by Lisa Harris
“So despite the fact that you’ve only known the woman for three days, you left your job at the hospital and set off on some wild trek across the RD because of a handful of photos some boy claims he took?”
“If you’d look at the photos, I think you would understand why I’m here.” He took in a quick breath. “And if I’m right about the election, how do you think that will look in the midst of your peaceful UN election process?”
Paul picked up one of the photos and studied the image. “Who are these two men?”
“One is a senior military officer, and there’s obviously a lot more going on behind this than a simple rendezvous in the jungle.”
“Who knows you have these photos?”
For the first time, Chad felt as if he had the man’s attention. “Patrick Seko, who runs a security task force for the president. Stephen Moyo, who works as a liaison between the RD government and nonprofit organizations working in the country. And Patrick’s fiancée, Rachel. Maybe more by now.”
Mr. Hayes rubbed his graying goatee and frowned. “I’ll be honest with you, Dr. Talcott. I’m having a hard time believing all of this.”
“Someone with a whole lot of clout wants these photos. Our plane went down, we were chased down the Congo River, and now Natalie’s missing. We also found out they have a reward out for our capture.” Chad’s head pounded, but he wasn’t done yet. “Look at those photos and you’ll see a village being ransacked. People were murdered, and the rest dragged away. You can’t just dismiss all this as coincidence.”
Mr. Hayes’ frown deepened. “I know about the reward to bring you both in, but the problem is that it doesn’t have anything to do with this stack of photos.”
“Then I don’t understand.” Chad sat back down in his chair. “I think it’s time you told me exactly what I’m being accused of.”
“It’s all right here. I have evidence of wire transfers to an undisclosed off-shore account with signatures on the bottom.” Mr. Hayes shoved a stack of documents across the table and cleared his throat. “You’re being accused of embezzling two and a half million dollars of aid money earmarked for the Republic of Dhambizao.”
FORTY
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 10:30 A.M.
BOGAMA AIRPORT
Nick eyed the bullet-riddled belly of his plane from the tarmac runway, then shook his head. So much for doing a simple favor for a friend. His plans to fly to the capital and return home the next day had turned into a night in the jungle followed by a harrowing takeoff and another twenty-four hours detained in a shabby back room of the airport.
Landing in Bogama was supposed to have been his ticket to freedom—or at least his chance to get away from the goons who’d knocked him out and shot up his plane. It would have been, he supposed, if the airport hadn’t been recently overrun by army personnel. And if they weren’t all looking for insurgents on the eve of a presidential election.
Like he fit the description of a mercenary.
Except he apparently did, because as soon as he’d landed, three men had escorted him into a back room of the airport for a barrage of questioning with no intentions of allowing him to call the embassy. Nick assumed that the crackdown was under orders of President Tau, but knowing what he did about the photos, he wasn’t sure who was in charge anymore. Managing to escape down a makeshift runway in the dense jungle had been a piece of cake compared to convincing authorities that he had no idea where Chad and Natalie were.
Not wanting to lose any more time, he started for the edge of the hangar. He’d tried to get ahold of the embassy, but their line was busy. Finding Chad and Natalie was now his number one priority. The fact that he had no idea where they were had him worried.
He punched Chad’s phone number into his cell phone, thankful his temporary captors had returned his phone and other personal items and that his battery wasn’t dead.
It rang. No one answered.
He called Natalie next. Again, nothing.
He clicked his phone off and studied the chaotic scene outside the airport. Passengers milled among security officers, law enforcement agents, and army personnel, making him wonder again exactly who was in charge.
But who held control of the country was immaterial at the moment. After little to eat for twenty-four hours and a sleepless night, there were certain priorities. He was starving. Natalie had scribbled her friend’s address and telephone number on a piece of paper for him before she’d left. He’d quickly find something to eat, and then pay Rachel a visit. If nothing else, she should know where they were.
Forgetting the taxi route, Nick opted for a shuttle run by one of the local hotels, hoping it would be a safer way into the city. Forty-five minutes later he was sitting not far from Rachel’s apartment, inside a cheap café that sold strong coffee and ham-and-cheese baguettes. It wasn’t much, but it would be enough to keep him going the next few hours.
Nick took another bite of his sandwich, then grabbed a folded copy of the day’s paper off the table beside him and started reading the top stories.
While President Tau and the UN promise a peaceful turnout for tomorrow’s election, security has been heightened on all levels, including the airport and all border crossings. Roadblocks have been set up throughout the capital as well as on all major roads. With over two dozen foreign diplomats arriving within the next twelve hours, anyone raising the suspicions of the government is being detained for further questioning to ensure tomorrow’s election proceeds without any problems.
While it is believed that there are only two real contenders for the vote, current President Samuel Tau and Bernard Okella, there are officially thirty-two candidates vying for the position of president, with President Tau clearly expected to win.
About one hundred and fifty United Nations election observers have spent the past month handing out electoral kits to the country’s seven provinces. But with a population of just over ten million people, there are continued concerns because of the lack of infrastructure, current power failures in some key cities, and a substantial percentage of the population located in remote villages in the mountains.
