Dead Centre

I let the message sink in for a moment.

‘There’s one more thing, Frank. If all goes to plan, I’ll find out what our problem was in the UK — who the guys were, the ones following me.’

I might have heard him sigh. ‘That would be good, Nick. Thank you.’

‘It’s not only for your benefit. I don’t want Tracy and Stefan lifted again, do I? I don’t want to go through this shit again.’

I closed down the phone. I still had to manage Frank’s expectations. And I still didn’t know which way the arch poker player was going to jump. For all I knew, he might choose to fuck over Tracy and BB and lift Stefan from the madrasah later. That wouldn’t be good enough for me. I had a promise to keep.

I dialled Anna. Things were about to get busy.

It didn’t even go to voicemail. A female voice waffled at me in Arabic. I knew I didn’t have a wrong number, so she must have been telling me that Anna’s mobile either didn’t have a signal or was switched off. I closed down. It had to be out of signal. Anna’s mobile was linked into her bloodstream.

Back in the bunker, Awaale was talking to his father. ‘He’s come back.’

I crawled under the burqa and got the sweat-covered mobile to my ear.

‘Mr Awaale?’

‘Mr Nick, you are—’

He sounded half asleep. There was no time to fuck about.

‘Your son has told you that I need some help?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘Mr Awaale, with respect, please listen. Hear me out. See if what I say makes sense. If it does, I need you to talk to Erasto. Persuade him that helping me helps him. And for your time, I will pay you twenty-five thousand dollars, the same as I will pay your son. He can send it to you. You have my word.’

I heard him rustling about. Now that I had his attention, he was probably sitting himself up against his pillows.

‘Mr Awaale, I can offer Erasto two million US if he sends all of his guys to Merca today to help me rescue the three people I’ve come for. Erasto knows who I’m talking about. Whatever commission you need to share with him is up to you.’

There was silence as some serious thinking went on in Minneapolis.

‘Mr Nick, it will cost you more than that. This is very, very dangerous.’

‘There will be more. Erasto can take back the yacht that al-Shabab stole from him. Tell him there are also three pleasure boats here, as well as several cargo ships. He can take as many as he wants. Tell him that if he keeps paying al-Shabab, he’s only delaying the inevitable. He’s going to be fighting them at some stage. They will not want to stay out of his part of the city for long.

‘So why not carry the fight to al-Shabab? Why not show what great fighters and strategists he and his men are, with a preemptive strike? Hit them where they feel safe. Show them that he won’t stand for them coming in and taking over the part of the city that belongs to Erasto.

‘I can make that happen, Mr Awaale. I can help your son here plan the attack, like we did yesterday. He will be a hero, just like you. Maybe one day he’ll become head of the clan, because he knows how to carry the fight to the enemy. He can show the clan, again, today, what a great fighter he is. And Erasto’s part of the city could be his, one day.’

I waited for him to mull this over. Or maybe he was playing with me. I didn’t really care which: I just needed an answer.

In the end, I filled the silence for him, as he probably wanted me to. ‘All I need is help to get me and the prisoners back to the airport. We will exchange cash for them there and then. It will be very, very easy. And I have one more thing, one more very big thing, to offer Erasto.’

‘What is that?’

‘I can give him the two men who killed Nadif. I can do that at the airport.’

‘Nadif? Nadif is dead?’

‘Yes. In England. I found him. He had been tortured first. I’ll hand over the two men who did this, as part of the deal. They are here in Merca. But I’m going to need five minutes with them myself. I will not kill them. If there is no deal, I will kill them here in Merca, before I leave. Erasto will have no satisfaction, no revenge.

‘Erasto needs to make a stand against al-Shabab. He’s going to have to do it one day. Now is the perfect time. And he’ll make a lot of money. So will you. I need Erasto’s help, Mr Awaale. I need it now. Not later tonight, not tomorrow. Now. I need to know how many people he’s going to send, so we can prepare. I need to know, one way or another.’

He had certainly woken up now. Money. Revenge. Fame for his son. Joe was right. My brother and me against my father. My father’s household against my uncle’s household. Our two households against the rest of my kin. Even Nadif had taken the side deal with me, against his brother. It was The Sopranos, with shemaghs and AKs.

‘Please, Mr Nick, hand me back to my son. We will try to get your loved ones home safe. I will talk with Erasto. I will earn twenty-five thousand US for talking to him. Is that correct?’

‘Correct.’

I handed Awaale the phone. As I did, I gripped his sand-covered hand. ‘Make sure you tell your father that it must be now. Remember the stoning. We must take action now. I need to know.’

He nodded, and started mumbling into the phone. I lay back, marshalling my thoughts. If this didn’t work, I had a ton of shit to do before last light.

Ten minutes later, I rolled onto my elbow and flattened out a patch of sand between us, so I could at least show Awaale what I had in mind. For now, it didn’t matter how many men Erasto might send, so long as Awaale had the basics of the attack in his head. With all this talk of heroism, he was coming with me whether he liked it or not.

Once we found out whether or not Erasto was up for it, we could start fine-tuning. And, with luck, we’d find that out extremely soon.

PART SEVEN

1

Both of us were sweltering inside our pepper-pots once more. We were hidden behind a couple of upturned skiffs on the beach next to the harbour. The stone pier was a continuation of the road that came down from the court-house square. It jutted out to sea for about a hundred metres, and then did a dog-leg to our left and continued for another fifty. The stonework was crumbling badly. Maybe that was why no boats were moored anywhere near it.

From where we were, the court-house was at the top of the road on the right. The compound was to the right of that. A small alleyway divided them. The long shadows cast by the buildings behind us were fading fast. Awaale still had his mobile stuck to the blue material covering his ear.

He looked at me and shook his head. ‘Still nothing.’

The fucker. I knew Erasto’s skiffs were out there, in the dead ground behind the cargo ships. We’d watched them come along the coast and take cover about two hours ago. They also had a mobile-phone signal. Awaale had been chatting to them regularly, giving his orders for the attack like the true leader he was.

Now they were silent, just like Anna. I’d tried her twice since the first beach call. All I’d got was the Arabic pre-record. The message was so fast and loud it sounded like she was giving me a bollocking.

I checked my iPhone as adhan kicked off from the mosque’s speaker system. It