by Tim Heath
On this day all the commanders were present, the chain of command previously changing by the month due to the successes of enemy airstrikes. Lately, with the relative security of their cement sealed bunker, their regrouping to this one fortified location had allowed them time to work together with a clear leadership structure in place. If they were ever to govern their nation, they would have to learn how to work well as a team. And so far, it was holding.
“We have to take this seriously,” was what got demanded from the third in command.
“But do you trust these barbarians?”
“Our brothers from Afghanistan are already on their way. They urge us to join them. We plan to meet with them in Rutba in three days.”
Rutba lay in the south-west corner of Iraq; a Daesh controlled city with excellent support all the way along to the border with Jordan. They wouldn’t have a problem moving their two convoys along that road, though the risk of air strikes increased. They’d have to work out a plan for that, maybe using humanitarian aid vehicles they’d previously stolen to give them cover. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d done such a thing.
“If we get all the way to Nigeria and they aren’t willing to help us, we have enough force to change their minds.”
“You are stupid if you think we have the same influence there as we do here.”
“We have many friends in Libya, let’s not forget. We could march them down through Niger if we needed to. Look, we have nothing to fear. They proved the information they have on the British by taking out those five informants the other week. They also have something more valuable, I do believe.”
“What?” There was silence in the room as the third in command continued to speak.
“This information was not their primary target but was given up during interrogation. It came from the same Chinese official who was in Nigeria to sell them some plans for a new type of power station.”
“Energy, what’s that to us? We have all the oil we’ll ever need!”
“Believe me; this is something new. The way the Americans are destroying the price of oil, don’t you see? They are keeping the price low to take billions off what we can make in a year. It’s one of their main tactics to limit what we can do. And it’s had a large effect, as you all know. Nowadays we get a few million dollars a day to finance our ongoing mission. With more land to guard, more soldiers to train, more equipment to update, that money isn’t going as far as it used to. In the early days, when we first took the oil fields and the price was not in free fall, we were making $20million a day, easily. So they’ve had an effect. This power plant, the one the Chinese have just opened, for those that have been watching as I have, will know that it opens a new chapter in energy production. The age of oil is over. That is why we need to be one of the first to get our hands on this information. It’ll give us absolute control in the region.”
“The enemy would never allow us to build it.”
“Oh yes they would, when we strike them so hard that they run in terror. We get this information, and we can hold it against them, buy us some time until we get our own working power station. Then they’d have no choice but to allow us a place at the top table. We’d be able to switch off oil production altogether, force the world to use our energy. Bring the West to their knees.”
There was a loud cheer around the conference table over that last remark.
Afghanistan
Al-Qaeda had been contacted directly by Boko Haram the day before. There had been some shared history, some joint working together over the past few years already. Bin Laden, when he was alive, had carried out many attacks on the African continent and had made links in the build-up to the biggest ones. His death did little to sever the connection between the two groups. It had been al-Qaeda they’d called when they needed help killing the five informants. Then, an agreement was made that both groups would be given access to all the information. Al-Qaeda was therefore already planning their route to Nigeria, aware that the invitation had since been passed on to others, but happy for the chance to gather multiple groups together at the same time. Most had a common interest, and for those who didn’t fit in, it wouldn’t take much to knock them into line, or eliminate them entirely. There had never been a time when they’d all got together, and most were just fighting their own localised wars. It was only themselves, the 9/11 attack in New York bringing them to the world stage, who had managed to take the fight to the enemy. Daesh was also now starting to cross borders, their attacks in Europe, carried out by localised cells, had also raised the awareness, and fear, of this type of organisation. The battle was very much on.
Al-Qaeda was no longer centrally run, which posed a small problem but also gave them a more fluid existence. Each subgroup had its own aims, its own agreed purposes. Each would, therefore, be represented at the meeting, making in effect the members of al-Qaeda the numerically strongest in attendance, besides the hosts.
They expected to have the last of their teams arriving in Nigeria within five days, and once in the country, it was anything between a day and three to get to where the meeting was taking place.
Cameroon, Central Africa
In Cameroon, there was a rising level of concern as the week went on. Already the victim of repeated attacks by Boko Haram fighters crossing the border from Nigeria, their own, albeit limited, Security Service was picking up chatter about some international terrorist groups arriving or soon to come in their region.
The Americans had closed all but one of their embassies in West Africa, their one remaining facility, located in Cameroon, a testament to the close connections the two nations still felt. Cameroon was a key, and only, ally that the West now had in the region. It was to this end that a team from the Cameroonian Security Service had arranged a meeting with the Americans at their embassy. It was expected, as it would also turn out to be, that the CIA would be present at such a meeting. It was these guys who the Cameroonians needed to reach out to most.
