Terrorist: Three Book Boxed Set

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Terrorist: Three Book Boxed Set Page 81

by Phillip Strang


  ‘Do you have details?’

  ‘Not yet. It may take a few days.’

  ‘Why so long?’

  ‘We’ve got to beat the truth out of them.’

  ‘It’s best if you give me the full story,’ Steve said.

  ‘You heard about the car bomb explosion in the marketplace outside of Abuja?’

  ‘Yes, it’s been on the news. Thirty killed, or at least that’s what they’re reporting.’

  ‘That’s for public consumption. It is closer to seventy. They’re still peeling body parts off the road.’ Aluko said.

  ‘How does this apply to us?’

  ‘Two of the perpetrators were captured.’

  ‘Do they know something about Helen and Kate?’

  ‘Yes. At least, they say they do. I have an old friend; he’s now the Police Commissioner in Abuja. He phoned to let me know.’

  ‘Who will be conducting the interrogation?’

  ‘The Police will, at their headquarters. It won’t be pretty.’

  ‘Pretty or otherwise, we need to know about Helen and Kate.’

  ‘Apparently, they wanted to make a deal. Easy prison term or similar if they told all they knew about the white women.’

  ‘The Police agreed?’

  ‘They’ll not entertain it for one moment. Seventy people killed, including the wife of a police constable. There’s no chance of a deal.’

  ‘I suppose I can’t blame them,’ Steve said. ‘What can we do?’

  ‘The interrogation begins tomorrow. My friend, the Commissioner, has held it off. He has asked if I wish to be present.’

  ‘How soon can you get there?’

  ‘There is a helicopter not far away from here that can be chartered. If a flight can be arranged, I could be there in four hours.’

  ‘Take it,’ said Steve. ‘Refer them on to me, and I will sort out the details and the money. I would like to be present at the interrogation. Can you fix it?’

  ‘That’s impossible,’ replied Aluko. ‘The Nigerian police have a clear mandate of no forced extraction of information. You are a Westerner. Whatever they intend to do, they want it to remain a secret. My friend made it clear that whatever I see is to be kept confidential. I’m sure you understand.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Steve said, relieved that he was not to be present. He had not seen torture applied; he had only experienced it in Afghanistan. He could imagine the agony that the two bombers were to experience. ‘How do we keep the information about the women out of the newspapers?’

  ‘I will ensure the police squash any information leaks,’ replied Aluko. ‘Besides, they don’t want anyone knowing that they use torture.’

  ‘I wish I had your confidence. Leaks always seem to get out.’

  ***

  The interrogation commenced at seven in the morning the next day in the basement of a police barrack on the outskirts of the city. The venue Aluko had to admit, for something that officially did not exist was remarkably well set up.

  The two captured bombers were led in. Both severely bruised from a savage beating, one of them requiring support and nursing a broken leg.

  ‘The broken leg, how did he receive that?’ Aluko asked.

  ‘His fault,’ said one of the interrogators. ‘He was too close to the blast. It blew him hard up against a wall.’

  He did not believe the explanation, but then he was there for information, not a debate on police brutality.

  ‘You realise why you are both here,’ said the lead interrogator to the two men. ‘We need information. Is that clear?’

  ‘We need our freedom,’ said one of the bombers. ‘If you give us that, we will tell you all you want.’

  ‘Your crimes are too severe. We cannot grant you that.’

  ‘Then we will not talk.’

  ‘Suit yourself, but believe me, you will talk. You will even curse your mother and the day you were born before we are finished.’

  ‘Allah will protect us. He will help us endure.’

  ‘Sadly, he will not. You may live for one day down here, but you will not live for two. Let me assure you that before you die, if that is what you choose, you will tell us everything.’

  ‘Allah will protect us,’ they both replied in unison.

  ‘If you tell us a lie, we will keep you here until it is verified. If it is proven incorrect, we will bring you back and intensify the pain.’

  ‘Do you want to talk?’ asked the second interrogator.

