The Somali Sanction

by Mark Powell

  Terry tried his best to return the extremity of Bates’s smile and nodded. He shook his hand and said, “I imagine you have.” He had already made an opinion of Bates and it did not seem to go in the latter’s favor. At any rate, the High Commission was as good of a home as any at this point in time.

  “Madame,” said Bates, softly shaking Sarah’s hand. “Welcome!” When McCabe and Stowe emerged from the van, Bates put on a surprised face that quickly dissipated into one of grief and sadness. “Well done, boys.” He shook Stowe’s hand first, then McCabe’s. “And sorry, very sorry, about your loss.”

  McCabe pursed his lips into a feigned and grief-stricken smile to convey he seemed somewhat consoled by Bates, while Stowe stared daggers at Bates, raising one eyebrow. What did this idiot know about losses, Stowe thought. Here he was in his polished shoes and pristinely tailored suit with a toothy grin and emotionally dead eyes. “Yes,” said McCabe. “A tragedy indeed.”

  Stowe said nothing but nodded. Then, he sighed and said, “I’m tired.”

  “Of course,” said Bates. He gestured the way into the gates of the great building. “Beds have been made for you.”

  They nodded and followed the Maddens inside. The worst was definitely behind them now.

  After a long and hot shower, then a fast cold jet of water, Stowe felt much at ease now. His muscles ached, but slowly and surely began to heal. The pain had left him the moment he relaxed onto his bed. The fan overhead was set on high, whirring in the fresh air coming in through the open windows and sliding door of the balcony as well as the frigid air of the air conditioning; it brought a sense of freshness and coolness to his body, as he lied down on the bed in his underwear. The events of the last few days played on fast forward in his mind, and he felt somewhat detached by it all. He had been on dozens of such missions in the past before, likening to his brother, and every one brought him closer and closer to a sense of complete detachment. He felt tired, however, after it all, and it took little time for him to close his eyes as the hypnotic whirring of the fan blades lulled him into a deep and well-needed sleep.

  Meanwhile, McCabe tended carefully to his food before stepping into the shower. He first wrapped some plastic around the bandaged food and turned on the shower full blast. The water jetting out massaging his back, forearms, shoulders, and the back of his arms felt like a much-needed respite to his muscles. After drying himself with a towel, he put on a bathing robe, proceeded to his bed, and fell onto it without a care in the world. The soft pillows, the cool air coming in with the help of the air conditioning and the fans, and the firm but soft mattress were all welcome to his body. But his mind was filled with sounds of terror and images of Mooney’s corpse. He missed him dearly. He had been with him on many missions in the past. All he could do was say a little prayer for his friend, his brother-in-arms, and then drifted off to sleep.

  That evening, both Stowe and McCabe awoke feeling refreshed and having gained a lot more strength. A good sleep, deep and restful, was all that they needed in order to cognize and function well. They sat together with Bates now, along with the Maddens, in the verandah within the courtyard of the building, looking out to a grand and acutely pruned garden. Tea was served to them all, but Stowe and McCabe opted for strong Kenyan coffee. The Maddens, also well rested now, no longer bore their past burdens over the last few days. Now, Terry and Sarah, freshened up, seemed much more at ease; their moods lightened, and their faces lit up with the first sip of tea. Bates tried to make conversation with the Maddens, as best as he could in order to keep their mind at bay and away from memories of the recent past.

  Stowe and McCabe, it seemed, most of all to them, were ceremonious attendees of an afternoon tea get together, for it certainly seemed to be so for the most part. They merely soothed themselves with their cups of coffee and listened in on the conversation that was presently taking place.

  “I am dearly sorry to see you leave tonight, so soon,” said Bates. “I would have loved to be in your company a while longer.”

  “Likewise,” said Terry, displaying his best smile. “But as they say, there is no rest for the weary.”

  “Ah well,” Bates said with a feigned exasperated sight. Then he turned over to where Stowe and McCabe sat and said, “Well, at least I have these two brave men to recount their stories of adventures, especially their most recent one.”

  McCabe gave a terse smile and nodded.

  “Oh no,” said Terry, eyeing his rescuers. He could tell another day with Bates would drive them both mad. “They’re coming with us.”

  “Pardon?” said McCabe.

  “That’s right, fellows,” Sarah piped in.

  “It’s quite imperative, really,” said Terry. His face grew somewhat stern as he said, “You see, it’s important they stick with me. I’ve received word from London, you see.”

  “Oh,” said Bates, quite impressed by it all. “Right. Right. Well, by all means, then.”

  Stowe was utterly relieved inside. He wanted nothing more to do with this idiot of a man, Bates.

  McCabe too was relieved and found it pleasant that they would be in a private jet set out for the Maddens. Some more comforts at last. Mooney would have loved it, he reflected.

  And so, an hour after tea, with their bags packed and their minds and hearts relieved to be back in London, all of them set out, entering the large black SUV that would take them to the international airport. The Maddens, McCabe, and Stowe waved at Bate as the SUV left the High Commission building and everyone was now less tense. The SUV made it to the airport in half an hour with much traffic on the way, and once they had reached, it then travelled to the private hangar, where the jet sent from London was now refueling for the trip back with the Maddens, McCabe, and Stowe.

