Chapter 39.
AS MY HEAD cleared some, I realized that my wallet was gone. And my belt.And, I realized as I felt around some more, the earring from my left ear. The lobe was scabbed over where a small silver hoop had been, a birthday present from Jannie.Where had they taken me? How far was I from the airport? Was I still in Nigeria?Why hadn"t anyone tried to stop them from kidnapping me? Did it happen all the time?I had no idea about any of these questions, or their answers."Are we in Lagos?" I finally asked."Yes. In Kirikiri. We are political prisoners. So we have been told. I am a journalist. And you are?"A metal sc.r.a.pe came from the direction of the door as it was unlocked, then opened wide.I saw two blue-uniformed guards pause in the light of a cement corridor before they stepped in and became shadows themselves. Seconds later, one of them played a flashlight over us.It caught me in the eyes and hung there for several seconds.I felt sure they were here for me, but they grabbed the man two down from me instead. The one who had said he was a journalist.They pulled him roughly to his feet. Then one of the guards unholstered a pistol and pressed it to his temple."No one talks to the American. No one," the guard told the room. "You hear me?"Then, as I watched in disbelief, the man was pistol-whipped until he was unconscious. Then he was dragged out of the holding cell.The reaction of the other prisoners around me was mostly silent acceptance, but a couple of men moaned into their hands. No one moved; I could still hear snoring from a few of them.I stayed where I was, holding it all in until the vicious guards were gone. Then I did the only thing I could, which was ease back down to the floor, where every shallow, rapid breath produced another slice of pain through my chest.What kind of h.e.l.l had I gotten myself into?
Chapter 40.
I WISH I could say that my first night in the prison cell in Kirikiri was a blur and that I barely remember it.It"s just the opposite, though. I will never forget any of it, not one second.The thirst was the worst, on that first night anyway. My throat felt like it was closing up. Dehydration ate at me from the inside. Meanwhile, oversize mosquitoes and rats tried to do the same from the outside.My head and torso throbbed like a metronome all night, and a sense of hopelessness threatened to overwhelm me the minute I let my guard down, or, G.o.d forbid, slept for half an hour.I"d read enough from Human Rights Watch to know something about the conditions in this kind of prison-but the gap between knowing it and living it was enormous. It was possibly the worst night of my life, and I"d had some bad ones before this. I had spent time with Kyle Craig, Gary Soneji, and Casanova.As dawn finally came, I watched the single barred window like a television set. Seeing its slow change, from black, to gray, to blue, was as close as I could get to optimism.Just when the prisoners around me began to stir, the cell door opened again.A wiry guard stood at the threshold. He reminded me of a very tall gra.s.shopper. "Cross! Alexander!" he yelled at the top of his voice. "Cross! Over here! Now!"It was a struggle to look halfway able-bodied as I slowly rose to my feet. I focused on the pain of my chest hairs being pulled out where they had fused with the dried blood in my shirt. It was just instinct, but it got me up on rubbery legs and across the floor.Then I followed the guard into the corridor. He turned right, and when I saw the dead end ahead of us, I let go of any thoughts I"d had about getting out of the prison.Maybe ever."I am an American policeman," I said, starting up my story again. "I"m here investigating a murder."And then it struck me-was that why I was in this prison?
Chapter 41.
THIS DEFINITELY WAS h.e.l.l. We pa.s.sed several foreboding, metal doors like the one to my cell. I wondered how many prisoners were kept here, and how many of them were Americans. Most of the guards spoke some English, which made me suspect that I wasn"t the only American here.The last door on the ward was the only one without a lock. An old office chair sat in front of it, its seat nearly rusted through."Inside," barked the guard. "Quickly now, go ahead, Detective."When I went to move the chair out of the way, he shoved it into my hands. Just as well. It was something to sit on besides the floor, and I didn"t feel much like standing right now.Once I was in, he closed the door and, from the sound of it, walked away.This room was similar to the holding cell-except that it was maybe half the size and empty. The cement floor and stone walls were streaked dark, which was probably where the putrefying smell came from.There was no latrine here. Possibly because the whole area had been a latrine at one time.I looked back at the gray metal door again. Given that there was no lock, was it more foolish to try to get out of here than to just sit and wait for whatever might come next?Probably not, but I couldn"t be sure about it, could I?I was halfway to my feet when I heard footsteps again.I sat back down. The door opened and two police officers came in-wearing black uniforms instead of prison-guard blue. My stomach told me it was a bad trade-off.So did the hard, p.i.s.sed-off look on the guards" faces."Cross? Alexander?" one barked."Could I have some water?" I asked. There was nothing on earth that I wanted more. I could barely speak now.One officer, in mirror shades, glanced over at the other, who shook his head no."What am I charged with?" I asked."Stupid question," said Mirror Shades.To demonstrate, the second cop walked up and drove his fist into my stomach. My wind was gone, even before I hit the floor like a dry sack."Get him up!"Mirror Shades hoisted me easily, then put his powerful. arms around my shoulders from behind. When the next punch came, he kept me from falling over, and also made sure my body absorbed the full impact. I vomited immediately, a little surprised there was anything to bring up."I have money," I said, trying what had worked before in this country, back at Immigration.The lead cop was huge-as tall as Sampson, with a flopping Idi Amin belly. He looked down the slope of his body right into my eyes. "Let"s see what you have.""Not here," I said. Flaherty, my CIA contact, had supposedly set up a money fund for me in a Lagos bank, which at this point was the equivalent of a million miles away. "But I can get it-"The lead cop crashed his elbow into my jaw. Then came another wrecking ball of a punch to my chest. Suddenly I couldn"t breathe.He stepped back and waved Mirror Shades out of the way. With an agility I wouldn"t have guessed at, the large, fat man kicked high with one boot and caught me square in the chest again. All the air remaining went out of me. I felt as if I"d just been crushed.I heard, rather than saw, the two guards leave the room. That was it. They left me lying on the floor; no interrogation, no demands, no explanations.No hope?