Nevertheless, flights from South Africa continue to arrive daily in Bogama carrying ballot papers, ballot boxes, and privacy shields. These are being dispersed to villages and cities throughout the country. After months of international pressure, President Tau has assured the United Nations that this election will be fair, and that he will not contest the decision if defeated. But considering this country’s past, many wonder if the chance of a fair election is even a possibility.
Nick frowned. His thoughts exactly. He flipped over the paper and felt his breath catch. At the bottom of the page was a blurred photo of Natalie and Chad.
He skimmed the short article. Natalie Sinclair and Chad Talcott were being called enemies of the state, currently wanted for embezzling funds given as aid to the people of the Republic of Dhambizao. Nick blinked his eyes. Surely this was some kind of joke. But there it was in black and white. Charges of wire fraud and embezzlement were being brought against the couple. Sources confirmed that they were currently on their way to the capital in an attempt to escape the country.
Nick shoved the paper into a trash can beside him. He had to find them. Now.
Forgetting about the rest of his breakfast, Nick managed to find Rachel’s upscale apartment building three blocks away. While the outside was a bit run down, he was certain the price tag wasn’t.
Nick glanced at the address Natalie had scribbled on a piece of paper as he approached the third-floor apartment. He knocked on the closed door. A shot of fear ran through him when no one answered. When Chad and Natalie had left for the river yesterday morning, they’d had no idea how far things were going to get out of hand.
He knocked harder this time, glanced down the empty hallway, and then tried the handle. It was unlocked.
“Rachel?”
A door slammed from somewhere inside the building. Nick hesitated—the last thing he needed to do was gi
ve the police a reason to arrest him. He stepped inside, then paused. Red splotches stained the carpet in the center of the room.
He glanced up. A woman was lying on the couch, her blouse discolored with blood.
FORTY-ONE
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 10:51 A.M.
SHACK OUTSIDE OGAMA
Natalie pushed against the wooden door of the shack with her shoulder. She’d managed to shimmy her legs through her arms so her hands were in front of her, but she couldn’t loosen the rope. She blew out a sharp sigh and banged again on the door. The tin roof rumbled, but the structure was sturdier than it appeared.
She moved to the middle of the darkened room and turned slowly in a full circle. There had to be a way out. Growing up, she’d watched enough episodes of MacGyver to know all she needed was a Swiss army knife and duct tape to escape from any situation. Thanks to her captor, she didn’t have either. Her Bible lay beside a can of tuna fish, a couple of PowerBars, two candles, and a roll of toilet paper. None of them exactly suitable items for an escape. And anything that might help—like her pocketknife and cell phone—had been confiscated.
She picked up her backpack and shook it upside down. A box of matches tumbled to the ground. She picked it up and fingered the box. With her hands tied together, lighting a match would be awkward at best. She shoved them into the front pocket of her dress and continued studying the room. Beyond a few pots and pans piled up in the corner and some bags of cornmeal to make goza, the room was empty.
She rolled her head from side to side, trying to work out the kinks in her neck, then moved past the rickety table to study the walls. Sunlight pierced through narrow cracks. If she could find a loose board or a crack big enough to see through, she might be able to signal someone.
Halfway around the room she found a hole at eye level. Squinting into the morning sun, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the change of light.
From her limited view, the walled compound appeared empty. A rusty car sat next to the cement wall surrounding the premises. A dog slept in the shade of a mango tree, his tail swatting at the flies buzzing around him. Nothing else indicated where she was or gave her a sign of another way out.
At the far end of the compound she spied her guard. He sat on a tree stump with a gun in his hand.
Her shoulders dropped in frustration. When she’d asked Chad why he’d chosen to come to the RD, she never imagined that their choices might end up costing them their lives. She had no desire to play the role of a martyr. The risks of living in this country had always been evident, but she’d expected a bit of common sense and a lot of prayer to keep her alive.
Maneuvering around a large bag of cornmeal, she pressed against the wall with her hands. A splinter dug into her finger, drawing a drop of blood. Beneath a narrow beam of light from a crack in the wall, she managed to pull it out. She sucked her finger, then continued her search.
Christ’s love was a compelling factor that had brought her here. A chance to make a difference in the lives of the people here. Comprehending God’s love for those who were behind all this wasn’t easy. She glanced back at her Bible. Why had Jesus come to a messed-up world full of pain and suffering? In moments like this, nothing made sense.
Natalie continued moving around the square room, pushing on the boards one at a time. She’d talked to Rachel about forgiveness, but before today, she’d never had to forgive anyone for anything except a few careless drivers and a teacher in eighth grade who publicly accused her of cheating on her midterm. What about now, though? She’d been chased down the Congo and was being held for ransom. Forgiveness wasn’t going to be easy.
The dog barked. The door hinges creaked. Natalie spun around as light flooded the room.
Her captor held up the phone. “You’d better pray your friend answers.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
The man ignored her question.
