Terrorist: Three Book Boxed Set

by Phillip Strang

  There was no time to consider the options; he had to get out of town. It was a ten-minute taxi ride to La Gare Routiere in Hussein Dey. Once there, he would take the furthest, the most remote location. The next bus exiting the bus terminal he ascertained on arrival at La Gare would be leaving in ten minutes, headed for Tamanrasset in the centre of the Sahara desert, nearly two thousand kilometres down the Trans-Saharan Highway. Dry and dusty, it offered little for him. It was to be another three months before he reached N’Djamena, the capital of Chad.

  In time, he set up a small clinic catering to the diplomatic corp, a few French people, and some of the more Westernised locals. It was to be his final destination. In the intervening fifteen years, and now in his sixties, he no longer cared.

  There had been the occasional woman in the backstreets who had come up from Cameroon, but he had now reached an age where, although the mind was as willing as ever, the libido was not.

  It was Sheikh Idris Deubet who contacted him with a special request. ‘I have someone special that I wish you to examine.’

  ‘Another black girl?’ Pierre asked enthusiastically.

  He always relished their examinations. The girls were heavily sedated, vaguely aware of his probing and fondling. As with the women in Paris, and then with the backpacker in Algiers, he could not resist himself. In the security of the small room at the Sheikh’s compound, he had availed himself of their vulnerability. He had declared them all virgins, even if, on leaving the room, some were not. Tarts on the street may no longer have excited him, but those little black girls did.

  ‘This one is unique. It requires the utmost discretion on your part. Are you willing to do this for me?’

  ‘Yes, what will the payment be this time?’

  ‘Two thousand American dollars.’

  ‘You usually pay me two hundred. This woman must be special.’

  ‘She is. She is white.’

  ‘I understand. For that amount of money, my discretion is assured.’

  ‘If she is harmed in any way or abused, then your life will be forfeited. Is that clear?’

  ‘She will receive only the best attention from me.’

  The examination was to be conducted in the same room where he had examined the black girls. They had entered alone. The next day in the morning the examination commenced. The woman that entered the room was mildly sedated; the chaperone was not.

  ‘I am here to check that Kate is treated well,’ said Fatima. The Sheikh had shown Fatima the horsewhip when she protested that there was no way she would allow Kate to be examined. Kate had intervened and had told the Sheikh that she would comply.

  ‘That is fine,’ said Pierre. His appearance was unshaven and untidy and though not visibly drunk, he smelt of stale wine and stank of cigarettes. Fatima was abhorred and could barely look as he commenced his examination.

  ‘Bonjour, Mademoiselle, I am Docteur Dupré,’ he said as he breathed over Kate and tried to look down the top of her dress. Fatima did not like him at all, Kate barely noticed. ‘I will conduct the examination, which I can assure you will be quite painless and, possibly, pleasurable.’ He spoke in a combination of French and bad English, but Fatima understood perfectly what he was saying and inferring.

  To Pierre, the blonde, fair-skinned woman was exquisite in her beauty and innocence. The black girls had excited him, but with Kate he was delirious with pleasure. She had reawakened stirrings below his belt that he had not experienced in years. Fatima could see the ever-expanding bulge in his trousers.

  ‘Please lie down comfortably,’ he said to Kate.

  She was relaxed and dreamy as the doctor commenced his examination. He probed her vagina to check her hymen was intact; he massaged her breasts to check they were natural, and all the while his breathing became heavier and his nervous trembling more noticeable.

  Eventually, Fatima grabbed Kate and made for the door. The doctor closed the door behind them and relieved himself of his tension with a few swift motions of his hand on his erect member.

  An official certificate was produced by Docteur Pierre Dupré stating virginity intact. It was what the Sheikh wanted. The two thousand dollars for the examination had been well spent. He would ensure the Prince would have a copy within the hour.

  He would never have a chance to enjoy his newfound wealth. Fatima, deeply upset by the doctor, his visible excitement, his probing hands and his extended finger pushed into Kate’s vagina, had spoken to the Sheikh.