Chapter 42.
BACK IN THE holding cell, I was given a bowl of ca.s.sava and a cup of water, only a few ounces, though. I bolted the water but found I couldn"t eat the ca.s.sava, which is an important vegetable throughout Africa. My throat closed when I tried to swallow solid food.A young prisoner hovered nearby and was staring at me. With my back to the wall, I whispered barely loud enough for him to hear, "You want it?" I held out the bowl."We hail the ca.s.sava, the great ca.s.sava," he wheezed as he took the bowl. "It"s from a famous poem we learn in school."He scrabbled over and sat next to me, both of us watching the door for guards."What"s your name?" I asked."Sunday, sir."He couldn"t have been more than twenty, if that. His clothes were dirty but seemed middle-cla.s.s to me, and he had a three-stripe tribal scar on each cheek."Here, Sunday. You"d better not be seen talking to me, though.""Oh, f.u.c.k them," he said. "What can they do - throw me in a prison cell?"He ate the ca.s.sava quickly, looking around like he-expected someone to take it away from him. Or to rush in and beat him."How long have you been here?" I asked when he had finished eating."I come here ten days ago. Maybe it"s eleven now. Everyone here is new prisoner, waiting for processing."This was news."Processing? To where?""To the maximum-security unit. Somewhere in the country. Or maybe it will be worse. We don"t know. Maybe we all goin" to a big ditch.""How long does it take? The processing. Whatever happens here?"He looked at the floor and shrugged. "Maybe ten days. Unless you have egunje.""Egunje?""Dash. Money for the guards. Or maybe someone knows you"re here?" I shook my head no on both counts. "Then you have big wahala, sir. Same as me. You don"t exist. Shhhh. Guard is coming."
Chapter 43.
WHEN THE GUARDS woke me on the third morning, they had to drag me to my feet. I wasn"t going with them willingly. Not to my own execution. My chest still ached from the beating the day before. And my nose felt seriously infected.This time, it was a left turn out of the cell. I didn"t know if that meant good news or that the bad news had just gotten a lot worse.I followed the human gra.s.shopper down a steep, stone stairwell, through another corridor, and around several more turns that had me thinking I never would have gotten out of this place on my own.We finally came outside into an enclosed quad. It wasust a wide expanse of sunbleached earth with a few tufts of weeds and a ten-foot-high fence topped with ribbons of barbed wire. If this was the exercise yard, it was a sad excuse for one.Anyway, I could barely see anything in the bright light. And it was hot, at least a hundred degrees, give or take ten or twenty.The guard didn"t stop until he got to the high razor-wire-topped gate on the far side.A locked door was opened to a pa.s.sage through a building, through another door, then a gate, and to what looked like a parking area in the distance.I asked Gra.s.shopper Man what was going on. He didn"t answer. He just opened the door and let me through.He closed it behind me, locking me into yet another pa.s.sageway."It"s been taken care of," he said."What has?""You have."He was already walking back the way we"d come, leaving me there. My heart sped up and my body tensed hard. This sure felt like an ending, one way or the other.Suddenly a door opened on my right. Another guard stuck his head out. He gestured at me impatiently."Get in, get in!"When I hesitated, he reached out and pulled me by the arm. "Are you deaf? Or are you stupid? Get inside."The room I entered was air-conditioned. It was like a shock to my skin, and I realized that all he"d wanted was to get the door closed again.I was standing in a plain office that seemed quite ordinary. In it were two wooden desks and several filing cabinets. A second guard, bent over some paperwork, ignored me. Also present was the first white man I"d seen since arriving at the airport.He was a civilian dressed in light trousers, a loose b.u.t.ton-down shirt, and sungla.s.ses. My guess was CIA."Flaherty?" I asked, since he didn"t bother to volunteer any information.He tossed me my empty wallet. Then finally he spoke. "Jesus, you look like h.e.l.l. Ready to get out of here?"
Chapter 44.
