The Price of Life

by Nigel Brennan

  Around 11 p.m. I get Skype ready to make the call that will seal the deal.

  I call in Alto first and then we connect to JC. My Skype account is full of credit and I am ready to dial in Adan when given the go ahead.

  JC runs Alto through the way he wants tonight’s conversation to go. Alto needs to confirm with Adan his full name for the money pick up and the exact location the exchange will take place on Wednesday.

  After JC gives Alto the instructions, he leaves us to it. Adan and Alto chat in Somali for thirteen minutes, then Adan hangs up.

  ‘How was it?’ I ask.

  ‘Not good; he is very suspicious. Let’s get John back on the phone.’

  Adan has called off the deal. Alto says he thinks we are trying to trick him into being caught at exchange.

  I am about to fall apart. I have the family on the way to Nairobi to pick up Nigel, and the deal has just fallen over. I can’t get the family back, all the Canadians are in transit so I can’t stop them either. And the money, oh god, the money! The money has been changed and is in cyberspace somewhere. And did I mention that it’s not insured, and that I lied to Dick Smith and said it was?

  John and Alto have a big discussion about what to do next as JC is due to leave London on the next plane and fly to Nairobi. We need to sort this now. I am pacing the hotel room, waiting to get the next lot of instructions. JC calls to tell me we have another call with Adan in an hour. He will be in a cab so it’ll be just Alto and me. Okay, I reply, thinking one hour to go and we do it all again. I need to relax so I head to the bathroom.

  I let the water in the shower beat down on my head. My body is aching. I’ve been so tense every muscle in my body is clenched and now the hot water is starting to make some of them relax. I keep looking at my watch, needing to be mindful of the time. I have a ten-minute shower, such a luxury as I live in a house with tank water.

  Once I’m out of the shower, I spot the flash of my mobile. Four missed calls from JC.

  I call him back: he’s in a cab on the way to the airport.

  ‘We changed our plan. We called Adan early. It has all fallen through. We’ve arranged for Nic to call him when she arrives.’ JC sounds different, frustrated. I think he needs some thinking time about what to do next. As for me, it’s 3 a.m. and I need to sleep.

  Tuesday, 3 November

  My mobile goes at 6.45 a.m. It’s the Manager.

  ‘Yes, Kellie, I have spoken to Dahabshiil manager and they will not take the money.’

  I sit bolt upright in bed.

  ‘Sorry, what did you say?’

  ‘I spoke to Dahabshiil manager and he will not let the Mogadishu branch accept the money. He does not want to put his business in danger and does not trust that a good person will pick up the money. I have been trying all night to get hold of the big boss, but I cannot contact him. I will keep trying tonight and call you again. I am sorry, Kellie.’

  I start to cry. The Manager does his level best to console me.

  I breathe and tell myself it will all be okay as soon as we get the head Dahabshiil guy on the phone. I have everything crossed.

  Now I discover that not only am I an emotional eater but I am also an emotional shopper, and shopping on the afternoon of Melbourne Cup Day is too easy. There is no one around. I buy clothes, shoes, Christmas presents, trying to make myself feel better, but it makes me feel worse because I’ve spent all my money doing it.

  By night time, the Hilton is full of partygoers, celebrating – some winners and some losers. I get back to my room and its all over the news: Shocking has won the Melbourne Cup. I order room service for dinner and wait to hear from the Manager.

  I stay awake long enough to hook up Alto and Adan. They talk in Somali for seven minutes, then Alto tells me. ‘Adan is very suspicious, but I told him the family will be arriving in Nairobi today and we are serious and we have to get this deal sorted. I also told him there is money waiting for him in Mogadishu and we really need to get a plan together so he can get his money.’

  Alto says he will let JC know what was said, and we sign off.

  My mobile starts to vibrate across the table. It’s the Manager.

  This is the call I have been waiting for, this is it. After this call I will know if Dahabshiil has said yes or no to the money drop.

  ‘Ah, hello Kellie.’ His voice sounds tired and a little stressed. Even though I don’t know this man very well I have started to pick up meaning in his voice, and right now I am not hopeful.

  ‘They will not accept the money.’

