Nigeria Meltdown

by Don Pendleton

  Synchronizing their watches and switching off their cell phones—the last thing they needed was to be given away by a call, and Ken in particular was called by women every ten minutes—they split into three groups.

  The front of the house was to be left alone. The main entrance gates and drive were lined with CCTV, and the entrance’s linked-in phone system made it a focal point for security. Ekwense had seen the strength of the gates and to effect an entry here would be pointless.

  Better that they take the rear and the side walls. Kanu and Samuel took one side, Ken and Achuaba the other. Buchi joined Bolan and Victor Ekwense in scaling the wall at the back of the compound.

  The land on which the house and its attendant buildings stood was sparsely covered with shrubbery, and there were no trees lining the walls. That made it stand out from the houses around it. Where they wished privacy, the owner of this house wanted a clear view of any danger, and trusted his reputation to keep prying eyes away.

  The walls surrounding were low level, and so it was obvious that any real defenses would lay on the grounds once any intruder was over. Without any tech, it was impossible to tell if there were motion detectors or mines. One thing Ekwense knew for sure was that there was a swimming pool out back of the house, so it was unlikely the area around that would be booby-trapped. It was just the land between, then...

  The nature of the building and their lack of intel made anything other than a full-on assault useless. Checking their watches and counting down, the three men at the rear unleashed a volley of grenades that arced over the wall and into the grounds beyond. They were ready for the shock of detonation, but still it was awesome as the men on each side had likewise unleashed some explosive power. The percussion made their ears hurt, even with precautions, and it was with an uneasy balance that they scrambled over the wall and onto the sparse turf beyond.

  The detonations had sparked a chain reaction among the land mines that had been planted in a ring around the house, driving them back momentarily toward the walls but also blasting them a path as soon as the shower of earth and rock had ceased.

  The three men charged forward as four armed guards came from the back of the house to engage them, carrying MAC-10s that they fired in short bursts. All three men weaved in and out of the craters, making them harder targets. The compound was flooded with light as spots located on the roof of the house began to sweep the area. Buchi fired upward, knocking one out and hearing the cry of a hit guard.

  From each side of the house, they could hear similar exchanges as their four compatriots also closed in on the enemy.

  Ahead the four guards fanned out, dropping to the tiled area around the pool as they took aim and opened fire again. Ekwense took a pair of them down with two sharp, well-aimed bursts, while Bolan took out the remaining spot that was sweeping over them.

  As the compound was suddenly hit by a curtain of darkness, the lights from the house and from the spots still on the side threw the two remaining guards into relief as they fired blindly into the darkness that served to mask the attackers. Bolan took out the guards, but not before a yell to one side of him indicated that the guards had done by luck what they had failed by aim. Turning as the last guard slumped, he saw that Buchi had been hit. Ekwense stood over him, ripping a strip off Buchi’s shirt and tying it round the wound in his leg to staunch the flow.

  “My shirt, man!” Buchi yelled.

  “I’m not going to ruin my own shirt, my friend, and you are not badly hurt if you can complain.” Ekwense helped the wounded man to his feet.

  “It’s okay,” Ekwense said to Bolan, catching the soldier’s glance.

  The two men sprinted ahead, leaving the wounded man to follow at a slower speed, alert to any danger around him. He could look after himself, and they knew time was short.

  Inside the building, they moved through the corridors at the back, pausing only to slam open and secure each room as they passed; there was a confusion of yelling and screaming, interspersed with some sporadic fire. They worked their way through to the ornate lobby, where they came across Achuaba and Ken.

  “Clear?” Bolan asked.

  Achuaba nodded. “Dead or running. Cowards. They’ve lost their customers, too,” he commented, indicating the open double doors. Receding into the distance, Bolan could hear more than a single car and the metallic clang as one panicked driver refused to wait for the gates to open automatically. Looking out through the doors, Bolan could see scantily clad women running after the vehicles, yelling in anger and fear, some stopping to throw stones at the retreating businessmen, civil servants and ministers who had discarded them in flight.

  Half a dozen bodies were scattered around them in the lobby, all but one were uniformed guards. The exception was a woman in a bikini who had a line stitched across her abdomen.

  “My fault,” Ken said with genuine regret. “She got in the way as she ran. Just a working girl, man... There was no need for her to die.”

  “It’s unfortunate for her. Any of us can be in the wrong place, at the wrong time,” Bolan answered. “It’s bad luck. We all—” He stopped suddenly, spinning and aiming the mini Uzi up the marble staircase, finger poised on the trigger as he responded to the scuffling sounds from out of sight of the mezzanine. He relaxed when he heard Samuel call out, and the rangy fighter appeared holding the arm of the white madam, who was less than enthusiastic.

  Kanu was behind him. “All clear up here. The customers and the girls ran, and the guards came running to us.” He shrugged. “Must have spooked them.”

  “Good,” Samuel grunted. “Now maybe this one will tell us something.”