I WAS WAY beyond ready to get out of this nightmarish prison, but I was also stupefied by everything that had happened to me since I had arrived in Lagos."What-? How did you find me?" I asked Flaherty before we were even out of the air-conditioned office. "What"s going on? What just happened back there?""Not now." He walked over and opened a door and gestured for me to go out first. The two guards didn"t even look up. One of them was scribbling in a file and the other was jabbering on the phone when we left. Business as usual here in the bowels of h.e.l.l.As soon as the door closed behind us, Flaherty took my arm. "You need some help?""Jesus, Flaherty. Thank you.""They break your nose?""Feels that way.""Looks it too. I know a guy. Here." He handed me a small bottle of water and I started to empty it down my throat. "Go slow, fella."He steered me over to an old off-white Peugeot 405 parked under a shade tree nearby. My duffel was already in the back seat. "Thank you," I said again.Once we were moving, I asked him, "How did you do this?""When you didn"t show up on Thursday, I figured there were only a few possibilities. A hundred got me your name. Another five hundred got you out."He took a business card from his breast pocket and handed it to me. It was from Citibank, with an address in Lagos. On the back in blue ballpoint was written ACROSS9786EY4."You"re going to want to change that pa.s.s code. And probably wire in another grand or so if you can.""What about my family?" They came rushing into my mind all at once. "Have you spoken with them? Do they know what"s happening?""Listen, don"t take this the wrong way, but I"m not your social worker. I know you probably feel like you"ve been through the eighteenth circle of h.e.l.l or whatever, but you can"t count on me for this kind of s.h.i.t. Okay? I don"t mean to be harsh. But that"s the way it is here these days. There"s a lot going on right now."He tipped a Camel Light out of a pack, lit it, and blew twin streams of smoke through his nostrils. "You can call them from the hotel. Your family.""I"m moved by your compa.s.sion."He grinned straight ahead. I guess we understood each other. Mine was obviously not the saddest or worst story Ian Flaherty had heard in Lagos. Probably not by a long shot."You have any food in this car?" I asked him.He reached over and popped the glove compartment. There was a chocolate protein drink in a can. It was warm and a little gritty, and nothing had ever tasted better to me.I threw my head back, closed my eyes, and tried for the first time in three days to relax and, maybe, think in straight lines about the murder investigation and what had just happened to me.
Chapter 45.
A HEAVY THUD woke me from a hot, sweaty, and unpleasant sleep.Maybe only a few minutes had pa.s.sed. My eyes jerked open just in time to see an old Adidas sneaker bounce off the roof and onto the hood of the Peugeot."What the f.u.c.k?" Flaherty craned his head around.We were caught in a bad traffic jam, with cars as far as I could see in front or behind us. "Area Boys. I should have guessed." He frowned and pointed.I saw them in the side mirror first. There were at least half a dozen of them. Teenagers, it looked like. They were going from car to car, pa.s.sing some and stopping at others, robbing drivers and pa.s.sengers."Area Boys?" I asked."Like g.a.n.g.b.a.n.gers, without the bling. Just c.o.c.kroach thugs. Don"t worry about them."Two cars back, a flat-faced boy in an old Chicago Bulls jersey reached into someone"s driver"s-side window and threw a punch. Then his hand came out holding a briefcase."We should do something, shouldn"t we?" I reached for the door handle, but Flaherty pulled me back."Do what? Arrest all of them? Put "em in the trunk? Just let me handle this."Another kid, shirtless with a shaved head and an angry spray of zits across his face, ambled up alongside our car. He leaned halfway into Flaherty"s window and raised his fist."Give me ya f.u.c.kin" wallet, oyinbo man," he yelled at the top of his voice. "Give it now!"Flaherty"s hand was already reaching down under the seat. He pulled out a Clock and pointed it at the kid from his lap."How about you give me your f.u.c.kin" wallet, sucko?" he snapped. The kid stepped back, both hands up, with a sneer on his face. "Or maybe I should say boy, boy. That"s right, keep moving before I change my mind.""Not this one, bros," the kid called out to his friends and made a thumb and forefinger gun for them.One of them drummed on the trunk anyway as they pa.s.sed, but they kept going. n.o.body else bothered us.Flaherty saw that I was staring at him."What? Listen, when I come to DC, you can tell me what"s what. Okay? Meanwhile, just try to remember where you are."I turned and looked through the windshield and saw another driver getting robbed while we just sat there."Hard to forget," I said.
Chapter 46.
I REALIZED WITH a jolt that my investigation could actually continue now, and that it was going to be something like a criminal investigation on Mars. That"s how different life was here in Nigeria at this point in time.The Superior Hotel, where Flaherty dropped me, was sprawling. There wasn"t too much else to recommend it. It had probably been quite something in the fifties, or whenever. Now it had chipped stucco walls and a steady crew of locals in the parking lot hawking T-shirts, electronics, and phone cards.It was also right near the airport. Three days in Nigeria, and I"d managed one small circle."Why"d you bring me here?" I asked as I changed my shirt in the backseat."I thought you might want to catch a plane in the morning. One can always hope.""A plane to where?""To home, duh. You should leave now, Detective Cross. Before they get serious about hurting you. You"re not going to get to the Tiger, but he could get to you."I stopped talking and stared at Flaherty. "The Tiger?"
Chapter 47.
