The Rwandan Hostage

by Christopher Lowery

  “Very well,” Slater said finally. “I’ll get the money, but we’ll share this extra cost pro rata from our participations. You’re in charge of the budget, not me. You need to pay more attention to how my money is spent.”

  The other two exchanged glances and the Voice said. “We agree. Please transfer the funds to the usual account and we will manage it in the most parsimonious fashion possible.”

  “I’ll look after that tomorrow, but this additional investment means we have to begin the completion phase of the programme immediately. We can’t afford to have such large amounts invested for a long period of time. In any case I don’t think we need wait any longer. If she wants her son back she has to face the facts of life and act accordingly.”

  “What are your instructions?”

  Slater continued to pace the room while the others waited silently. Finally, he said, “My decision is that we have to go public tomorrow morning, while time is still on our side. It’s almost forty-eight hours since we took him. That’s the key time period in a disappearance or kidnapping and I’m sure they know that by now, so let’s strike while the iron is hot.”

  “I agree,” said the Voice. “We don’t actually know who the boy’s father was, but they have no way of finding out what we know or don’t know. In any event, it’s most likely that it was one of the Akazu. We’ll obtain a photograph of the boy and send it with the message that he is well and in a safe place and we’ll make further contact shortly. I’ll confirm as soon as it has been carried out. We’ll communicate as agreed, by email. I have the address.”

  “Right. That’s all for today. I’m staying in London for a few days so I can come over if necessary.” Slater went to the door. “Call me on my mobile when you have further news.”

  When the door had closed behind him the Voice said, “Unfortunately, our friend is perfectly justified in his complaint. This business is becoming very expensive, both in funding and potentially in bodies. It’s just as well he doesn’t know precisely what’s happening down there.”

  “We knew there would be some collateral damage. But the prize is worth it.”

  “If the plan actually works, of course I concur. But that still remains to be seen. In the meantime, no more expensive mistakes or bodies left lying around or he’s liable to withdraw his support.”

  “The plan will work, don’t worry. Once we’re out of SA it will be different. The trail will be cold and we’ll be half way home.”

  “I hope you’re right. Now we have a little over an hour to prepare for our call to Nwosu. It’s an important call so let’s have a brief rehearsal and you can make your comments ahead of time.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Marbella, Spain

  “Hola, Pedro, Que tal?” Jenny shook hands with Espinoza and he greeted her warmly.

  “You look wonderful, Jenny. You haven’t changed at all in the last couple of years. Younger, if anything.”

  “If you remember, I was under a bit of stress at the time. But thank you for the compliment. How is your renewed family life?”

  “As you English say, ‘so far so good’. I suppose it was José Luis who told you all my family secrets. He talks far too much, even for a retired lawyer.”

  “If he didn’t, you might never have managed to save Leticia’s and my life, so you shouldn’t complain.”

  He nodded modestly, “And how is Leticia? And Emilio, of course, he must be…., four years old now.”

  “They’re both away on holiday with Patrice, I suppose you know they’re going to be married? Come into the living room and have a coffee and we’ll catch up.”

  Over coffee they talked about some of the people who had been involved in the Angolan diamond affair. She hadn’t seen José Luis, her previous lawyer since he had retired the year before, but Espinoza told her that they lunched together occasionally. “I think he’s regretting his retirement,” he confided to her, “He seems bored. How are you getting on with Javier, his replacement?”

  “José Luis finished up everything to do with the will and the properties before he retired, so we haven’t needed a lawyer, except for trivial things like permits and other Spanish paperwork. Patrice helps us as well. He’s a banker, quite knowledgeable about financial and legal matters. So, we’re managing just fine.”

  Espinoza finished his coffee and pushed away the cup and saucer. “Well, Jenny. I think it’s time to tell me why I have the pleasure of seeing you again.”