  The woman spit at him. “I will tell you nothing, you son of a bitch. When Ehurie gets you, then you will know pain.” She struggled out of Samuel’s grip and tumbled down the stairs, landing at Bolan’s feet.

  “Ehurie is a smart man. You think this is all he does? Sell stuff people bring him and run this house?”

  “Lady, he’s not that smart if he keeps someone with a mouth like yours around,” Bolan said. “He’d probably cut it out, if he knew what you’d just said.”

  “I said nothing.”

  “You just admitted he was more than a pimp and fence. We know about the Brotherhood of the Eagle. That’s why we’re here.”

  She clammed up, but her sullen expression was a giveaway. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “You do. Now I figure we’ve got half hour tops before the military or the police are over this place like a rash. They’ll be in Ehurie’s pocket and scared to come first off. That’s fine. You can make this easy, or I can make it hard for you.” He turned to Samuel and Kanu. “What’s up there?”

  “Bedrooms, places of business.” Samuel spit. “Nothing we want.”

  “This floor?” he directed at Achuaba.

  “Guard room, armory, reception for parties,” the man replied with a twisted grin. “Nothing for us.”

  “Nothing out back, either,” Bolan mused. “Not the way we came in.” He looked around. “There’s a big chunk of this place we haven’t seen. How do we get in?” he barked at the woman.

  She said nothing, but her eyes flickered to the staircase and something covered by a heavy velvet drape.

  “Lady, you’re no help to your man.” Bolan grinned. He detailed Ken and Achuaba to watch the front and sides of the house, sending Kanu with the limping Buchi to cover the back. He beckoned Samuel and Ekwense to follow, bringing the woman with them.

  The door behind the curtain was locked. He could try to blow the lock but guessed the electronic pad was on a reinforced metal door. Bolan put his mini Uzi to the woman’s gut.

  “Open it,” he said softly. “A gut wound leaves you a long, painful time to die.”

  She looked into his eyes but saw only flint cold staring back at her. Unable to read him,
her nerve crumbled, and she punched in the code. Bolan pushed her ahead of them and into the secured rooms of the house. He saw the questioning look Ekwense gave him.

  “She’s no poker player,” Bolan murmured. “I always win.”

  The back rooms were lit but had the dead-air feel of empty space. As they moved farther back, it was clear that Ehurie had left the premises.

  “Where is he?” Bolan asked wearily, figuring he wouldn’t get a straight answer.

  “He’s gone north to his people. When we rise and take over the land, the likes of you will know pain.”

  Bolan and Ekwense exchanged glances. The Nigerian shook his head sadly. “I do not like to do this, usually, but...” He swiveled and rendered the woman unconscious with one clean hit to the jaw.

  “Nice punch,” Bolan admired.

  “I don’t like to hit women, but she was annoying me, and we do not have long. The bastard may have left something. We can hope.”

  While the woman lay unconscious on the floor, Bolan and Ekwense methodically took the room apart. Some of the outside CCTV was still operational, and they were able to keep an eye on the drive and the road beyond.

  The terminal on the desk had been wiped clean, and although there were ledgers kept in a filing cabinet, these related to Ehurie’s more usual criminal activity. They were about out of options when Ekwense shot the lock off a desk drawer and pulled out a sheaf of papers relating to the brothel. From the middle of them, a flash drive fell onto the floor.

  He picked it up with a grin. “It’s small enough to overlook.” He shrugged.

  “Might be nothing, might be the jackpot,” Bolan said. “We’ll look at it when we get back. Time to cut and run.”

  “What about her?” Victor asked, indicating the woman in the room beyond.

  “Better not leave her behind. She might be useful. No one should die unless it’s necessary.”

  Ekwense looked unconvinced, but picked her up and slung her over his shoulder on the way out.

  Bolan gathered his men, and they made their way swiftly across the back lawn to the far wall. Kanu helped Buchi struggle over, and Ekwense and Samuel manhandled the woman, carrying her between them back to the vehicles, where Samuel cleared the trunk of his vehicle before dumping her inert body inside and slamming down the lid.

  “Stay there and be quiet,” he ordered, before turning to the others. “We take two routes back, yes?”

  Ekwense agreed.

  Samuel sniffed the air. “You smell that? Fear, Matt Cooper. No one has come out to see what had happened. Where are the police? This is a powerful man with powerful friends. If we do not stop him—”

  “Then we can’t afford to fail,” Bolan said simply.

  Chapter Nine

  When Bolan walked into the barracks the following morning, he knew that the next few days would determine whether he ever saw home again. He knew that General Oboko was part of the Brotherhood, although a capricious and greedy man who was led by his appetites rather than any sense of idealism. He knew that the man Ehurie, if not the commander of the Brotherhood, was high in the ranks and with criminal tentacles that spread across the county, intertwining with the grip the Brotherhood had on the military and civil service. And he knew that he had an unknown enemy and a very dangerous one. Somewhere in the corridors of power there was a link between the secret Brotherhood and the three men who knew of his mission. Oboko was out of the picture. There was no way he could have known the details necessary to send the Kano boys.

