‘I spent some time in my teens with a Christian group,’ replied Gloria ‘We were trying to provide assistance to the poor and disadvantaged and to give some spiritual counselling. Kate and Helen’s Mission is only about five kilometres from where we were; it was not so violent then. Port Harcourt is my home now, although I have maintained contact with a few people up there. I could attempt to communicate with them.’
‘How?’ Yanny asked.
‘I need to go there.’
‘We cannot let you go, it is much too dangerous,’ Steve said.
‘It is for you. The risk is acceptable for me. I can blend in.’
‘Yanny, you will need to go with Gloria,’ said Steve. ‘Is that okay with you?’
‘It will be too dangerous for her,’ replied Gloria anxiously. ‘They will spot her easily.’
‘Believe me, they will not,’ said Phil. ‘Yanny is the best there is at blending into a local society. She can keep her head and most of her face covered. A little darkening of the face and she would pass for a local.’
‘Then I would appreciate her company and her support. Yanny will need to keep quiet, pretend she has a speech impediment.’
‘I can do that,’ said Yanny, ‘though my Arabic is fluent. It may be useful in certain areas.’
‘Possibly, but it is best not to speak,’ Gloria said.
‘Aluko can pick you up and take you into the area,’ Steve said.
‘That will not help,’ replied Gloria. ‘Fly us to Abuja, and then we will take local buses. Two women travelling this way should not raise any concern. We are safe as long as we act conservatively, don’t ask too many questions.’
‘Yanny will be equipped with a satellite phone and a GPS. Is that fine with you both?’
‘Fine by me,’ Yanny responded. ‘Any problems and I will dump them.’
‘That’s fine by me,’ Gloria added.
Three days later, Gloria and Yanny arrived in Maiduguri. Gloria’s friends, delighted to see her, offered her and Yanny accommodation without reservation.
‘What brings you here?’ they asked.
Gloria hesitated, not wishing to be too open. ‘I had been planning a trip for some time, and I just took the opportunity to come up with Yanny.’
‘We know that is not the truth. Our friendship must allow you to be truthful with us.’ replied one of the local women.
‘The two white women,’ Gloria said hesitantly.
‘It is sad as to what happened, but why are you interested?’
‘I know one of them. We are aiming to get them back.’
‘How, you are only two women?’
‘There are others who will come and rescue. We are trying to find out where they are.’
‘Your friend, Yanny does not speak our language,’ said the woman. ‘Would she prefer we speak English?’
‘That would be appreciated.’ Yanny said.
‘Yanny, please tell us about yourself.’
‘Thank you for your hospitality and assistance.’
‘Where are you from?’
‘I was born in Senegal.’
‘How can we help you, I don’t believe we know very much? We heard of the tragedy, but where they take the captives is unclear. It does not pay to ask too many questions. We can make enquiries, but do not expect too much. It is best you both stay here and please, do not venture into the street until you are ready to leave.’
‘Thank you. We will abide by your instructions.’
In a concealed part of the compound where they were staying, Yanny used her satellite phone to contact Steve.
‘We are safe, staying with friends of Gloria. They will conduct discreet enquiries on our behalf.’
‘Good to hear you are both safe,’ came Steve’s voice. ‘Any information will help. Don’t stay there too long.’
‘We won’t.’
‘We’ve received a ransom demand of one million American dollars for each,’ Steve added.
‘What has been our response?’
‘No response. Bob McDonald is desperate to pay, though. He is organising the money for immediate payment.’
‘You must stop him,’ said Yanny. ‘If we pay too early, they will want more money. He will not get them back any sooner by paying too quickly. He must be made to understand.’
‘I’ve tried, but he is not rational. Anyway, it’s up to us to arrange the payment drop-off and a location to pick up the women.’
‘You must try harder to deter him. He cannot be allowed to make contact.’
‘I need you back here to take control of the negotiations. Two days max where you are.’
‘Bob McDonald, does he have their contact details?’ Yanny asked.
‘Yes, he does.’
‘We’re in trouble if he agrees to their demand.’
Counter Insurgencies best negotiator, Yanny seen it before. Invariably, anxious relatives, or inexperienced company bosses assuming a quick agreement, the ideal solution. She knew that a quickly agreed to agreement always resulted in a higher price. Failure to agree to that, and the threats of injury to the hostage would start. She knew exactly what they would threaten: multiple raping by the foot soldiers of Boko Haram. Agreement to the second demand in an attempt to prevent them carrying out their threat would only result in a higher demand. She knew that she needed to be back in Port Harcourt at the earliest.
The first piece of tangible information came two days later as Gloria and Yanny prepared to leave.
‘It is not wise to ask too many direct questions, you do realise?’ Amina, their hostess for the last few days, said.
‘Yes, we know,’ replied Yanny.
‘What we have heard is that the women were seen passing through Baga, about one hundred and eighty kilometres to the north, close to the border with Chad. That is as accurate as I can give.’
‘That helps a lot,’ Yanny said.
Five minutes later, she was on the satellite phone to Steve.