  It took Jenny a half hour to summarise the events of the last few days in her precise, unemotional manner. Espinoza asked few questions. He was used to adding two and two to get five or six. On hearing of Leo’s extraction from Kigali to London, he said nothing, just raised his eyebrows and gave an admiring nod. He did the same when she described Emma’s escape from South Africa.

  After looking at all the evidence Emma had compiled, he commented, “It’s likely that one of the gang is a doctor. Even a very experienced nurse wouldn’t necessarily have the proper training to administer drugs. It’s quite complicated to put people out for a specific time, depending on their age, weight and other factors. They wouldn’t want their victim to succumb just when they were at the moment of maximum risk.”

  He thought for a moment. “Has there been any contact from the abductors? Any ransom note or message?”

  “Nothing. But I suppose it’s because they’re still investigating what happened to Emma.”

  “Nwosu can find that out quite easily. It won’t be long before we hear something from them. So, when can I meet Emma?”

  “Right now. She’s had a bath and a sleep and she’s busy answering emails upstairs. I want her to keep occupied as much as possible to stop her from dwelling too much on what happened. She’s holding up well, but you can imagine the worry and distress she’s feeling. Leo is her only child, in fact her only relative, apart from me. She’s emotionally shattered, so please go easy on her.”

  “I promise to be less of a policeman, more of a friend.”

  Once the introductions had been accomplished, Espinoza said, “Jenny has told me the whole story and it seems certain your son has been abducted. I’m sorry. But I know something of your sister’s strength of mind and I’m sure we can work together and bring Leo back. My limited abilities are at your service if you think I can help.

  Emma just nodded and he went on, “Tell us what you’ve discovered, Jenny.”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure that Rwanda is the key to this whole episode,” she said. “I don’t know why yet, but I think I’ve found the origin of the problem.”

  “But I was only in Rwanda for about two months, I’m sure nobody even knows that except for you and a few friends. It was almost sixteen years ago and I was an insignificant nurse who adopted an unknown baby from some poor unimportant girl who died. I don’t see the connection.”

  “Wrong, Emma. I don’t think Mutesi was an unimportant girl, or I should say, Leo was not an unimportant baby. I’ll tell you my thesis and then we’ll talk about it. You remembered that Mutesi was in the house of a man called Jean-Bousquet, right?”

  Emma nodded, “I think that was the name.”

  “The housekeeper had said he was an important, wealthy politician involved with a radio station. And the house was in Ruhondo, which is just outside of Ruhengeri, in the north western part of Rwanda. That’s where President Habiyarimana and all of the Akazu leaders lived. They were the Hutu people who ran Rwanda and who wanted to get rid of the Tutsis. I don’t know whether the genocide was really a deliberate political strategy, but it certainly seems to have been motivated by hatred and a desire to eliminate the Tutsis and it was instigated by the Akazu.”

  “So you think this man, Jean-Bousquet was a member of the Akazu?” Espinoza was making notes.

  “Well, there’s a wrinkle, but I think I’ve sorted it. Let me show you exactly how I did the research.” She took her iPad and opened Google. “I’ll put in Akazu, Radio Station, Rwanda. Look, the radio station was called Radio-Té
lévision Libres des Mille Collines. Now, watch this.” She highlighted the link. “See, Individuals associated with the station, third one down, Jean-Bosco Galaganza. See what they say about him? He was a Rwandan diplomat and the chairman of the executive committee of the radio station. Not Jean-Bousquet, I admit, but very close.

  “Now I’ll put in Rwandan genocide, Jean-Bousquet. There’s no one at all of that name, but it shows René Bousquet, who was indicted for war crimes committed when he was a senior member of the police during the Vichy government in France. He was a friend of Mitterand and that’s the only connection, because of Mitterand’s support of Habiyarimana and France’s refusal to acknowledge the genocide.

