Blood Ransom (27 page)

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 7:12 P.M.

PRESIDENTIAL PALACE, BOGAMA

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

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

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

Chad offered his arm. “So are you.”

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

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

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

If they got through this alive…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stephen?”

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

“Because of Patrick?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stephen didn’t look convinced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We have no choice but to trust him.”

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

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

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

Patrick blocked their way.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 7:50 P.M.

PRESIDENTIAL PALACE, BOGAMA

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

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

“I suppose if I’d hung around in that shack you’d have disposed of me by now?”

“Now I don’t know why you’d say something like that.” He took a sip of his wine from the tapered glass he held. “Makes me sound…barbaric.”

“Maybe I should clarify for you, then. I’ll start with kidnapping and holding an American citizen for ransom,” Chad threw out.

Patrick’s brow rose. “I’d be happy to turn the tables back onto you with the evidence I’ve recently gathered on your involvement with embezzled aid funds.”

Natalie’s eyes widened as she looked at Chad. “Embezzled funds?”

“Didn’t your boyfriend tell you?”

“Don’t listen to him, Natalie,” Chad countered. “It’s nothing more than a bunch of lies.”

“It’s enough to have you arrested right now if I wanted to.”

“If that were true, then you wouldn’t have hidden me away in some godforsaken shack in the middle of nowhere. They’re lies and you know it,” Natalie countered. “Like the suicide of Ernest Ademola, for example.”

“His death was unfortunate, wasn’t it? Thankfully, the president had enough sense to commission me to take over once again as the head of security.”

Natalie felt her chest constrict. “What do you have planned, Patrick?”

Patrick glanced at the front door. “I think it’s time I called security—”

“Mr…Seko.” A balding gentleman who, according to his slurred speech and foul breath, had already had too much to drink, interrupted them. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Mr. Abega, I’m sorry but—”

Chad nudged Natalie with his elbow. She pressed her lips together as he pulled her through the crowded entryway and they made their escape. She had wanted to confront Patrick over Rachel’s death, but Chad was right. Her losing her temper wouldn’t get them anywhere. Neither would their getting arrested. Their priority right now had to be to get to Stephen.

They rushed out the front door before Patrick had a chance to call security. She hurried down the marble staircase beside Chad, who pulled out the walkie-talkie Paul had given him. Once they were a safe distance from the guards, he clicked the Call button.

“What have you got?” Paul’s voice crackled from the other end.

“We have a problem. We have a meeting with Stephen now, but Patrick saw us. I don’t know how we’re going to be able to get back in and meet with Stephen without Patrick having us arrested.”

“Where were you planning to meet him?”

“On the north side of the veranda that runs along the back. He should be there right now.”

Natalie stood beside Chad, hidden in the shadows of a small grove
of trees in the front yard as they waited for Paul’s advice. “If you can’t get to Stephen, then we need to get Stephen to you.”

“And how do we do that? We’re running out of time, and the president’s due to give his speech soon.”

“I want you to leave now. I’ll send the car back to the front of the house to pick you up.”

Five minutes later they were outside the gate in the back of the embassy van where Paul waited with his surveillance team.

“What did you mean when you said we need Stephen to come to us?” Natalie asked.

Paul set his walkie-talkie on the bench beside him. “In exchange for extra security, the president is allowing my marines access to the palace. With the description Natalie gave us this afternoon, they should have no problem bringing Stephen in.”

The back of the van opened again. Two marines thrust Stephen into the vehicle.

“What’s going on?” Stephen jerked his arm away and sat down hard against the bench lining the side of the van.

Paul nodded to Natalie.

“We ran into Patrick,” she began. “We couldn’t get to you.”

The veins in Stephen’s neck pulsed. “The president’s getting ready to give his speech in ten minutes. I have to be there.”

“So that’s when they’re planning to shoot him?”

“No.”

“Come on, Stephen.” Natalie clasped the bench. “We’re on your side. Tell us what’s going to happen.”

Stephen’s expression was marked with defeat as he stared at the floor. “It’s not during the speech. It will be afterward, as the president leaves.”

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. How? A car bomb? A sharpshooter?”

Stephen hesitated, then nodded. “There’s a sniper set up on the
third floor of the palace. I’m planning to take him out before the president leaves the building.”

