Red Earth

by Tony Park

  Suzanne had always exerted a large degree of control over her accountant husband, in all matters other than finance. Omar was ideologically committed to the struggle and had a brilliant mind, but he was a nervous man, and was not physically strong. He’d kept the details of bin Laden’s secret bank account to himself, but, with Suzanne’s prompting, had decided the time was nigh for another spectacular attack, at the same or greater level as that of 9–11, to allow al-Qaeda and its allies to remind the west of their power.

  Behind the scenes, Franklin had facilitated meetings between Suzanne and Omar and other CIA agents posing as Russian arms dealers with a suitcase nuke for sale. Suzanne had convinced Omar the operation would be best planned from a country not on America’s day-to-day surveillance radar – her homeland of South Africa.

  In recent months Franklin, through feeding false information to Paulsen via Russian-speaking CIA operatives, had preyed on Omar’s nervy nature and convinced him the Americans were getting wind of their quest for a nuke and that Omar was about to be exposed. Suzanne had talked of the two of them going out in a suicide attack on a worthy target rather than risk imminent capture. Omar had, as Suzanne predicted, suggested she should stay alive to raise their infant son, Hassan. The child hadn’t been planned and while Suzanne hadn’t wanted him she had some affection for him and he had proved useful in establishing their cover in South Africa as a happy couple.

  As Omar had planned his own death, rather than risk capture and interrogation, he’d told Suzanne that he would leave her the number and passcode of the Swiss bank account that contained the money set aside by the Sheik to purchase a nuclear weapon. On the morning of his death Omar had told Suzanne about the microchip he’d had implanted in Hassan, and added that he had included on the chip a clue that she would understand to let her know the passcode.

  If it had all gone to plan, which it hadn’t, Franklin would have met Suzanne on the road to Mozambique, and when she’d rendezvoused with Paulsen and his men, Franklin and Suzanne would have assassinated them.

  The operation to disrupt the extremists’ plan to acquire a nuke was real and Chris Mitchell took solace in the fact that he was helping to prevent a catastrophe, but that was where the righteousness ended. When Suzanne had told Franklin how much money was in the Sheik’s account, and Franklin relayed that to Chris, the three of them decided to split it three ways once Omar was gone.

  Suzanne slid open the side door of the van.

  ‘No more mistakes,’ Chris said.

  ‘Roger that, sir, we’ll be back in five,’ Franklin said.

  *

  Suzanne saw a young mother in the crowd, holding a newborn baby. She and Franklin had talked about having a baby, as part of their plan to start over.

  They stayed on the far side of the crowd from where Banks and Dunn were waiting for the helicopter pilot.

  ‘In position,’ Franklin said into his radio microphone, giving Chris an update.

  Suzanne watched the automatic sliding doors open and a trio of passengers arrive. Two were a couple, the third was Nia Carras.

  ‘Standby,’ Suzanne said into her radio. ‘Target in sight.’

  ‘Go,’ Franklin said.

  Suzanne reached into the satchel bag around her neck and pulled out a CS tear gas grenade. She pulled the pin and tossed it, high and far, to the other side of the Arrivals hall. At the same time, Franklin dropped another CS grenade by their feet. In the four seconds it took both to detonate Suzanne and Franklin had pulled out the gas masks from the pouches strapped to their right thighs and put them on.

  Immediately scores of people began running for the exits, which were already blocked. Half a dozen people were on the floor screaming in pain from the debilitating gas and a few brave souls were staying to tend to them or help lift and carry them to safety. Others were coughing and crying from the effects.

  Suzanne and Franklin ran fast, each heading straight for their target. Suzanne barrelled into Nia, who was retching and holding her hands to her eyes. ‘Come with me, miss, I’m police, I’ll get you out.’

  Franklin had his arms spread wide and was pushing Mike Dunn and Jed Banks towards the exit, away from Nia. With his gas mask on and the other men’s eyes clearly burning from gas, Suzanne was sure neither Jed nor Mike would recognise him.

  Suzanne grabbed Nia by the forearm and half guided, half pushed her towards a set of escalators. Nia looked over her shoulder. ‘Keep moving, you have to get out of here.’