  “Now I’ll cross check with the name Jean-Bosco, Rwandan genocide. There are two names, Jean-Bosco Uwinkindi and Jean-Bosco Galaganza, both involved in the Rwandan genocide. Uwinkindi was Pastor of the Pentecostal Church in Kanzenze, which is in Kigali, so I think we can rule him out. Strangely enough,” she added, “After all these years, he’s apparently just been arrested on genocide charges. You wonder what goes on in these international courts. Not much, by the look of things.” She shrugged her shoulders.

  “Galaganza, however, is once again described as a Rwandan diplomat and the chairman of the executive committee of Radio-Télévision Libres des Mille Collines. Look at his photo, tall, slim, with a moustache and glasses.

  “In 2003 he was sent to prison for thirty-five years by the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda. I printed out the sentence of the court, listen; ‘Galaganza and the other heads of the radio station conspired to exterminate the civilian Tutsi population and eliminate members of the opposition. The components of their plan included the broadcasting of messages of ethnic hatred and incitements to violence, the training of militias and distribution of weapons to militiamen, and the preparation and diffusion of lists of people to be killed.’”

  She shuddered. “He was not a nice person and he was definitely a member of the Akazu, it’s well documented everywhere you look. And we know that all the Akazu members came from Ruhengeri, which is near Ruhongo, where Mutesi was held. I can’t actually find evidence that Galaganza lived there, but there isn’t another man called Jean-Bosco, member of the Akazu, politician and head of a radio station, so it has to be him. And the clincher is in the records of the trial. It says he fled Rwanda in 1995 and was brought to justice in 2000. That’s what Mutesi said, he left in November 1995. I’m absolutely sure he’s our man. He ticks all the boxes. I’ve copied out all the relevant extracts here.” She opened up her notes.

  “Impressive research. If I was still in the force, I’d hire you immediately, Jenny.” Espinoza reached for the iPad and read the items one by one while the two women talked.

  “What do you think, Emma? Might you have got the name wrong after all this time? Could you have confused it with René Bousquet?”

  “You’re right. I learned in school about Bousquet’s deportation of Jews and the name has stuck in my memory. I’ve got the ending of the name wrong. Jean-Bosco rings a bell now that I think back to Mutesi’s story. And there’s a clear resemblance to Leo, tall and slim and fine boned. I’m sure you’re right.

  “So he was the man who raped Mutesi, a mass murderer. And she survived all that, only to die in bearing his child. He was Leo’s father. My God!” She covered her face with her hands.

  “Emma, that was a lifetime ago. Don’t dwell on it now. Just look at Leo. Whoever his father was, he’s a fine, clever, intelligent boy. We must look forward, not back, or we won’t make any progress.”

  Espinoza looked up from his reading. “I see Galaganza died in April in Benin, of hepatitis. Quite a coincidence that Leo was abducted in July, just three months later, no?”

  “Exactly, Pedro.” Jenny said. “You know I don’t believe in coincidences. The two events must be connected in some way. But I have no idea how or why.”

  “A political abduction? Something to do with the Hutus trying to re-establish their power against the Tutsi government?”

  “I don’t think there’s much chance of that happening. I’ve been reading about Paul Kagame, the President. He’s been in power for ten years, sixteen if you count the previous six when he was the power behind the throne from 1994. He’s the leader of the Rwandese Patriotic Front. They’re the refugees from Uganda who came back and took power from the Hutus and put an end to the atrocities. There’s speculation that he actually masterminded the assassination of Habiyarimana and sparked off the massacre of most of his countrymen. I suppose that’s one way to make your point, but we’ll not dwell on that.”

  “He’s highly regarded by the international community. They’re throwing money at the country for development and agricultural aid. The usual, ‘Spend now, don’t repay later’ funding that produces nothing except rich dictators.” Espinoza sounded irritated. “However, if we assume that the reason for Leo’s abduction is his Hutu genocider father, how did the perpetrators find out?”

  “Exactly. If we want to find out who took Leo, we have to find out who knew about him in the first place.”