  Dragged back to the Sheikh’s compound from the small rundown one bedroom apartment that was Pierre Dupré’s home, he crouched in the presence of Idris Deubet. ‘Your actions have condemned you,’ the Sheikh in a rage screamed. ‘You were told to treat her with the utmost care. You could have broken her hymen, taken her virginity with your finger. She is worth three million dollars to me, possibly more, but you could have rendered her worthless.’

  ‘I apologise. I had been drinking. I made a mistake,’ Pierre mumbled. Heavily bound and severely beaten, his trousers stained with wet urine.

  ‘If Fatima had not been there, you would have raped her.’

  ‘I apologise. Please let me go. It will not happen again.’

  ‘It will definitely not happen again. You will not be alive.’ The Sheikh turned to the two henchmen standing close by. ‘Take him and dispose of him unpleasantly.’

  ‘No, please. It will not happen again. I am sorry.’

  ‘Remove him from my sight. He disgusts me. I do not want to see him again.’

  A brilliant career destroyed for one single flaw in his character; an obsession that could not be restrained. It had led him to this. Docteur Pierre Dupré, top of his class, destined for greatness, trussed and bound in the back of a four-wheel drive, heading out of town to an undisclosed and remote location. Abakar and Mahamat were masters of their trade. If there was an assassination, some torture required, information to be extracted, they were the best. Unpleasant both in appearance and manner, they had an unparalleled record of acts of senseless and indiscriminate violence. It was to them that the doctor had been entrusted.

  ‘I know a good place where we can take you. We’ll be all by ourselves,’ Abakar said to Pierre.

  ‘Please. I will pay you well. Let me go.’

  ‘You know we can’t do that. Our word is our bond. We have accepted the commission from Sheikh Idriss. What kind of businessmen would we be if we accepted your offer? Besides, he pays us well, much more than you could ever offer.’

  ‘It is a good profession. We get paid to enjoy ourselves,’ Mahamat said. ‘Your death will be most pleasant.’

  Pierre, already wet with urine, defecated in despair. ‘You can clean that up before we start,’ Abakar said with a smile.

  ‘We’re taking you out towards the Ennudi Plateau,’ said Mahamat. ‘It’s very scenic. You’ll have a lovely view as we remove your balls.’

  ‘Why are you doing this? What did I do to you?’

  ‘You have done nothing to us,’ replied Abakar. ‘Do you think we care that you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself with some women? It is purely business. He paid, you die. It’s nothing personal.’

  ‘Don’t you feel guilt for what you are doing?’ said Pierre.

  ‘Guilt? No. Why should we? We have already told you. To us, this is a pleasure. We are cruel people.’

  In due course, the vehicle arrived at its destination. Pierre was removed and tied to a convenient post. He could tell this was not the first time they had been there.

  ‘Take his balls,’ Mahamat said. ‘You better gag him first. I don’t want him vomiting on my shoes.’

  With one swift motion of the knife, Pierre was separated from his manhood.

  ‘Stuff them in his mouth and gag him again,’ Abakar said.

  ‘I’ll cut him across the belly. Make the blood flow.’ Mahamat had some work to do before his business was concluded.

  ‘Cut him hard. Make the blood ooze. The vultures will have a good feed.’

  T
hey both laughed as they drove away down the rough and dusty track. Pierre Dupré would never be seen again.

  Chapter 24

  Activity at the airfield in Maiduguri had been intense since the decision to mount the rescue operation with the cooperation of the Nigerian military. A sleepy regional airport had in the space of three days been transformed into a forward base for the military. All the helicopters, aeroplanes, and personnel were on base. The secrecy still held; the media unaware as to what was about to happen. They were still speculating, criticising, attempting to corner any politician or key player, including Bob McDonald, who was attempting to keep a low profile for an update, a comment.

  Major Osuji had been tasked with making the opening statement at the operational briefing. ‘Secrecy has been the primary reason that the full details of the operation have not been revealed to you all before. President Karibo and Lt General Ibrahim are fully aware of our presence here and have given full and unequivocal approval for what is planned.’

  ‘I would ask Harry Warburton of Counter Insurgencies to give you details of the operation,’ he added.