  ‘No,’ they both said.

  ‘Hang them up on the iron bar.’ The lead interrogator, a burly, hard man who would not give his name to Aluko, issued an order to his three colleagues. It was clear that the procedure seemed automated; this was not the first time they had had some hapless individual in the torture cell.

  Hog-tied with their hands behind their backs, it looked as if their shoulders would rip off.

  ‘They’ll be permanently disabled.’ Aluko expressed concern.

  ‘Do you want to know where these women are or not?’

  ‘Yes, that is what I want.’

  ‘Then let us conduct our business in peace. If you are squeamish, go into the other room. We will tell you when they are more inclined to conversation.’

  ‘I will stay.’

  ‘Good, but from now on be quiet. If they are permanently disabled, so much the better.’

  The second interrogator spoke to Aluko. ‘Your friend, the Commissioner, asked us to conduct this entertainment on your behalf. Personally, I would have just beaten them to death.’

  ‘The information they hold is too valuable. I will not speak again.’

  During the first few hours, Aluko had to leave the room twice to vomit. The beatings to the bodies of both individuals were savage and, whenever they succumbed to unconsciousness, water thrown in their faces.

  Every beating that ended, the same question asked. ‘Where are the women?’

  ‘I do not know.’

  ‘Why did you say you did?’

  ‘We hoped you would let us go if we told you.’

  ‘Now you know that we are not going to let you go. Where are they?’

  Eventually, at two in the afternoon one of them decided to speak. ‘They are to the east of Kano.’

  ‘That is not true,’ Aluko said. He had been sitting in one corner, his senses dulled to what he was seeing. ‘That is a long way from their location.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’ the burly man asked.

  ‘We know they are close to the border with Chad, an area close to Baga. Where he stated is nearly five hundred kilometres from there.’

  ‘Your information, is it reliable?’

  ‘It’s our best lead. And yes, we believe it is reliable.’

  The burly man – it turned out that his name was Solomon – looked to the man who had just mentioned Kano. ‘What did I say about lies?’

  ‘It is the truth. I swear that it is.’

  ‘My colleague here says you’re not telling the truth. What should I do, believe him or you? Should I string him up alongside you on the bar?’

  ‘I am telling the truth. I swear it.’

  ‘I think we should check with you further.’

  ‘It’s time for the generator,’ Solomon instructed one of his assistants.

  He then turned to Kano man. ‘I believe you, but my friend says you are lying. I only know one way to ascertain the truth. You don’t mind if I check further, do you?’

  ‘No, I am telling the truth,’ cried the prisoner.

  ‘I have a lie detector. It’s not very complicated. Mine is simpler than those fancy ones you see on the television police shows, much more efficient. Do you want to know how it works?’ He was playing word games with Kano man.

  ‘Yes, tell me.’

  ‘You’ll enjoy this. It is great fun. My assistant is going to attach one cable with a clip to your right testicle, and the other with a clip to the tip of your penis.’ Solomon grinned at the bomber. ‘Are you with me so far?’
>
  ‘Yes.’ Kano man was beyond understanding the details. He was just aiming to be agreeable.

  ‘Then, when we are all comfortable, he is going to wind the handle of the generator.’ He turned to his assistant. ‘Show him the handle, will you. I want him to fully understand how my simple lie detector works.’ His assistant duly obliged.

  ‘Did you see it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you feel the clips on your right testicle and your penis?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Now, what do you think happens next?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Let me tell you. He will wind the handle and an electric shock will pass through your genitals. You will wish you were dead. You will cry, you will plead, and you will offer to tell anything and everything that we want to know. Are you looking forward to this?’

  ‘I will tell you the truth. I know where the women are. Please, don’t do this.’

  ‘I still need to test my lie detector. I need to know if it is working. I will probably have to use it on your friend as well in the next hour or so.’

  At that, the other bomber wailed. ‘I know where they are. They are not far from Baga. Your friend was correct.’

