“It was the beer,” her father said.
Chapter 98
AROUND MIDNIGHT, ADANNE led me to a small bedroom where I’d be staying in the rear of the house. She touched my arm, came in behind me, and sat down on the bed.
I could see she was still in a playful mood, still smiling, a different person from the one who had taken me to Darfur a few days ago, and very different from the suspicious, serious-faced reporter I’d met in her office.
“They like you, Alex, especially my mother and sister-in-law. I can’t see why. I don’t get it.”
I laughed. “I guess I fooled them. They’ll catch on to me soon.”
“Exactly right. Just what I was going to say. So now, we’re thinking the same thoughts, I see. So—what are you thinking at this moment? Tell me the truth, Alex.”
I didn’t have a very good answer for Adanne. Well, actually I did, but I didn’t want to say it out loud. But then I did anyway.
“I think there’s an attraction between us, but we have to let it go.”
“That’s probably right, Alex. Or maybe not.”
She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek and held her lips there for a few seconds. She smelled nicely of soap, clean and fresh.
Adanne looked up into my eyes and she was still smiling. She had perfect white teeth. “I just want to lie here with you for a while. Can we do that? Just be here together without any more intimacy than that? What do you think? Can we do it two nights in a row?”
I finally kissed Adanne back, on the lips, but I didn’t hold the kiss for very long.
“I’d like that,” I told her.
“Me too,” she said. “I have love in my heart for you. It’s just a crush, I think. Don’t say anything, Alex. Don’t spoil this, whatever it is.”
I didn’t. We held on to each other until sleep took us both. I’m not sure if it took us farther away or closer together that night, but nothing happened for either of us to regret.
Or maybe I would come to regret that nothing happened.
Chapter 99
THE NEXT MORNING, Adanne was up early, making coffee and fresh-squeezed juice for everyone. Then she volunteered to drive me to my meeting with Flaherty. She was more serious and businesslike now, the way I’d seen her away from her family.
“Why are you wearing a dumb tie?” she asked. “You look like a downtown lawyer. Or a banker. Ugh.”
“I have no idea,” I told her and smiled. Now I was the one smiling all the time. “It’s another Nigerian mystery, I guess.”
“You’re the mystery,” she said. “I think so.”
“You’re not alone in that.”
She stopped the car in front of the bank on Broad Street. “Be careful, Alex.” She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “It is dangerous out there, more than ever.”
Then I hopped out of the car and gave a wave, and she was off. I decided immediately not to think about her, but then I was thinking about nothing else but Adanne—her smile, last night at her house, things that we didn’t do.
Flaherty! I reminded myself. What the hell does he want from me?
The CIA man was nowhere to be seen, though. I waited about twenty minutes, just long enough to start getting paranoid, when his Peugeot skidded up to the curb.
He threw open the door on my side. “C’mon, let’s go. I don’t have time to waste.” When I got in, I saw there was a blue folder on the seat and picked it up.
“What’s this?”
Flaherty looked dirty and sweaty and totally stressed out, more weaselly than usual. He pulled away and started driving. Typical of him, he didn’t bother to answer my question.
So I opened the file. It was just a single photocopied form with a passport-size picture of a young boy stapled to it.
“Adoption papers?”
“Orphanage records. That’s your Tiger. His name is Abidemi Sowande. Born Lagos, nineteen seventy-two, to wealthy parents. Both of them died when he was seven years old, no living relatives. Apparently little Abi wasn’t exactly the picture of mental health. He ended up on a ward for a year after that. When he came out, the old family fortune was gone.”
“What happened to it?”
Flaherty shrugged, and a little smoke from his cigarette got into his eye. He squinted and rubbed at it.
“Sowande was supposed to get transferred to state care, but somewhere between hospital and orphanage, he disappeared. He was a bright boy apparently. High IQ anyway. He spent two years at university in England. Then he disappeared until a few years ago here. That’s it, all I have. No further record of any kind until now. We think he might have worked as a mercenary.”
I stared at the picture in my hand. Could this boy be the man I’d seen in Darfur? The killer of so many people here and in Washington? Ellie’s murderer?
“How do we even know it’s him?” I asked.
“The dead guy in Sudan—Mohammed Shol? We got a source says he was bragging about doing business with ‘the Tiger,’ supposedly knew a thing or two about him. It seemed like a long shot, but then someone dug up this record and we got a print match to the crime scene at Shol’s. Sweet, right?”
“I don’t know,” I said, holding up the folder. “I mean, really, what am I supposed to do with this? Seems a little convenient all of a sudden.”
Flaherty glared over at me and swerved out of his lane. “Jesus, Cross, how much help do you want here?”
“Help?” I said. I wanted to hit him. “You hang me out to dry, then show up and give me the name of someone who doesn’t seem to exist anymore? Possibly a mercenary, but who knows? Is that the kind of help you mean?”
“This is gravy, Detective. I told you not to count on me from day one.”
“No, you told me that on day four—after I spent three nights in jail.”
