Hellfire (9 page)

‘I’m glad you sent Buckingham. I’ve a lot of confidence in him.’

The chief sniffed, but didn’t reply.

‘You need to know that the PM is spitting feathers about this Nigerian situation,’ Gorman continued. ‘You have to give him some good news, and soon.’

‘There’s none to give. I’m sorry, Tessa, I know the guy’s probably a friend of yours, but if Boko Haram have him, the chances of him turning up alive are almost zero.’

‘If that happens it will look like a failure on our part,’ Gorman said. ‘And on yours, of course.’

The chief gave her a serious look. ‘Blame can always be reapportioned,’ he said. ‘The Regiment are in-country. If they fail to find the hostages, it can always be put down to incompetence on their part. Hereford never answers back in public. They can take a hit now and then.’

Gorman allowed herself a smile. ‘If you say so,’ she said. ‘If you say so.’

Five

‘For the record,’ Tony said, ‘I still think this is a shit idea. We don’t even know the hostages are definitely in the backwater we’re headed to. You agree with me, right, Ripley?’

There had been no let-up in the rain. As the unit climbed into the vehicle, they were dripping wet, and the interior filled with condensation as soon as Caitlin pulled away from the High Commission building. A roll of thunder cracked overhead, accompanied by a flash of lightning that lit up the stern profiles of the four soldiers in the vehicle, just for a second.

Danny had the passenger seat. He unfolded a detailed military map. Chikunda was circled with a black marker pen. He ignored Tony’s comment, and was quietly relieved that Ripley had done the same. Tony was proving as difficult to manage as Danny had feared. And it was true that their intel was weak, but it was all they had. ‘A1 north out of Lagos,’ he said.

Caitlin nodded. ‘I know it.’

‘Where did you get all this local knowledge?’ Ripley asked from the back.

‘I was stationed in the Aussie embassy here for two years.’

‘Worst two years of your life, right?’

‘Not at all. I loved it.’ She paused. ‘I had a Nigerian husband.’

‘Had?’ Danny asked.

Caitlin nodded. ‘The police took exception to him having a white wife. That’s how I know what goes on in the basement of the police building. He never made it out.’ She said it without any emotion. Danny found himself making a small mental adjustment about this woman. She must hate the police –
really
hate them – but she’d been willing to use their reputation to break Ntoga. She was a good asset. Ruthless, but good.

‘Do you really know the Inspector General of police?’

‘We haven’t been introduced.’

‘So why do you have his number in your phone?’

Caitlin looked straight ahead. ‘Because one of these days,’ she said, ‘he and I are going to have a little chat about what he did to my husband.’

‘Why do I have the idea,’ Ripley muttered, ‘that he’ll end that conversation with a face like a busted arsehole?’

No reply. The conversation died.

The Lagos traffic was nose-to-tail, the air thick with the stench of exhaust fumes and the aggressive sound of car horns. But Caitlin evidently knew the roads well, and within twenty minutes she had negotiated their way out of the busy metropolis. Through his window, Danny had caught sight of the city behind them. In the dark, the glowing high-rises looked very modern. It would be easy to forget the slums that surrounded the city, and the tumbledown shacks that housed half the population. And just beyond the illuminated buildings he could make out the coast – not that he could see much of it through the dark and the rain. Just the vague impression of lights on the ships out at sea. Lagos was a busy port, and as they headed away from the interior, it felt like they were leaving civilisation.

The road was bad as they headed north. Caitlin did what she could to avoid the many potholes that riddled the highway, but it was impossible to miss them all in the dark, and Danny felt bone-shaken after just half an hour – though he noticed that Ripley was managing to get some shut-eye in the back. The weather was terrible. It was a blessing and a curse. On the plus side it seemed to be keeping most traffic from the roads. They passed the occasional tatty old white Toyota Coaster, rusting and rickety, with drenched luggage piled high on its roof. Now and then they overtook a heavy lorry that trundled along and blinded them with spray. But not much else. With the roads so clear and the weather so bad, they passed through the built-up towns north of Lagos without any trouble. Even better, the rain had sent the soldiers guarding the semi-regular road blocks hiding for shelter. Caitlin slowed down to pass the cement blocks placed, Iraq style, along the middle and side of the road, but they passed each one unchallenged, no doubt thanks to the weather.

