Hellfire (7 page)

Sweat was now pouring down Ntoga’s face. He wiped it away with one hand. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he whispered.

‘No? Fine.’ Caitlin dug her hand into her jacket and pulled out a old-fashioned Nokia mobile phone. She pressed a couple of buttons and a name and number came up on the screen. She held it in front of Ntoga’s face. ‘Know the name?’ she asked.

He nodded.

‘That’s a direct line to the Inspector General. Did I mention that he’s a friend of mine?’ She pressed another button and the sound of a number being dialled filled the vehicle.

A female voice. ‘
Hello? Office of the Inspector General
.’

Caitlin inclined her head. ‘Shall I ask to be put through?’ she asked. ‘Or shall I hang up?’

A pause.

‘
Hello? Who is this?
’

‘Hang up,’ Ntoga breathed.

Caitlin killed the phone. ‘Talk,’ she said.

Ntoga was still sweating. ‘I swear . . .’ he muttered. ‘I don’t know . . .’

‘Fuck this,’ said Danny, continuing Caitlin’s cue. He opened his door and grabbed Ntoga by the elbow. ‘Call him now, tell him we’re on our way in . . .’

‘What?’ Ntoga hissed. ‘Wait.’ Fear was dripping off him.

Danny let the door slam shut. ‘I want a name. Now.’

Ntoga’s eyes bulged. He swallowed hard and glanced first at Danny, then at Caitlin, then at the police building outside.

When he spoke, it was barely a whisper.

‘Boko Haram,’ he said.

Three

‘You’ll have to do better than that,’ Danny said. ‘I want proper names – people, places . . .’

‘That’s all I know,’ Ntoga said. His voice was hoarse, his skin soaked with sweat.

Danny opened the door again and started to drag him out.

‘Wait!’ Ntoga rasped. ‘Wait!’

‘You’ve got ten seconds to give me information I can use,’ Danny said.

‘I heard them talk about Chikunda,’ the Nigerian breathed. ‘I think maybe they take them there.’

‘Where is Chikunda?’ Danny demanded.

‘North. Past Abuja. Very far.’

‘How much did they pay you?’

Ntoga shrank back. Danny pulled out his Sig and pressed the barrel hard into the soft flesh of Ntoga’s left eye. ‘How much did they pay you!’

‘Ffity thousand dollars,’ Ntoga squealed.

Ripley gave a low whistle. ‘That’s a lot of dollars for bunch of Nigerian militants to cobble together,’ Tony said.

‘Sounds to me like they’ve got backing,’ Danny said. He nodded at Caitlin. ‘Let’s get to the High Commission, turn this dirtbag over to his lawyer.’

‘Yes,’ Ntoga breathed. ‘My lawyer . . .’

Caitlin pulled out into the busy traffic, then off into the side streets again. As she drove, heavy raindrops started to spatter on the windscreen. Within thirty seconds it had turned into a torrent that the wipers could barely clear, and which hammered so noisily on to the vehicle that it was impossible to speak.

Danny took a moment to process what he’d just learned. Boko Haram were a bunch of militant Islamists working out of northern Nigeria. They’d been responsible for kidnapping Nigerian schoolgirls and other low-risk, high-publicity targets – not to mention brutal massacres that had wiped out whole villages and thousands of people. Swiping the British High Commissioner, though, was a change of tactic. It also sounded like this particular cell had substantial funding, and that made them a hundred times more dangerous.

The journey to the British Deputy High Commission took them across two bridges, on to the islands of Lagos. They reached it ten minutes later. It was situated just off a wide, sweeping road, and was shielded by palm trees that swayed in the rain and wind. Danny noticed two photographers loitering opposite the entrance – word of the commissioner’s disappearance had clearly leaked out. Instinctively, he shielded his face with one hand, and he noticed the other members of the unit doing the same.

They took a sharp left and drove straight through the open security barriers. The remaining two cars in the convoy were already parked outside the bland, brick building. As they pulled up alongside the convoy, Danny could see the military attaché standing in the rain, pulling at what remained of the hair on his head. As he saw their car approach, his expression turned from one of anxiety to one of anger.