  ‘Thank you,’ Harry said. ‘As you are well-aware, there was an attack on a mission not far from this base some weeks ago. Three people were killed and two kidnapped. You have no doubt seen the reports in the media. The two kidnapped are women – one is American, the other British.

  ‘Counter Insurgencies has been contracted to affect a rescue by the father of one of the women. We have found them both. One is with Boko Haram, about two hundred kilometres from here, the other is in the Republic of Chad.

  ‘What we have also found is that there are a large number of kidnapped Nigerian women with Boko Haram and a smaller number in Chad. It is a clear directive from President Karibo that we are to rescue all of the women. This presents complications with Boko Haram in that, once they are aware of our presence, they will start shooting, and numerous women will be killed in the crossfire.’

  ‘Aren’t the women isolated?’ a young Captain asked.

  ‘They are dispersed throughout the camp.’

  ‘I realise Harry does not want to say this directly,’ Major Osuji preferred to give the facts. ‘Our women have, with the exception of a very few, been given to the foot soldiers. They have been raped; some will be pregnant, some with babies.’

  ‘It is most unpleasant to consider.’ the captain said.

  ‘The women we will rescue in Chad have probably fared better,’ Harry said.

  ‘Harry, please continue,’ the Major said.

  ‘The operation has several components and timing is critical. Firstly, we need to establish at least twenty of our people in a holding location close to the camp. To achieve this, we need to fly to within thirty to fifty kilometres of the camp, offload, and for them to trek in. At a nominated time, they will cause a diversionary tactic, grab Helen Campbell, the English woman and quickly move her to a waiting helicopter three hundred metres away.

  ‘Any Nigerian women with her will be brought out at the same time. Now, here is where it gets complicated. How do we maximise the number of local women to be rescued?’

  ‘Harry, it needs to be said. There will be collateral damage,’ the Major clarified the reality.

  ‘It seems inevitable,’ replied Harry. ‘We may be able to remove a few in the initial stages, but a helicopter landing nearby will raise the insurgents to arms. They will almost start randomly shooting the women in the camp.’

  ‘Let us worry about how we rescue them. You focus on Helen Campbell and the other woman in Chad.’

  ‘Major Osuji, I’ll leave it to you. Secondly, once Helen is rescued, hopefully with as many local girls as we can at the same time, three helicopters based at the base here will commence the flight into Chad. Now, we need these to be concurrent operations. We cannot allow activities at either location to be relayed to the others. The women’s lives will be in further jeopardy, both here in Nigeria and Chad if that occurs.’

  ‘Are you taking any Nigerian Army soldiers into Chad?’ the young captain asked.

  ‘At least ten, which is why we have three helicopters. There may be up to twenty women to bring back.’

  ‘The Chadian government, will they let us fly in their airspace in army helicopters?’ The young captain persisted in asking questions.

  ‘They will meet us as we cross into their airspace and then escort our helicopters to the landing area. Once on the ground, there will be sufficient vehicles and we will proceed to the compound where they are being held. We have someone in the field and, on receiving word that we are on the way, will secretly the compound. Any guards found there will be eliminated, peacefully or otherwise. There are some dogs, but he will deal with them. The retrieval of the women in Chad should be trouble-free.’

  ‘Why do you need ten commandos?’ Major Osuji asked.

  ‘In case of complications,’ Harry replied.

  ‘Complications?’

  ‘There is an interested person from the Middle East aiming to secure Kate McDonald, the American female there. If he or individuals acting on his behalf are there or make any action to claim her, we may need to respond.’

  ***

  At the end of the third day, and ahead of schedule Aluko and five of his men were dropped thirty-five kilometres out from the camp along with twenty commandos. The commandos had attempted to give Aluko and his team a crash course in commando tactics in preparation, but they were neither regular soldiers nor of the physical strength required. Their role was to coordinate the rescue of Helen, and to let Harry know that all was proceeding according to plan.

  The commandos, Harry had realised, would be focussed on taking out the Boko Haram fighters and rescuing as many women as they could. It was clear that some would be killed. Their style of retrieval was not subtle, more crash and burn. Helen was the prime objective, and Aluko had to make sure she was secured before the shooting began.