  ‘I am pleased to hear,’ said Solomon. ‘I could see that there was not enough room on the bar for the three of you, but first we need to check my lie detector. You will let me know if it is working correctly.’

  ‘Please don’t, I will tell you the truth,’ Kano man mumbled.

  ‘Is it necessary to continue?’ Aluko asked.

  ‘Once on the ground with some food in their bellies, they will start lying again. Do not trust them until they are broken. I may have to give the other one a trial on my lie detector as well.’

  ‘I am overly sensitive,’ replied Aluko.

  ‘You are not. I do what I must here because nobody else will. I do not have to agree or approve of my actions. It is, unfortunately, the only way to get the truth.’

  ‘It’s time for handle turning,’ said the second interrogator.

  The handle turned, Kano man convulsed, he stiffened, he cried, one of his shoulder blades disjointed. It was only for ten seconds, but Aluko was in tears at the sight of the agony, the horror he had witnessed.

  ‘How was it? Did my lie detector work?’ said Solomon.

  Kano man, unable to speak, nodded weakly.

  ‘Cut him down. Give him some food and water. He needs a full belly for the debriefing.’

  Solomon turned to Aluko. ‘You can ask any question. He will not lie.’

  ‘What about the other one? Are you going to cut him down?’

  ‘Not yet. I need a second opinion on my lie detector.’ Solomon made sure the second prisoner heard the conversation.

  ‘I will not lie, believe me,’ said the man.

  ‘Okay, cut him down. Give him a feed as well.’

  It was best to give them four hours before the questioning began Solomon told Aluko. Their brains would be still muddled before then after the savage treatment they had received. Aluko took the opportunity to contact Steve.

  ‘We will speak to them in a few hours’ time,’ he said. ‘It is clear they know where the women are.

  ‘Will they tell the truth?’ Steve asked.

  ‘After what I have seen inflicted on them, they will. I am surprised they are still alive. It was barbaric.’

  ‘I’m sure it was.’ Steve knew the treatment they had received; he did not want details.

  ‘I can meet Phil and Harry at the hotel when I’m free, probably tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Where do we go from here?’ Steve asked.

  ‘I’ll send someone undercover to check the location.’

  ‘Is he suitable?’

  ‘Speaks the local language; he will blend in with no difficulties. He will need at least a week to reach the camp, and then try to join the group. It may cost him his life.’

  ‘His family will be well provided if anything unfortunate happens,’ said Steve.

  ‘He knows. He is a devout Muslim, abhorred by what is being committed in the name of his religion. He sees this as his solemn duty.’

  Chapter 16

  The two tortured Boko Haram soldiers were more forthcoming after their release from the iron beam and with a good feed in their bellies. ‘The camp is to the north of Baga, about thirty minutes’ drive,’ Kano man said.

  ‘How do you know?’ Aluko asked.

  ‘We are both from there.’

  ‘The two white women. What about them?’

  ‘The fair-haired woman has gone.’

  ‘What do you mean, gone? Gone where?’

  ‘The trader took her.’

  ‘Who is the trader?’

  ‘I do not know. We only know him as the trader. He is from across the border. He is an Arab.’

  ‘Why did he take her?’

  ‘I don’t know. He sometimes comes and takes the black girls or at least the more attractive ones.’

  ‘Why does he take them?’

  ‘We are never told. We think he takes them to Cameroon and sells them as wives.’

  ‘The dark-haired woman, have you seen her?’

  ‘She is still there. She is living with Abacha.’

  ‘Abacha, who is he?’

  ‘It was Abacha who led the raid to capture the white women.’

  ‘That makes no sense. Why would she be with the man who murdered her three colleagues? You must be lying.’

  ‘No, he is not lying. It is the truth,’ the second prisoner said.

  ‘Then I will accept your statement,’ said Aluko. ‘I do not know why she would be with him, but let’s accept it for the moment. You know the punishment for lying, don’t you?’

  ‘It is the truth. Do not hurt us anymore.’

  ‘I need the precise location of the camp. I want you to draw a map. Is that understood?’