"THAT"S HIS NAME, Detective Cross. Didn"t you know? Actually, several of these gang bosses are called Tiger. But our guy was the first.""So, do you know where he is?""If I did, I"d take you there right now and get this over and done with."I tossed my bloodied shirt into a trash can and picked up my duffel. "What time can I meet you tomorrow?"Flaherty grinned just a little. I think it was partial approval. "I"ll call you.""What time?""As early as I can. Get some rest. If you"re not here in the morning, I"ll know you"re actually sane."Before he took off, I borrowed some cash so I could pay for the first night at the Superior and also buy a phone card.Forty-five minutes later, I was showered and fed, and waiting for my overseas call to go through.The room was definitely nothing special. It was maybe 10 x 15, with chipped stucco walls, and the occasional water bug for company.The bellhop hadn"t been surprised to find the bathroom sink fixtures gone. He promised new ones soon. I didn"t really care. After jail, the room felt like the presidential suite to me.When Jannie answered the phone and I heard her voice for the first time, a lump rose in my throat. I forgot about the fact that my nose was throbbing and sporadically leaking blood."Well, look who"s not in school today," I said, trying to keep it light and bright."It"s Sat.u.r.day, Daddy. Are you losing track of time over there? You sound like you have a cold, too."I touched my sore and broken nose. "Yeah, I guess I"m a little stuffed up. I"ll live. I"m actually staying at one of the best hotels in town.""Alex, is that you?" Nana was on the extension now, and more than a little peeved, I could tell. "Where have you been for three days? That"s unacceptable behavior to me.""I"m sorry, Nana. It"s been a lot harder getting a line out than I thought," I said and then started asking a lot of questions to avoid any more of my not quite lies.Jannie told me about the fruit flies in her science experiment and about some new neighbors on Fifth Street. Nana was worried that the boiler noise in the bas.e.m.e.nt was the same one that had cost nine hundred dollars the last time.Then Ali got on to tell me that he could lind Nigeria on the map and that the capital was Lagos, and he knew what the population was-more than one hundred thirty-five million.Then Nana said she was going to put Bree on."She"s there?" I was a little surprised. Bree had planned on moving back to her apartment while I was away."Someone"s got to watch over us around here," Nana said pointedly. "Besides, she"s one of us now. Bree is family."
Chapter 48.
I LIKED WHAT Nana had just said and also the sound of Bree"s voice when she got on the line. I heard a door close and knew we were being given some privacy."Finally," I said."I know. Nana"s tough, isn"t she? But she can be sweet too."I laughed. "She"s pulling punches because you"re there. She"s manipulating you already.""Speaking of which, don"t bulls.h.i.t me now, Alex. Where have you been for the past three days?""Detective Stone, is that you?" I said. "I guess you missed me?""Of course I did. But I asked a serious question. I"ve been worried sick for three days. We all have, especially Nana.""Okay, here"s what happened, and it"s part of the case. It has to be. I was arrested at the airport.""Arrested?" Bree said it in a whisper that registered new concern. "By who? At the airport? On what possible gounds?""On the grounds that due process is a relative concept around the world, I guess. I was in a holding cell for two and a half days. They never charged me with anything."Her voice slipped a little-more Bree and less Detective Stone. "How bad was it?""Scale of ten, I"d give it a fifteen, but I"m mostly okay now. I"m at the Superior Hotel. Of course, that"s just a name. There"s nothing superior about this joint."I looked out the window, where dark thunderheads were rolling in over the gulf. The pool area, ten stories down, was starting to clear out. It was hard to believe I"d woken up in Kirikiri just that morning."Listen, Alex, I don"t know if you want to hear this right now, but we had another multiple last night. Another family was slaughtered over in Petway. This time, the parents were Sudanese nationals."I sat down on the bed. "Same MO as the first two?" I asked."Yeah. Large knives, possibly machetes, extreme malice. Just ugly for the sake of ugly, cruel for the sake of cruel. Whether or not your boy and his gang were here, I"ll bet his people were involved.""Apparently the murderer is called the Tiger. So I"m playing Catch a Tiger. He could have ordered a hit from anywhere.""That"s right. Or he could be back in Washington, Alex.You could be over there, while he"s here."Before I could respond, there was a sudden flash from outside and a huge smack of thunder overhead. The lights in the room flickered, then went out, taking the phone with them."Bree?" I said. "Bree, are you there?"But the line was dead. s.h.i.t. I hadn"t even told Bree how much I missed her.I"d seen candles and at least one propane generator in the lobby, so I guess they were used to this kind of thing at the Superior. I lay back on my bed and closed my eyes, figuring I"d go down and check things out if the power didn"t come back on soon.Meanwhile, what was the upshot of the new murders in DC? And what did they mean for me?Was the killer I was chasing-the Tiger-still here in Nigeria?Or had I come all this way...just to get my nose broken?
Chapter 49.
MY PHONE WAS ringing.And ringing.I finally blinked awake, starting to come out of a deep comalike sleep. The clock flashed 12:00, 12:00, 12:00 on the bedside table next to my face.It was morning, and the power at the hotel was obviously back on.When I rolled over to answer the phone, my whole body resisted with an aching stiffness and the pain of severe bruising. It brought everything back into focus. Jail, the beatings, the murder of Ellie and her family, the investigation."Alex Cross," I said."Don"t do that.""Who is this?""It"s Flaherty. Don"t answer the phone with your name.You never know who-""What time is it?" I asked Flaherty. Too early for a lecture anyway.I stared up at the ceiling, then down the length of my body. I was still in my clothes, and my mouth felt like paste. My busted nose was throbbing again too. There were bloodstains all over the pillow, both dark and bright red."Eleven o"clock. I"ve been calling all morning. Listen. I can give you a couple of hours if you make it soon, and then I"m out on a.s.signment till next Monday.""What have you got? Anything at all?""Besides the eczema on my a.s.s? I"ve got the closest thing to a cooperative contact you"re going to find in Lagos. You been to the bank yet?""I haven"t been to the John yet.""Yeah, well, sleep when you"re dead, right? Get yourself a driver. The front desk"ll set it up, but tell them you want it for the day, not by the hour. You"re welcome for the travel tip."Go to the Citibank on Broad Street. And tell the guy to take the causeway so it"ll sound like you know what the h.e.l.l you"re talking about. If you get going, you can make it by one. I"ll meet you there. And don"t be late. Citibank on Broad.""Yeah, I got it the first time.""I could tell you were a quick study. Get going!"