‘The women have been seen. It is not far, although the roads are so bad it may two days to get there. They were spotted by a truck driver.’
‘Get back to Port Harcourt as soon as you can,’ replied Steve. ‘Bob has already contacted the kidnappers. Your worst fears have been realised. Now they want two million dollars for each of them, or else. I needn’t spell out what the else is.’
‘The fool! Doesn’t he realise what he has done?’ Yanny angrily replied.
‘He does now. I’ve told him to keep out of it.’
‘How did he respond?’
‘He didn’t like it, but there is no way we can help if he interferes.’
‘We are leaving in the next hour,’ said Yanny. ‘Expect us in two days maximum.’
***
The return of the two white females taken in Maiduguri will cost one million American dollars for each. Payment within one week and no harm will come to them. Any delay will result in their deaths.
‘That’s the first email we received,’ Steve said.
‘Can we trace it?’ Yanny asked. She had come straight to the temporary office at the Novotel on her arrival back from the north.
‘It’s a local server, difficult to trace.’
‘It’s the standard ransom note. Has there been any further contact?’ she asked.
‘There’s this. A video posted on YouTube.’
‘That’s clearly Kate and Helen. They look unharmed.’ She studied the video for a few minutes. ‘We could have negotiated from that position. Let me see the damage that Bob McDonald has caused.’
Terms agreed. Money will be available in four days. Please send details.
‘He sent the reply the same day,’ Steve said.
‘Show me their response,’ Yanny asked.
The ransom is now set at two million dollars each. Failure to agree and the women will enjoy the undivided attention of our soldiers.
‘He saw that?’ Yanny asked.
‘He almost collapsed on the floor when he read it.’
‘It serves him right. Amateurs are the last thing we need. I hope he’s keeping out of it from now on.’
‘I told him that if he interferes one more time, I’ll pull the team out, and he will have to find another organisation to attempt a rescue.’
‘You’ll not do that.’
‘No, of course not,’ said Steve. ‘But I had to shake some sense into him. So, what do you suggest our response should be?’
‘We debate their terms and stall for time. In the meantime, Phil and Harry need to relocate to the north.’
‘They’ll leave tomorrow. They can take a forward position up close to Aluko,’ Steve replied.
‘The women were seen up near Baga, close to the Chadian border. Are we going to check it out?’ Yanny asked.
‘We’ll ask Aluko if he has anyone suitable,’ replied Steve.
Two million dollars is not acceptable. Any abuse of the two women will render their value as negligible. Please respond in the affirmative, that the women are safe, they are healthy and well-treated, and that no harm will befall them.
‘Are you sure you want to send that,’ Steve asked.
‘If we agree to two, the price goes to three.’
‘The money’s not the issue.’
‘I realise that, but it best to make them think we are not an easy touch, agreeing to every escalating demand.’
The receipt of Yanny’s email had the expected reaction. ‘This is errant nonsense,’ Murtada, the leader of the Islamists, said as he read the email from Port Harcourt. ‘Western infidels do not place the value of a deflowered woman beneath that of a donkey. Their worth will not change even if they are abused and beaten.’
‘The women – are they safe and untouched?’ asked Murtada.
‘They are safe,’ replied Abacha.
Making sure that Bob was not in hearing range Steve asked Yanny a delicate question. ‘What are the chances they have not been raped?’
‘They have probably been pawed and groped, but those holding them for ransom realise they have a valuable asset. I wouldn’t guarantee that they’ve not been raped.’
We are aware that the blonde woman comes from a wealthy family. Her ransom is set at three million dollars. The other woman’s price remains at two million dollars. Any attempt to negotiate and our soldiers will enjoy the benefits of their company.
‘This is a setback,’ said Steve.
‘No, this is what we want,’ replied Yanny. ‘They are open to discussion. As long as the price firms, their safety is improved.’
‘I’ll tell Bob to get the money ready.’
‘I don’t think we will need more. He has to realise that the money will almost certainly be paid, even if we rescue the women beforehand.’
Bob McDonald had endeavoured to go back to work. At least, he had been sitting in his office in Port Harcourt. Steve met him there.
‘We need five million dollars in cash.’
‘I thought it was four million?’
‘It was, but the ransom goes up when you agree to the first demand.’
‘Okay, it’s my fault. Five million is a small price to pay. Does this mean that the rescue will not go ahead?’
‘No, we continue as before. The actions of these people are unpredictable. They could return them unharmed or not, even sell them off to another party.’
‘I will leave it in your hands,’ sighed Bob. ‘I will only complicate the situation.’
Terms agreed. Five million dollars; please respond in the affirmative, that the women are safe, they are healthy and well-treated, and that no harm will befall them.
Agreed, we will send instructions on the money delivery and the transfer point for the women.
‘The deal is struck,’ said Yanny. ‘We have a maximum of four weeks to find the women.’
‘That long?’ Steve asked.
‘Too quick to deliver the money and they will realise that they should have asked for more. Let’s lull them into a sense of complacency.’
‘We need some luck,’ he said.