  It took another two hours while they drew a map with the necessary details. It looked correct. Aluko, abhorred as he was of the treatment the men received, had to admit that the openness and the detail they had given him were welcome.

  ‘Keep them securely under lock and key while we check out their information,’ Aluko said to Solomon.

  ‘They will not be going anywhere. Any more information you require, just contact me and I will get the lie detector out again. It could do with some further tuning.’

  ‘We have not lied. It is the truth,’ repeated one of the men.

  ***

  The last time Kate had seen Helen had been through the back window of the Sheikh’s vehicle as it left the compound. The fear that swept over her had been palpable. Her spirit broken, she was almost catatonic. There had been times in the last few weeks when she had felt a degree of calm. Helen had been her support, her pillar, and her sanity.

  Now, as she headed towards an unknown fate, all the doubts, all the fears returned.

  They’re going to rape me, given to whoever pays for me, she thought. Why did Helen leave with that murdering savage? Where is my father? Why is he not here to rescue me?

  During the journey, she fluctuated between rationality and self-pity. She did not have the strong personality of Helen or her strength of character. Helen’s background had been traumatic and tragic, hers, soft and privileged. She could not change her nature, but she could attempt to emulate her friend.

  I will be tough. I will not let them break me. I will survive. Kate made a pact with herself that, whatever was to happen in the future, she would remain resolute; she would rise above the adversity.

  With no more tears to shed, there would be no more screaming at her captors. It was clear they cared little for her theatrics or tantrums; she would play the game as required.

  With her mind in check, she would drift into a dreamlike state as the vehicle bumped along the road. Mute from her current predicament, she would imagine the good life with her boyfriend if he had lived.

  True to his word, the Sheikh had ensured she was well treated; t
here had been no abuse, no pawing, and no rubbing close to her body. The daydreaming came to a dramatic end as the vehicle pulled up in front of a large, metal gate. To Kate, it looked like the entrance to a prison; to the Sheikh, it was home.

  ‘This is my home,’ he told her. ‘You will be shown respect and treated well. I am sure you will be comfortable here.’

  ‘I will try,’ Kate replied resolutely. If Helen can survive, so can I.

  ***

  ‘You’re aware of the risk?’ Phil said.

  ‘I am aware,’ replied Bayo. ‘It is my duty to assist. I am the only person who can get close enough to the women.’

  ‘We need to infiltrate the camp. We need to get word to the woman. Her name is Helen.’

  ‘I will complete my assignment. She will receive a message.’

  ‘Find out what you can about the other woman. Where has she gone? See if you can get a name for the trader.’

  ‘I would have gone myself, but I do not know the local language and I am not a Muslim. They would have picked me out as an intruder before I entered their camp,’ Aluko said.

  ‘Sending you would be tantamount to a death sentence,’ Harry said.

  ‘Aluko is correct,’ said Bayo. ‘There is no way that he could get near. I am from the region, I speak the local language, and I am a Muslim. They will accept me as long as I show piety and devotion to their cause.’

  Bayo was a deeply religious man. Well-versed in the Koran, he was able to hold his own in any religious discussion. He had grown up in Kano, in the north, a humble, if relatively impoverished childhood. Islam had been central to the family’s life. His father was honest, hardworking and decent, albeit financially strained. A small stall in the bazaar selling fruit and vegetables, which grew on a small block of land at the back of their house, provided a meagre existence.

  His schooling had been a Madrassa, and Bayo, of average intelligence, was both literate and numerate. The Mullah, a good man, ensured that he received at least the basic components of a rounded education. A tolerant man, he had instilled in Bayo respect for other peoples, other beliefs, the infallibility of Islam, and the beauty of Sharia in its purest form.

  At the age of twenty-nine, Bayo was in the prime of his life. He had a wife, although he had not seen her for six months. They had three children and his last visit had resulted in another pregnancy; he was hoping for a boy this time. A man was incomplete without a male heir; however, although the first three had been girls, he still loved them dearly.

 

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