An African Affair

by Nina Darnton

Lindsay got up and walked briskly to the back of the plane. She picked up the onboard telephone and, using her credit card to pay, dialed Vickie’s cell. She listened as the phone rang, slowly losing hope until, finally, she heard the recorded message. She hissed into the phone:

  “Vickie, we’ve been diverted to Crete. I don’t know what to do. It’s three P.M., we land in about an hour. James says it’s a—” and then the line went dead. She walked slowly back to her seat. James was staring at her.

  “Even if I wanted to stop this, I couldn’t,” she said.

  “I’m not so sure,” he said. Without another word, he stood up, slipped past Lindsay, and opened the overhead bin, taking out a small black leather carry-on bag. Then he strolled toward the front of the plane, past the row where Dan Ryan, out cold from the sleeping pill, was snoring lightly. Dan had filled out his landing card before he fell asleep, and his passport and card were on his dinner tray. James brushed by Dan’s seat; the passport now in James’s pocket, he continued on to the men’s room.

  About fifteen minutes passed before the lavatory door reopened and a bald man with a black mustache and bushy eyebrows emerged. Lindsay watched as he walked back down the aisle, casually dropping Dan Ryan’s passport back on his tray. She was sure that if the Texan took the trouble to look, he would see that though his photo appeared unchanged, his passport now identified him as James Duncan. She was equally sure that James’s passport displayed Dan Ryan’s name with a photo of this bald stranger attached to it.

  Barely recognizable, even to her, James returned to his seat.

  “They will be looking for you and your traveling companion. Goren knows me but he can’t be everywhere at once, and he won’t expect a disguise. I’ll try to get to the front of the line. You need to take the Texan’s arm so they see you together. In the confusion, I’ll get away.”

  Lindsay didn’t answer, and the two sat in silence as they began their descent. The airport came into sight as the plane sank lower and lower. The wheels hit the ground with a light thud and the passengers broke into enthusiastic applause. As the plane stopped, people rose and began to collect their belongings. James moved quickly. She turned to look at him and their eyes met, both serious, both sad. He reached out and briefly touched her face with his fingers, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ears. Then he made his way to the front of the line. Lindsay grabbed her bag and pushed her way forward. She spotted James ahead of her, weaving in and out of a group of determined tourists.

  There was the usual chaos in the arrival area but she managed to keep James in sight, edging closer. She was nearly paralyzed with indecision. If she helped him, he would get away with everything. She scanned passport control and saw no one she recognized. Why should she believe that this was a trap? This was more likely just another of James’s tricks.

  She made her decision. She would not let him get away. She would take his arm as he passed through passport control. He stood ahead of her in a long line parallel to hers, looking straight ahead. She hung back, waiting for him to be called forward.

  Suddenly, she saw something alarming. A man walked out of a closed office and briefly scanned the crowd before disappearing again behind the heavy door. She only got a brief glimpse, but she was sure it was Dave Goren. She quickly reviewed her discussion with James, trying to decide if he had been right in his prediction. Certainly he had foreseen Goren’s presence at the airport, but did that fact have the sinister implications James suggested?

  She watched as the person in front of James stepped forward. A middle-aged man in a cotton shirt and linen suit, he had the rumpled look of the British upper class. It didn’t take long for the guard to stamp his passport and let him through. As James moved to the control booth, she stood perfectly still, never taking her eyes off him. She made no move to take his arm. Just as it seemed as though the officer might stamp his passport and let him through, Dave Goren walked briskly over, accompanied by two heavyset men in black leather jackets. They roughly pulled James out of the line and started to walk away with him. Lindsay leaped forward, but it wasn’t her turn and the guards held her back. She could see James, Goren, and the two men ahead of her.

  “Dave!” she called out.

  Goren turned toward her.

  “I saw you with him!” she shouted. “Remember that!”

  Goren whispered something to one of the policemen and the officer darted past the immigration counter and pulled Lindsay out of line. One of the thugs with Goren grabbed her arm and twisted it hard before Goren signaled him to let go.

  “I thought you were here just to identify him,” Goren said. “You didn’t. Someone might think you decided to help him escape.”

  “Someone might think you planned—” Lindsay started to answer, but he cut her off.

  “Luckily, we had an agent on the plane who saw him disguise himself. Did you meet our friend Dan? Friendly Texan, isn’t he?”

  “He was sound asleep.”