Once the three-person Cameroonian team had been admitted into the building and had been through all the security checks, they were escorted into a small but beautifully furnished room in the embassy. They were left for five minutes before the seven-person team representing the Americans joined them.
“Sorry for the delay,” the Ambassador said, taking the hand of the most senior of his visitors, a man he’d met with several times before, giving him a firm handshake before they all took their seats.
“No problem,” is all he said in reply.
“So, tell me what you have. I know we wouldn’t all be here if it wasn’t something that we should all know about.”
“Thank you, Mr Ambassador,” he said, standing up and taking the floor. “As you are aware, we have a strong role to play within our region, not just our nation, regarding security, migration and visitors to our lands. We have teams of people watching, tracking and recording persons of interest travelling to western and central parts of Africa. From what we know, and our intelligence information is usually excellent, three separate groups of men representing various al-Qaeda units have arrived in our country in the last twenty-four hours. One of these had already travelled through Cameroon and entered Nigeria before the message came through. It appears the other two are also heading in the same direction. As things stand, we’ll let them go on their way. If they are moving out of our country, that is better for us, and for you. Clearly, if they were here and stayed in Cameroon, it would raise questions of security.”
“So what are they here for, if as you suggest, they are al-Qaeda?”
“I think we know what they are here for,” said one guy from the CIA. “We’ve been expecting something of a convergence in the area since last week, ever since Boko Haram broadcast to others what they had in their possession. While it was meant to scare the West––and to some degree, it has, of course––it was also a calling card to those that share their ideology.”
“And what have they got?” said a concerned Ambassador, who’d been
kept from these developments the entire time, much to his now obvious annoyance.
“British Security Service information, sir, and lots of it. We believe they kidnapped a senior Chinese official visiting the south of Nigeria just over one month ago. He was there to meet with government officials looking to develop plans for their own power station. He never made the meeting; his convoy ambushed in what was a very well planned assault. He has not been seen or heard from since, but it is believed that he is still being held, alive, in northern Nigeria somewhere. About ten days ago, five names were passed onto a person of interest that we are monitoring. These were the names of five British informants, all of whom had just been killed before the information had been given out. The data itself was a copy of an apparently official British document which the Chinese must have got their hands on, and which the terrorists somehow obtained from their prisoner, either voluntarily or by force. That bit doesn’t matter for now, apart from telling us that what these terrorists now have in their possession is apparently still real-time, genuine information.
“It’s not known how extensive the information is, though sources close to the British Security Service have confirmed that what was lost was very important and valuable information. We can only assume the Chinese have given them everything already, or soon will, in exchange for the release of their prisoner.
“What Boko Haram has recently done, something like a week ago, is through their usual channels and go-betweens––all of whom we are watching––is to invite their friends, by whom they mean other Jihadist militant terrorist groups from around the world, to come and see this information for themselves. In exchange for the information, we can only assume they will look to gain more power, or wealth, or influence within that community.”
“And you didn’t think this information was worth my office knowing?” the Ambassador said, sitting back deeper into his chair, a look of defeat showing on his face, though he knew his role in the pecking order better than most; the team from Cameroon were not so subtle.
“This is an outrage. Why did you not bring this to our attention before? We might have been able to stop them, or at least arrest those we could. There might have been time to put teams in place.”
“You still can. You just said you were allowing these known terrorists to move on through your country, happy that they were going into Nigeria. And yet, isn’t it attacks from that same country that has made your nation so unstable?”
“It wasn’t our doing that turned Nigeria into a land of bandits!”
“Neither was it ours, I’ll have you know!” said the CIA, not wanting to be included in what the British had in fact primarily caused, though it was Boko Haram who’d escalated the situation to what it was today. Cameroon didn’t have the forces to repel an invasion if that was to happen, it was a nation on the brink of collapse, so it was no real surprise that they had let the three teams from al-Qaeda just pass through their nation––there was little they could have done to stop them.
There was silence for a moment, as everyone took a second to compose themselves a little.
“Look, I’ll pass this information onto Washington. As I said, we’d been aware of potential movement to the region, and your information is most helpful. We’ll do our best to keep you informed.”