  As they made it to the escalator and started moving, Suzanne saw that Mike and Jed were trying to push back, so Franklin dropped another tear gas grenade. As it went off Dunn and Banks were forced to back off, spluttering.

  Suzanne pushed Nia higher and higher and, glancing around, saw that Franklin was backing up the escalator behind them.

  Franklin grabbed one of Nia’s arms and Suzanne the other and they half dragged, half propelled Nia towards the exit. While the tear gas had filtered upstairs its effects were only just being felt there and the doors were not yet blocked. They ran out of the terminal.

  *

  Nia gulped in the warm fresh air, her eyes streaming so much she was barely able to see.

  The tear gas had been brutal, and now everywhere on her body where there was moisture – her eyes, her mouth, even under her arms where she’d been sweating – stung like someone was injecting her with hundreds of tiny needles.

  A big black van loomed in her vision and the smaller of the two police officers, a female, opened the side door. ‘Get in.’

  Nia wiped her eyes. She’d been more than happy to let the police officers lead her out of the terminal, but she had assumed there would be other innocent victims of the gas attack behind her. When she looked around she saw it was just the three of them. Panic seized her.

  ‘No.’

  The man in the police uniform grabbed her arm and dragged her to the door. Nia screamed, but the woman came up behind her and grabbed her. The two of them dragged her into the van and slammed the door.

  A man with wavy grey hair and spectacles turned to face her from the driver’s seat. ‘Miss Carras, my name is Chris Mitchell. I’m CIA. You’re safe, believe me.’ He held out an ID card with his picture on the left-hand side and the agency’s logo of an eagle’s head atop a shield with a compass rose.

  ‘What about your other man, Jed?’ she said.

  ‘Banks is fine,’ said Chris. ‘He’s meeting us later.’ He turned to the other two. ‘Get Miss Carras some water, please.’

  The van started to move as Chris reversed. The male in the police uniform produced a litre bottle of water. ‘Kneel on the floor and put your arms out. Try and keep your eyes open and I’ll douse you with water. It’ll take away the sting of the CS – the tear gas.’

  Nia did as she was told and the man doused her with water. He was right, it immediately began to relieve the pain of the gas.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’

  ‘Safety,’ Chris replied from the front without looking back.

  *

  Mike wiped his stinging eyes and tried to focus. Nia was nowhere to be seen and neither were the two police officers who had rammed him and brought Jed to his knees.

  The downstairs exits were still clogged but Mike craned his head and looked up to the next floor of the airport, Departures. ‘Jed, they’ve gone that way.’

  The two of them ran for the escalator and took the stairs two at a time. They rushed to the doors and outside. ‘CD,’ Jed said.

  ‘What?’ Mike asked.

  Jed pointed to a black Mercedes van that was speeding away. ‘That vehicle’s got Diplomatic Corps number plates. It’s a Merc. I think I’ve seen it before.’ He took out his phone. ‘Something else. That cop in the gas mask who pushed us aside, I got a look at his eyes. It was Franklin.’

  ‘Shit.’ Mike opened a bottle of water he’d bought a
t an airport kiosk and flushed his eyes with it. He did the same for Jed and poured it over the American, who blinked as he talked on the phone to a woman named Janey. Mike gathered she handled administration at the embassy. Jed ended the call.

  ‘One of yours?’ Mike asked.

  ‘You got it. It’s from the fleet. My boss signed it out this morning.’

  ‘What’s the CIA doing here, Jed?’

  ‘I could say “beats me”, but I’d be lying,’ said Jed. Jed made another call. ‘Janey, hi, it’s Jed Banks again. Say, Chris said he was flying out today and I wanted to try and get on the same flight as him. I can’t raise him on his cell phone. You don’t happen to have his itinerary, do you?’

  People were streaming around them and sirens heralded the imminent arrival of fire, ambulance and police vehicles.

  ‘Mike, Mike Dunn, right?’

  He turned. From the direction of the airport car park a young man jogged to him. He carried a bouquet of flowers and was dressed in jeans and a tight-fitting T-shirt. ‘Banger?’

  ‘Ja, Nia’s, er, friend. Is she here, is she all right? A security guy just told me there was a gas attack inside.’

