Then on the twenty-sixth an English journo and his cameraman are kidnapped up in Bosaso while doing a story on piracy. They are full time with the Sunday Telegraph so I am assuming they have insurance. But I’m sure the experience is just as scary whether you are insured or not.
The day before, Reece confirmed that Adan had delivered the package to Nigel and Amanda. Reece asked for a photo of them with the care package for proof. Adan responded that he has no camera. Reece wanted to speak to Nige and Amanda so he could hear for himself that they’d received the packages, but Adan said their demands would have to be met first.
After that interaction, communication between Adan and Reece seems to drop off. We’re getting scant information at the nightly meetings and start to question what is going on. I am not calling Adan as part of the strategy to force Adan to negotiate directly with Reece. The reply we get after much pushing is, ‘avenues of enquiry are ongoing in country’.
I get a phone call from Ben indicating that something is in the pipeline and that Reece is getting in contact with a source in Nairobi. This source is, in the near future, going to meet with the hostage takers. All this, yet it’s been so long since we’ve had a POL.
While this is a constant concern for Mum, it is now seriously fucking with Ham’s head and he is getting vocal about it. Ben or James just hear him out, offer some platitudes and hang up.
‘Alley cat, this whole thing is spinning out of control,’ Ham says to me. ‘This lot have got no idea what they’re doing, and we’re the guinea pigs in the cage they’re experimenting with.’
I’m not entirely sure he’s wrong about this.
Friday, 28 November
When Ben and James fly up to Bundaberg, we finally get some information about the most recent strategy.
There’s a third party who the AFP believes has influence; that is, someone who’s high up in one of the clans. He wants to assist; he wants to work for the good of the country, and there is no outside motivation (read: money) for him to do the job.
The negotiators decide the best option is to send him in with all the money we have – US$250K.
Ben gets back to us to say that ‘the source’, who is called TPI 13 (which stands for Third Party Intermediary), met with one hostage taker. There is ‘no corroborating evidence’ of the meeting, but they have no reason to doubt him.
‘The increased offer was met with a refusal and TPI 13 was told to leave Mogadishu. The outcome of which is that to date we have had no feedback from the group or Adan,’ we’re told by Ben.
‘Can he go back in?’ I ask. James says he’s unsure whether the third party can be used again: ‘TPI 13 went in with his son and they were threatened. In fact, there was physical violence involved, so that makes it unlikely that TPI 13 would display a willingness to go back in.’ Ben seems uncomfortable that James has given us this information.
James is quick to reassure me, though, that the offer was only made to one of the HTs. There may be a change of opinion when the offer is taken back to the group.
‘This is not a short-term strategy. We will have to see how long it takes for the realisation that US$250K is the highest offer they’re going to get.’
The new source is offering the lot, everything we have – all of our money. We have jumped from US$35K to US$250K. In fact, it has been done first then discussed with us afterwards. Hello? Hand waving in the air! Whose money is this? It’s clear that they’ve done something that Gordon specifically recommended we not do. Gordon had told us our amounts should go up in small increments so that the kidnappers would come to the conclusion that we don’t have the full three million dollars.
This is the complete opposite of the government’s stance up to this point. The about-face makes me feel very unsettled but I’m not ballsy enough to question it. These guys are the ones with the intel; they know what they are doing, right?
So why the radical change of strategy? James says we have to be aware of other kidnappings. We had to offer the full amount before higher amounts were paid and precedents set.
What’s worse is that Ben says that while the team in Nairobi is hoping for a positive outcome, it’s doubtful that this offer will secure Nigel and Amanda’s release. What?! Is it any wonder that when I relay this to Ham, it starts him off on a typical rampage: ‘This mob of useless c***s couldn’t organise a fuck at a bar with a fist full of fifties.’ Obscene, yes. Funny, well, yes for us, less so for the Feds and DFAT.
What the team in Nairobi is hoping this will achieve is that the group will now contact Adan, and he will contact the Nairobi cell, confirming that this is a legitimate offer. If he contacts me, I’m to refer him to Nairobi as per my usual instruction.
Reece is spending time on a strategy that indicates to the HTs that the $250K is not a ransom, it’s costs. The idea behind this is that the kidnappers will hopefully see ours as being separate from other cases: we differ from the multinational cases in that we are willing to pay for the HTs’ expenses. By rewording ‘ransom’ as ‘expenses’ this will help create the impression that this is all the money we have, which it is. Which boffin came up with this? They are kidnappers, I want to scream, they don’t give a shit what we call it. They call it what it is: a cash ransom.
Ben goes on to say that due to the time period that’s elapsed, Nairobi believes they are negotiating with ‘high-end criminals who are only interested in money’. I rest my case.
I get that. I also get that we have just thrown all our cards on the table and we don’t have any money left to take it further. We are going to have to find some more cash from somewhere. Canada’s not putting anything up, and we are acutely aware that the Australian parliament goes into its final sitting for the year in three days’ time, after which they all head off on their Christmas break and don’t reconvene till February. If we want any assistance from politicians, it has to be now. Everyone else gets to live their lives and Nige is stuck in god-only-knows-what conditions over Christmas.