Chapter 50.
BY THE TIME I pulled away from the Superior with a steaming and delicious cup of dark Nigerian coffee in one hand, I felt like someone had hit my "reset" b.u.t.ton.Not counting the way my face looked or half my muscles felt, it was as though I were getting a first day in Africa all over again. I thought about Ellie"s being here just a few weeks ago and wondered what had happened to her. Had she come Into contact with the Tiger? If so, how?There was no case file or intelligence to go over-my clothes and pa.s.sport and empty wallet had been the only things returned to me-so I spent the slow crawl over to Lagos Island just taking in the sights."You know they call Lagos the "go-slow city,"" my driver told me with a friendly smile. All the many abandoned cars on the side of the road, he said, came from people running out of gas in perpetual jams, or "go-slows," as they called them.Our pace picked up somewhat on the mainland bridge, where I saw downtown Lagos for the first time. From a distance, its cityscape was typical of large cities, all concrete, gla.s.s, and steel.As we got closer, though, it started to look more like something out of an Escher painting, with one impossible cl.u.s.ter of buildings tucked in and around the next, and the next, and the next. The density here-the crowds, the traffic, the infrastructure-was startling to me, and I had been to New York many times and even to Mexico City.When we finally got to the Citibank on Broad Street, Flaherty was standing out front, smoking. The first thing he said to me was, "Jack Nicholson in Chinatown." He grinned at his little joke, then said, "You squeamish?""Not so much. Why?"He pointed at my nose. "We can make a quick stop after this. Fix you right up."Meanwhile, he said, I should go in and get my replacement cards and also the cash I owed him. Plus whatever I needed for myself and at least two hundred American, in small bills if I could get them."What for?" I asked."Grease."I took him at his word and did what he said. From there, my driver took us across Five Cowrie Creek to the more upscale of the city"s major islands-Victoria-and to a private medical practice on the fifth floor of an office building. Very private.The doctor saw me right away. He examined my face and then gave me one quick, and excruciating, adjustment. It was the strangest doctor visit I"ve ever had, hands down. There were no questions about my injury and no request for payment. I was in and out in less than ten minutes.Back in the car, I asked Flaherty how long he"d been based in Lagos. He had obvious juice here, and plenty of it. He also knew enough not to answer my questions."Oshodi Market," he said to the driver, then sat back again and lit another cigarette."You might as well chill," he said to me. "This is gonna be,a while, trust me. You know what they call Lagos?""The go-slow city."He turned down the corners of his mouth and exhaled a cloud of white smoke."You learn fast. Some things, anyway."
Chapter 51.
VISUALLY OSHODI MARKET was a lot like the rest of Lagos-crammed end to end with busy, hurrying people, either buying something or selling something, and possibly doing both.Flaherty curled his way through the crowds and the stalls like a skinny white rat in its favorite maze.I had to keep my eyes on him to stay with him, but the exotic food smells and the sounds of the market still came through loud and strong. I took it all in-and liked it very much.There were grilled meats and peanutty things and sweet-spicy stews over open fires, all of it reminding me of how hungry I was. Accents and languages came and went like radio stations, or maybe jazz. Yoruban was the most common; I was starting to pick that one out from among the many others.I also heard livestock braying from the back of trucks, babies crying in a line for vaccinations, and people continually haggling about prices pretty much everywhere we went in the market.My pulse ran high the whole time, but in a good way. Faced with squalor or not, I was finally pumped to be here.Africa! Unbelievable.I didn"t think of it as my home, but the attraction was powerful anyway. Exotic and sensual and new. Once again I found myself thinking about poor Ellie. I couldn"t get her out of my mind. What had happened to her here? What had she found out?Flaherty finally slowed at a rug stall. The young seller, negotiating with a man in traditional oatmeal-colored robes, barely glanced over as we walked through the shoulder-high slacks to the back of the stall.Less than a minute later, he appeared like an apparition at our side."Mr. Flaherty," he said and then nodded at me politely. "I have beer and mineral water in the cooler, if you like." It felt as though he were welcoming us into his home rather than selling intel in the marketplace.Flaherty held up a hand. "Just current events, Tokunbo. Today we"re interested in the one called the Tiger. The ma.s.sive one." I noticed that the name needed no more explanation than that."Anything in the last twenty-four hours gets you twenty American. Forty-eight gets you ten. Anything older than that gets you whatever you"d make selling rugs today."Tokunbo nodded serenely. He was like Flaherty"s polar opposite. "They say he"s gone to Sierra Leone. Last night, in fact. You just missed him-lucky for you.""Ground or air?""By ground.""Okay." Flaherty turned to me. "We"re good here. Pay the man."
Chapter 52.
