Back in the vehicle, David grew serious. “How do you know this woman?”
“She and I are … were … lovers.”
“Did it end badly?”
“No, it wasn’t like that. I had my work, and she had hers. We just couldn’t be in the same place.”
David glanced over at him. “You’ve never stopped thinking about her.”
“Yeah.” It was the truth.
“My government sources believe she was taken by one of the bandit gangs that hide in the forests in Kaduna State. They sometimes attack motorists on the Abuja-Kaduna Expressway, rob them, and kidnap them for ransom.”
“I read about the bandit gangs in Shields’ briefing.”
“What you don’t know is that there was an attack on the Expressway the day before Kristi was taken. The fools attacked a family. They did not see the police on the highway. The police opened fire, killed two of them, and shot another.”
Malik put the pieces together. “They took medical supplies when they abducted her. You think they abducted her to take care of the bastard who got shot.”
“It is a possibility.”
If that was the case, they would keep her alive—at least until they’d gotten what they wanted from her. After that…
“Tell me the truth, Malik. Is your government involved in this operation?”
“No. I’m on my own.”
David frowned. “And Cobra?”
Malik wouldn’t share details, even with David. “The rest of the crew is working another op.”
“Then it is lucky you have me. This is not going to be easy, my friend.”
Malik had to ask. “Why did you agree to help?”
Cobra wasn’t paying him. Neither was the CIA.
“You and the Agency are my best customers. If I help you now, who’s to say what might be in it for me down the line? Besides, I like you, Malik. So does Tower. He doesn’t want you to get your head shot off.”
That made Malik smile. “Yeah, neither do I.”
David drove through the city to what was clearly an upscale neighborhood. Ultramodern homes lined curving roads, all glass and light and landscaped gardens.
Malik gave a low whistle. “How much do we pay you?”
“You pay me very well.” David pulled up to a gate, which slowly opened onto a short driveway to a three-story house of white concrete, steel, and glass. “This was just built last year. I don’t stay here often—only when I’m in Abuja. I have a much nicer penthouse in Lagos. When we find Kristi, you must be my guest there.”
God, Malik hoped that’s how this would end. “Sounds good to me.”
They climbed out of the vehicle and were met by two burly, armed men. David introduced them as Bruno and Idris, his bodyguards. He spoke to them in Yoruba, then turned to Malik. “They will bring your bags. Come inside.”
Malik stepped through a heavy glass door and glanced around. Gray marble floors. Recessed lighting. A lighted swimming pool and hot tub in the back. Burnished stainless steel appliances in the kitchen.
Our taxpayer dollars at work.
“There is a gym and theater downstairs. There are four bedrooms upstairs. All have their own baths and toilets.”
Malik met David’s gaze. “Luxury, huh?”