It takes time to get this strategy right in my head; it’s bizarre. Reece over in Nairobi is actively not contacting Adan. So we’ve sent someone in with a new offer that’s been rejected and we are not contacting Adan either. Okay, so are we waiting for Adan to challenge me to see if this is a genuine offer? And if this is the case, what am I doing talking about money?
This has never ever come into my strategies; I have, from day dot, referred all matters to Nairobi. Do the negs here trust me enough that I won’t do something completely unpredictable and start talking money with Adan?
It’s a wild, mad thought; I’d never put it into practice, and I’m far too conformist for that. Surely the psych would have picked that out and stuck it in her report.
By the end of the month the negs have been swapped in Nairobi and Dave is back at the wheel.
Already I am dreading Christmas and it’s only November.
There is nothing religious about us, but our Christmases are always spent together. We tend to rotate who hosts, but it’s going to be hard enough dealing with Mum and Dad so I ring Matt and Ham: ‘I don’t care what your arrangements are. This year you are coming up here.’ I can’t do it by myself; it’s going to be too hard and I need the others to take some of the heat.
Nigel
The Light House
Monday, 23 November
Donald comes to us again. He tells me that negotiations are not proving as fruitful as they had hoped. Amanda and I speak at length about my family’s financial situation. A few years ago my parents sold their farm for a pretty penny and I know they have a healthy superannuation fund but that it would be difficult to tap into. I also know any action like this would bankrupt them. Amanda asks me repeatedly whether I think my family will also pay for her. It is a no-brainer; I’m sure my family know me well enough that it’s clear I wouldn’t ever leave without her. Amanda’s family don’t have access to the sort of cash the gang is looking for, so I guess it will be all or nothing.
DECEMBER 2008
/> Walking on eggshells
Nigel
The Light House
Monday, 1 December
DAY 100
It is one hundred days since we were kidnapped. That’s depressing enough, but now there’s Christmas around the corner and the chance of spending it with our families nil to fuck-all.
I get a note from Amanda and sit on the toilet while I read it.
‘Congratulations for making it to one hundred days. I can’t believe we are still here. We have to remain positive and believe that we will be home soon; remember there is a massive effort and many people on the other side of the world doing everything they can to get us out of here and home safely before Christmas.’
Instead of flushing it, I tuck the note in my pocket and take it back to the room, wanting to keep it as a souvenir. I have begun hoarding, for no other reason than to possess something personal – everything has been taken away except my diary and my hidden notes and drawings. I start to collect plastic bags, empty water bottles, anything that fills my empty room. I’m like a rat nesting.
In the first week of December it almost literally hits home that we’re in a war zone. Up until recently, we’ve only heard distant explosions of mortars and gunfire. Now we’re smack-bang in the middle of a massive operation by the occupying forces. At one point what must be a grenade explodes just metres away and dirt sprays the roof. I’d assumed if I was going to die here it would be from a bullet to the back of my head, not a stray mortar screaming through the roof and tearing me to pieces. I cower in the corner of my room.
Amanda tells me out her window, ‘You don’t have to worry about the mortars you hear; it’s the ones you don’t that kill you’, which doesn’t quell my anxiety. After what feels like a long time, the inten-sity of the battle subsides. I ask Jamal what’s going on and he tells me that it’s Al-Shabaab and the TFG forces fighting it out. He says they were very close but that there is nothing to worry about now.
Saturday, 13 December
Late at night I hear Assam go into Amanda’s room and tell her to get dressed quickly. She asks if she needs to get her things together, and he says to leave everything. I can sense the excitement in her voice. Something major is happening – this may be it, we are about to be released.
I’m expecting him to walk through my door any second. Instead I hear him shepherding her down the hallway, and Amanda asking where I am. Then the sound of car doors slamming and seconds later the car driving off into the distance.
She’s gone.
I feel nauseated. I’m sure she’s about to be killed, a statement to the Canadians for having stuffed the group around. If either of us was going to be released, I’m guessing I would be first off the block; they know my family has money. The more I think about it, the more I work myself up. I can’t bear to imagine how Amanda will meet her end; I just hope that it’s not brutal or slow. Tears run down my face and I’ve never felt more alone.
The house is now deathly silent, and my mind is running totally wild. I sit rigid with fear for what seems like hours before I hear the car pull into the courtyard. So, I think, now it’s my turn. But I hear Amanda; even though she’s sobbing uncontrollably I am flooded by sheer relief. I wonder if they told her bad news; perhaps her father has died.
I hear her go into her room and then come to our adjoining wall and slump to the floor. There’s the sound of her pawing at the wall, as if she is trying to burrow into my room. She is sobbing hysterically. All I can do is scratch back, letting her know I’m here.
I listen as Donald enters her room; he talks with her for a few minutes, but with my window closed I can’t make out any of it. He leaves and I listen to Amanda scratching at the wall until I eventually fall asleep.
