“Can you tell us what he said?”
“Last time I checked, that wasn’t what ‘privately’ meant.” Galper pointed to a black guy in the second row. “Brett?”
“Brett Ward,
“We’re ready for any eventuality.”
“Including an invasion of Somalia?”
“All options remain on the table.”
“Including military action?”
“I’ll say this as clearly as I can. It would be premature to discuss an invasion at this time. That said, I think the American people should understand al-Shabaab is a terrorist threat both within and outside Somalia. For many years, the United States and United Nations have been concerned about the situation. That’s the context here.”
“So this would be a full-scale invasion, not just a rescue mission.”
“I didn’t say that. Please don’t say that I did.”
“Would the President ask for congressional approval before an invasion?”
“You’ve gone way past what I’ve said, Brett. However, in the theoretical event of a theoretical invasion, the President would inform senior congressional leaders—”
“That’s not what I asked—”
“Brett, you know I love dancing with you, but I need to let some other reporters cut in.”
—
Shafer had seen enough. The war drums were a-beating, as Duto had predicted. He muted the conference and dug into his Frosted Flakes before they could get soggy. But he managed only two spoonfuls before his cell phone rang. Wells. Who was probably in Mogadishu by now, hanging out with clan leaders as he pretended to be a Saudi royal with a hankering for blondes from Montana. Say what you wanted about the man, he wasn’t boring.
“John. Roofied anyone lately?”
“I found the camp where they were being held.”
“That’s great—”
“Not so much.”
“Are they dead?”
“Scott Thompson was. The others, gone. It’s possible they were killed and I didn’t find them, but my best guess is some Somali bandit group got wind of them and came after them and whoever was holding them.”
“When?”
“Probably last night. The bodies were still fresh.”
“By bodies, you mean Thompson.”
“And a bunch of Kenyans.”
“Did it look like a real kidnapping? Like they were prisoners? Or hiding out, waiting to come in?”
“Prisoners. There was a hut where they were chained up. Where I found Thompson.”
“This was Somalia?”
“Kenya. Near the border, but Kenya.”
“You have a lead on the others?”
“Not yet. My fixer took a bullet. I’m getting him to a hospital.” Wells told Shafer how the bandits had attacked him and Wilfred at the compound, how Wilfred had been wounded.
“And you think the ones who attacked you were Somali?”
“Yeah. The Somalis look different than ethnic Kenyans. Plus I took a cell phone off one. The numbers in the register have the Somali country code, 252, not the Kenyan.”
“Where are you now?”
“Outside this village called Bakafi, ninety miles south of Dadaab. There’s an infirmary here. I’m hoping they can stabilize Wilfred. But he’ll need a helicopter to medevac him to Nairobi tomorrow morning. Otherwise, he’ll lose the leg.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“No ifs. Promise me, Ellis.”
“All right.”
“Now. Please tell me the grown-ups have put a stop to this invasion nonsense—”
“I’d say we’re up to at least fifty-fifty.”
“To attack Somalia?”
“There’s momentum. And when people hear Scott Thompson’s been killed—”
“But he was killed in Kenya. After being kidnapped by Kenyans.”
“The Kenyan police will tell a different story. And I’ll bet by the time they get to that compound, there’s nothing left but bones. Can you tell a Somali femur from a Kenyan? Because I can’t. And there’s something else. Even if the Kenyans were wrong about what happened before, they’re not anymore. You said it yourself. The other three are probably in Somalia now.”
Wells was silent.
“John, I have to give Vinny a heads-up about the camp. Can’t leave that kid’s body rotting. And he’s going to have to tell the families and James Thompson. It’s going to leak, and the hysteria’s going to hit a whole new level.”
“You can’t tell Thompson. I’ve got proof he was in on it.” Wells told Shafer about the Joker’s mask he’d found, the corpse that had to be Suggs. “What must have happened, Thompson figured Suggs could hold the hostages a couple weeks while he got publicity and money for WorldCares. He didn’t count on it getting this big. Or these Somalis catching wind of it.”
“A mask? That’s your evidence?”
“What was James doing with that third cell phone? Why was he calling the kidnappers?”
“He had every reason to talk to the kidnappers, John. He’ll say he was trying to put together a back-channel deal to free the volunteers quietly.”
“But he knew Suggs—”
“Exactly. He knew Suggs. So Suggs set this up with some Somalis and then came to him and said, ‘I kidnapped your nephew and his friends, now pay me, and by the way, if you tell anyone anything, I’ll kill them all.’ And Thompson agreed. Who’s going to say he’s lying? Not Suggs. Suggs is dead. Which limits his ability to offer a contradictory narrative.”
“You can’t seriously believe that.”
“I’m just saying, don’t assume he’s going to go away quietly. He’s got cards to play, and remember the Kenyans want to pin this on Shabaab as much as Thompson does. They won’t be happy you’ve been playing vigilante.”
“I thought I was killing the Somali bandits they hated.”
“The beauty of life, John. All kinds of ways to look at things. So many different perspectives.”
“Like you think you’re witty and clever, and I think ninety percent of what comes out of your mouth is nonsense.”
“All I’m saying is, you want to be sure Thompson can’t get to you, find the hostages.”
“Noted. Has NSA gotten back to you on the numbers from Thompson’s third phone? Locations or anything?”
“Not yet.”
“Ellis—”
“Truly beyond my control. But give me those Somali numbers and I’ll put them on the list, too.”
Wells did.
“Any other good news?” Shafer said.
“Walk through one last set of what-ifs with me. Suppose I find the other three, and the White House and Duto already know that Scott Thompson was killed. We’d go in with a special ops team, yes? We’d have to assume their lives are at risk.”