I HAD PLENTY of other tough questions to ask Tokunbo about the Tiger and his gang of savage boys, but he was Flaherty"s informant, and I followed his protocol. I owed it to him to keep my mouth shut until we were out of earshot anyway."What"s with the quick in-and-out?" I said once we had left the rug seller"s stall."He"s in Sierra Leone. Dead end, no good. You don"t want to go there.""What are you talking about? How do you even know the information"s good?""Let"s just say I"ve never wanted my money back. Meanwhile, you"re better off cooling your heels here For a few days, a week, whatever it takes. See the sights. Stay away from the prost.i.tutes, especially the pretty ones."I grabbed Flaherty"s arm. "I didn"t come all this way to cool my heels by the hotel pool. I"ve got one target here.""You are a target here, my man. You ever hear the saying "You"ve got to stay alive to stay in the game"? This is a very dangerous city right now.""Don"t be an a.s.s, Flaherty. I"m a DC cop, remember. I"ve done this kind of thing a lot. I"m still standing.""Just... take my advice, Detective Cross. He"ll be back. Let him come. You can die then.""What"s your advice if I still want to go to Sierra Leone?"He took a breath, feeling resigned, I think. "He"ll probably go to Koidu. It"s near the eastern border. Kailahun"s a little too hot right now, even for him. If he went over ground, that means he"s trading-which means oil, or maybe gas.""Why Koidu?""Diamond mines. There"s an unofficial oil-for-diamonds trading corridor between here and there. He"s heavily into it, from what I hear.""Okay. Anything else I should know?"He started walking again. "Yeah. You got a best buddy back home? Call him. Tell him where you keep your p.o.r.n, or whatever else you don"t want your family to find when you"re dead. But hey, have a good trip, and nice knowing you.""Flaherty!" I called, but he refused to look back, and when I got outside the market, I found that he"d stranded me there.So I wandered back inside and bought some fresh fruit-mangoes, guavas, and papayas. Delicious! Might as well live it up while I could.Tomorrow I would be in Sierra Leone.
Chapter 53.
ON A SUN-BEATEN dirt road that twisted through what used to be a forest outside Koidu, a fifteen-year-old boy was slowly choking to death.Slowly, because that"s exactly how the Tiger wanted it to happen.Very slowly, in fact.This was an important death for his boys to watch and learn from.He closed his grip even tighter on the young soldier"s esophagus."You were my number one. I trusted you. I gave you everything, including your oxygen. Do you understand? Do you?"Of course the boy understood. He"d palmed a stone, a diamond. It was found under his tongue. He was probably going to die for it now.But not at the Tiger"s hand."You." He pointed to the youngest of the other boy soldiers. "Cut your brother!"The lad of no more than ten stepped forward and unsheathed a clip-pointed Ka-bar, a gift for him from the Tiger"s trip to America. With no hesitation at all, he shoved the blade into his brother"s thigh, then jumped back to avoid the spurting blood.The Tiger kept his own hand where it was on the thief"s throat; unable to even scream, the boy just gagged."Now you," he said to the next youngest wild boy. "Take your time. No hurry."Each of them took a turn, one at a time, any strike they chose, any kind of blow, except one that would kill the diamond thief. That right belonged to the oldest-or at least the one who would now be the oldest. "Rocket," they called him-on account of the bright red Houston Rockets basketball jersey he always wore, rain or shine.The Tiger stepped back to let Rocket finish the murder. There was no need to hold the thief down anymore; his body was limp and broken, blood pooling in the dust around his shattered face. Black flies and puffy gnats were already settling on the wounds.Rocket walked around until he was standing over the thieving boy"s head. He was casually rubbing at the fuzz of beard he hadn"t yet begun to shave."You shame us all," he said. "Mostly, you shame yourself. You were number one. Now you are nothing!" Then he fired once from the hip, gangsta-style, like in the American videos he"d watched all his life. "No more trouble with this dumb b.a.s.t.a.r.d," he said."Bury him!" the Tiger yelled at the boys.All that mattered was that the carca.s.s stay out of sight until they were gone. This dead boy was no one to anyone, and Sierra Leone was a country of pigs and savages anyway.Unclaimed bodies were as common as dirt weeds here.He put the pilfered diamond back in its black leather canister with the others. This was the package a tanker of Bonny Crude had bought him-and it was a good trade.Certificates of origin could be easily purchased or faked. The stones would move with no trouble in London or New York or Tokyo.He called Rocket over from the digging of the grave. "Pull his wireless-before you put him in the ground. Keep it with you at all times, even when you sleep."Rocket saluted and went back to supervising the others, a bigger swagger in his walk than before. He understood what had just been said. Pull his wireless. Wear it yourself.He was the Tiger"s new number-one boy.
Chapter 54.