The doors of the Range Rover swung open in unison. The unit emerged quickly, Danny holding Ntoga firmly by the arm. The military attaché opened his mouth, clearly about to give them a bollocking, but he was interrupted. Another Nigerian man, lean and older than Ntoga, with short white hair, burst out of the main entrance to the Commission. ‘What are you doing with my client?’ he shouted furiously. ‘I demand that you release him immediately.’

‘He’s all yours, pal,’ Danny said. He pushed Ntoga towards his lawyer. Ntoga stumbled in a puddle, then hurried to the older man with his head bowed. Together they disappeared into the Commission building.

The military attaché turned to Danny. ‘What the bloody hell do you think you’re . . .’

‘We need to talk,’ Danny cut in. ‘Now. Do you have a secure room?’

The attaché stared at him for a moment. Then he bowed his tired head. ‘This way,’ he said.

It was an ordinary meeting room on the first floor of the Commission building. Grey carpet tiles, walls that could do with a lick of paint, strip lighting, and the kind of plastic chairs you’d normally expect to find in a school hall. An air-conditioning unit rumbled noisily, but it managed to keep the humidity down a little. On one wall, a large map of Nigeria. Danny looked round for any sign of bugs or listening devices. There was no immediate sign of any, and Danny didn’t have time to check the light fittings or ceiling panels. ‘Are you sure we can talk freely?’ he asked the attaché.

‘As sure as I can be,’ said Maloney.

‘Get me up to date on Boko Haram.’

‘They’re animals.’

‘They’re terrorists. Goes without saying. What else?’

‘Sunni fundamentalists. The name means “Western education is forbidden”. They want Sharia law, subjugation of women, they kill anyone drinking or listening to music, all the usual Taliban bullshit. Those girls they kidnapped? You heard about that? The Boko Haram leader wants to sell them to his guys as wives for twelve bucks each. Says it’s the Islamic way. In the last five years they’ve killed five thousand civilians, and displaced the best part of a million. What do you want me to tell you? They’re fucking psychos.’

Danny gave him a hard stare. ‘They’ve got your commissioner and his aide,’ he said.

Maloney blanched, then pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘They’ll make mincemeat of them.’

‘Not if we get to them first. If they wanted them dead, they’d have killed them on sight. My guess is they want a ransom, or – more likely – to make a show out of them. Execute them on video, you know the drill. It gives us a little time. We think your man’s being taken by Boko Haram to a village in the north called Chikunda.’

To his credit, the attaché quickly regained his composure. ‘That makes some kind of sense,’ he said, before gathering his thoughts for a moment. ‘Traditionally, Boko Haram have been most active in the north-east, especially in the area around the Sambisa forest. But they’ve been heading west recently, along the Niger border. They’re targeting small villages where they can wipe out the locals and set up defensive positions. Chikunda is one of them. It’s a tiny place, former population of a couple of hundred people. I wouldn’t have heard of it, if Boko Haram hadn’t moved in about a week ago. Eyewitness reports say they burned down practically all the houses. Most of the villagers are dead or displaced. If it’s not deserted, it’ll just be Boko Haram fighters in the village itself.’

‘We need to get there as quickly as possible.’

‘I’ve got some good contacts in the Nigerian military. Let me make some calls. I’ll see if we can scrounge a chopper and flight crew.’

‘Wait,’ Danny said. ‘What happens when the Nigerians get a sniff of a Boko Haram stronghold?’

A shadow crossed the military attaché’s face. ‘Normally nothing,’ he said. ‘The military’s a mess. Government ministers have been diverting the defence budget into their own bank accounts for years. Boko Haram are far better equipped and far better motivated. But if they do send troops in, it’ll be carnage. Neither side has any concept of human rights. The government have learned not to send in under-equipped troops, so they
might
just try to bomb the target with whatever assets they can cobble together, and they won’t care about civilian casualties.’

‘Or about the hostages?’

The attaché thought about that for a moment, then shook his head. ‘Maybe I can get on to Whitehall,’ he said. ‘Ask the Foreign Office to appeal to the Nigerians to hold back for twenty-four hours.’

