Between February and early April 2003, seven independently mobile parties of European tourists in four wheel drives and on motorcycles - ten Germans, ten Austrians, six English, three Swiss, and two Irishmen and a Swede all went missing in the UNESCO listed Tassili N'Ajjer region of southeast Algeria, most while travelling along the popular 470-km 'Graveyard Piste' between Bordj Omar Driss and Illizi.
On 13 April Algerian military sources announced that tourists had been kidnapped and were still alive, but the identity of kidnappers and their demands were not known to them. The thirty-two tourists and their guides had been divided into two groups and held at different locations.
A twelve hundred-strong force of Algerian, army and police continued to search the area using camels, road blocks and helicopters. They were assisted by a team of specialist officers from the German anti-terrorist police and a certain English Security Consultancy. One of the Swiss tourists had called relatives on their satellite phone just shortly after his disappearance, but was cut off in mid-sentence which as you can imagine, caused great alarm and dismay. This was the first notion they had, which alerted them to the fact that they had been kidnapped and how many people were being held captive, and they had every reason to be concerned. Many critics remained confounded as to how, preparations for such large scale abduction could have passed unnoticed, and in an area where mobility was really only limited to one highway and a few mountain pistes and valleys normally frequented by nomads and other locals.
For some time, there had been no official word of any ransom demands from the kidnappers. At the time, they believed it to be members of the Salafist Organization for Prayer and Combat (known by the French acronym GSPC - Groupe Salafiste pour la Predication et le Combat), a militant Islamic group with links to Al-Qaeda. In the May, the Algerian government finally admitted that it had been in talks for some weeks. Although they did not say to whom, officials were in talks with. It indirectly confirmed for the first time that the tourists had been actually kidnapped.
A group of seventeen hostages were finally freed in a dawn raid on 17 May. The Algerian Army claimed its men freed the group after a ‘brief gunfight’, but a well-known Algerian newspaper reported that they had been freed after a furious battle, that had left nine of the captors dead in a bloody clash that lasted for several hours. The Army were said to have found the captives in two groups in the canyon. They also said that the terrorists killed in the raid were members of the GSPC. They went on to acknowledge the second groups of fifteen hostages were now at much greater risk.
The remaining fifteen hostages were forced at gunpoint, to move again, as they left the Tamelrik plateau that they had been camping at, they had moved there shortly after the first group had been freed in the gunfight, which by all accounts had been brutal. They now headed to the north, then west to a plateau northwest of Amguid, they only spent a few weeks at each site, covering all traces of their presence there. The atmosphere in the camp was tense. Not only were the hostages scared, so too were their captors, or so it seemed, as rumors of the fierce, bloody gunfight that had occurred with the other group, reached their ears.
Algeria finally made contact with the remaining kidnappers and after using helicopters to drop leaflets over the area stating, ‘The authorities were going to allow all of the kidnappers to leave freely, on the condition that the fifteen hostages were liberated safe and well, and as soon as possible.’ Much to everyone’s surprise, a few days later the security forces were surprised to have received a reply from the kidnappers, saying that they were ‘ready to negotiate’ as long as their safety was guaranteed, as stated, in the leaflets they had dropped. With the help of go-betweens from the ‘Ifoghas Tuareg’ led by a former rebel leader, and negotiators from a ‘certain English Security Consultancy’, and after five long months or 208 days in captivity, the remaining group were at last released in the August, in a calm and peaceful manner, and with no further loss of lives, and all due to Rubin’s wee idea of a simple leaflet drop.