Paul’s eyes widened. “Take him out? Now you’re sounding like James Bond.”

“With the threat neutralized, I’ll drive the president’s car—which will be the third in line in a convoy of seven—as scheduled.”

“Then you’ll be free to get the president to safety.”

Stephen nodded.

“And with the sniper in custody,” Chad added, “Paul should have enough leverage to bring in the others.”

“I can do this myself.” Stephen eyed the closed door. “But I’m running out of time.”

“Plans are changing a bit. We’ll take care of the sniper; you drive the president out of here as scheduled. We’ll have reinforcements meet you outside the palace gates.” Paul signaled to the other end of the crowded van. “Are you boys ready for some more action?”

The two fatigue-clad marines who’d brought in Stephen waited for their orders.

“Did you have any problems getting into the palace earlier?” Paul asked.

“None at all, sir,” one of them answered.

Stephen still didn’t look pleased. “You know you could get into a lot of trouble for this. There are those who will do anything to ensure the president’s death.”

“From what we’ve heard, if we don’t go in we could get in even more trouble.”

“There is one more thing you should know going into this.”

“What’s that?”

“The opposition isn’t who’s behind this attempted assassination.”

“It’s not Bernard Okella?”

Stephen shook his head. “Bernard Okella will be lucky if he captures a quarter of the votes. He was never the competition.”

“Then who is?”

“General Dumasi.”

Natalie tried to digest Stephen’s words as she watched the two marines whisk him out of the van. The general’s involvement with the election put an entirely new light on the situation. It wasn’t the first time a military leader had attempted to take over the government in this vast continent. Coups and attempted coups had ravaged Africa from Nigeria to Madagascar to the Central African Republic. The continuous cycle of corruption, coups, and countercoups was a difficult chain to break.

Even President Tau’s less than ethical takeover a decade and a half ago was still fresh in the minds of the people as they wondered whether or not he was going to keep his promises of the first fair election this country had ever seen. One thing was certain: if the general had the backing of the military and a foreign investment group, the impending uprising was going to be worse than any of them had imagined.

Natalie edged forward on her seat. “Do you think he’s telling the truth?”

Paul shrugged. “I have to say it makes sense in light of all that’s happened the past twenty-four hours. What if the riots and following negotiations by the general were not by chance, but a well thoughtout and executed plan?”

“Helping General Dumasi win the people’s favor and giving him an even greater chance to take over the country.”

Paul tuned in his radio to the local station so they could listen to the president’s live address, which was being broadcast across the country. While the polls had officially closed over an hour ago, the president thanked the people and assured them that each one of their votes would count.

He sounded confident. Too confident, in her opinion. No one had forgotten how the president had taken over his office. How much had President Tau really changed? Enough to be willing to step down from office? And what if the general forced him to step down?

From Natalie’s vantage point in the van she could see the long driveway leading up to the house. The massive structure itself was partially blocked by a row of towering palm trees. She checked her watch. If they were still on schedule, the president would make his exit within the next five minutes. Already the presidential motorcade had begun to line up along the circular drive.

Paul’s walkie-talkie clicked and he picked it up. “Go ahead.”

“We’ve got a problem, sir. We’re here on the third floor, but there’s no sign of a sharpshooter anywhere.”

“Are you sure?”

“We’ve checked every room on this side of the house.”

Paul’s gaze snapped to Natalie. “Stephen was lying to us?”

“I don’t know. I…” She stared out the window of the van, unsure what to think.

“The cars are in position,” Paul said. “We don’t have much time.”

“It looks as if the president is leaving the palace and heading for his car.”

“Keep your eye on him.”

“We’ll try, but I’m not sure we can. The crowd is heavy and they all want to shake his hand. It’s chaos, sir.”

“Well, at least the sniper’s going to have problems picking him off.”

A burst of static filled the line. “I’m sorry…sir…we’ve lost him.”

Paul grabbed a pair of night-vision binoculars and stepped out of the van.

A flash of light lit up the night in front of the presidential palace, followed by a deafening bang. The explosion shook the ground.

“What just happened out there?” Paul shouted into the walkie-talkie.

Natalie grabbed a set of binoculars and jumped out of the van behind Chad. She counted the cars through the smoke. The president’s car was engulfed in flames.