terrorism unit of the Special Operation Forces, after two tours of duty in Afghanistan. She could pilot anything with wings or rotors and was an explosives expert. She had no patience for words, instead preferring action. The motto of her former unit was Facta non verba. Deeds, not words.
“Carrie would be a great help on the ground now that we’re following so many leads, sir.” Justin provided a reason along with his request for assistance. He could accomplish the mission entirely on his own, of course, but Carrie’s presence would allow for faster, better results. After all, Justin could not be in two places at the same time.
“Carrie’s deployed in the Central African Republic for an intel-gathering mission,” McClain said. “But I’ll have her fly out ASAP. She should be in Lagos around midnight or early tomorrow morning, depending on aircraft availability.”
“Thanks, sir. I truly appreciate it,” Justin said.
“No worries. Let’s just bring our man home alive.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Anything else, Justin?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Keep a tight lid on this.” McClain’s voice took a firm tone, yet it kept its warm, caring ring. “Local authorities can be very uncooperative and may even feed us misinformation. Many police officers are in the pockets of senior officials who run this country.”
“Will do,” Justin replied. He had already experienced some of the police unwillingness to accommodate even his most basic requests. Nigeria was a rough place to run field operations, but then Justin was familiar with maneuvering in hostile terrain.
Chapter Three
Lagos, Nigeria
March 20, 4:00 p.m.
Justin logged on to the CIS encrypted server and accessed some of the intelligence they had already gathered on Duncan’s last visit to Nigeria, when he was kidnapped. Duncan had scheduled a series of meetings on the sidelines of the conference with senior officials of the Nigerian Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Duncan’s counterparts. There were a couple of meetings with American and European colleagues and one meeting with CanadaOil executives and two representatives from the Nigerian Ministry of Petroleum Resources.
CanadaOil was the third largest oil company operating in Nigeria. Its activities focused mostly on petroleum extraction and production, with over five hundred active wells all over the country. CanadaOil had built a wide network of pipelines, natural gas plants, and oil refineries. The majority of their activities took place in the Niger Delta, where CanadaOil had formed a joint venture with the NNPC, the Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation, holding a 49 percent stake in the company.
Over the last six months before Duncan’s kidnapping, CanadaOil’s operations in the Niger Delta had been marred by a series of explosions in one of its refineries, which had killed ten people and wounded another fifty. The company had blamed sabotage by local armed gangs, while local populations had pointed the finger at the company’s greed for profits at the expense of safety and security for its staff. The federal government had stepped in to reconcile both parties. It had offered amnesty to the militants, which they had refused. Then it had sent its army into the Niger Delta. After a series of clashes with militants, the situation seemed to have calmed down, at least on the surface. Work had resumed on some of the wells and most of the pipeline was restored to its normal working capacity. But the area remained quite volatile, with threats of violence from rebels pouring in almost every day.
Justin stood up to stretch his legs and thought about the information he had gathered so far. Why was Duncan meeting with these oil executives and government representatives? Was he trying to get a better understanding of the situation? Or was he helping with reconciliation efforts?
Justin returned to his laptop and scrolled through the list of his contacts in Nigeria. During the rescue operation of two Canadian aid workers, he had worked with a team of local CIS operatives. Two of them were still with the CIS station in Abuja, but were running a reconnaissance operation in the northern state of Borno, around Maiduguri, a hotbed of Nigerian jihadist group members with strong ties to al-Qaeda. One of the operatives had introduced Justin to some senior Nigerian police and government officials. Justin scanned the names, searched the CIS databases, and locked on to one of the government officials: Nailah Atoki. The woman had been quite instrumental at that time in coordinating efforts for the release of the aid workers. Justin hoped she would still be willing to offer her assistance with Duncan’s case, especially since she now worked as a director in the Commerce and Investment Directorate of the NNPC.
He thought about the best way to approach Nailah. He had not seen her in over three years, although they had exchanged the occasional phone call or e-mail. She was very rich even by Western standards, so offering her money in exchange for information would be considered an insult. As far as Justin knew, she had kept herself clean from corruption and bribery, so without any dirt on her, blackmail was out of the question. Justin had no illusions that Nailah was a saint, but he had no time or resources to launch a wide investigation c
ampaign on her past.
So Justin decided to take the straight and upward path of being frank with Nailah and asking for a favor. He hoped to convince her to assist him by giving her as much information as he felt comfortable providing, but not endangering Duncan’s life, the exchange, or any rescue operation. Justin was going to walk a thin line, but he was accustomed to engaging in such sensitive talks.
He dialed Nailah’s number and muttered a short prayer. His prayer was answered as Nailah picked up her phone. She sounded truly pleased that Justin had called, and she was very excited to make some time for supper. Nailah suggested Le Petit Café, a French restaurant on Banana Island, the most exclusive residential area in Nigeria. Justin accepted eagerly and they agreed to meet at seven thirty that evening.
Justin hoped Nailah would provide him with some useful intelligence about Duncan’s case. It was a long shot, but at this point he was willing to try everything.
His cellphone vibrated, then it rang with a sharp beep. Justin picked it up without checking the caller ID. “Yes.”
“Hello, this is Kayo. We’ve found the Rover.” Kayo was out of breath, as if he had been running up a few flights of stairs.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, just running after a potential witness.”
“And?”
“I lost him. He turned into a back alley and then poof, disappeared.”
Justin shook his head. Another dead end.
“Where are you?”
“The police found our Rover about five miles north of our exchange location, at the edge of town. It seems the kidnappers ditched it before leaving Lagos. So they’re holding Duncan somewhere outside the city.”