  “I have never spoken about Mutesi, about Leo’s birth or his entry into the UK, not a word to anybody.” Emma said. “Today’s the first time I’ve talked about it and it was to you, Jenny, I would never have trusted anyone else.”

  “We must take some decisions here.” Espinoza put aside the iPad and sat facing the women. “Is the reason for Leo’s abduction something to do with his father, and was it instigated by his death a few months ago? If that’s our working hypothesis, then we have a starting point.”

  “I have no idea why that would be the case, but I can’t think of any other possible explanation.” Emma looked anxiously at the others. Was this the right trail to follow?

  “That’s my vote too, Pedro. There are too many coincidences involved. They have to be connected, so we have to start joining up some dots.”

  “Very well, I agree it’s the only apparent reason, but we don’t yet know the motive because we’ve received no communication from the abductors. It could be political or financial or something totally unexpected.” Espinoza’s mantra was that there can often be motive without crime, but seldom crime without motive. His whole approach to solving crimes was to identify a motive and let nothing divert him from exploring that path. “Let’s put that aside for now. My second point is more delicate. Should we involve the police, or not?”

  “Which police are you talking about?”

  “We would have to use the British police as a starting point, because of Leo’s nationality. But I would hope to escalate it immediately to an Interpol investigation. Then we could circulate information between countries and act through a higher level of police authority than Nwosu’s level. I don’t advise starting with the South African police, since we have no idea of the extent of this conspiracy. If we fall onto the wrong person, it could compromise Leo’s safety. The South African police are not renowned for their honesty, especially if the stakes are high, as seems to be the case.

  “I was a Spanish liaison officer with Interpol and South Africa is a member nation, so I could push in that direction from the UK to speed up the process. But it will be slow and complicated to get the machine moving and I’m concerned about time. Leo has been missing for two days now, so time is of the essence.”

  Emma caught her breath. “You mean the time between the kidnap and the murder, the forty-eight hour window as they call it?”

  “OK, Emma,” Jenny interrupted. “Let’s explore that possibility, because I know that’s weighing on your mind. I don’t think Leo was taken in order to murder him. It would have been just as easy to kill him instead of doping him if that was the reason. I think this is about value, money.”

  “That’s also my opinion,” Espinoza spoke with quiet authority. “All the signs point to a well organised conspiracy. We know of five people involved so far, Lambert plus the two who pushed Leo out, plus Coetzee and Nwosu. You don’t need five people to kill a fift
een year old boy. In addition, you haven’t heard from the police since you left, no calls on your mobile?”

  “None at all.”

  “So I think that confirms our theory. Nwosu is involved outside of his official capacity and he’s part of a larger group of organised people. That rules out murder but it means we can’t trust the normal police channels. It also means there are big stakes to play for. Life in South Africa is cheap, but they’ve got a large investment so they’ll want a big reward.

  “That brings us back to motive. Emma, I don’t believe you have the kind of money that would warrant this crime and if the kidnappers are as well organised as I think, they would know that. But we won’t know until they contact you. We just have to assume that it’s going to be a cat and mouse game with a bargaining match at the end. The more we can find out, the stronger our hand will be when we have to bargain, so this work we’re doing now is vital and valuable.”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “So, what’s the decision? Police or no police?”

  “Pedro, first, please tell me if you condemn what I did in getting Leo out of Rwanda and into the UK. Tell me truthfully.”

  “On the contrary. I think you saved a helpless infant from a terrible future and gave him a loving life in a civilised country. Even if I was still a policeman that would be my opinion.”

  “But the authorities would have a totally different opinion. Leo’s birth certificate, his passport, it’s all illegal and would cause terrible problems in the UK.” Emma paused, a sob in her throat. “I’ve thought about nothing else since he was taken. Leo’s still a minor. They would prosecute me in a family court and he’d be taken from me as an unsuitable mother and put into care, or sent to foster parents. He might even be sent back to Rwanda because he has no right to stay in the UK. He’d become a refugee and I would end up in prison. I can’t let that happen. I just can’t.