by Lisa Harris
“Here’s the deal, lady. There’s a reward out for you, but it’s not worth anything without the photos.”
His response cinched her decision. Without the photos, it was clear he didn’t need her. “I can get them for you.”
“Are they with your American friend? Or with the boy?”
She hid the relief she felt at his question. Chad and Joseph, at least, appeared to be safe. If they’d made it to the embassy, then maybe the authorities could find a way to track her down.
“They’re with my American friend.” If she could convince him she could help find Chad, she’d at least buy herself some time. “We knew someone was after us so we split up.”
The man dragged one of the chairs across the dirt floor, then sat down before pulling out a cell phone from his pocket. Her cell phone. “Then you will call him.”
She eyed the phone, hoping Chad had found a way to charge his phone by now. “You’re going to have to untie me.”
He hesitated for a moment, pulled a knife from his back pocket. “Don’t try anything. Trust me. Outside these four walls there are plenty of others who won’t be near as amenable as I am.”
Once the rope had fallen to the ground, Natalie flexed her wrists, then grabbed the phone from his open hand. “What do you want me to tell him?”
“Tell him to be outside the Oasis Hotel with the photos in an hour. And that if he talks to anyone about them…I’ll kill you.”
She tried to swallow her fear. So much for being amenable.
Natalie punched in Chad’s number. The phone switched automatically to voice mail. If he had made it to the embassy, his phone would be turned off and left at the front desk. She waited for the beep to leave a message.
“Chad this is Natalie. I’m being held for ransom. They want the photos—”
Her captor grabbed the phone from her hands and flipped it shut.
She eyed the phone. “Let me try back in another five or ten minutes. You know how unreliable the cell phone towers can be sometimes. It’s probably just a glitch in the system. He’s got to be worried and waiting for me to call.”
He shoved the phone into his pocket and tied her hands again. “By then it might be too late. If those photos get into the hands of someone else…”
“How much are they paying you to turn me in?”
He paused, seemingly taken aback by her candid question. “My share is two thousand American dollars if I can get the photos.”
For a man who probably made thirty dollars a month plus a couple hundred in bribes, two thousand dollars was a fortune.
He retied the rope around her wrists. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with the phone. You’d better pray he answers this time.”
Striding out of the shack, he slammed the rickety door behind him.
THIRTY-EIGHT
0THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 10:19 A.M.
GOVERNMENT OFFICE BUILDING, KASILI
Patrick shoved a stack of files into his briefcase and snapped the top shut. In forty-eight hours this would all be over. He’d be in the capital by one, giving him just enough time to complete the rest of his plans. His only loose end at the moment was Natalie and her doctor friend. Even if he had to search the streets of Bogama and the surrounding countryside himself in order to find her, he would. Besides, how long could she realistically stay hidden? By the end of the weekend he’d be enjoying himself at the Oasis, the capital’s best hotel, where he’d booked a deluxe suite for him and Rachel—a small reward for all his hard work.
Patrick’s satellite phone rang. He dropped the briefcase onto the desk and picked up the receiver.
“Where have you been?”
Patrick reined in his frustration at his boss’s brisk question. He might not be the one in charge, but he was the one taking the biggest risk. Which meant he deserved a measure of respect.
“I’m getting ready to fly to the capital to finalize our plans.”
“Well, we’ve got another loose end. Gabby Mackenzie, a reporter in the States, is getting ready to run an article that could tip off the authorities.”
Patrick dropped into his chair. Gabby Mackenzie?
Had Natalie managed to send copies of the photos to the reporter, or had he simply convinced himself that he’d covered all his bases and Gabby wasn’t a threat? He’d searched Natalie’s computer and had found no trace of her sending out copies of the photos to that reporter…or anyone for that matter. There were other ways of checking—
“Do you realize what will happen to you if this plot fails?”
The other man’s menacing tone snapped him back to the present. “I know the importance—”
“And I need to know that you can handle things.”
“Everything’s under control.” This wasn’t the time to mention Natalie’s involvement. He’d handle that himself. Instead he threw it back into his boss’s court. “What about the reporter you mentioned?”
“She’s being taken care of as we speak. We’re not taking any chances of a connection being publicized.”
He hung up the phone a minute later, ignoring the wave of anxiety that swept through him, then checked the top of his desk to ensure he hadn’t forgotten anything. No matter what the outcome of the next forty-eight hours, he had no plans of returning to Kasili anytime soon.
The door to his office creaked open. Stephen stood in the doorway, looking like a typical businessman in his tie and suit jacket.
Patrick let out a sigh of irritation. “Stephen. I wasn’t expecting you.”
Stephen cleared his throat. “Looks like you’re on your way out.”
“Yes, I am, actually.” Patrick pushed in his desk chair and picked up his briefcase. He didn’t have time for—nor was he in the mood for—another conversation with the man. “I’m flying to the capital in an hour.”
Patrick watched the muscles of Stephen’s jaw tense as his gaze dropped. Another sign of weakness? He moved toward the door, but Stephen blocked his way.