  “Was he? I don’t think so. In any case, I am putting an embargo on everything to do with this situation. I suggest you forget what you saw, Lindsay. If you write about this, I will have you arrested for aiding a terrorist.”

  “Aiding a terrorist? More like preventing an illegal assassination! You’d have to prove your charge in court and I don’t think you’d want to do that.”

  “We have special courts for terrorists, haven’t you heard? And for those who help them.”

  “I think Vickie might have something to say about that.”

  “I wouldn’t count on her.” Goren smiled coldly. “She approves of everything that is happening.”

  He walked through the airport to the outside curb, accompanied by the police officer and the two men marching James between them. Lindsay followed as they approached two parked black Fiats. She tried to check the license plates but there were none. James caught her eye. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed before one of the thugs shoved him into the vehicle.

  Goren turned to Lindsay. He seemed to hesitate a few seconds before he came over and put his hand on her back. “I think you’d better come with us for the time being,” he said, leading her toward the second car. Lindsay shrugged off his hand, but he forced her into the car.

  “Be careful, Dave,” she said icily. “I’m not so easy to dispose of.”

  She watched as the first car pulled away from the curb. When they started to follow, she pleaded. “This is crazy, Dave. I know what you’re planning. You can’t get away with this.”

  “I think you’ll see reason, once you realize the alternatives,” Dave answered. “And what do you mean? We’re planning to arrest him, that’s all.”

  The car continued to move forward. Just then, another car sped down the ramp and cut it off, parking horizontally in front of it. Three marked police cars and a police van followed, sirens screaming. A line of other drivers held up behind blared their horns. Two police officers jumped out of their car, guns drawn. They yanked open James’s door and transferred him into the van. His captors were quickly handcuffed and deposited in the same van. Another policeman pulled a protesting Goren out of the second car and Lindsay climbed out after him. Relieved but confused, she looked on in wonder as her friend Vickie, cramped in the back of the last police car, got out, stretching her long legs. Smiling broadly, she ordered Goren handcuffed and arrested.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he shouted. “You are interfering in an authorized operation. Tell this idiot to let me go.”

  “I’m interfering with an illegal operation on the direct orders of Bob Albright,” Vickie said evenly. Goren continued to shout threats and objections, but she ignored him and enveloped Lindsay in a crushing hug.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. But what happened? How did you get here?”

  “I got your phone call and heard ‘Crete.’ I had to act fast, but I had suspected Goren might try to pull something and had already contacted Washington. It turns out that Goren was running a rogue operation—
ignoring regulations, making arrests, breaking the law, even ordering assassinations, all in the name of fighting terrorism. He even tried to co-opt the ambassador.”

  Lindsay took a deep breath. “I always thought Goren was only out for himself. I wouldn’t have thought he’d take risks like that, even to fight terrorism.”

  “I haven’t finished. It gets worse. He doesn’t care about terrorism.”

  “What?”

  “He’s worked out a deal to represent a consortium of American oil companies. They want to divest Shell of its exclusive drilling rights. He’s been secretly working with the northerners to pull off their coup in exchange for an arrangement with the new government. They’ll drop Shell and award all drilling rights to Goren’s clients.”

  “How much does he get for this?”

  “Millions and millions of dollars.”

  “But I thought he was supporting Olumide.”

  “He was. But Olumide wouldn’t give him exclusive rights.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “Mike had been on to him for a while. He’d talked to people like Billy Anikulo and others in Olumide’s government who had dealt with Goren. They agreed to talk in exchange for U.S. citizenship. Mike took notes and left his files at the embassy for safekeeping.”

  “So Goren—”

  “Got wise to Mike and had him killed. And there’s something else you should know. Goren was behind the bomb that killed Maureen—the Northern Alliance had to get rid of Fakai and create unrest in preparation for the coup.”

  “And Agapo?”

  “That was set up by Goren too.”

  “So James—”

  “James is a criminal and a drug smuggler, but he’s not a murderer. Not directly, anyway. His helping divert the drugs to the north probably killed Eduke, and God knows how many people’s lives are ruined by the drugs he exports. Or exported. We’ve stopped that now.”

  “What about Solutions, Inc.? Does this mean they didn’t arrange any murders?”

  “They have. They would. But they didn’t this time. James does work for them and that’s why Goren thought it would be easy to pin all the murders on him.”