  They entered the great jet. The Maddens entered first as the pilot saluted and welcomed them inside. The crew, consisting of four men and two women, welcomed them in as well, and then offered the same greeting to the Maddens’ rescuers. The jet, an Airbus A380 remanufactured to now hour an office, a master bedroom, two smaller bedrooms, and a common lounge area, as well as a private lounge area, was summoned to life by the pilots who initiated the engines. The pilot recalled the temperature and the estimated time of arrival before directing his co-pilot to start on their taxi towards the runway. In less than five minutes, the Maddens and their rescuers were strapped after their luggage was placed into a locked section below. Terry instructed the crew not to serve anything until they had taken off and were cruising above the clouds. The order, of course, was followed fully. The plane began to increase its speed across the runway, and rose into the air at an angle. Within two minutes, the plane was now high above Nairobi and entering through the clouds, piercing them and making its way towards a cruising speed and altitude. Once they were, at thirty eight thousand feet in the air, Terry called out his crew for service to take place.

  “A bottle of Dom Perignon, please,” said Terry.

  “Certainly, sir,” said one of the flight attendants. McCabe noticed her natural blonde hair and especially her green eyes and full buxom figure. She caught his eye and smiled, as an expression of flirtation appeared on her face for a flicker of a second.

  The glasses and bottle was brought out and served. “To Mr. Stowe and McCabe,” said Terry. Sarah and her husband raised their glasses in a toast to the two men.

  “You’re too kind, sir,” said McCabe.

  Stowe said nothing but nodded.

  “Thank you, once again,” said McCabe, “for allowing us to travel with you.”

  “Oh, another day with that man,” said Sarah, “and you’d be the one needing rescuing.”

  Terry laughed. He was happy to see his wife in such bright spirits. It was said, he recalled from somewhere but could not remember from where, that if one could joke about one’s darker aspects of the past, then one was over it and considered trivial. Hopefully, Terry ruminated, Sarah was all right about what had happened now. Well, at least for now in the present moment;
the future might have been different. No doubt, she would probably need some therapy. He was not afraid to admit to himself that he would probably need it too, and possibly have to need some medication supplemented to what he had already taken for his stress in order to subdue any psychological effects of what they had gone through.

  For now, all that mattered, however, was they were safe and sound.

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  The flight was relatively easy. Of course, for all of them the luxury of a private jet and the comforts therein were not so easily taken for granted. Both Stowe and McCabe enjoyed the service by the crew, as well as the comforting meal of hot lobster bisque, steak, and mash potatoes. For dessert, there was a delicious flan with the right amount of balance between sweet and bitter. Then, much of the time was spent in quietude and reflection. For the most part of the trip, the Maddens were somewhat silent, as were Stowe and McCabe. The flight lasted for nine hours straight. After some time, tea was served, along with some light snacks. Of course, these were not one’s packaged snack, but rather more fanciful. There were a variety of afternoon tea sandwiches, scones, muffins, and many savory items to choose from. In all, the flight was full of food and silence.

  Sometime after sunset, the private jet descended into Heathrow Airport. As the jet landed, thudding initially upon impact of the wheels upon the tarmac, and then began to slow down, the Maddens seemed to be more than relieved. Indeed, both Stowe and McCabe could sense their nervous excitement and anticipation of being back in London even before the jet had landed. With the Parliament building, Big Ben, and the London Eye in sight in the distance, they knew they were about to land and be completely safe.

  Once the plane taxied towards the Hangar, Terry and Sarah began to unbuckle their seatbelts, as did Stowe and McCabe. Terry, now, seemed a little distraught. He knew in his mind that there would a lot of media people waiting for him to give a press conference. He had already known of it before they had even begun their flight. He had called up the press officials of his office to ensure there would be no press meets tonight when they would get there. However, given the importance of his position and the frenzy of reports of his harrowing journey, the press event could not be delayed nor cancelled. To think of it even seemed impossible.

  When they arrived at the main gate to leave by the Mercedes S600 that was waiting for them, reporters from every international news channel, press agents, and reporters from the highest regarded international newspapers bombarded them, along with a blurring and indeed almost blinding array of press photographers who continually and mercilessly clicked as many photos as they could of Terry and his wife. The couple, and especially Terry, used to the lights and bombardment of press, waved and smile with a grace developed by years of public life. It seemed natural to them now, even after the horrid ordeal they’d faced. Terry’s secretary, Matt Wilmore, was among the crowd but far enough to be close to the Mercedes when the couple was ready to move out. He waved at them, grinning genuinely because he was truly happy to see them.

  The sounds of reporters shouting over one another was deafening and irritating to Stowe’s ears. McCabe, overwhelmed by the reporters’ frenzy, merely glanced up, then back down. He, like Stowe, wanted nothing more than to be back at his flat and maybe have a nice cold beer. Terry smiled and pointed at one of the reporters. “Yes?”

  “Sir, what was it like?” asked the reporter.