  ‘Yanny, I need you up here for when Helen is brought back,’ Harry phoned. ‘You’ve met her. She’ll appreciate a friendly face.’

  ‘When will she be there?’

  ‘Tomorrow night, around ten is the plan.’

  ‘Won’t you be there?’

  ‘No, as soon as we have word Helen is secured, we will be lifting off for the flight into Chad. We should be close to N’Djamena by the time she lands.’

  ‘Bob’s bringing up a private jet with a full medical team,’ Yanny replied. ‘I’ll get a ride with him.’

  ‘It’s not necessary. The Nigerian military have set up a field hospital. It’s excellent.’

  ‘We cannot stop him. He’s brought in the family doctor from the States as well, and Kate’s mother. She’s been heavily sedated since the kidnapping.’

  ‘He's premature, although I suppose we can’t blame him. I only hope Kate is up to all the attention. She’s likely to be spaced out after so many weeks. Did anyone contact Helen’s parents?’

  ‘Bob’s already done that. They’re on a plane from Manchester down to Abuja. We’re bringing them up as well.’

  ‘I’m not sure the military will be pleased with all the civilians here.’

  ‘Bob contacted President Karibo. He cleared it.’

  ***

  Progress from the landing point to the insurgent’s camp had been slow and laborious. Walking at night, heavily laden with weaponry and no lights, was challenging. The Army commandos appeared to revel in the trek. Aluko was close to collapsing from exhaustion as they edged the last two hundred metres towards the camp.

  ‘All quiet,’ the eager young captain said to Aluko.

  ‘I need to let Harry know we’re here. Did you see any trouble in the last thirty minutes?’ Aluko asked.

  ‘There was some. We were seen by some men on their way back to the camp.’

  ‘What did you do with them?’

  ‘We killed them, garrotted them.’

  ‘Then I am pleased I didn’t see them.’

  ‘You’ll never make a commando if y
ou can’t kill without hesitation.’

  ‘Harry, we’re on target,’ said Aluko, making contact with Harry using the satellite phone he carried.

  ‘Helen?’

  ‘She is here but she’s not alone.’

  ‘Abacha?’ Harry asked.

  ‘It seems likely, yes.’

  ‘You better let one of the commandos deal with him.’

  ‘Yes, I am aware of their particular skill,’ Aluko said.

  ‘Grab Helen at the time agreed. Deactivate the beacon if you can. Have they located any local girls?’

  ‘Some are isolated not far from Helen. About ten from what we can see. The remainder are scattered throughout the camp.’

  ‘If they can run fast enough, bring them with Helen.’

  Ending the phone call to Steve, Aluko turned his attention to the immediate situation. ‘Are there any more women?’ he asked the captain.

  ‘They’re dispersed. We’ve seen quite a few, but they look to be in a bad way. We’ll have to clean up the camp.’

  ‘Clean up the camp?’ asked Aluko.

  ‘We have to kill all the insurgents.'

  ‘You realise that you’ll end up with a few dead women.’

  ‘I know,’ replied the young captain. ‘My men are eliminating a few of their soldiers on the periphery, but there’ll still be a substantial number left.’

  ‘Let me get the white woman and the Nigeria women in the hut close by,’ said Aluko. ‘We’ll aim to take them out on the helicopter.’

  ‘Then go now before the ruckus starts.’

  ‘It is ten minutes early, but I can see we have no option, Aluko said. ‘The white woman, she is in the hut with a man. Can you deal with him?’

  ‘My best man will go with you.’

  Aluko and the captain’s best man moved towards the hut. The commando started to throw pebbles on the corrugated iron roof. Less than a minute later, Abacha, interrupted from his nightly entanglement with Helen, angrily came out of the door naked. As he looked up, looking for the disturbance to his romantic interlude, the captain’s best man closed his hand over Abacha’s mouth and stuck a thin knife into his back. He collapsed silently to the ground. He was then garrotted. Aluko understood why he was the captain’s best man.