By 2004, Duncan and Rubin ran ‘THE’ company to hire. Life was good indeed. They had just signed a deal with an elite company called ‘Blackcard’. As companies go, their businesses went hand in hand with each other with their covertness. Both were quite MI6 ish, both had hidden facades and depths to their businesses, it was only natural that, this deal would go ahead at some point. It was the perfect partnership. The deal had been setup with a chap called Mr. Nichols who was one of the senior partners. He had used them previously for other assignments, having first-hand experience with them on many occasions; they were the logical solution for the company’s needs. Since first meeting with Duncan and Rubin, he had given them an assortment of assignments to test their level of skills. The ‘Boy’s’ reputation for being problem solvers had advanced to Mr. Nichols ears, of course they pricked up at hearing of their expertise and military achievements. He had quite a few military contacts which told him tales that made his toes curl. One told him “Where we kill people. These lads can figure out how to do it, and without even having to be in the same room as a target. They are truly gifted; they are the best of the best.”
After that call, Mr Nichols put down the phone and sat quietly at his desk in his office for half an hour. He sat and simply composed himself after hearing the things he had heard. Mr. Nichols wanted to ensure that he had both men assigned to any of his own personal assignments. He knew that if he could get that put into the clause for the contract, his personal safety would be guaranteed and he liked that idea. He should have known better than to have tried to pull a fast one on them. As Mr. Nichols had checked up on the ‘Boy’s’, so had Duncan, who had not only done a full background check on Mr Nichols, including a security check, which he had done from the moment he arrived on site. A member of one of their team came in to deliver the security report, handing it to Duncan, who sat on a black leather couch, which was grouped into a four squared formation, with the duplicate couches that made up this arrangement
“You’re not the only one with tricks up your sleeves,” laughed Duncan. “As soon as you entered our offices, we had commenced a full background check to be done, not only on you Mr Arthur Robert Nichols, but also on your elusive ‘Blackcard’.” He took the brown manila folder from the team member and started to read.
Rubin sat watching Mr. Nichols reactions, calmly sipping an espresso coffee, which he placed on the enormous glass coffee table that was the centrepiece to the setting of their meeting. Duncan sat there quite relaxed to the right of Rubin, as he read through the report housed in a brown manila folder, turning the pages occasionally using his thumb, which he slightly wet to assist in gripping the sheets that had been clipped together. Rubin sat there, his eyes averted to Duncan as he watched him occasionally smile as he read the report to Mr. Nichols who sat looking slightly uncomfortable at Duncan’s silence. However the deal was signed, and Mr Nichols walked out of their offices, slightly unnerved at the level of information the ‘Boy’s’ had obtained.
*****
That’s why in 2006 Mr Nichols had decided to holiday in the Philippines. He had booked himself in at a five star resort in a somewhat wonderful paradise type bay retreat. After taking the plane, a bus and finally a boat to the resort, he found himself on a little island. It was a quiet hideaway amidst pristine natural surroundings in the Philippines' last frontier because it was one of the few remaining islands in the Philippines that has been largely untouched by logging and still has a substantial amount of primary rainforest. The island was now protected and had become a nature sanctuary offering, as well as the rainforest, outstanding dive sites, majestic mountains, primeval caves, pristine beaches and an archipelago within the larger archipelago that makes up the Philippines. For a nerd like Mr. Nichols, it was pure heaven; he chose this particular island because it offered him so much in his interests. He had just received his diving license and was excited to dive within some of the wrecks located around here, plus that and its superb marine life. As far as Mr. Nichols wa
s concerned, he was heading for two weeks of pure relaxation and unadulterated bliss. The only decision he had to make was to choose from a wood-floored cottage perched over the water or maybe a larger, concrete beachside villa, either way he was going to experience the most amazing sea views.