On the downside, the storm limited their speed, badly. Caitlin struggled to keep a steady sixty-five mph. For two hours they travelled slowly, but without incident. The rain continued – Danny realised that the storm must be following them north. At 01.00, he decided it was time to swap drivers. ‘Pull over,’ he told Caitlin. Once they were on the side of the road, he looked over at Ripley. ‘Take the wheel,’ he said.

‘I’ll drive,’ Tony announced, opening his side door before Ripley could even move. ‘Don’t want to end up in a ditch.’

A dangerous shadow fell across Ripley’s face as Tony and Caitlin walked round the back of the car to swap places. ‘Leave it, mucker,’ Danny said quietly. Ripley remained quiet, but didn’t look happy.

Behind the wheel, Tony floored the vehicle. Danny had to concede that he was a good driver. Better than Caitlin. He managed safely to keep their speed above seventy mph for the next two hours, while Caitlin caught up on her sleep. As they drove, Tony looked over his shoulder to check she wasn’t awake. ‘What do you think of the bird?’ he asked quietly.

‘She can handle herself,’ Danny said. He found himself remembering the sweat on her nose and the way her lips parted when she looked at him. Then he remembered Clara.

‘Yeah.’ Tony sniffed. ‘She’s a ruthless bitch. She’s a looker too. I might have a crack at her.’ He glanced at Danny. ‘Unless you get there first,’ he said.

Danny kept his eyes on the road ahead.

By the time they reached the point where the highway crossed the River Niger, it was already 03.00 hrs. Danny estimated that they were at least seventy-five klicks further south than he wanted to be by now. But there was nothing they could do, other than keep their foot down.

‘We need to refuel,’ Tony said as they emerged on the northern side of a small town called Oddah. Danny nodded and Tony pulled over on to a marshy puddle to the side of the road. Danny jumped out. He saw, just ten metres from the side of the road, one of the Toyota Coasters lying upturned and long-abandoned. As he removed one of the jerrycans from the boot and carefully poured the precious fuel into the vehicle, he saw another vehicle on the other side, a saloon car perhaps, absolutely totalled. Welcome to Africa.

Once the tank was full, he walked round to the driver’s side and opened Tony’s door. ‘Ripley’s driving now,’ he said. Tony looked like he was going to argue, but then glanced over at Caitlin and seemed to change his mind. He climbed out of the car and swapped places with Ripley.

The state of the road made a burst tyre almost inevitable. It happened at 04.30 hrs, a huge bang from the front left-hand side just as they were reaching the outskirts of Abuja. ‘What the fuck!’ Tony shouted from the back. The blow-out didn’t delay them more than ten minutes, thanks to the powerful hi-lift jack, but they were all aware that another would leave them without a tyre. ‘Try to keep us on the road, mucker,’ Tony said from the back as Ripley started off again.

Ripley was obviously struggling to keep his cool with Tony. Danny decided to divert his attention from the arsehole in the back. ‘How old are your kids again, mucker?’

Ripley shot Danny a sharp look. On an op like this, family discussion were normally off-limits – an unspoken agreement that nobody wanted to be reminded of their loved ones when they were tooled up and moving into a combat situation. But beneath his gruff exterior, Ripley was a family man who never gave up an opportunity to talk about them. Now his face lightened. ‘Eleven and nine. The oldest just got his first skateboard,’ he said. ‘Took him to a halfpipe the other day.’ He looked into the rear-view mirror. Danny did too, and saw that Tony had his eyes closed. ‘Don’t worry about me,’ Ripley said. ‘I can deal with him.’

They headed relentlessly north.

Dawn hit half an hour later. It brought with it an improvement in the weather conditions, but Danny knew it would make other aspects of the journey more difficult. Sure enough, within fifteen minutes they saw, through the grey, early morning light, men in the road a hundred metres up ahead. ‘Road block,’ he said tensely, and he sensed Tony and Caitlin loosening their sidearms in their holsters. Four white guys with assault rifles stashed the length of the vehicle would cause a stir, no question.