  Benjamin Williams, Adam Mars-Jones and Wilson Oruma. Somewhere in the communication between those three men there had been a leak. Espionage was not Bolan’s forte, but more and more it was becoming a part of his brief. He had much preferred the days of pure hand-to-hand battle. A soldier was sure of his ground. Now he had to watch his back in more ways than one.

  It was a task better left to those with experience. After arriving once again at his hotel in the early morning hours, Bolan had called Stony Man and put his theory to Kurtzman. The cyberwarrior found it feasible but was doubtful of what he could do.

  “If it’s a leak in communication lines, then maybe we can use tech to trace it, and whoever tapped into it. But if it’s people, if it’s word of mouth—”

  “I know. You’re thousands of miles away. I’m on site but don’t have the time.” He checked his watch and realized how literally true that was. “Just do what you can, Bear.”

  The soldier was able to snatch some sleep, but even as he awoke refreshed for the coming action, the first thing that came into his mind were the events of the night before.

  The woman had been talkative. Too talkative. Ehurie would know how big her mouth was and so would never let her near any really sensitive information. Nonetheless, she perhaps knew more than he realized. By boasting of the power her man held, and the fact that he had gone north to start a revolution, she had given away that the destination Bolan and his team were headed for was correct. Oboko’s attempt to bluster about the south and the borders along Cameroon had been just that. It was a training camp, all right, but nothing of great import, and could easily be mopped up once the Brotherhood of the Eagle had lost its head.

  The woman also revealed that Ehurie had a list of contacts and comrades within the ministries. In her ranting, she had threatened all of the men in the room with the trouble she could bring down. Hopefully this list would be on the flash drive they had recovered: a backup lost in the hurry to move, perhaps. It was encoded, but again Bolan had Stony Man, and the contents had been electronically transferred stateside.

  The biggest problem was what to do with the woman. Killing her was not an option. Not just for the morality, but because she could be of use when—and he was determined on this—he returned from the north. She knew faces, names and could be used to rattle those hiding their allegiances. The men who had carried out the raid with him would be leaving, as well. They would dog the military team’s footsteps as closely as possible.

  So who would keep her captive until their return? Ekwense had a solution, though Bolan had been surprised when the cab driver had taken him to a cellar dug beneath the bar and secured by a hidden, padlocked trapdoor under a wood-burning stove.

  “Matt, we watched lots of old war movies when we were young—another thing the British gave us, whether we wanted them or not. But some of those prison camp movies had some good ideas.”

  The woman, protesting and spitting all the way, had been bundled into the cellar, the door secured and the stove put back in place.

  “There is air down there, right?” Bolan asked.

  “There’s an air duct, and my man who owns the bar will feed and water her once a day until we get back.”

  “And if we don’t?”

  Ekwense shrugged. “I’ll be beyond caring, my friend, and so will you.”

  And so Ekwense had returned Bolan to his hotel. Now, several hours later, the soldier had completed any remaining tasks before mission commencement and had taken the car Oboko had sent for him. The driver was Oboko’s regular chauffeur, and he eyed the soldier in the rearview mirror as he drove. Bolan noticed that and smiled to himself. Oboko was not such a fool as to trust Bolan entirely. How much of what had occurred over the past twenty-four hours did the general know? And how much was just his suspicions?

  The only way that the solider would find out was by facing down whatever the Brotherhood threw at him when they were in the forests of the Yobe region.

  * * *

  BOLAN WAS SHOWN into the general’s office, and from there was taken to the briefing room where the assembled team was seated in the same positions as when the solider had last seen them, as though they had remained there, waiting for him. It was now 07:15.

  Oboko ran through a final briefing that was succinct and almost curt. He detailed their departure, arrival and th
e route that was proscribed as the optimum to where the camp designated Brotherhood Headquarters was situated. His voice was oddly toneless, as though he were reciting from memory and had no real understanding of what he was saying.

  Bolan looked along the line of men. His team took it all in without question, but Bolan was wondering if the general’s tone was in some way dictated by his knowledge that the route and destination were not necessarily accurate. He was perfunctory, as he knew that the camp would be moved, and the route would be lined by soldiers just waiting for the chance to take out Bolan and his team.

  Certainly there was no reason to assume that their target plan was accurate. The region of the camp was known. But as Oboko was in charge of the mission at this end, it would be simple to sabotage their destination from the start, and later blame it on poor intelligence.

  Bolan had a much better idea: play it by ear, once he was on the ground, and see how the team reacted. If he was right in assuming that there was at least one double agent among them, then a bit of sabotage might force his hand.

  The briefing finished, the team was taken from the barracks to a military airfield on the outskirts of Lagos, not far from the civilian airport. There, a troop transport was waiting for them. They decamped and boarded the plane. Oboko was with them, and he avoided Bolan’s eye as the solider went through the motions of thanking him and shaking his hand. He had no great desire to do that, but it was a useful exercise. It would allay any suspicions the general had about Bolan’s awareness of what was going down, and it would give the solider one last chance to psych the general and try to read him.