Blood Ransom

by Lisa Harris

Natalie munched on a fry, then added some salt. Fatigue had masked her appetite—until the secretary set the hamburger and fries in front of her.

  “Hungry?” Chad sat beside her, his blue eyes teasing.

  “Starving.” She picked up another fry. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was. Malik gave me tea and fried biscuits, but this is fantastic.”

  “They’re going to want to ask you some questions. Are you up to it?”

  She nodded. “I think I’ve got enough energy left to push me through another few hours as long as I can crash afterward for the next month.”

  Chad shot her a wide grin. “I’d say you deserve a vacation after all this.”

  Natalie turned as a fortysomething-year-old man stepped into the room and shook her hand. “Miss Sinclair. Welcome to the United States Embassy.”

  “Thank you. And please, you can call me Natalie.”

  “All right, Natalie. My name is Paul Hayes. I’m the consul here at the embassy. I understand you’ve been through quite an ordeal.”

  Natalie chuckled at the understatement. “You could say that.”

  “I’m glad to see that you’re all right.”

  “And I’m very glad to be here.”

  Paul dropped into the chair across from her and set his notebook and water bottle on the table in front of him. “I’m sure you’re tired, but I need to ask you some questions, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not. I understand.”

  “From what you told Chad on the phone, we have very little time to stop a possible assassination. Chad has been helping put some sense of order to the facts we do have, but anything you can add could potentially help.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know very much.”

  Paul unscrewed the lid of his water bottle and took a long drink. “Why don’t you start by telling us what happened while you were in captivity? The more we know about who we’re up against, the better.”

  Natalie squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then started describing the kidnapping, the place she was held, and the guard. When she mentioned Patrick, she caught the startled reaction on Chad’s face.

  “You saw Patrick?”

  “Yes.”

  “There…there’s something you need to know before we go any further.” Chad reached out and took her hand.

  Natalie bit her lip, afraid she knew what he was about to say. “What is it?”

  “I wish I didn’t have to tell you this, but Rachel’s dead.”

  Natalie pressed her free hand against her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes. “He told me that he loved her, but that everything had gone wrong. He didn’t admit to killing her, but he didn’t deny it either. I’ve been so afraid that’s what happened.”

  “I’m so sorry. I know you were friends.”

  “And you’re sure it was Patrick?”

  “No,” Chad continued, “but at the moment, he seems to be the most likely choice. Officially her death is being called a suicide, but we’re pretty sure she was murdered. Nick found her.”

  “Is he okay?”

  Chad nodded. “He went ahead and flew back to Kasili.”

  Natalie pushed her hair from her eyes and tried to slow her ragged breathing. The white walls of the room pressed in around her. Nothing seemed real. Not the fact that she’d just escaped her captors, or that Rachel was dead…“What about Joseph?”

  “He’s at his uncle’s. We figured for now he’d be safer there than here.” Paul took another sip of his water. “Listen. I’m sorry to have to keep on with this, but I need any information you might have on plans to assassinate the president.”

  “Stephen told me that they were planning it tonight at the gala.”

  “You’re certain about that?”

  Natalie nodded.

  “Why believe him?” Chad asked.

  “Because he could have killed me, but instead he let me go. Which is why I’m worried about him now. I have no doubt that if they find out he let me go, they’ll kill him.”

  “So you think he’s working as some sort of mole in Patrick’s entourage?”

  She shrugged a shoulder. “That’s something I’ve been trying to figure out. The problem is that it all happened so fast, I didn’t have time to ask him anything else.”

  Paul tapped a pen against his notebook. “Have you considered the possibility that the man fed you false information and then let you go on purpose?”

  Natalie’s head began to pound. Why did the questions always outweigh the answers? “Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s an angle we have to consider,” Paul said. “He knows enough about you to be able to play off your emotions.”

  Even though she’d considered the same thing, she didn’t buy the reasoning. “What would be his motivation? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “I don’t know, but I’ve been doing some research of my own the past few hours.” Paul flipped open his notebook. “Seven months ago, Stephen purchased an apartment in Switzerland and paid cash.”

  “Cash?” Natalie blinked. “I don’t understand. Stephen was paid well, but not enough to invest in overseas property.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  The secretary tapped on the door, then walked in. “You asked for updates, sir.”

  “Please. Come in.”

  “It’s not good news, I’m afraid.” Mercy laced her hands in front of her. “The president has just named his new head of security.”

  Natalie felt her pulse quicken. It couldn’t be—

  “Patrick Seko has just taken over for Ernest Ademola.”

  The room fell silent. All Natalie could hear was the pounding of her heart and the rain splattering against the window. Paul shoved back his chair and marched over to look out at the soggy embassy grounds.

  After a moment he turned back toward them. “I specifically told the president we suspect that Seko’s involved in a plot against the president’s life. What are they doing?”

  Mercy fingered the hem of her shirt. “I don’t know, sir. Apparently they don’t agree with our evidence. Patrick Seko has worked as one of the president’s trusted employees for years.”