  Lindsay was silent, thinking. She was relieved to know that James, for all the harm that he’d caused, hadn’t been responsible for Maureen’s death. But something was nagging at her. She looked accusingly at Vickie.

  “You told me James was responsible for the bomb. That’s how you convinced me to get on that plane with him.”

  “I know. I believed that. I had my suspicions about Goren, but I never guessed the extent of his activities. Mike never told us what he’d found—he was waiting to nail down a few more facts before he filed his report. I didn’t even know about his files. But after you left, I was putting together his personal effects and found the key to his filing cabinet. I looked in it and found the Goren file. That’s when I called Washington for authorization to arrest Goren. When I got your message from the plane, the rest of his plan became clear.”

  Lindsay was puzzled. “But how? I still don’t see why he wanted to kill James.”

  “James knew about him—don’t forget he was working with the northerners too. Goren knew that James would use what he knew to get himself a better deal.”

  Lindsay looked at her friend with admiration.

  “I hope you get a promotion out of this. As for me, I’ve never been so happy to see anyone in my life. But now I’ve got to find a hotel and a computer right away.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve got a story to write,” Lindsay answered, looking around for a cab.

  “I thought you’d given that up.”

  “I know I’m compromised, but I came to Africa to investigate corruption and stayed to find out who was responsible for killing Maureen. Now I know both answers. I’m going to write that story and admit my part in it. After that, I’ll have time to figure out what to do.”

  “Why can’t you just go on as you were?”

  “I crossed the line. I don’t regret it, but I’ll have to resign.”

  “No one needs to know the whole story.”

  “I know,” Lindsay said.

  Vickie didn’t answer.

  “I feel so empty,” Lindsay said.

  Vickie brightened. “Listen, I think you’re just hungry. And I know just where to go to fix that.”

  She put her arm around Lindsay and led her toward the taxi stand.

  “The Casa Leone,” Vicky told the driver as she settled into the seat. It was one of the best hotels on the island.

  “I need to file first,” Lindsay said. “Just drop me off at the hotel. I’ll meet you later.”

  “Fine. But you know there are certain details you can’t put in your story. National security.”

  “If you mean your name, I’ll leave it out. Everything else goes. Nothing was off the record.”

  “We’ll talk about it.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Vickie was silent for a moment. Then she leaned close to Lindsay and said, “Look, Linds. We’re a great team. Maybe we can work together. James isn’t the only operative in Solutions, Inc. They’re all over the world.”

  Lindsay laughed. “Just what I need. Another James. Thanks, Vickie, but I don’t think the CIA is my kind of place.”

  “What is your kind of place?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll retire to a Greek island.”

  “Somehow I don’t think so.”

  Lindsay turned toward her friend. “Well, what should we do when I finish my piece?”

  “Get drunk,” Vickie shot back.

  Lindsay smiled. “I like the way you think.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  In writing this novel I have benefited from the wisdom and generosity of many people. I would like to thank Susan Tarr, who saved the long descriptive letters I wrote to her when I lived in Lagos. They were an important guide and prod to both my memory and my imagination. I thank Evie Lieberman, Julie Appel, Maggie Cammer, Joan Snyder, Leslie Garis, Elena Delbanco, and my daughter Liza Darnton for their perceptive and intelligent suggestions. Rachelle Bergstein at The Robbins Office gave excellent editorial comments and helped shape the novel. Thanks also to Richard Cohen, who provided the title.

  To my agent and dear friend Kathy Robbins I offer my deepest gratitude and affection. Her support and encouragement, her careful reading and editorial comments before, during, and after the initial manuscript was written, and her belief in me were invaluable. I also thank Clare Ferraro for taking a chance on a first-time novelist, Liz Van Hoose and Amanda Brower for their help in turning the manuscript into a book, and all the people at Viking who made this experience so pleasant and rewarding.

  I send my love and gratitude to my daughter Kyra Darnton, with thanks for marrying David Grann and bringing the amazing Phyllis Grann into my life. I can’t thank Phyllis enough. Her editorial comments and suggestions were pivotal and taught me lessons I hope to use in future books. I also thank my son, Jamie Darnton, and his bride, Blythe Vaccaro Darnton, for their unending encouragement and support.

  And last, I want to thank my wonderful husband, John Darnton, for his love and support, his tireless reading and rereading of the manuscript, and his advice and guidance at every stage of its development.