“You said they were going to pay you two thousand dollars. I can get you ten thousand.” The words were out before she had a chance to weigh the consequences. “You let me go and I promise I will get the money to you.”
The man hesitated. She knew she’d managed to get his attention, but she didn’t miss the suspicion in his eyes.
She took the phone from him. “All you have to do is let me walk out. No one will know what happened and no one will blame you.”
He shook his head. “If I let you go, they’ll kill me.”
“You don’t know that.”
Natalie eyed the door but knew that any attempts of escape at this point would only get her hurt…or worse. The only way out at the moment was for him to choose to let her walk out.
“Ten thousand dollars wired to whatever account you want.” She pressed her lips together. She had five thousand in savings and knew her parents wouldn’t hesitate paying the other half to save her life. “Ten thousand dollars.”
“You expect me to trust you?” He took a step back. “Call your friend. I want those photos.”
Her fingers trembled as she searched the menu for Chad’s number, then punched Call. Her captor stood over her, waiting for the call to connect. “Why are you doing this?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you guarding me? Why this place?”
“I didn’t choose you or this place. I should be back at the camp where the army is mobilizing for action, not babysitting some spoiled American who obviously stuck her nose into someone else’s business.”
The call switched to voice mail, but she wasn’t ready to give up yet. “I’ve got another number I can try.”
He reached for the phone, but she pulled her arm back. “I want to find those photos as much as you do. Let me try.”
God, you’ve got to let this work.
She called the second number.
He answered on the first ring. Natalie blew out a sharp breath of relief. “Chad?”
There was a momentary pause on the line. “This is Nick Gilbert. Who is this? Natalie?”
“Chad.” Natalie forced a smile. “Where are you?”
There was a second pause. Come on, come on…He had to go along with her. It was her only chance.
“I was on my way to find you.”
“I need the photos,” she told him.
“I can try. Are you in trouble?”
“Yes. I need you to bring them…” She turned back to her captor. “Where do you want them?”
He glanced at his watch. “Twelve o’clock, same place.”
Natalie nodded. “Bring the photos to the Hotel Oasis by noon.”
He grabbed the phone from her. “Those photos had better stay with you…or the girl is dead.”
FORTY-TWO
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 11:06 A.M.
UNITED STATES EMBASSY, BOGAMA
Chad had thirty minutes in the holding room to let the reality of Paul Hayes’ words sink in. Which also meant thirty minutes of worrying about Natalie. He slid back into the hard plastic chair and rested his head against the table while he waited for someone to return with answers. Fatigue washed over his body. Lack of sleep and stress had become a lethal mixture, leaving his senses dulled.
He still couldn’t comprehend the accusation. Two and a half million dollars wasn’t pocket change. Patrick obviously wanted them out of the way and had gone to a lot of trouble to try to remove them from the equation.
Hayes had assured him that he’d already been in contact with several people from Washington and that they would try and do everything they could to both find Natalie and get the charges dropped. But there were limits to what they could do quickly. And even with possible evidence of a rigged election, there was only so much they could do in an understaffed, underdeveloped Central African country.
Which meant Chad needed to get out of there and help find Natalie. Once he did, his first line of business was going to be arranging a confrontation with Patrick Seko.
Chad sat up as the door squeaked open. Paul walked into the room, stopp
ing at the edge of the table. “You found Natalie?” Chad asked.
“No. We’re still doing everything we can. So far there have been no reports of any American citizens being brought to a local hospital or prison. We’re keeping our eyes open.”
“And what about me?” He looked up at Paul, fighting the heavy wall of discouragement. “So do you believe me?”
“I’m not looking forward to dealing with the existence of the Ghost Soldiers, but yes, I believe you. I don’t think anyone could look at those photos and think otherwise. As for the possibility of a rigged election, that’s what we need to find out next. I’m going to need to talk to Joseph, but I’ve already talked to some people in Washington and warned the UN’s election observers of possible complications with the election.”
Chad glanced at his watch. “Joseph was supposed to meet me outside the embassy five minutes ago.”
“Good. I’ll have the guard send him in. You can come with me.”
Chad followed him down the hall and into a large administrative center divided by partitions. Paul’s office was separate and simply decorated with traditional masks and a few photos of the Rocky Mountains. One silver frame held a photo of twin girls about seven or eight years old.
“Does your family live here?” Chad asked.
“My wife and daughters. But they’ve gone home for the holidays. I was planning to meet them in Denver for Christmas. ”
Chad understood the older man’s deep frown. If a crisis swept the country, everyone’s plans for Christmas would be cancelled.
He glanced at the door leading out to a courtyard outside. He had to do something. Sitting here was getting them nowhere. “I want to be out there looking.”
Paul shook his head. “I’m sorry, but for now my advice would be for you to stay here at the embassy. With a reward out on your head, you’d only be asking for trouble until the current tensions resolve.” Paul reached into his pocket and slid Chad’s phone and charger across the table. “We can give you back your phone privileges. You can plug it in behind you.”