  Natalie drew in a deep breath as she tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together. She needed to talk to Stephen. He was the one person she knew who had answers and would talk to her. The problem was she had no idea where he was.

  She bit her lip and mulled over the only option she could come up with. “I need to go to the gala tonight.”

  Chad’s brow narrowed at her announcement. “You’ve got to be kidding. Patrick will be there with plans to take out the president. For all we know it could be a bomb that wipes out the entire palace.”

  “I don’t think so.” Natalie shook her head. “He’s no martyr. It will be something small and precise that takes out the president. Just think about it. I’m the only one here who knows both Patrick and Stephen. If Stephen is in on what’s happening, I can get him to talk.”

  “You don’t know that,” Chad countered.

  “Maybe not, but do you have any other ideas for finding out what’s happening?”

  “Showing up at the gala would be a huge risk.” Paul sat back down across from them.

  Natalie pushed her plate away and leaned forward. “Not going is just as big a risk. I’ve tried calling Stephen and his phone is off, which means I have no way of finding him. Both of you know that we can’t wait until some sharpshooter takes out the president and throws this country into another civil war.”

  Natalie looked to Chad. He sat beside her, his brow furrowed. She knew he was only trying to protect her, but the last five days had taught her that nothing in life was certain. She had no desire to head off on some suicide mission, but if she could do something to make a difference she was ready to do it.

  “What happens tonight is going to affect more than this country,” she continued. “Malik told me this afternoon that unofficial reports were stating that the president has a strong lead. If the opposi
tion is determined to win this, they’ll do whatever it takes. Especially if they have the backing of some international cartel.”

  “So you believe Stephen’s trying to play Patrick?” Chad asked.

  “Stephen said he wanted to do something right, but going up against Patrick is more than he can handle. Which means while we might need him to get information, he needs us as well.”

  Chad fiddled with the saltshaker. “What if you’re wrong?”

  “What if I’m right?”

  “You heard what Paul said. Stephen’s got his hand on a small fortune, so as far as we know, he could be on someone’s payroll.”

  While Chad obviously wasn’t convinced, neither was she ready to back down. “When I talked to Malik this afternoon, I learned about another side of Stephen. He’s living with guilt over something that happened during the coup seventeen years ago. I think he wants to make things right this time. That’s why he let me go. And why he’s managed to prove to Patrick that he’s playing on his side now. If we can find out from Stephen exactly what’s going to happen tonight, we can stop this.”

  Paul came back to the table and leaned against it. “As much as I don’t like to admit it, she makes sense, Chad.”

  “I know. That’s what I hate.” Chad rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. “What kind of resources do you have here?”

  “Six marines. If we get lucky, we might have access to some of the UN soldiers overseeing the election, but not much else,” Paul said. “At this point, I don’t think even the FBI attaché is going to make it on time.”

  “We’ve got five hours to find Stephen,” Chad said. “If we find him first, there’s no reason for you to go.”

  “True, but if we don’t find him by then, the gala is the one place I’m certain I’ll be able to find him.”

  “There’s one other problem,” Chad continued. “What about invitations? Rachel told us it’s going to be impossible to get in without an invitation.”

  Paul leaned back and folded his hands across his chest. “Give me a little bit of time, and I can get you both in.”

  SIXTY

  FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 7:12 P.M.

  PRESIDENTIAL PALACE, BOGAMA

  Natalie reached for Chad’s hand as she stepped out of the embassy car onto the circular drive at the presidential palace. Thanks to Paul, false names, and a few inside connections, they had gotten through the front gate. Hopefully their formal attire—a stark contrast from the blurred newspaper photo—would keep them here undetected long enough to accomplish their goals.

  The monotonous chirping of crickets competed with the peppy jazz coming from the president’s mansion. She’d heard comments about the leader’s luxurious residence, but it was almost impossible to believe they were still in the Republic of Dhambizao. A magical backdrop of thousands of tiny lights lit up a waterfall in front of the columned entrance of the three-story white structure. Green and yellow flags blew in the breeze above a massive front staircase lined with the president’s security force. Beyond the palace, manicured lawns spread out among exotic flowers and palm trees.

  Wearing a pair of high heels she’d borrowed from one of the other American ex-patriots, Natalie took a tentative step forward on the stone sidewalk leading to the house. “This place is beautiful.”

  Chad offered his arm. “So are you.”

  Natalie felt the heat in her cheeks rise at the compliment. She did feel beautiful. After all that had transpired the past few days, a hot shower and the borrowed black-satin dress that swirled at her feet below a fitted bodice made her feel like Cinderella going to the ball. Its matching satin bolero added the perfect touch and made her wish that this was nothing other than a night out at an elegant party with a handsome man.

  Chad stopped at the edge of the sidewalk leading toward the house and raised her chin with his thumb until she was looking directly at him. “I want you to promise me one thing tonight.”

  He was near enough for her to smell the spicy scent of his cologne and see the brilliant blue of his eyes. The moonlit sky hung over them, accompanied by a sprinkling of stars. The afternoon showers had brought out the sweet scent of tropical flowers.