The next morning, as soon as our windows are open, she knocks on the wall to let me know she wants to talk. I bolster myself, ready for any bad news. But my guesses as to what happened are not even in the ballpark. She slowly explains what took place last night.
Amanda was put in the car with Romeo, Skids, Donkey, Mao and Ahmed, and they picked up Donald and another man who she had never seen before.
Donald then announced they were going to kill her. They drove her out to the middle of nowhere; she begged for her life the whole way.
My heart is in my mouth and I wonder how she is managing to function let alone talk about this. She says that once the car pulled up, Skids marched her over to a tree and ordered her to kneel. He put a gun to her head. Skids said that because there was no money for her, there was no point keeping her alive. I’m visualising this, trying to imagine the horror she felt.
She pled with Donald not to let Skids kill her and begged them to let her call Lorinda. I can just picture that little prick Donkey at this point, taunting her and laughing in her face, telling her she is about to die. She implored them and eventually they handed her the phone. Amanda was to tell her mother if the gang doesn’t get the money in seven days, they will kill her.
Amanda says she spoke to her mum but doesn’t go into the detail. She must have been hysterical at that point.
As soon as the call was over, they bundled her back into the car and brought her back to the house.
Nicky
Moore Park
Sunday, 14 December
Lorinda gets a call from Amanda: ‘They want one million in one week or they will kill me.’
Lorinda said Amanda was crying on the phone, saying, ‘Tonight they brought me out to kill me but they are giving me one more chance. Can you get a million dollars?’
Amanda phones Lorinda again a short time later to say she made a mistake: they want US$2.5 million. We have heard nothing from Nige in a long time. Are they still together? Is he even alive? Are we being asked to fork out cash for just Amanda because Nige is dead and we haven’t been told? Or is it another case of ‘nothing has been confirmed’?
Tuesday, 16 December
There has been discussion about moving the NOK phone. The Villas are booked out over the two weeks of Christmas.
Si, the kids and I live in a three-bedroom fibro house right on the beach, round the corner from the Villas. Our nursery is on a small cane farm, and we have a tenant in our cottage. We decide to move her out. I feel bad that she has to go but our needs are greater.
In November one of the negs had taken photos of the cottage and sent them down to Canberra, as a potential new NOK cell, and we thought it was all systems go. The house is only a little two-bedroom place, but it’s got a phone line and it’s close by. What with everyone at Mum and Dad’s for Christmas it seemed a pretty good option to us. Up to this point the negs had been looking at moving out to Bargara for two weeks. That was a pretty unattractive choice for me. While everyone was up for Christmas, I’d be at Bargara, forty-five minutes away.
It appears there is an ulterior motive along the lines of ‘we are working at building a capability to get the neg cell to Canberra’. By now I am starting to pick up statements that pre-empt a railroading, so I know something’s going on – just not quite what.
Ryan, the neg who is with us at the moment, says he is putting together an ‘options paper’ on what will happen with the phone. Five options are being put forward:
Things stay the same, with the NOK phone staying full time at Moore Park.
The phone and the NOK (me) move to Canberra.
The phone moves down to Canberra and the AFP take over all negotiations.
The negs stay in Canberra and the phone is patched to the NOK in Moore Park.
One neg stays, the other moves down to Canberra, and the phone gets patched to the NOK at Moore Park.
I am assured the final decision will be made with our consultation. Time will tell.
Nigel
The Light House
Sunday, 14-Sunday, 21 December
I’m sure now that Ahmed and his cronies have finally lost patience with the negotiations. My arse puckers up with the thought that it’s crunch time. There’s no way Lorinda will be abl
e to magically come up with the money in six days. Amanda is now on death row, her execution date set.
That afternoon Amanda knocks to bring me to the window, and part of me wishes I didn’t have to hear what she is about to tell me. She says Donald came into her room under the guise of consoling her. He sat down next to her, and put his arm around her. She believed deep down that he was someone she could trust and rested her head on his shoulder as she cried. Donald patted her head to comfort her.
He said, ‘If you want me to help you, you will have to help me’, and placed her hand on his lap. Amanda took a few seconds to register that she was touching his cock. She pulled away and backed into a corner, telling him that what he was doing was against Islam. He scampered out of the room.
So Donald is just another snake in the grass. My concern now is that they’re not only going to kill her but treat her like their prostitute for the next week.
The following day I take a deep breath and tell Amanda some hard truths. She has to get her things in order; she needs to write a will and a letter to her parents. I tell her if I get out of here alive and she doesn’t, the first thing I will do is fly to Canada and meet with her family. She is still in a state of shock, consumed by fear and anxiety, but I think she sees the logic in this.
Two days later I broach the subject again and she snaps.
‘We have got to stop this. We are both being completely negative. If we keep thinking like this then they are going to kill me and possibly you too. Let’s just believe that it’s a bluf.’ Like a right hook to the head it knocks some sense into me. We have both been so positive up till now, to let go of that would be a form of defeat.
The Price of Life Page 14