MAYBE I ALREADY knew more than I wanted to about the small, sad country called Sierra Leone. The rebels there had murdered more than three hundred thousand people in recent years, sometimes lopping off their hands and feet first, or setting fire to homes where families slept, or tearing fetuses from the wombs of mothers. They created "billboards of terror," messages carved into the bodies of victims they chose to spare and then used as walking advertis.e.m.e.nts.I took something called Bellview Air overnight to Freetown, and then a death-defying prop plane all the way to the eastern border of Sierra Leone, where we landed b.u.mpty-b.u.mp on a gra.s.sy airstrip serving Koidu. From there, I took one of the two cabs available in the region.Thirty-six hours after Ian Flaherty warned me not to go, I was standing on the perimeter of Running Recovery, one of several working diamond mines in Koidu.Whether or not the Tiger had done business with anyone from this particular mine, I didn"t yet know, but Running Recovery had a rotten reputation according to Flaherty.At home in DC, I"d start by canva.s.sing. So that"s what I decided to do here, one mine at a time if necessary.I was a detective again.I already knew that.Running Recovery was an alluvial diamond field, not really a mine at all. It looked like a miniature canyon to me-two football fields" worth of pitted and trenched yellow earth, maybe thirty feet at the deepest.The workers were bent over in the extreme heat, laboring with pickaxes and sieves. Most of them were up to their waists in muddy brown water.Some looked to be about the size of grammar school kids, and as far as I could tell, that"s what they were. I kept thinking about the Kanye West song "Diamonds from Sierra Leone," hearing the rap lyrics in my head. Damon used to listen to the tune a lot, and I wondered now if he or his friends ever considered the true meaning of the words.Security up top was surprisingly light at the mine. Dozens of stragglers hung around the perimeter, working deals or just watching, like me."You a journalist?" someone asked from behind. "What you doin" here?"I turned around to find three older men staring hard at me. All three were "war" amputees. They were probably not soldiers, but some of the thousands of civilians who had suffered a kind of trademark brutality during Sierra Leone"s ten-year conflict, largely over control of the diamond industry.Diamonds had already done to this country the kind of thing that oil was poised to do to Nigeria. There was no harsher reminder of that fact than the men standing in front of me right now."Journalist?" I said. "No, but I would like to speak with someone down there in the field, one of the workers. Do any of you know who"s in charge?"One of them pointed with the rounded stub of an elbow. "Tehjan.""He won"t talk to journalist," said one of the others. Both of that man"s shirtsleeves hung empty at his sides."I"m not a journalist," I repeated."It don"t matter nutting to Tehjan. You American, you journalist."Given the kind of press coverage I"d seen about these mines, the sensitivity was almost understandable."Is there anyone down there who will speak to me?" I asked. "One of the workers? You know any of these men? You have friends down there?""Maybe tonight at the hall in town," said the first man who"d spoken to me. "After the keg comes "round, tongues loosen up.""The town hall? Where would that be?""I can show you," said the most talkative of the amputees. I looked at him and as he held my stare, I wondered how it was that paranoia hadn"t eaten this part of Africa alive. And then I decided to trust him."I"m Alex. What"s your name?"We shook left hands. I am Moses., he said.I had to smile at that and thought of Nana. She would have smiled too and patted him on the back.Show me the way, Moses.
Chapter 55.
I WAS ON the job now, definitely working the case I had come here to solve.The walk into town took about an hour. Moses told me a lot on the way, though he said he"d never heard of the Tiger. Could I believe him about that? I couldn"t be sure.Diamond trading for oil, gas, weapons, drugs, and any number of illicit goods was no secret around here. Moses knew that it went on the same way everyone knew that it went on. He"d been a diamond miner himself as a teenager and in his twenties. Until the civil war."Now, they call us "san-san boys,"" he said. I a.s.sumed he meant those who could no longer do the work, like him.At first I was surprised at the man"s apparent openness. Some of his stories seemed too personal to share with a stranger, especially one who might be an American journalist, or maybe even CIA. But the more he spoke, the more I realized that talking about what had happened to him might be all he had left."We lived over that way." He pointed abstractly in a direction without looking."My wife sold palm oil at market. I had two fine sons. When the RUF soldiers came to Kono, they came for us like the others. It was at night, in the rain, so there were no torches. They say to me, if I watch them kill my boys, then they will spare my wife. And when I did as they told, they killed her anyway."The RUF was the revolutionary force responsible for the death of thousands. He was devastatingly matter-of-fact about it-a terrible family ma.s.sacre, not unlike the ones in Washington, I thought."And you lived," I said."Yes. They put me on a table and held me down. They asked if I want short or long sleeves for after the war. Then they cut my arm, here." He pointed, though of course it was obvious what had happened."They were to cut the other arm, but then an explosion came from the next house. I don"t know what happened after that. I fell unconscious, and when I woke up, RUF soldiers were gone. And my wife too. They left my murdered sons. I wanted to die, but I did not. It was not yet my time.""Moses, why do you stay here now? Isn"t there anywhere else for you to go?""There is nowhere else for me. Here at least sometimes there is work. I have my friends, other san-san boys." He smiled at that revelation for some reason. "This is my home."We had walked all the way into town by now. Koidu was a sprawling village of dirt roads and low buildings, still recovering from "the war" six years ago.I saw a half-finished hospital as we walked, and a mosque in decent shape, but other than that, 1 found mostly abandoned buildings, burned-out husks of small homes, everywhere I looked.When I offered Moses money for his trouble, he said he didn"t want it, and I knew not to force it on him."You tell the story I"ve told you," he said. "Tell it to America. Still, there are rebels who would like to kill all of us from the war. They want to make it so no one can see what they did." He held up what was left of his arm. "So maybe you tell people in America. And they tell people. And people will know.""1 will, Moses," I promised. "I"ll tell people in America and see what happens."
Chapter 56.