  ‘No, she’s missing, been taken,’ Mike said. ‘We’re trying to get a lead on who may have her.’

  Banger put his hands over his eyes. ‘I called her mom and dad and they said she’d been to Switzerland and was flying in today. I can’t believe it. I’m late. I could have saved her.’

  ‘We were waiting for her and we couldn’t get to her.’

  ‘What can I do? I’ll do anything. I’ve got a car.’

  Jed came to them and Mike quickly introduced Banger. ‘OK,’ Jed said, ‘I found out that Chris Mitchell, my superior in the CIA, is driving the embassy’s black Mercedes van, and he’s taking a US military flight from Wonderboom Airport at Pretoria.’

  ‘That’s less than an hour north of here,’ Banger said. ‘When did they leave?’

  ‘Just now,’ Mike said. ‘Five minutes ago. Let’s go.’

  ‘Are you driving that Landy of yours?’ Banger said.

  ‘No, a rental, nothing fast.’

  ‘I’ve got my Golf GTI. I’ll scout ahead on the N1. We’ll stay in touch on WhatsApp.’

  They quickly exchanged numbers and Jed decided to stay with Mike, reasoning that if they caught up with Chris it would be good to have one man behind the wheel and the other with his hands free. The three men ran to the cars.

  ‘Be cool if you catch them first, Banger,’ Jed said as they jogged. ‘Remember Nia’s on board and the guy driving is a senior CIA officer.’

  ‘If I catch them first I’ll stick on them like glue, bru.’

  Chapter 36

  Nia was worried. The policeman and woman, still in gas masks, sat on either side of her. ‘Where are you taking me?’

  ‘Somewhere safe, like I said,’ Chris, the CIA man said. ‘But first, I need some information from you.’

  Nia looked out the window. It seemed they were heading north, towards Pretoria. ‘Like what?’

  ‘Oh, I think you know. I need the account number and the password or code that was on the microchip in the baby.’

  Nia shook her head. ‘Not until I see Mike Dunn and have a lawyer or some independent witness present.’

  Chris kept his eyes on the road. ‘I was afraid you were going to say that. Let me be a little clearer. If you don’t give me that information, you’re going to regret it.’

  ‘You threatening me, Mr Mitchell?’

  ‘Nope, I’ll leave the threats to my colleagues there in the back with you.’

  The man and the woman each grabbed one of her wrists and when Nia struggled they pushed her forward so that her knees hit the floor of the van, then twisted her arms painfully behind her. The woman snapped cold metal handcuffs on her.

  ‘What the fuck?’

  ‘Shut up.’ The woman slapped her face, hard enough to knock her sideways. The man pulled her up by her hair. Nia screamed.

  ‘You can’t do this to me.’

  Chris drove on, at a steady speed, not breaking the limit, not looking back or into the rear view mirror. ‘Carry on.’

  ‘Give us the numbers,’ the woman said, then pulled off her mask.

  Nia took a good look at her face and saw the scar. ‘Suzanne Fessey!’

  ‘Clever girl,’ Suzanne said. ‘Too clever.’ She slapped her again.

  ‘You murdered so many people.’

  Suzanne shrugged, then pulled out her pistol and put the tip of the barrel against Nia’s temple. ‘One more won’t get me in too much more trouble then, will it?’

  Nia felt like she might wet herself, but tried to control her fear. ‘You won’t kill me. You need the information I have.’

  ‘True,’ Suzanne said. ‘I can beat it out of you, or we can go somewhere quiet where I can start shooting you. I’ll start with your kneecaps first.’

  The man took off his gas mask and Nia saw it was Jed Banks’s partner, Franklin Washington.

  ‘No shooting in the car just yet, please,’ Chris said from the front. ‘Franklin, help Suzanne convince Miss Carras the old-fashioned way.’

  ‘Hold her down,’ Franklin said to Suzanne.

  Suzanne smiled then grabbed Nia’s shoulders and pulled her towards her side of the seat. Franklin reached for a pouch on his belt and took out a folding knife. He flicked it open.

  ‘No!’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said the man.

  Franklin punched her, with his other hand, hard enough to make her vision go blurry.

  ‘Gag her,’ the man said.