“Thank you, and we know it wasn’t your nation that caused this situation. We do appreciate your presence here. One last thing, before we go. Surely you see the opportunity that is being presented to us all. All these groups, apparently, in the same place at the same time. We don’t have the resources or firepower to do anything about it. Nor could we risk an all-out war with Boko Haram, who have grown too powerful for our government now, as they have for the Nigerian authorities, who are largely hiding in the south. Nigeria is leaving these terrorists to have free rein in the north of the country. But they are increasingly crossing our border. They are spreading fear like cancer in the region. It won’t be long before they have a stranglehold on us all, making us all come under their leadership and ideology. Can’t you Americans do something about that? Send an airstrike where the meeting is taking place, take them all out in one go? With American firepower, it’s possible my government would back it up with troops on the ground. It would be a hard sell but one we might be able to push through. Please, consider this an opportunity not to be missed.”
“Look, I can’t promise anything along the lines of what you have said, can’t comment either way as this is not a decision I’m personally able to make. All I can assure you is that I will pass this information on, and anything further that you can share with us. Every possible solution is being considered. We understand the pressure in the region, and the potential opportunity being presented. Believe me, when I tell you, they’ll be considering everything. Please, let’s keep this between us for now and continue to share what information we have. I’d best get back to the office and pass this onto Washington.”
They shook hands one last time, the Cameroonian team the first to leave, before the CIA started to exit the room, leaving just their boss and the Ambassador in the meeting area.
“Are we really considering getting involved militarily in Nigeria?” the Ambassador said, wary of the threat that it would bring to his whole staff if that were to happen.
“You’ll know when we know, sir. But it’s an option on the table.”
They parted company, the Ambassador watching his countryman leave the office, wondering if that course of action would be like throwing petrol on a fire, American lives being lost in African battles being nothing new to his nation. Would they ever learn, but then again, would this type of situation, if it was indeed to be believed, ever present itself again?
In Washington, when the information was confirmed, there was a sense of opportunity, the kind of thing that only happened thousands of miles away from the trouble itself and when risking the lives of other people. It was clear that a military response, now that people were beginning to arrive, was fast becoming the only option worth considering.
24
Morocco, North Africa
In Morocco, the three teams of Americans were in place and had made their move on an unsuspecting Elizabeth that morning. It had all ended so swiftly, and they’d entered her accommodation at 5 am, capturing her while she was still in bed. There were no early warning systems in place, nothing to have alerted her to their entry, not that she would have had anywhere to go. With another team outside the property and the third group covering all exits from the compound, running would not have got her very far, not this time anyway.
Initially startled, there had been an element of relief when she had discovered they were Americans. God forbid that any local Moroccan kidnappers would have got hold of her. She didn’t put up a fight when they handcuffed her, nor when she was lifted from the bed. She’d been allowed to dress quickly, everything else left in place to be discovered by someone, probably the maid, at a later point. There was no apparent sign of a struggle, nor did she make any noise. As if resigned to her fate, she let them take her away, being lowered into the back of a black van before it pulled away slowly down the street, joining the main road about three minutes later.
“How did you find me?” is all she said, and when she didn’t get a reply, just sat there, watching the road in front of her, trying to work out where she was being taken, remembering as much about her journey as possible, should it become useful later.
She was driven for about fifty minutes, to a house standing by itself in what seemed like a desert area. The van drove straight into a large double garage, the door closing automatically behind them. Lights switched on by themselves; clearly, motion sensors were in operation. It was no ordinary home.
She was led out of the van by the same people who’d captured her and travelled with her up to this point, though others now joined them. All looked American military, all carried that apparent confidence that their Special Forces personnel seemed to wear like a uniform. It had always bothered her.
They placed her on a chair, a small table in front of her. A scanner was run over her arms, chest and legs, no bugs or recording devices evident, as they had thought.
“So what happens next?” she said.
“You wait.”
“For what?” There was no further reply, however.
Ten minutes later there was the clear sound of another vehicle approaching, two in fact as it soon turned out, the garage door once again opening and the clear signs of a car of some size being driven inside. The garage door could then be heard closing.
African voices now became vocal, and through the walls, she couldn’t quite make out whether they were, in fact, speaking accented English with the Americans, or another language entirely. The fact that there were others now involved, concerned her for the first time since being woken up that morning.
The team in the room with her just smiled, as they moved towards the door.
“Best of luck,” one said as they left the room. Then it was just her. About a minute later she heard the van that had brought her there being driven out of the garage, and once it was out, the garage door closed shut. That meant one car was outside, the ones she’d heard the latest visitors arrive in, and one was still presumably in the garage. And now the Americans had seemingly left. It was a full two minutes before anyone came to her, the door opening and three men walked in, each with a gun over his shoulder, their clothing indicating to her that they were militia, and probably local to the area.
“Stand up,” one of them said to her, which she did without any apparent concern. He came over and undid her handcuffs, as another man raised a gun on her.
“We no hurt you, you understand? Just precaution. No funny business, okay? We just here to transport you. But first, need you to change clothes. Okay?”