  ‘Why? ’

  ‘Because it is too much money and head of Dahabshiil does not have permission from your government that he will not be prosecuted. The money is going to bad people and Dahabshiil does not want that for their bank or their country.’

  What do we do now?

  ‘Can you get permission from your government, Kellie? ’

  Now I’m angry that the Manager said he could do this but didn’t look into it properly. But I need to keep a clear head.

  ‘Leave it with me. All the DFAT staff are in Nairobi. I will try and get hold of James and I will get back to you.’

  I hang up the phone and cry, and cry and cry and cry. All this emotion just spills out – I have totally fucked up my end. The only piece of the puzzle I’m responsible for and it doesn’t fit. When JC and Nic sort the issue with Adan, he will be expecting the money. Without the money, there is no exchange.

  I call Nic and leave a hysterical message.

  Then I call Matt and sob down the phone, explaining to him what is happening. Tomorrow is Wednesday and the rest of the family is expecting to get Nigel out. Now I have to explain to them that this isn’t going to happen. I’m not looking forward to calling Ham. I am a little too fragile and I think that would push me over the edge so I ask Matt to let Ham and Amy know there has been a delay. He needs to pretend it’s nothing huge.

  Before I go to bed, I phone James and get his voice mail. I leave a message asking him to call me. I need to get James to okay this transfer.

  Nicky

  Nairobi

  Tuesday, 3 November

  The upside to a middle-of-the-night flight is there are lots of empty seats to sleep in. The flight is uneventful, and then we hit Nairobi. I’ve got a voice mail from Kel.

  ‘It’s fallen over. I’ve fucked it all up. I’m so, so, sorry.’

  I’m alarmed that Kel is being so hard on herself. She’s probably awake but I don’t want to ring her – it’s the middle of the night in Oz. If it’s all gone to shit, she is going to need all the recuperative value she can get from sleeping. That’s what I’m telling myself, but I’m not very convincing. When I ring her back, I’m faking calm. My big concern is hiding from Mum and Dad what looks like a major stuff-up. I especially don’t want to send Dad into a tailspin.

  Visa arrangements in Nairobi are a nightmare. We were warned to have our palm-greasing US dollars at the ready. We encounter for the first of many times in Nairobi a lack of speed and efficiency. Finally we are processed.

  ‘Why are you visiting Africa?’

  To get my dumb-arse brother out of Somalia springs to mind but I hold back and say in a more circumspect manner, ‘To collect and repatriate a family member.’ All that DFAT poli-speak has rubbed off on me. Passport stamped, we’re through at last. We eventually find our bags in the care of two airport officials, who lead us out. We can see James outside and make our way over. We step out into the humid, pleasantly Brisbane-like, Nairobi night.

  We check in at the Tribe and go to the bar, where I meet Jack and Sam, the mad men who will be doing the run into Mogadishu to retrieve Nigel and Amanda. Sam looks as harmless as a teddy bear. Jack looks like, and brilliantly imitates, one of the huge marabou storks that invade the acacias in Nairobi, leaving the ground in a whitewash of guano.

  Kellie

  Sydney

  Wednesday, 4 November

  My mobile goes. It’s 10 a.m! Shit, I’ve slept in – then
I remember last night’s events and can’t think of one reason why I would want to get out of bed today.

  It’s Mum and she’s on her way to Sydney with Di, a very special family friend whose husband, Chud, is dying of brain cancer. Chud and Di have been a very big part of my life and it tears me apart to have someone so close to our family slipping away, and there is nothing anyone can do. I’m cross with myself for wallowing in self-pity when there are people like Di and her beautiful family who will inevitably lose their loved one. I need to do everything in my power to get one of ours back.

  Mum and Di are shopping in the city. I have a lot to do today but nothing really until Nairobi and Somalia open for business so I agree to meet them for lunch – the distraction will be good, then I can come back to the hotel and get ready for my calls with JC, Nic, the Manager and James.

  Mum cannot get over how terrible I look. She thinks I shouldn’t be doing this alone and wants to stay with me. I love my mum to death, I really do, but I’m not sure I want her to see me at my wit’s end, struggling to make a shitty situation right. I would hate to see my children go through this and not be able to help them.