‘We can’t risk it,’ Danny said. ‘Boko Haram had Ntoga in their pocket and they’ve clearly got money to spend. They could have bought anyone in the government or military, and we don’t know how deep the corruption goes. For now, this information doesn’t leave this room. If Boko Haram are heading across country with the hostages, it’ll be hard for them. The hostages will be slowing them down. If word reaches the kidnappers that we’re on to them, the first thing they’ll do is kill the hostages.’

‘How long have we got?’

Danny strode over to the map of Nigeria. The attaché accompanied him. ‘Where’s Chikunda?’

‘From memory,’ the attaché said, ‘about here.’ He pointed to a spot in the north-western corner of Nigeria, approximately a hundred klicks south of the Niger border.

‘The ambassador was kidnapped here,’ Danny said, pointing to the spot west of Port Harcourt where the atrocity had taken place. ‘Caitlin, what’s the terrain between the two locations?’

Caitlin walked up and examined the map. ‘The road infrastructure’s pretty good,’ she said. ‘If they bypass Abuja and manage to get through any impromptu police road blocks – which they will do if they put their hands in their wallets – I’d say you’re looking at fifteen hours by car, if they’re travelling fast.’

‘Longer if you’re concealing two hostages,’ Danny said. ‘They’ll keep them separate, so they’ll be driving in convoy, which is always slower. And they’ll be watching their speed if they want to stay under the radar.’

He looked out of the window, where the rain was still torrential. ‘The weather’s bad,’ he observed. ‘Whose terrain will it affect more, theirs or ours?’

‘Probably theirs,’ Caitlin and the attaché said in unison.

‘Hostages, rain . . . I reckon they give us another ten hours. Call it twenty-four hours in all. We think the commissioner was taken at what time?’

‘About 11.30 a.m.,’ said the attaché.

‘Which puts them in Chikunda by 11.30 tomorrow morning.’ Danny checked his watch. 22.35 hrs. ‘That gives us just under thirteen hours to get to there.’

Caitlin made a low hissing sound. ‘Tight,’ she said.

‘What can I do to help?’ Maloney asked.

‘We need detailed mapping of the roads between here and Chikunda, plus any intelligence reports you have of the situation on the ground out there.’

‘I can do that. Our people can probably get you a detailed satellite map of Chikunda itself, taken after it was occupied.’

‘Good. Do it.’

‘Weapons? Signalling equipment?’

‘We’ve got what we need. But we could use some local currency. Low-denomination notes, plenty of them. It doesn’t have to be a lot – it just has to
look
like a lot.’

The attaché gave an efficient nod and didn’t ask questions.

‘Try to keep Ntoga here as long as possible,’ Danny said. ‘My guess is he’ll ask you for your help to leave the country. If he does, give it to him. Monitor his phone calls and escort him to the airport. The last thing we want is him warning anybody that we’re on to the kidnappers. My guess is he’ll want to get himself and his money as far away from Boko Haram as possible.’

‘That leaves a bad taste in the mouth,’ Maloney said.

‘Not as bad as having Boko Haram put a round in your man’s skull, and that’s about the best he can hope for. This is a high-profile hostage. They’ll want to milk it for all it’s worth.’

‘Beheading?’ Maloney asked weakly.

Danny shrugged. ‘Maybe. Get on to Hereford, let them know what we’re doing and where we’re going. They can track our movements through the GPS chips in our radio packs. They might send in reinforcements, but we can’t wait for them to mobilise. Keep at the Nigerians to put in a cordon around the kidnapping area. If we’re wrong about Chikunda and they’re staying put in the Niger Delta, we’ll need to contain them for as long as possible. And for fuck’s sake do what you can to keep this out of the press. If the kidnappers get jittery they’ll move things forward.’ Danny turned to the rest of the unit. ‘Ready?’

He received two nods in return, and one scowl. ‘I think you’ve made the wrong call,’ Tony said. ‘You’ve only got Ntoga’s word that this is where the kidnappers are heading. It’s weak intel.’

‘Agreed,’ Danny said flatly. ‘It’s also the only intel we’ve got. Get ready to go.’