Fifty metres. There were no other vehicles at the road block. ‘Six men,’ Danny counted. ‘Three with weapons. AK-47.’ They wore army fatigues that looked grey in the half light, but he noticed that the three armed guards had painted parts of their weapons in bright, vibrant colours – one had a yellow barrel, another a red stock – like they were children’s toys.

‘I’d say they’re regular army,’ Caitlin said quietly.

‘Stop about ten metres from the first guard,’ Danny said.

Ripley came to a gradual halt. Danny found himself automatically calculating the distances between them and the guards: ten metres to the guy with the yellow barrel, five more metres to the two other armed guards, and another ten metres to the remaining three, who were in a little group smoking cigarettes. The red tips of their fags stood out like fireflies in the grey dawn. They all had confident, almost arrogant looks on their faces, as if their brightly coloured weapons made them untouchable. They had no idea that at a single word from Danny, the unit would have them down in less than five seconds.

But dead bodies would make people ask questions, and they couldn’t afford to be slowed down by anyone trailing them. Danny looked back at Caitlin and Tony. ‘We only fight if we can’t buy our way through,’ he instructed.

‘It’ll be too late by then,’ Tony said, his voice taut. Danny ignored him. But he was aware of both Tony and Caitlin winding down their windows, ready to engage with their weapons if the situation required it.

‘Keep the engine running,’ he told Ripley. He nodded, his hands still gripping the wheel, ready to move if necessary.

Danny removed the full wallet the military attaché had supplied them with before they left, removed half the notes, then stepped outside the car. He raised his hands to show he was holding nothing but the wallet, and smiled broadly.

The guy with the yellow AK barrel stepped casually forward. He had an arrogant expression, but Danny noticed that his eyes kept flickering towards the wallet.

‘Hey,’ the guard called. ‘White man, what you doing here?’

Danny kept walking. ‘Passing through,’ he called. ‘Heading into Niger.’

The guard gave an unpleasant grin, as if heading into Niger was a sure way to run into trouble. ‘Three men, one woman? What is it, gangbang?’

Danny just gave him a broader grin. ‘Something like that,’ he said. ‘Hey, your job looks like thirsty work. You’d rather be having a beer than standing here talking to me, right?’

‘Beer is expensive, white man.’ The guard rubbed his thumb and fingers together.

Danny was a metre in front of him now. ‘Maybe I could buy you one,’ he said.

The guard didn’t answer, but looked meaningfully at the wallet. Danny pulled out the stash of notes. ‘It’s all I have,’ he said.

The guard gave an unimpressed sniff. But he also licked his lips, and Danny knew he was through. He handed over the notes, and the guard casually put them in his pocket. Then he turned his back on Danny and wandered over to his two mates.

‘Hey!’ Danny called. ‘What are the roads north of here like?’

‘Roads are very good,’ said the guard dismissively, ‘if you like to swim.’ He chuckled to himself, then turned back to his mates.

Nothing on earth would have made Danny turn his back on three armed men, no matter how much he’d just bribed them. He made a gesture with his right hand. Immediately, the Range Rover pulled up beside him. Danny slipped back into the passenger seat. As Ripley drove them through the road block, he felt the hot glare of all six guards on them, and saw a flash of yellow gun barrel. But a minute later they were out of sight.

At 06.00 hrs they pulled off the main highway. The road to Chikunda headed off at a bearing of approximately 310 degrees. As a line on the map it looked like a perfectly good road. In reality it was little more than a rough track through dense, high vegetation. As the early morning wore on, the humidity started to increase again. It felt as if the air itself was going to burst with rain again. At 06.30 hrs, it did – stronger than before. Even with the windscreen wipers going full-speed, visibility was a scant five metres. Danny watched carefully through the windscreen, scanning the road ahead for unseen danger or threats . . .

‘STOP!’ he shouted suddenly.

Ripley hammered the brakes. The Range Rover skidded badly. Ripley expertly drove into the skid in order to get control of the steering again, but with a lurch, Danny felt the two right-hand wheels rise for a good couple of seconds. They thumped back down on to the ground, but the vehicle still had forward momentum. They skidded down the dip in the road that Danny had only seen at the last minute. Mud and water splashed over the windscreen, completely obscuring their view as they came to a sudden, jolting stop.