  I give in and agree to her staying, and she puts Di on the train home.

  Around dinnertime, Mum and I are driving out of the Hilton car park to meet an old friend of mine, Elissa, for dinner when the phone starts ringing. It is the head of DFAT operations in Canberra, Greg Moriarty, saying he’s received an email from James.

  I pull over into a side street and pull my notebook out of my bag. I need to get Greg to give permission to get this money through. We exchange brief pleasantries.

  ‘Greg, look we have a bit of a problem. The head of the Dahabshiil bank wants reassurance from the Australian government that this transfer is all okay.’

  Then something happens that I will never forget. Greg Moriarty laughs at me.

  He says, ‘Kellie, the government is unable to facilitate a payment of over $250 000 and the family decided to go on their own. We cannot help you.’

  ‘Hang on, I’m not asking you to move it, I’m asking you to make a phone call and tell them you know it’s happening.’

  ‘I will say again, the family has decided to go on its own with AKE. The government is no longer tasked by the family, and the government is not able to facilitate a payment of over $250000.’

  ‘So, you are telling me that you can’t do anything.’

  Again, he laughs.

  ‘Kellie, this is your problem and we are not able to help. We won’t stop the money going through but we can’t help you get it there.’

  I am now furious.

  ‘I am so pleased you find this funny, this is not fucking funny. Do you know what you are doing? You are killing them, KILLING THEM! It’s a simple fucking phone call. The government has done fuck-all and now you’re laughing that we can’t get the money through. What do you suggest I do now? The kidnappers are waiting for this money. Goodbye, Greg, and thanks for nothing.’

  I sit in the front seat of the car with my head in my hands. I understand everything he has said, and I know that if he phones Dahabshiil, then the government is facilitating our payment. But all I need is him to make one little phone call and everything will be okay.

  Mum is sitting next to me in shock that I have just spoken to a government official in that way. I don’t think she has ever heard me speak to anyone like that. Actually, I don’t think I ever have.

  We are late for dinner. I sit down at the table and order some-thing to eat. I’m not hungry: all I want to do is go back to the hotel and sort this out. My phone goes again and this time it’s JC. He must have listened to my fifteen messages about the crumbling situation. I excuse myself and walk outside.

  ‘JC, I am so sorry I messed this up so badly. You are all there and my one job as fallen into a pile of shit and I’m having trouble fixing it.’

  ‘Kel, Kel, calm down. You haven’t stuffed up anything. These things happen; it’s all just part of the process. Now explain what has happened.’

  I rattle off my catalogue of problems. JC is clear headed and calm.

  ‘Okay, can you call your guy and convince him that we are sorting out the Mog end. Give him Adan’s details as the pick up and we will go from there. Don’t worry, Kel, everything will be fine.’

  I am on the footpath outside the restaurant, pacing and crying. People nearby are staring at me like I am a crazy person, and right now I think I am. All this talk of moving money – the people on the street probably think my divorce settlement has gone bad.

  I call the Manager. ‘Okay, John Chase is organising the Mogadishu pick up now, so I am going to give you the name of the man who will pick it up in Mogadishu. The government is not going to stop the payment, and JC is in Nairobi for the head of Dahabshiil to talk to if there is any problem. Is all that clear? ’

  ‘Yes, Kellie, I will phone the Mogadishu branch and call you back.’

  My meal has arrived when I walk back into the restaurant, and Mum has poured me a glass of wine, but I ask the waiter for some water. Now is not the time for alcohol, but god, I wish I could drink the bottle.

  I manage to eat a little of my dinner and make small talk while all the action is taking place on the other side of the world.

  The first call to come back is from the Manager, so again I excuse myself from the table.

  ‘Kellie, Mogadishu will not accept this money. They say they know the man who’s going to pick it up and he is very bad,’ the Manager tells me.

  ‘What do I have to do?’

  ‘You need John Chase to pick up the money. They will give it to him.’

  I call JC and fill him in. Back inside the restaurant I manage to eat the rest of my meal, which is now cold, without any phone calls. But I am quite anxious to get back to the hotel in case there are more dramas.