“Please.” Stephen held up his hand. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said in the parking lot earlier.”
“Feeling guilty?” Patrick raised his brow, still skeptical. “Or are you still trying to save the world?”
His encounter with Stephen in the parking lot had been a calculated attempt to find out just where the man stood. Patrick was either about to find out, or this was a last-minute attempt to convert him back to the virtuous side.
“I…You were right,” Stephen began.
“Really?” Patrick stopped and leaned against the edge of desk. He’d expected a timid argument on the evils of their corrupt government, not a confession. He didn’t have a lot of time, but this might actually prove interesting. Maybe he could spare a few minutes.
Stephen’s chin rose until he was looking Patrick straight in the eyes. “I want to come with you to the capital.”
Patrick shook his head and laughed at the implications. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I know that the Ghost Soldiers are real, and that you’re a part of a plan to rig the election.”
Now Patrick was the one to squirm uncomfortably. “What else do you know?”
“That I can help you.”
“Even if you could, why would you want to?”
Stephen jingled his car keys between his fingers. “I’ve spent the past eighteen hours thinking about my life and realizing that I don’t have a whole lot left. My wife’s gone. My children are gone. My job’s become nothing more than pacifying big donors in the West who want to ease their conscience by throwing money at impoverished African countries. I’m tired of ending up with nothing in my pocket for what I do other than a paltry salary and an empty house.”
“How do you propose to help me?”
Stephen shoved the keys back into his pocket. “In the past ten years or so, I’ve made connections with numerous people who are, let’s say, sympathetic to our cause. These contacts have continued to increase now that the president has decided to g
o along with the UN. A trend I expect to continue.”
Patrick wasn’t convinced. “I have my own friends and connections.”
“Who pay you well for what you do. I know that. But from my experience, it never hurts to have another source of income. I have something else, Patrick. A bank account in the Cayman Islands.”
“You’re telling me you’ve been skimming funds?”
“The last time I looked, a few million spread out still goes a long way, and no one seems to notice the few thousand taken off here and there. It’s easier than you think, Patrick.”
Patrick began to smile. “And you’re smarter than I thought.”
Stephen was right. Another source of revenue never hurt anyone.
“But this amount is only a fraction of what is available. Tracking money is not only painstaking but time consuming to the authorities. They don’t have the time to sift through aid funds earmarked for some obscure Central African country.”
Patrick still had his questions. “Why come to me now? Why not keep it all for yourself?”
“I could, of course. Now that our government is playing with the United Nations, they might be gaining more aid, but the strings are also getting tighter. I started to realize that if there were a turnover in power, I needed to make sure that the new government won’t cause me any problems. And I can’t see you walking away from an additional hundred thousand dollars or more a year.”
Patrick tamed his enthusiasm. There was no need to make Stephen think he had the upper hand. “An interesting proposition, but there’s another problem—Natalie.”
Stephen’s smile faded. “What about her?”
“I’ve done what I can to prevent those photos getting into the wrong hands, but if they are released, everything I’ve worked for could vanish in an instant.”
“She’ll do what I say. I’ll convince her that it’s in the best interest of the people. That exposing the photos would only up the chances of another election turning bloody.”
“What if it’s too late?”
“You’ve got a reward out on Natalie and the doctor?”
Patrick nodded, again refusing to let the worry gain control.
“How long do you think they can stay hidden while the entire city of Bogama is looking for them? They’ll never make it to the embassy without getting caught.”
“It’s been almost eighteen hours, and I’m still waiting.”
Patrick’s satellite phone rang, and he picked it up. “Patrick here.”
“It’s me.”
Patrick felt his heartbeat surge. “Did you find them?”
“We’ve got her.”
“Good.” Maybe his problems were almost over after all. “What about the doctor and the boy?”
“That’s one of the reasons I’m calling. They split up and those two disappeared—with the photos.”
“That’s why I said I wanted all three of them.” Patrick clenched his fist. “Where are they?”
“We don’t know, sir. We have every available officer on the lookout for them, both police and army, as well as the taxi drivers in the city.”
“And you still let them get away.” It was a good thing the man wasn’t in the room. Heads were going to roll when he got to the capital. “What about the embassy?”
“We’re still waiting to hear from our contact inside.” There was a pause on the line. “There’s one other thing you need to know about. Your fiancée…”
“What about her?”
“She lied to our men and kept them there overnight.”
Patrick slammed his fist against the desk as a wave of nausea coursed through him. Rachel had always gone along with what he said. It was something he’d impressed upon her because of his high-profile role. And now she’d gone and betrayed him?
Panic began to take root. First Natalie, now Rachel. The loose ends were starting to multiply. And this was something he couldn’t afford. Especially when losing this game meant losing everything he’d worked for.
He closed his eyes. He could see Rachel’s face. She’d been the perfect woman for him. Charming, beautiful, with just enough innocence to please him as well as impress others at official gatherings. He’d even gone as far as getting her a job with the minister of health because a woman who served her country helped him look good.