  Terry paused, as did everyone else. It was the obvious question on everyone’s mind, and possibly the most pertinent. As he recalled in his head all that had occurred over the brutal and agonizing days, everyone could see that his frame became slouched and his face darkened with grief and terror. And yet, it was very subtle, for his eyes gleamed and remained unblinking and a small smirk was to be found on this chin. He licked his lips and took in a deep breath. He bit his lower lip with some hesitation and then eyed the reporter who asked the question directly. Now, it seemed to the reporter it was just him and Terry and no one else with that gaze that was given to him. Terry cleared his throat and said, “Well, what can I say; I am still processing through the entire ordeal, ladies and gentlemen.” He took in another breath and spoke on, “We have gone through much and things we never thought we’d ever have the misfortune of experiencing.” He quickly realized that what he said came off as robotic and unemotional; it seemed and sounded as if he had already been given lines to speak at this de facto press conference. With that realization, he sighed and said, “You know what, screw it. Truth be told, it was hell!” He seemed now to be normal in that he spoke with some amount of emotion, especially outrage and grief. Sarah nodded, her face taught and yet her eyes displaying her anger. “We suffered through some horrible ordeals indeed, and I will personally make sure to get to the bottom of this. Many questions have been left unanswered. I have to admit, I have not much info since I was rescued by these men here,” he gestured to Stowe and McCabe. “They acted bravely and brought us home safe. For that, I must add, they will be fully rewarded no doubt.”

  “Do you have any idea who your captors were?” asked another reporter.

  “That is what we will get to the bottom of,” said Terry. He sighed, “Look, I really appreciate all of your coming here to see us, but as I’ve said before, I don’t have much info to give you or to work with. As soon as I’m back in the office, further data will be given to all of you. All I can say, and reiterate, is that we’ve been through much. I would personally appreciate it that in our time of silence, that such solitude is maintained; we’d be grateful if all press questions, whether via e-mail or phone, be kept to yourselves until another conference is held, which I believe will not be too long after.” Terry paused once again before saying, “That is all I have to say for tonight. Thank you.” With that, they were ushered towards their car.

  Terry’s assistant smiled and welcomed him with a bow of the head. The former leaned towards him and stretched out his hand for a shake, to which the latter obliged. Once the couple was seated inside the Mercedes, it drove off after the assistant sat in the front passenger seat. Meanwhile, Stowe and McCabe, feeling somewhat uncomfortable by all the press and photos taken, walked aside, and found an SUV waiting for them. Inside was Ogilvy. “Come on, get in,” he said. “We’ve much to discuss.” They nodded and entered the SUV. It drove away.

  The Mercedes was now on its way to the Madden residence. “So Matt,” said Terry, “any news on what’s happened?”

  Matt already had a file in his hand, prepared for Terry, and he handed it over to his superior. “Well, sir, there’s actually been some developments. I’m not at liberty to say, really.”

  “Of course,” Terry said, as he took the file from Matt’s hand.

  “Besides, sir,” said Matt. “It’s for your eyes only.”

  “Right,” said Terry. He took in a deep breath, glanced over to Sarah, who smiled at him.

  The smile was gracious but tired, for indeed she was; no doubt she was intrigued and even invested to know who was behind all this, but she did not flinch even a millimeter when the file was given to her husband. She only looked deep into his eyes with some certain knowing that she would be told all once Terry knew it would be safe for her to know. Of course, he might as well have not told her now or in the future if it meant stately secrets that would get them both into trouble and especially her into a dire situation. Whatever this revelation would be, she guessed as much that it was not what it seemed. It, like such many incidents that involved kidnappings and violent attacks, usually never was.

  Terry sifted through the contents of the file after turning on the overhead light on his side. There were several documents within, all neatly conjoined by a paperclip. But the first document, a letter from and signed by Ogilvy, was what intrigued Terry the most. As he read it, then reread it again and again, and then looked at the photographs and various other pieces of evidence, he could not help but feel angry, betrayed, hurt and surprised by the revelatory information. He hid these emotions well, however, h
is eyes calmly scanning through the words. No one, neither his wife nor the driver nor Matt could surmise what Terry felt in that time.

  He could not believe what he had just read. All this while, it seemed like Astor was behind the entire operation, according to Ogilvy, but in truth it was Morley all along. He was working for the CIA and was an installed mole within the organization. That bastard, thought Terry. What he did not understand was why Morley chose to do this. What was in it for him? He could only guess that the snake was after his own job; he would become a US puppet who would have access to key information and make it all available for the CIA, NSA, and God only knew what other organizations. He only knew one thing now, however. Morley, by all means, would have to be taken out.

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  London

  It was nearing ten o’clock in the evening when Mrs. Charmant decided it was time to move. She stepped out from the Knightsbridge hotel lobby into the night, popped the dark green umbrella emblazoned with the hotels name, clutched the collar of her fawn raincoat, pulling it up, and set out across the rain-soaked street, taking care to navigate around the formed puddles without complaint. The weather she thought was in fact a blessing. Not only did it clear the streets of potential witnesses, it also gave her the perfect excuse to hide her face beneath an umbrella from the city’s ever-increasing array of security cameras. Every lamppost, road sign and street corner seemed to bristle with them.