I didn’t follow his invitation until I’d seen what he did with the keys. The double-glazing meant I wouldn’t be able to jump out of a window if there was a drama. He slid them into his pocket, quite casually, like a man who didn’t have six mates upstairs as a welcoming committee. If I was wrong about that, I’d soon be finding out.
The room above was a mess. It looked more like a boffin’s bedsit than the HQ of a kidnap king. The only new bit of kit was the aluminium MacBook sitting on the cheap veneer table to the right of the door. Beside it was an old, steam-driven fax machine.
Back issues of
I nodded in the direction of the screen. ‘Any news on Japan?’
‘Not good, Nick.’ He shook his head mournfully as he pulled a folding wooden chair from under the veneer table. ‘But let us talk about other things. Please, Nick, sit.’
He waited for me to do so before he settled into his armchair. He rested his chin on his steepled hands.
‘Now, Nick, tell me. Will you be able to get the money? It’s the only way I can save that small child and the others too — Tracy and Justin …’
‘I’ll do my very best.’
‘Nick, you have to get the money as quickly as you can. It’s the only way I can get them out of that hellhole. I worry so much about them. You are their friend, yes? Do you love them? Do you love them enough to help me free them?’
My chair creaked as I sat back. I caught a glimpse of the kitchen. Washing dishes obviously wasn’t high on Nadif’s list of priorities. The guy had bigger fish to fry.
‘Yes, of course. I’ve been asked by Tracy’s sister and Justin’s family to ensure their safety. You’ll have to help me, Nadif. Three million dollars is such a lot of money … It’s going to take the families some time to raise it. They were on a nice boat but they are not rich people. I hope you can use your influence. A man like you, I’m sure you have much respect in Somalia …’
He liked that.
‘But first I have to know that they’re alive. Their families … everyone’s really worried. We don’t know the people who have them. Can you arrange for me to talk to them? Please …’
He glanced at the red Swatch on his wrist and lowered his hands onto the arms of the chair. ‘Would you like some tea, Nick?’
‘That’d be good. Thank you. Thank you very much. Then can I talk to them, please?’
He got to his feet. ‘All in good time, my friend. Be patient. These things take time.’
He disappeared into the kitchen. So far, so good. He liked being thought the top banana — or, more probably, that I seemed to think I was smoking him like a kipper. These guys were far too smart to be taken in by flattery, however much it was part of the ritual. A Somali taxi driver in the UK had brokered the deal to repatriate the kidnapped British sailors, Paul and Rachel Chandler, after they were taken hostage on their yacht between the Seychelles and Tanzania in 2009. For all I knew, he might have been Nadif. Whoever it was, I bet he used the same gentle, sympathetic patter.
He brushed aside the crap in the sink enough to fill a kettle. ‘Nick, my friend, how much money can you raise immediately?’ His deep baritone resonated round the small room. ‘I think we need to make a show of faith. But I also need to know I can trust you, personally, before we go forward and try to get your loved ones freed.’
17
As glasses and spoons clanked in the background, I leant forward and riffled through the paperwork around me. There was all kinds of stuff, but nothing that gave me a clue about where they were being held. The Savills brochures were for houses around the ?500K mark, countrywide. School prospectuses invited dutiful parents to invest almost half that figure to ensure their kids got to wear the right kind of tie. Next to the Mac was a list of local papers Nadif had logged onto. Several were crossed out.
‘Of course you can trust me, Nadif. That’s why I’m here. We’re desperate. Whatever I have to do, I’ll do. I just need to be able to speak to them. I need to know that they’re alive.’
‘Tell me, Nick. Do you own a home? As well as your car?’
‘I’ve just bought a flat in London.’
‘What about the other families? Do they have homes?’
‘Justin’s family live in a council house.’ I knew fuck-all about them, but I wasn’t going to admit it, and I needed to keep his expectations low. ‘Tracy’s sister rents her place. She hasn’t much money. But don’t you worry, Nadif. We’ll find some way of getting there.’
Guys like Nadif didn’t miss a trick. They’re negotiators, the middlemen between the hostages and the clans. He was going to make it work both ends.
And judging by the contents of his archive, I could see he was a whole lot more than a broker. He was the spotter, too. During the negotiation he’d be looking to find out as much as he could about the payers. He had to make sure he was squeezing out every last drop. If a family claimed they were doing everything they could to raise the cash, he’d go round to the house and make sure it was up for sale. And if they couldn’t come up with an interim payment, he’d be telling them to sell the BMWs in the drive. If they claimed that they were trying, he’d say, ‘I didn’t see any details in the local newspaper. Maybe it would be best to go to a dealer.’ Or, with just the right degree of sympathy, ‘Your three children are at Marlborough. Wouldn’t they prefer to have their auntie back home with them?’
You could depend upon Nadif to do his level best to help.
I wondered for a moment whether the school prospectuses were for his own kids. With the sort of hostage numbers Jules was talking about, business must be good. This shithole certainly wasn’t where he lived. It was a bedsit without a bed. He probably lived near the university, in a townhouse that would put anything that cost as little as ?500K to shame.
18
‘Nick, my friend, as a show of faith between us and the people who have your loved ones … an appropriate price would be ten thousand dollars, I think. Then I can talk with the clan leader, a very important man, without insulting him. I can talk to him right now, and let you speak to all three of your loved ones. But you must know these services cost money. I understand your concern, but I must talk of these things first.’
Unless he was bullshitting me, I now knew one thing: they had moved up the food chain, from the kidnappers to a clan. The kidnappers would have declared the hostages to their clan leaders. They’d probably have funded the whole thing with a loan from the nearest warlord. When their demands were met, the pirates would take their cut and repay the loan, plus interest and whatever percentage he demanded.
If there was no cash, or the hostages died, the debt still stayed in place. Maybe the guys who’d snatched Tracy had to pay off an existing loan. What the fuck did it matter? I was going round in circles, and I hadn’t yet had any proof of life. That was all that mattered right now.
Nadif reappeared with a pewter teapot and glasses on a tray, just like he would have back in the old country.
‘Nadif, I’ve been sitting here thinking about how to get that sort of money quickly. It’s very, very difficult. But I have come with some money. I’ve got three thousand pounds on me — nearly five thousand dollars. Maybe that would be enough for you to let me speak to them now.’ I paused. ‘And whatever money is finally agreed, maybe … maybe twenty per cent could go to you when they’re released.’
I knew he’d be making about five per cent from the clan. And if he went the