But none of that mattered. Not anymore.
“Sir?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” He rubbed his fingers against the back of his neck. “You know what has to be done. I can’t have a liability.”
Even if it was someone he loved.
“Consider it done.”
“And find the doctor. I don’t care how you do it. Just get it done.”
Patrick slammed down the phone and glanced up at Stephen. Whether he liked it or not, he could use the man. If things went bad, he had no plans of taking the fall. “You’re not planning to back out on me now, are you?”
Stephen shook his head.
“Good, because I’ve got a job for you. Go pack your things. We’re leaving in less than an hour.”
THIRTY-NINE
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER19, 10:22 A.M.
UNITED STATES EMBASSY, BOGAMA
Chad jiggled the handle of the door to the holding room and resisted the urge to try to break it down with his shoulder. He still had no idea why his name had produced a red flag worthy of detaining him, but he did know that every minute of delay put Natalie’s life in more danger.
The nine-by-nine holding room closed in on him. He had no way to communicate with the outside world and no way to leave. Crossing to the other side of the room, he stopped beneath the small window six feet above the floor. Even if he could open the window, the bars made escape impossible…
He pressed his fingers against his pulsating temples. He must be going crazy, coming up with scenarios to escape from his own country’s embassy.
The door opened behind him, and Chad spun around. A well-dressed officer entered the room and tossed a file folder and a pad of paper onto the wooden table. Tall, burly, and obviously American, the guy meant business.
“You’re Dr. Chad Talcott?”
“Yes.”
The door slammed shut behind him. “Sit down.”
Chad hesitated, then complied. There was something unnerving about being treated as a suspect on American soil. The United States Embassy was supposed to be his one place of refuge.
“I want to know what’s going on.” Chad leaned forward. “My friend, Natalie Sinclair, has been kidnapped.”
The man sat down across from him. “I’ve been made aware of your concerns for Miss Sinclair, but we have another problem to deal with first.”
“I don’t think you understand. Her life is in danger.”
“My name is Paul Hayes.” He opened the red file folder and leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. “Security is high across the city with the upcoming elections, and your name just came up with a red flag on our computers.”
“So I heard.” Chad shook his head. “What does that mean?”
“It means that the government here has placed you on their wanted list.”
Chad reached out to grab the stack of photos from the open file, but Mr. Hayes was too quick. He flipped the file shut. “Not yet. We’ll get to the photos, but first I want you to tell me why you’re living in this country.”
Chad combed his fingers through his hair. “I’m a doctor working with Volunteers for Hope International. You have my passport and work visa. You can check it out.”
“I already have.”
“Then why the twenty questions?”
“How long have you known Natalie Sinclair?”
Apparently the game wasn’t over. “I met her three days ago. She came by the clinic with a boy who had a head injury.”
Mr. Hayes glanced at the file. “And yet this says you arrived in the country September thirteenth of this year?”
“Yes.” Chad’s head began to throb as he searched for an explanation to t
his round of questioning.
“And you’re telling me that in all this time you didn’t run into her?” Mr. Hayes continued.
“Why would I?”
“In my experience people of the same nationality and language tend to run in the same social circles.”
Chad let out a long, slow breath. “It’s a big country. Besides, between twelve-hour shifts and emergency cases, I don’t exactly have time for afternoon tea.”
Mr. Hayes frowned but let the comment slide. “When you met her at the clinic, was this the first time the two of you had met?”
“We went to the same high school back in Oregon, but that was ten years ago. She was younger than I was, so we weren’t exactly friends. In fact, I didn’t even recognize her at first.”
Mr. Hayes thumped his notepad with his pen. “Is it true that Natalie has access to government aid funds?”
“I don’t know.” Chad fought the urge to knock the table over and give the guy a piece of his mind. If the other man didn’t have the advantage of six inches and fifty pounds and the authority to arrest him, he would do it. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Dr. Talcott. For now, I’m the one asking the questions.”
“Listen.” Chad stood, walked to the window, then turned to face his accuser. “I understand that you have some sort of procedure to follow, and that you have to follow that procedure to help ensure the safety of this country, but—”
“Dr. Talcott.” The man held up his hand. “I don’t believe you are grasping the seriousness of this situation.”
“I think I am. Are you aware that not only has Natalie been kidnapped, but we believe that the election has been rigged? Those photos, in the right hands, could help stop it and save the potentially hundreds of people being held in slave camps.”
Mr. Hayes flipped the folder back open. “What are you talking about?”
Chad grabbed the stack of photos and spread them out across the table. “These photos were taken in a village outside the city of Kasili by a fifteen-year-old boy named Joseph Komboli. He came to Natalie after watching his family being taken from their home by Ghost Soldiers. He also overheard two men talking about a fixed election.” Chad rested his palms on the table and gripped the edge. “With the phone lines down in Kasili, we’ve spent the past forty-eight hours trying to get here in order to alert somebody who will do something about it.”