It was on the second day, whilst sitting outside his beach villa, Mr. Nichols was going through his itinerary for the next two weeks, as he lay out on one of the sun loungers that came with his villa in his beige long shorts and white polo shirt accompanied by a beige Panama hat. He sat back, picking up his book, and noticed two boats on the distant horizon. He took no notice whatsoever, as the two boats fast approached the resorts private beach early that morning, he knew boats came and went throughout the day, taking People Island hopping and on various excursions. He had just popped in his ear buds attached to his new iPod he had also purchased. He had loaded up all his music and was ready to catch up on some well-deserved reading in the shape of one of his ‘Clive Cussler, Dirk Pitt novels. He kept his head in his book, consumed by the story line already and he was only ten pages into the book, bobbing his head softly to the sounds of ‘Pink Floyds Dark side of the Moon’. He had only just switched his satellite phone to vibrate, in anticipation of another call no doubt from Beverley his secretary with regards to his prior conversation and at least he wouldn’t miss his call. He was in a complete tranquil state and certainly wasn’t expecting the butt of the automatic weapon that hurtled towards his head, and knocked his frameless glasses to the decked floor.
He looked up startled and alarmed as he saw what looked like a local, with the exception of the red bandana that was fixed around his face, covering his nose and mouth. He pulled the ear buds out from his ears one at a time to hear what the angry chap was shouting at him.
“Move!” and he pointed with his gun towards the boats on the beach several times with extreme hostility as he motioned the butt near his head again.
Mr. Nichols slowly rose from the lounger picking up his glasses and hat from the ground, and moved over in the direction he was directed to with a few pushes from the man with the gun. He put his hand to his head; he could feel the wetness as he pulled his fingers down slowly seeing the wetness was what he had thought, blood! His heart started to thump inside his chest, as panic started to creep over him, like a long fuse on a stick of dynamite. He stumbled on his way down to the boats, the soft white sands that engulfed his open toed ‘Jesus’ sandals didn’t help much either with the dizziness he felt from his small head wound. By the time they reached the two wooden long boats with petrol engines, they were met with two other couples who each had their own armed personal escorts like he. Five minutes later, there were a total of fifteen holidaymakers under an armed escort. Mr. Nichols shook his head as he watched the chap, who seemed to be the ring leaders start counting.
It was times like this; he wished he wasn’t single, as he watched the masked man look at his captives. He knew it would only be a matter of time before he would figure out that he was a ‘Billy no mates’. It was as evident as the nose on your face, as the couples cuddled into each other with fear. He was the only one who had no one to comfort him. It was just as he thought that he saw, that the ringleader had also had his own epiphany, releasing that Mr. Nichols was the odd man out. He knew any moment now, he would have to try to explain to the chap, who had very poor English, that he was here on his own, no wife or partner and he would have to do it, in front of all of these loving couples. Yes that’s going to be lots fun, he thought.
He was more than relieved for the distraction which caught all of the groups attention, especially the ringleader who was now starting to get irate and impatient at Mr. Nichols; to see another group join them also unfortunately under armed escort at least he wouldn’t be the odd man out any more. He breathed a sigh of relief to himself for the diversion until he recognized some of the faces. Three of them were members of the resorts staff and the other to his horror was a family he had actually had the poor misfortune to travel on the same flights and boats as he, all the way from England. He was a boring, ill-tempered man with his moaning and nagging wife, and to top it off was their two spoiled teenage boys, who seemed the most ill-mannered off spring he had seen or witnessed and were in desperate need of a good kick up the arse . He was worried now, as both boys had been nothing but badly behaved, unruly and they and their antics would no doubt add a touch of unhealthy chaos like they had done with everything they had encountered in humongous doses. He knew their names due to the fact that their mother had repeatedly shouted at them, in her nasally, monotone voice that called out “Andrew, or Michael, don’t do that.”
The next thing he knew were the sounds of their captors shouting, more shouting, and then gun fire. He turned quickly around to see a Filipino hostage who escaped from the group and started to run until the shots were fired and he hit the sand, face down. There was silence among the other hostages, as they all stood there frozen to the spot as they looked to see if the man had got up. One of the men walked up to the body and kicked and prodded it with his foot while holding his weapon up aimed, ready to fire. The body lay there motionless you could have heard a pin drop, except for the waves that lapped up on the white sandy shore.
