The woman smiled. “Not yet. You’re not very good at following orders, are you, Mr. Burns?”
“Why is that?” Justin said, his mouth going dry at the mention of his cover name for this operation.
“The orders were for you, just you, to come here for the exchange, and not to bring a weapon. You’ve broken the rules, so you need to pay the price.”
Justin’s eyes narrowed as he fixed the woman with a harsh gaze. Her sunglasses provided a thick, smooth cover, and he could see his reflection, his black hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. He sighed. He wanted to tell the woman there was no one else with him, but he did not want to insult her intelligence.
“If you know I’m not alone, you also know there’s a sniper who has you in his crosshairs. I just need to give the order,” Justin said in a low voice lacking any emotion.
“Please do.” The woman motioned with her gun. “In that case, I’ll have three more hostages, your team members, for whom you’ll have to pay double the amount demanded for Duncan.”
Justin’s face remained calm. She’s bluffing.
The woman produced a BlackBerry from her robe’s left pocket and placed it on the table. She tapped a couple of keys, while keeping her gaze on Justin’s face at all times, then fired off a few quick words in a language Justin assumed was a Nigerian dialect. He could make out only the name of his local partner, Kayo.
“Talk to him.” The woman gestured with her head toward the BlackBerry.
Justin frowned and swallowed hard. His found his throat parched, so he licked his lips, and coughed a couple of times. “Kayo, how are you?” he said in a calm tone.
“Okay. I’m sorry, man; they snuck up on me so—”
A scraping noise cut off his words, then a thick voice spoke again in a language that sounded like the one the woman had spoken.
“Would you like to check with your sniper or your driver?” the woman asked.
Justin shook his head. He clenched his teeth and balled his hands into tight fists. He was sure the woman could see the rage pouring out of his eyes. “You’ve made your point,” he growled in a low voice. “Take the money and give me Duncan.”
The woman retrieved her BlackBerry. “I will take the money, yes, but we’re not yet ready to say goodbye to Marty. The price has gone up since our last chat.”
Justin leaned forward, but the woman tapped the table with her gun. “Stay back, Mr. Burns. I’d hate to waste you now that we’re coming to an understanding.”
Justin fell back with a shrug. He arched his eyebrows, then asked, “What understanding?”
“Five million; the new price for Duncan’s head is five million. And before you start complaining it’s too high, remember it’s a drop in the bucket for the oil thieves pulling Duncan’s strings. Even if we asked for a billion dollars, still it wouldn’t come even close to the six hundred billion that have been robbed from our land since the sixties.”
Justin let out a big sigh. He wanted to open his mouth and tell this woman Duncan was not responsible for all the corruption plaguing the Nigerian government and for the pillaging of most of the oil revenues of the country year after year. But he wanted Duncan back, and he had no other option but to endure the lecture of this gun-toting terrorist. The more the woman opened her mouth, the more details Justin was learning, details which would help him track her down and find the kidnapped diplomat.
“We’ve had a couple of other offers for your dear friend,” the woman said as a grimace spread across her small face. “One, a very serious one, comes from a group affiliated with the Islamic Fighting Alliance. Are you familiar with them?”
Justin nodded. The Alliance, and especially a breakaway faction, had been very active in Algeria, Mali, Libya, and Egypt. Its leaders had masterminded a number of terrorist attacks against banks, hotels, and police stations all over northern Africa. If Duncan ended up in the hands of the Alliance, his beheading would be broadcasted live on many Jihadist websites, chat rooms, and Islamic Internet groups.
“Their offer is three million,” the woman continued. “I’m sure the Canadian government can do better than a bunch of terrorists, right?”
“When?” Justin asked with a piercing gaze.
“In two days. I have your number, and I’ll call with a location for the drop.”
Justin paused for a moment, then asked, “And this time no games, right? No more upping the price just because you feel like it.”
The woman laughed. “Oh, I wish I could promise you that, but it’s not up to me. See, I think you and your oil-stealing friends should be paying much, much more.”
“Yes, I’ve heard your views.” Justin put up his right hand to spare himself another tongue-lashing.
“Push the briefcase toward me.” The woman sat and slid back in her chair. “We’ll call it a down payment.”
“One more question: you said you’ve had two offers on Duncan. One is the Alliance. Who’s the other?”
The woman cocked her head to the left, pondering whether she should answer Justin’s question. She hesitated for a moment, then said, “It’s from the government. It seems Mr. Duncan has powerful friends in very high places. The briefcase.”
Justin pushed it toward the woman with the tip of his shoe. She groped for it with her left hand, her right hand still pointing her pistol at Justin’s head. Her eyes never left his face.
“Great doing business with you, Mr. Burns.” She got ready to get up.
“I didn’t quite catch your name,” Justin said hurriedly.
“Nice try.” The woman smiled. “That’s because I didn’t give it to you. But my name is not important. And keep your hands where I can see them.”
Justin placed his hands back on the table.
The woman slid her gun, along with the map, toward her. “We’ll take your Rover. I hope you don’t mind.”
Justin closed his eyes. The woman was adding insult to injury. It took a great deal of self-control not to jump to his feet and lurch toward her, hoping his hands around her neck would be faster than her finger on her trigger.
“Be safe, Mr. Burns. Lagos is a rough place for foreigners, especially Canadians.” The woman grinned as she got up, and stepped backwards, holding her pistol, covered by the map, still aimed at Justin’s head.
The two men she had approached earlier at a nearby table stood and flanked her. They were her accomplices, and they were both armed, the handles of their pistols visible over their waistbands. They were ready to shoot at the first sign of Justin going for his weapon.
Justin remained in his seat, but his mind was in overdrive. The trio was still within the reach of his pistol, but before he could fire his double-taps, he needed to make sure his team was out of harm.
“Kayo, come in,” he said, and looked at Kayo’s position.
No one answered, not even static.
“Kayo, where are you?” Justin said in a louder voice.
Again, no answer.
He tried the sniper and the driver one after the other but his calls were met with silence. Whoever had moved in with stealth on his team members had disabled their communication gear.
The trio moved with a quick pace, walking half backwards and half sideways, the woman still holding her pistol toward Justin, wrapped in her map. Their actions attracted some attention from people around them, but they did not seem to care.
Justin stood up and took a few steps forward, rushing in their direction. The trio was now close to the Land Rover, which began to move toward them. The front passenger door opened and Justin’s driver jumped out. His face was red and he looked miserable.
The woman threatened Justin’s driver, while one of the men gave him a humiliating smack across his face. The trio climbed into the Land Rover and it slowly began to turn around the curve. Justin pulled out his pistol and aimed it at the new driver. He could empty the nine-round magazine and stop the vehicle. But he still did not know about Kayo and the sniper, and an attack against the trio would seal Duncan’s fate. He wanted the diplomat alive and well, not in a body bag or his body never to be found.