Chapter 100
FLAHERTY ANGRILY FLICKED his lit butt out the window and wiped the sweat off his face. “Do you even know why you’re not dead yet? It’s because everyone thinks you’re CIA, and we let them think it. We’ve been babysitting you. I’ve been babysitting you. Don’t bother to thank me.”
I clenched my hands several times, trying to cap my anger. It wasn’t just Flaherty’s arrogance getting to me, or his condescension. It was this entire case. The Tiger was worse than any of the serial killers I had ever arrested—so why was he allowed to roam free here?
I looked over at Flaherty. “What is it you do, exactly—for the agency?”
“I service the copiers at the embassy,” he said, deadpan.
Then he lit another cigarette and blew out smoke. “Actually, I’m on record here as CIA. Okay by you?”
“Fair enough. How about this, then? Why aren’t you on the Tiger’s case yourself? Why pass me information instead of running with it? Abidemi Sowande is a murderer. You know that.”
Something about the debate, just getting it out in the open, I guess, was diffusing the tension in the car. Plus, I was on a roll.
“For that matter, why in God’s name am I wearing this stupid tie?”
For the first time, Flaherty smiled.
“Ah,” he said. “That’s one I can answer.”
Chapter 101
AN HOUR LATER, I was in the waiting room at an executive suite on the thirtieth floor of Unilight International’s administrative offices in Ikeja. I knew that Unilight was one of the most successful packaged goods company in the world, but that was about it.
Glossy pictures of Lubra Soap and Oral Toothpaste hung on the walls, and I was trying to figure out exactly what I was doing here. Flaherty had dropped me out front with a business card and a floor number. “Willem de Bues wants to meet you, and you want to meet him.”
“Dr. Cross?” A receptionist called over to where I was sitting. “The director will see you now.”
I was shown down a hallway to a double door, which she opened for me, into a huge corner office with floor-to-ceiling windows.
Stranger and stranger. What did a successful multinational corpora
tion have to do with a murder case?
A massive desk sat at an angle to the door with two comfortable chairs opposite it. A pair of tufted leather couches took up another corner, where two men in dark suits, white shirts, and clubby ties were just standing up.
“Dr. Cross,” the taller of them said. A white man with close-cropped blond hair and heavy-framed rectangular glasses came over and shook my hand.
“I’m Willem de Bues.” His accent was Dutch—I think. He motioned to the other man. “This is Thomas Lassiter, an attorney with our legal department.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, not quite sure yet if that was true or not. How could I know? I half expected to be beaten up and to have my nose broken next.
“It’s our understanding you’ve been following a local man known as the Tiger,” de Bues said, throwing me for a loop. What could this businessman possibly have to do with a killer for hire?
“That’s right,” I said. “I came here from Washington, where he had committed a couple of savage murders. Savage by our standards anyway.”
“Then, we might have something to talk about. Sit down,” Mr. de Bues said. It was clear he was used to giving orders. “Your reputation as a policeman precedes you, of course. Your record for solving difficult cases.”
“How about you tell me what this is about first? And why your attorney is here.”
De Bues’s demeanor didn’t crack. In fact, he smiled.
“We’d like to help you find the Tiger. And, given that this is a rather . . . irregular situation, I want to make certain that I don’t say, or offer, anything illegal in this meeting. Is that honest enough for you? Please, sit down, Detective. Sit.”
Chapter 102
“WHY WOULD YOU want to help a murder investigation?” I asked. I was genuinely curious.
“Unilight International has a considerable interest in Nigeria. Our cosmetics and skin-care business alone has grown enough to justify the expansion we have planned in the southeast. This is true of many multinationals, not just the oil companies.”
“In the Delta?” I asked.
“Port Harcourt, yes. And, of course, Lagos. Whatever relationship we now have with local factions seems to be irrelevant to some of the Islamic extremist organizations that are now moving into the region.”
“Are you saying the Tiger is Islamic? Because that’s news to me.”
“No, I have no idea about that. I doubt that he’s a religious man. But it’s no secret he deals in goods that bankroll these groups—conflict diamonds, lifted crude, that sort of thing. Essentially, he creates inroads for them and makes life more difficult for all foreign corporations. And, as I’m sure you know, Tiger is the local term for ‘killer for hire.’ ”
“And you want somebody to help you get the killer, or killers, out of your way?”
De Bues looked over at his lawyer, who nodded, and then answered. “We want to help with your criminal investigation, that’s all. We’re the good guys here, Dr. Cross. Just like you. This is not a ‘conspiracy,’ like in one of the Bourne movies.”
“Why not go through the local authorities?”
He smiled again, that nonsmile of his. “You condescend to me, Dr. Cross. The political situation, as we both know, is complex here. It is fair to say that civil war is almost inevitable for Nigeria, but war is like fire, yes? Even as it burns something away, it leaves fertile ground.”
It seemed like every day in Africa, I was falling a little farther through the looking glass. This conversation was turning out to be no exception. The CIA had directed me to a multinational corporation—or maybe a clique of them—for help in a brutal murder case?
I stood up. “Thank you for the offer, Mr. de Bues. I need to think about it.”