  Suzanne pushed her pistol harder into Nia’s head then took out a handkerchief and stuffed it in her mouth.

  Nia was wide-eyed, desperately sucking air in through her nostrils. She shook her head violently from side to side.

  Nia looked over her shoulder at Suzanne Fessey. She just grinned and tightened her grip around Nia’s torso while digging the gun hard into her skin. Nia kicked and writhed and the man hit her again.

  ‘Folks,’ Chris Mitchell said, looking in the rear view mirror, ‘I hate to break up the party before it begins, but we really should give Nia a chance to say something.’

  Franklin paused, the point of the knife’s blade was resting just below her right eye. Suzanne pulled the handkerchief from her mouth.

  Nia gasped for air, drawing in a deep breath, then the numbers of the account tumbled from her. Chris held up a hand for her to stop, then took an iPhone out of his pocket and, in between keeping an eye on the traffic, selected the voice recording application. ‘Once more for the microphone, please.’

  Nia repeated the number.

  ‘And the passcode or word?’

  ‘It was numbers,’ Nia said, ‘but they spelled the word “tattoo”, like when you assign letters to numbers on a phone keypad. Mike’s ex-wife saw the tattoo on your arm and remembered the date of birth of your baby.’

  Chris glanced back at Suzanne. ‘What do you think?’

  Suzanne nodded to him. ‘That sounds like Omar. He liked the baby far more than I did.’

  ‘What did you do with the money?’ Chris asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ Nia said, ‘it’s still in the account. It’s all yours. Please let me go. I won’t say anything, I promise. I don’t want the money.’

  Chris looked in the mirror again. ‘Fuck her.’ Chris’s phone rang. ‘Gag her, Suzanne.’

  Suzanne stuffed the handkerchief in her mouth again and Nia watched in horror, still kicking as much as she could, as the man closed the gap between him and her. She felt him touching her and tried to scream again.

  ‘Jed,’ Chris said into his phone. ‘Oh, I’m just out for a little morning drive, then flying out of here … No, I can’t tell you where … No, I’m not going to do that and you are to stand down, and that’s a
direct order, mister.’

  Nia tried to scream louder so that Jed might hear her, but Suzanne clamped a hand over her mouth.

  Chris ended the call and then Nia could feel the point of Franklin’s knife, pushing against her.

  ‘One moment, please,’ Chris said.

  Franklin backed off and Suzanne removed the gag again.

  ‘Anything else you might have neglected to tell us, Nia? I suspect there’s more. By the time my friend here is finished with you, you might wish you’d been more forthcoming, if there’s more to your story. We’ll keep you alive, by the way, until we’ve confirmed that the money is still in the account. If it isn’t we’ll progress from taking an eye or two to something even more painful until you tell us where it is. OK?’

  Nia stilled herself. ‘I moved the money into a new account.’

  Chris held up his phone and pressed record again. ‘That’s more like it. Number and password, please.’

  Nia gave him the numbers. She had never intended to keep the money for herself in any case.

  ‘Good, thank you,’ said Chris.

  Chris came to a red light on the upward slope of a hill and stopped and applied the handbrake. Nia looked out the window, tears welling in her eyes. Soon she would be dead.

  Suzanne looked to Franklin then moved the barrel of her pistol from Nia’s head. She aimed it at the back of the driver’s seat and pulled the trigger, twice. Chris Mitchell’s body jerked against his seatbelt.

  Nia screamed.

  Franklin opened the sliding door, jumped out, shifted Chris to the passenger seat and climbed in behind the wheel. He released the handbrake and accelerated just as the light turned green.

  Chapter 37

  Mike’s phone rang and he hit the phone icon on the satellite navigation system screen in his Land Rover. Banger’s voice came through on speaker via bluetooth.

  ‘Mike, I’m at Wonderboom. I’m in the car park and there’s no sign of the van.’

  ‘Shit,’ Mike said. He was lagging behind Banger, as was to be expected. ‘They should have easily been there by now.’

  ‘We could try the South African police,’ Jed said, ‘but without some high-level diplomatic intervention they’d be unwilling to stop a vehicle with diplomatic registration plates. I don’t know how else we can track them.’