  If they got through this alive…

  She took in a deep breath. “What do you want me to promise?”

  “I’m still not sure if we’re doing the right thing in coming here tonight, but—”

  “Chad.” Her smile faded. It was too late for either of them to back out now.

  “Wait a minute.” He ran his thumb down her cheek. “All I wanted to say was for you to promise me that you’ll be careful. And that you will stay with me.”

  She glanced up at well-dressed guests who were entering the heavily guarded entrance. “Despite all of Paul’s precautions, I still don’t think they’ll do anything to us in there.”

  “They’re planning to assassinate the president, Natalie. None of us will be safe until this is over.”

  At the intensity of his words, the reality of the situation she’d tried to forget swept over her. After an afternoon of strategizing, they’d arrived armed with nothing more than a handful of information regarding some of the players involved and a time line of the evening’s events. Paul waited in an embassy van outside the palace gates with four marines. Paul’s instructions had been brief: find Stephen and learn what was planned, avoid Patrick, and get out alive.

  Chad’s words of concern weren’t the only things marring the evening. The stark reality of how the president lived compared to the rest of the country was impossible to ignore. Here there were no signs of poverty, high-density housing, or lack of basic necessities like water and electricity. It was this very fact that had many of the people skeptical about the president’s true intentions behind his promises of a fair and honest campaign.

  “Are you ready for this?” Chad’s question yanked her back to the present situation.

  She nodded. She’d do it for Joseph, his father, Aina, and all the families trapped within the horrors of slavery.

  It took them fifteen minutes to find Stephen. He was standing alone toward the back of one of the large living areas. For a moment, she second-guessed every assumption she’d made about him. Government liaisons didn’t receive invitations to presidential galas. Her hunch that he would be here tonight because of his association with Patrick had been right on. Her only fear was that Stephen had been playing her as well.

  She and Chad wove their way across the crowded imported-tile floor. Guests mingled throughout the vaulted entryway and spilled into the two enormous reception areas on each side. An eclectic mix of European architecture and African art, along with heavily carved pieces of furniture, only managed to add to the distinctive ambiance. In other circumstances, the design choices would have fascinated her. But for the moment, all she could think about was the importance of getting Stephen to talk to her.

  “Stephen?”

  “Natalie. What are you doing here?” He stepped back against the wall, looking like a trapped animal. “It’s not safe for us to be talking.”

  “Because of Patrick?”

  Stephen’s gaze flitted around the room. “If he saw me…”

  “We need to know what’s going on,” Natalie prompted.

  “I can’t.” He shook his head and glanced at his watch. “I don’t have a lot of time left.”

  “Please, Stephen, we need to know. We can help. If the president is killed, it will start something that none of us will be able to stop. Is that what you want?”

  “That’s why I’m here.” Stephen pressed himself against the wall and lowered his voice. “He has to be stopped.”

  “That’s why we’re here as well,” Chad said. “This situation is bigger than any of us. All we want to do is help.”

  Stephen didn’t look convinced.

  Natalie tightened her grip on the crook of Chad’s arm. “I talked to Malik. She told me about Camille.”

  Stephen’s eyes widened. Now she had his attention.


  “She wanted me to tell you that she forgives you. She also told me about the guilt you’ve been carrying around the past seventeen years—guilt for not stopping the soldiers who killed Camille.”

  Stephen pressed his lips together and looked across the room at the jazz quartet that was playing a mixture of blues and African rhythms for the delegates, government officials, and ambassadors.

  “Tell me how you’re going to stop him, Stephen.”

  He shook his head. “We can’t talk here. There is a passageway beyond the large staircase in the entryway that leads outside to a long, stone veranda. It should be empty. Meet me on the far north side in ten minutes.”

  Without another word, Stephen disappeared into the crowd as the ensemble switched to a more traditional African rhythm with drums and a flute.

  Chad leaned against the wall. “I don’t trust him.”

  “We have no choice but to trust him.”

  She glanced at her watch. It was already seven-forty. For safety concerns, the president had finally agreed to limit his appearance to a short speech at eight-fifteen instead of an hour mingling with the guests. Directly afterward, his entourage would escort him to an undisclosed location where he would stay until the results of the election were officially announced.

  They waited ten minutes, nibbling on the vast array of food laid out across three tables, and tried to blend in with the rest of the guests. Imported cheeses, fruits, caviar, thin cuts of smoked meat, and wine filled the elaborately decorated tables. The president had obviously spared no expense for what might be one of his last meals in the palace.

  Chad reached down and squeezed her hand. It was time. Silently they made their way toward the back of the house. Natalie turned to go down the wide hallway, then stopped short.

  Patrick blocked their way.

  SIXTY-ONE

  FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 7:50 P.M.

  PRESIDENTIAL PALACE, BOGAMA

  “Patrick?” Natalie caught the look of surprise in his expression, though she wasn’t sure who was more startled. Chad drew his arm tighter around her waist.

  “Natalie. I have to say that you’re the last person I expected to see here tonight.”