  As we are leaving the restaurant, JC calls me with news he has spoken with the Manager and a new pick-up destination and person will be arranged in the next few days.

  ‘Kellie, I have told the Manager to hold onto the money and take direction from you, as you and I are in contact and I can’t call him every time. He was happy with that. Now we need to concentrate on this end to get that sorted and get Adan back on track, so everything is fine. Okay?’

  ‘Oh, great, okay. So do you think I can go home tomorrow, or do I need to stay in case it falls though?’

  ‘No, I think you’re safe to go home.’

  I apologise to Elissa for being bad company and Mum and I head back to the hotel. I need to get ready for our CMT call tonight and then I can sleep. Mum looks really tired so I let her have a shower first and hop into bed, and I sit up and answer some emails and call Matt and tell him what is going on.

  Our CMT discusses the plan from here on in. The CMT is now working on two fronts: we need to clear the money transfer and we also need to get Adan back on board. JC, Nic and Lorinda will work on Adan, and JC and I will work on Dahabshiil. Hopefully by the end of the week at least one of the issues will be resolved.

  Nicky

  Nairobi

  Friday, 6 November

  Mum, Dad and I get the run-down from Tony at the Australian consulate on how unsafe Nairobi is. He goes through a massive list of what we can’t do and where we can’t go. I’m thinking, Nige didn’t get into trouble till he got to Somalia, and he certainly wasn’t staying in a secure (read: flash) hotel like this one.

  The government representation is ridiculous – there is a cast of thousands. We count at least ten Australian consulate, AFP and defence personnel, and they’re just the ones we can see.

  We meet the Australian defence psych, who’ll look after Nige once he’s out. He’s fantastic and a straight-up kind of guy – a perfect fit for Nige. He and the Canadian psych are acting in conjunction and, unlike other Australian—Canadian working relationships, they’re actually at ease with each other.

  The Canadian family arrived twelve hours before us. The CMT settles in JC’s room and trie
s to nut out what’s gone wrong and how to fix it. Adan now knows Lorinda and I are in Nairobi.

  Abdul, the Mogadishu Dahabshiil branch manager, is telling our Manager that Adan is not a ‘respectful business man’ and refuses to deal with him. Adan claims that if Abdul calls him, he ‘will know him and understand who he is’. This lot honestly couldn’t organise a piss-up in a brewery, even though that’s a bad analogy to use in a Muslim country. Lorinda tells Adan that he’s meant to be running this show; if he wants his money, he has to get it organised.

  JC’s room is pretty standard, and we are all piled up on his bed while he sits next to Lorinda, Skyping Adan on the laptop. It’s a very odd sensation to have everyone around when we are making a call to Adan. It’s been such a solitary experience for me up till now, getting up in the dark to have a chat to JC. This is much better. There is a big mirror behind the laptop so we can all make eye contact with each other. When Adan is talking, different people pick up different nuances. The sound of pencils on paper and the crinkling of notes as we pass them to JC reminds me of trying to dodge the teacher’s attention at school.

  When Kel calls JC to report in, she says the Manager is feeling pretty damn uncomfortable with Abdul. Is he trying to protect us? Does he think we are going to get rolled? JC has got hold of someone pretty high up in Dahabshiil and has an assurance that the money can stay in the system till we organise someone respectable to pick it up. This is quite a big deal as the transactions usually have to be completed within twenty-four to forty-eight hours.

  The dithering goes on for a day or so – it’s Chinese whispers on coke. Adan is constantly texting and ringing to see which Dahabshiil office the money is being sent to. The pickle he has got himself into is that there are two transfers: the money for the kidnappers and the cosy little deal he has made for himself. Mogadishu is a sieve. If there are two transactions, everyone will know about it. On top of this, the information we are getting is that Abdul is dodgy as well, so we don’t know if he has a connection with the kidnappers. Perhaps Adan has to do an extra deal with him so he doesn’t get double-crossed? Lorinda and I are steadfast on getting a POL from Nige and Amanda: the money can be in the Dahabshiil office for Adan, but it cannot be picked up until we have Nige and Amanda safe and sound. No mat-ter how many times Adan tries to get around this we will not budge.