‘Luck maybe, good fortune certainly. Ask Aluko to keep his nose to the ground.’
Chapter 13
Sheikh Idriss Deubet, a proud and noble man with a heritage stretching back one thousand years, was a trader in a trade that in past generations had made his family prosperous and respected. It was his forefather, Mohammad Idriss Habre, five centuries earlier, who had taken the family name to pre-eminence. The tales of his exploits, his daring raids, his treks across the continent and the marches north to the slave market in Tripoli were epic and oft recounted. On one of those trips of seventy days, up through Waday, Bornu, and Bagirmi, he transported close to three thousand slaves. He even pioneered the route down to the slave port of Luanda to service the demand from the Americas.
Mohammad Idriss Habre (the eldest sons of his descendants since that time were given the name of Idriss in his honour) was a slave trader when slave trading was an honourable profession. Idriss Deubet also traded in slaves, but it was no longer honourable in a world that was overly sensitised and sanitised, and his exploits were not epic. To him, they were dismal, barely worthy of comment.
Mohammad Idriss Habre enslaved thousands, raided hundreds of primitive villages, moved large numbers of savages to the north and into the Middle East. He had not considered the fate of those he sent north into Arabia, the men, invariably castrated, the women, sex slaves, domestics if they were lucky. Those sent to the Americas fared marginally better, but he was no more concerned. They were a commercial commodity, a profit.
Deubet, a nobleman, reduced to selling little boys as goat herders across the border to Cameroon. He also sold young girls, no more than children, but capable to bleed and breed to some degenerate old man looking to regain his youth, his virility at the expense of a frightened child.
How can it be barbaric? he thought. How can they criticise? They have no issue with their clothes and shoes from India and Bangladesh as long as they are cheap. Do they consider or care about the working conditions for those who slave in countless sweatshops around the world? The fat and lazy Western men who frequent the brothels in Bangkok, Manila, and Mumbai – do they consider the underage girls? Are they not slaves?
He dressed in traditional Chadian Arab attire, a long robe known as a Jalabiya, with a white turban on his head, a dagger tucked into his sleeve. He was tall and distinguished, a little overweight for a man in his late forties.
His revered ancestor, Habre, traded in thousands while he was fortunate if it was more than two or three.
Certainly business had taken a turn for the better with the Islamic fundamentalists in Northern Nigeria. At least there were more young boys to sell as cattle herders, and the young women, sold across the border in to Cameroon or the Niger Republic as brides. If they had a unique beauty as well as a confirmed virginity, there was always a market in the countries of the Arabian Peninsula. The harems still existed, hidden from view.
The others he sold to whoever would pay the price. He did not ask where, or their fate; he always suspected a brothel in some dreary port, where people tended to disappear and nobody asked questions.
Was it not an ancient Westerner, Aristotle, who put forward the idea of final causes, that a slave is a slave by nature? he asked himself. Did not their Christian bible embrace slavery in the Old Testament? Was it not true that the eighteenth and nineteenth century Westerners were the worst slave traders in history? Whom did my noble ancestor, Mohammad Idriss Habre, deliver the slaves to in Luanda? It was to Westerners, who embraced slavery as much as he had. What right have they to criticise?
To Idriss Deubet, the trading of slaves was an honourable pursuit. He saw it as an aberration of a decadent Western society with their liberated views of equality, sexual promiscuity and undue wealth that had taken on one more cause to protest.
He could not see the value of Boko Haram’s cause. He was a moderate man, but then, he reasoned, most were poorly educated, easily influenced, and ripe for contro
l by an articulate and educated person. He had to admit that Mohammad Murtada, their leader, possessed both of those attributes.
Still, he reflected, life had not been unkind. His house, situated in a compound on the outskirts of N’Djamena, the capital city of the Republic of Chad, conveyed an air of resplendent tranquillity. The recent upturn in the supply of girls had offered him the opportunity to deflower some of them as they passed through his compound.
He dreamt of the days of his illustrious ancestor. How he wished, he could have been alongside him on the raids. How he would have enjoyed the triumphant arrival at the end of an overland trip with thousands of slaves in bondage. How he wished, he could emulate his success.
It was to the Sheikh that Kate would come. He would come to believe that it was the crowning moment of his career and his life. He was to be sadly wrong.
Chapter 14
It was not often that Sheikh Deubet came to the camp. It was unpleasant, dirty, and isolated, and the five-hour trip across the border from Chad, rough and dusty. He prided himself on his immaculate appearance; out here, it was not possible. He had made an exception on receiving advice of the two white women captives. Blonde, white, and possibly virginal, he knew of someone, someone of great wealth, who would pay handsomely if the virginity were confirmed and the beauty exceptional.
‘The dark-haired female is of no value to me,’ he said on his arrival. ‘She is too old and you have given her to one of your men. She is clearly not a virgin. I am insulted that you lied to me. The other one is unique, her fair hair, a prized asset. It is hard to believe a Western woman of her age is still a virgin. I will need proof.’
‘We have a doctor in the camp, he can perform the check,’ Murtada said.
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