De Bues followed me to the door. “Please, Dr. Cross.” He held out a business card. “At least take my number. We do want to help you.”
“Thanks,” I said and left it at that.
De Bues shook his head as I walked to his door. “You don’t understand, do you? This part of the world is about to explode. And if it does, Africa could go the way of the Middle East. That is the key to your murder case, sir.”
Chapter 103
FRUSTRATED AND CONFUSED more than ever, I took a car service to Adanne’s office. Then we drove to her parents’ house, brainstorming about the case, Unilight’s involvement, and the Tiger’s whereabouts.
My next stop would be to check local records—schools, hospitals, crime reports—any instance of an Abidemi Sowande from 1981 to the present.
Adanne had good suggestions for getting access to state-level information. She wasn’t surprised that the multinationals were frightened and looking for help anywhere they could find it.
“Maybe your murder investigation is heating up,” she said. “It feels like it to me.”
“Yes, to me too.”
Adanne took my hand and that was a distraction I needed. “If you’re good,” she said, “I might even sleep with you again tonight.”
I leaned in and kissed her cheek and wondered how much longer I could be good around Adanne.
“Remember Alex, I know what you’re thinking. I’m probably thinking the same thing.”
It wasn’t until we came around the corner onto her parents’ street that we realized something was wrong.
“Oh, no,” she groaned. “Oh, no, oh, no.”
Adanne stopped her car at the top of the block. At least half a dozen police and fire units were parked at urgent angles to one another in front of her parents’ home. Hose lines snaked from the street through the open gate, and black smoke billowed up from behind the wall.
Adanne clawed at the seat-belt release until the strap flew away. “My God, my God! Oh, my God!”
“Adanne, wait a minute,” I said and tried to grab and hold her back.
But she was already out of the car and running toward her parents’ house. She was screaming in a full voice.
And then I was running too.
Chapter 104
I CAUGHT UP to Adanne just shy of the gate to the house. I grabbed her and picked her up. Her legs kicked off the ground and she struggled against me, reaching toward the gate even as I pulled her away from it.
“Adanne,” I said. “You don’t want to go in there and see. Trust me, please.”
The house was still burning but it was mostly a ghastly, black skeleton of itself. From where we were, Adanne and I could see straight through to the back of the property. The roof was already completely gone.
The driveway and lawn were littered with smoking black debris. Clearly, there had been an explosion. It looked as though it might have been a firebombing.
When I saw two small lumps under sheets on the lawn, I grabbed Adanne tighter and pressed her head into my chest. The bodies had to be the twins, poor little James and Calvin. Adanne knew this too, and she was crying softly in my arms.
A police officer ran by and I caught his attention. “How many were inside?”
He looked me over before answering any questions. “Are you family? Who are you? Why do you want to know?”
“This is her parents’ house. I’m a friend. She’s Adanne Tansi.”
“Three adults, two children,” he said. He looked at Adanne, then back at me, and shook his head no. No survivors.
A deep shudder went through Adanne and then she began to sob. She was saying something; maybe it was a prayer. I couldn’t make out the words or even the language she was speaking.
“I need to talk to your commander,” I said to the patrolman standing with us.
“About what?”
“CIA,” was what I said next.
The policeman opened his mouth again, but I cut him off. “Just get your commander. Get him over here right now.”
As he walked away, I spoke softly against Adanne’s forehead. “I’m here. You’re not alone.” She continued to sob in my arms, shivering like she was freezing cold in the ninety-degree heat.
I watched the commander approac
h, a tall, broad-backed man in a dark suit. I couldn’t hear anything over the fire crew and the hiss of water jets, but I didn’t need to.
I knew his face—the flat nose, those round cheeks, that idiotic Mike Tyson squint of his. The last time I’d seen it, he had been dangling me out a hotel window.
Chapter 105
“ADANNE, LISTEN TO me!” I was already pushing her back toward the car. “It’s not safe for us here. We have to go right now. That man, the policeman, he almost killed me at my hotel.”
She nodded and seemed to understand, and then we were walking quietly. I got her up the block to her car and into the passenger seat. “We have to go.”
When I reached the driver’s side, I could see the police commander through the windshield. He’d picked his way through the knot of emergency vehicles in front of the house. Then he broke into a run, heading straight for us. Two other men came running with him. I thought that I recognized one of them as the other man who’d come into my hotel room and tried to scare me out of the country.
“Adanne, fasten your seat belt! We have to get out of here. Right now!”
I put the car in reverse and checked over my shoulder. The intersection behind me was too busy; I couldn’t wait for the traffic to clear, though.
So I changed my mind.
I shifted into drive and drove right at the approaching cops. I began to blare the horn, hitting the wheel again and again.
Adanne’s car was only a little Ford Escort, but I caught the cops off guard. I floored it and stayed the course directly at the men. The “commander” didn’t budge from his path.
At the last second, I braked hard, but I still struck him. His eyes looked huge with fear—probably the same way mine did when I was hanging out that hotel window.
Now I threw the small car sharply in reverse. He took one of the windshield wipers with him as he flew off and rolled into the street.
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