THE HALL IN town was named, incongruously, Modern Serenity. The name was scrawled in blue on an old wooden sign out front, and it made me think of an Alexander McCall Smith novel, The No. 1 Ladies" Detective Agency.Maybe the building had been a church once. Now it was an all-purpose sort of place-one large, dingy room with tables and chairs that started to fill up as the sun went down.Someone turned on a boom box, and the guy who showed up with a keg of Star Beer dispensed it into previously used plastic cups and took money.Moses and his friends wouldn"t come inside and let me buy them a drink. They said they"d be kicked out if they couldn"t pay for their own beer. Instead, Moses told me, he"d hang out with some other men around an open fire, singing and talking, not far from the hall, and he pointed in the direction where he"d be.I spent the next few hours casually asking around and mostly getting nowhere. Even the few people who would talk to me about mining shut up as soon as I moved my questions anywhere else... such as to the subject of the illegal diamond trade.Twice I noticed men in camos and flip-flops licking their palms. Diamonds for sale, they were saying. You need only swallow them to get them out of the country. Both of them stopped and spoke with me, but just long enough to figure out I wasn"t selling or buying.I was starting to think this night might be a washout, when a teenage kid came over and stood next to me against the wall."I hear you lookin" for someone," he said, loud enough just for me. Busta Rhymes was doing his thing on the boom box at high volume."Who do you hear I"m looking for?""He"s already gone, mister. Left the country, but I can"t tell you where he is. The Tiger."I looked down at the kid. He was maybe five foot nine, muscled, and c.o.c.ky-looking. Younger than I"d first thought too-sixteen or seventeen maybe. Barely older than Damon. Like a lot of teenagers I"d seen on the continent, he wore an NBA jersey. His was a Houston Rockets jersey, an American basketball team that had once featured an excellent player from Nigeria named Hakeem Olajuwon."And who are you?" I asked the boy."You wanna know more "bout anything, it"s a hundred dollars American. I"ll be outside. It"s dangerous to talk in here.Too many eyes and ears. Outside, mister. We talk out there. One hundred dollars."He pushed off from the wall and pimp-strutted toward the front door, which was wide open to the street. I watched him drain his cup of beer, drop it on a table, and leave the hall.I had no intention of letting him get away, but I wasn"t going to walk outside the way he wanted me to either. It was his accent that told me what I needed to know. Not Sierra Leonean. Yoruban. The boy was from Nigeria.I counted thirty, then slipped out the back of Modern Serenity.
Chapter 57.
SURVEILLANCE. I WAS decent at it, always had been good at keeping a step ahead of an opponent. Even, hopefully, some as tricky and dangerous as the Tiger and his gang.I worked a wide perimeter around to the front. When I got to the corner of the neighboring building, I had a pretty clear view of the town hall entrance.The kid in the red Houston Rockets jersey was standing off to the side with another, younger boy. They were facing different directions, surveying the street while they talked.An ambush? I had to wonder.After a few minutes, the older one went back inside, presumably to look for me. I didn"t wait to make my next move. If he had half a brain, he"d go exactly the way I"d just come.I skirted the dirt intersection and changed position, moving to a burned-out doorway on the opposite corner of the street. It was attached to the black concrete skeleton of whatever the building had once been, possibly a general store.I pressed back into the empty door frame and hung there out of sight, watching, doing the surveillance as best I could.Considering that I was working on Mars.Sure enough, Houston Rockets came out a minute later, then paused right where I had been standing before.His partner ran over and they conferred, nervously looking around for me.I decided that as soon as they made a move, I"d follow them. If they split up, I"d stick with the older one, Rockets.That"s when a voice came from directly behind me."Hey, mister, mister. Want to buy a stone? Want to get your skull crushed in?"I turned, and before I saw anyone in the dark, something hard and heavy clocked me in the head; a rock or a brick, maybe.It stunned me and I fell to one knee. My vision whited out, then went black before it started to come back.Someone grabbed my arm and yanked me away from the street-into a building. Then more rough hands-I didn"t know how many-forced me to the ground and flat on my back.My awareness swam in fast circles. I was working hard to get my bearings. I could feel several people gripping my arms and legs, holding me to the floor with their strong, lithe bodies.As my vision got a little sharper, it was still hard to make any of them out in the dark. All I saw were vague, small shadows, but lots of them.All the size of boys.
Chapter 58.
"YO!" ONE OF the threatening shadows called out with a voice too c.o.c.ky and young to be anything but a street punk"s. "Over here! We got di b.a.s.t.a.r.d good now."I was flying blind, almost literally, but I refused to go down for the count so easily. I figured that if I did, I was probably dead.I shook off whoever was on my right arm and swung at whoever had my left. None of them was stronger than me, but collectively they were like fly paper covering every inch of my body. I fought even harder, fighting for my life, I knew.I finally struggled to get halfway to my feet, each leg carrying an extra hundred pounds, when the other two bangers from the street came running in.One of them shined a flashlight on me; the other smashed the b.u.t.t of a pistol into my face.I felt my nose snap. Again!"Sonofab.i.t.c.h!" I yelled.The blinding pain ran up into my brain and seemed to spread through my whole body. It was worse than the first time, if that was possible. My first thought was, You"ve got to be f.u.c.king kidding me.The killer boys swarmed all over me, half as many this time, and brought me down. A sneakered foot came to rest on my forehead.Then I felt the cold metal of a gun barrel pressed hard into my cheek."He da one?" someone asked.A flashlight"s bright light sent another spike of pain through my eyes."He da one, Azi." I recognized the voice from the town hall. The speaker crouched down next to my head. "Listen, we gonna send you out of here with a message. No one f.u.c.k with us, you understand?"I tried to raise my head and he fired a shot into the ground right next to my temple. "You understand?"I stopped straining and lay back. I couldn"t hear in one ear. Was I deaf in an ear now too? It was the pistol that kept me where I was. More than anything, I was seething mad."Go ahead," the lead punk said. I saw the silhouette of a long blade in somebody"s hand. A machete, I thought.Jesus, no!Houston Rockets leaned in close again, rubbing his pistol up and down my temple. "You move, you die, Captain America. You stay still, most of you goin" home."