Everyone was loaded onto the two boats whilst the 'takers' shouted abuse and pushed and shoved them at gun point. There was no protesting - everyone had the fear of God in them from the lifeless body they glimpsed still lying on the beach. The boats were then pushed out to sea by their captors and the hostages and hostage-takers returned the hundreds of kilometers back, across the open Sulu Sea to the Abu Sayyaf's territories in Mindanao. After a long, arduous and very choppy journey, and to top it off, a number of people had regrettably succumbed to the dreaded sea sickness, so you can only imagine how unpleasant their journey was and all under the threat of being shot. The boats were moored up on another sandy beach which was covered in thick palm trees which led into thick mangroves. They disembarked to yet more angry shouts, but all remained silent as they were ushered into the mangroves, disappearing completely from the beach into the thick dark jungle, to the sound of machetes hacking - which they later discovered were in fact Bolo knives.
Mr. Nichols knew they had been walking through this jungle for an hour, he had checked his watch a few times and he knew they were heading north, until they eventually reached a compound which had been built in a clearing. The ten foot walls of the exterior looked like they had a mud render covering it, adorning the tops of the walls were more men with automatic weapons and four corner towers held more guards. His heart thumped in his chest, as they entered under an armed watch. As they walked, the people in the compound stopped and just stared at them, as they passed them by while they were herded into a large building. The men and women were split, much to everyone’s protests which were soon silenced with a few shots that were fired into the air.
He tried to remember what he had been taught by Duncan’s & Rubin’s company’s as he tried to recall their talks on hostage situations.
Blend in, try not to stand out from the crowd and don’t draw attention to yourself.
Be accommodating; try not to anger your captors.
Damn what was three he thought?
He had no time to think as four men went round with sacks collecting people’s personal processions and giving them the worst pat down he had ever seen. He had no chance to hide the obvious bum bag that hung around his waist on his slender frame. They had no doubt seen it and would notice if it was missing. Thankfully he had the good sense to hide his satellite phone, as he clenched the slender device, holding it between his buttock cheeks, as he begrudgingly took off his expensive diving watch that he had only just purchased for this damn holiday which had officially turned into a living nightmare and dropped it into the bag with the rest of his personal items. His one wish at this precise moment was for his phone not to ring and alert his captors of the device, as he remembered he had put his phone on vibrate as he was expecting a call. He clenc
hed his cheeks together and held the phone and hoped to God he could hold it there, as the men finished up gathering their items and left them in the sweatbox of a room.
The walls were dark terracotta like coloured mud plaster which did nothing for the tiny bit of sunlight that shone through the barred window, which was too high to see out of. Over the course of the day, the temperatures rose steadily throughout, which was incredibly stifling and pungent, crammed with fellow male hostages, in fact the small room they had been crammed into was extremely oppressive. Water rations weren’t really thought out by their captors as they barely had any, and as for toilet conditions, well, the less said about that the better. On the second day the door to the room was thrown open and three armed men came in kicking everybody to their feet. They divided up the room and hustled them out of the space slamming the door behind them, leaving Mr. Nichols alone with the English father and his two sons and an older gentleman. He looked at them, knowing full well they had been segregated into nationality; things were not looking good, as Andrew told them he could see the other hostages being led by chains into the thick jungle from high up on his father shoulders.
Mr. Nichols knew this was not a good situation and now maybe it was time for him to contact his secretary Beverley. He had turned off the phone as he knew the battery was low. He had wished to God he had charged it. He was normally quite prepared, but his last call had been quite long and he had stupidly thought he had all the time in the world. He sat huddled in the corner and turned on the phone. He looked at the battery power, and it was flashing red. With the time difference and he was getting confused due to his dehydration and lack of food or sleep, he couldn’t remember whether it was night or day in London. With the battery power so low, he had to use it wisely, so he opted to use the new texting thing that had become popular. He looked at the phone, and wondered where to text to. He knew time was running out as the symbol flashed and blipped its red warning.
Dragonflies The Duncan Peters Files Page 21