Conflict Zone Read online

  "You saved my ass this time."

  "Looks like it," Bolan said. "But I'm trying to meet a schedule, so I can't keep doing that."

  "Just tell me how you knew. I mean, that they'd be after me today. And where to find me."

  "A friend of theirs spilled it," Bolan explained. "Now, if you're good.....

  "Hey, wait!"

  "Can't do it. Hear those sirens?"

  "Right. Okay. But I still owe you, big-time."

  "I'll keep that in mind," Bolan said as he slid behind the Honda's steering wheel.

  He left the oilman to decide if he should flee the scene or wait and talk to the police. Whatever happened, Bolan had a list of targets waiting for him, and he was checking it twice.

  Everyone on the list had been naughty, in spades.

  Chapter Thirteen

  "Would you care for coffee? Tea, perhaps?"

  As agitated as he was, the simple courtesy grated on Ekon Afolabi's nerves, but he had spent enough time with the Chinese to know he couldn't rush them if they sought to drag their feet.

  "Nothing, thank you," Lao Choy Teoh replied.

  "Straight down to business, then," Afolabi said "That is good"

  "I much prefer it," Lao informed him.

  "Have you listened to the news this evening?"

  Lao stared at Afolabi, blank-faced, as he said, "Another failure to assassinate K-Tech Petroleum executives."

  "This is precisely why I hate the media," Afolabi said "I had no intent to kill him whatsoever."

  "All that shooting can be misinterpreted so easily."

  Did Lao intend to mock him? Afolabi felt an urge to leap across his desk and slap the man's bland face, but he managed to control himself.

  "My men were sent out with specific orders to.....

  Lao raised a hand to silence him.

  "I don't care what you meant to do," he said. "Results are all that matter. And you failed. Again."

  "But I.....

  The soft, infuriating hand came up again.

  "In fact," Lao said, "I wonder why you called me here to tell me this. Surely you don't pretend that any Chinese agency — much less executives of CNP — encourage criminal behavior in the nations where we're privileged to operate?"

  Afolabi gaped at Lao and asked, "What are you saying?"

  "Simply that you must be seriously, fatally mistaken if you think that the People's Republic of China supports gangsterism in any way, shape or form. Believing such a thing — or sharing that delusion with your fellow countrymen — would damage your relations with Beijing beyond repair."

  And Afolabi caught up to his guest at last. He understood what Lao was doing to protect himself.

  "You think I bug my own office?" he asked the man. "Why would I? For what purpose?"

  Lao shrugged without changing the nonexpression on his face. "How should I know? Ask any U.S. president why he would tape incriminating conversations."

  "Would you like to search the room?"

  "I didn't come here to redecorate," Lao said.

  "Well, then, why did you come?"

  "I must assume that you invited me to talk about some problem you've been having, yes? Perhaps the contributions CNP has made to MEND are insufficient for your present needs?"

  "Money? Well, since you mention it.....

  "Or were you interested in hiring some of the security consultants that we sometimes make available to valued friends?"

  "Security consultants? Um.....

  "They are adept at problem-solving, whether it be personal, political or corporate. They have my personal endorsement."

  Afolabi wondered how his men would take it if he used Chinese soldiers to kill the bastards who'd been running rings around them since the shootout at the marketplace. Aside from momentary disappointment that they couldn't personally kill their unknown enemies, he guessed that most of them would be relieved.

  "Your offer is most generous," Afolabi said. "I am pleased to accept it."

  Smiling thinly for the first time since he'd entered Afolabi's office, Lao said, "Naturally, the firm you will be dealing with is private, unconnected to the CNP or People's government in any way."

  "Of course. I understand."

  Deniability.

  "And as a private company, they must charge for their services."

  "As to the price.....

  "Another ten percent," Lao said. "On top of our original agreement."

  Afolabi nearly winced, but caught himself in time. He could afford the payment if he was victorious. And if not, well, Lao could collect it from his corpse.

  "Agreed."

  Lao took a cell phone from his pocket, opened it, touched two buttons, then spoke in rapid-fire Chinese for thirty seconds. When he'd closed and stowed the phone again, he said, "They should arrive within the hour. Until then, you should relax. Do nothing that would place you or your men at risk."

  Do nothing.

  It was sounding better all the time.

  * * *

  "Can you explain what's happening?" Agu Ajani asked his visitor.

  The Russian had arrived with questions of his own. Ajani couldn't answer them, and now it seemed that he would find no resolution to his own troubling inquiries.

  Sidorov sipped vodka from a square crystal glass, then spent several seconds staring at its contents.

  "It is confusing," Sidorov declared at last, stating the obvious. "First, Afolabi is attacked, his hostage liberated. Next, your plant goes up in smoke. Then, someone challenges Yetunde — at his home, no less. And now, it seems they're back to Afolabi, killing off more of his men."

  "You think it is the same group?" Ajani asked.

  Sidorov's shrug was indolent, almost insulting. "How would I know? Your soldiers and Afolabi's have used Warri as a shooting gallery for years."

  Ajani stiffened in his high-backed swivel chair. "I tell you that I didn't do these things. I didn't order them. And even if I had gone after Afolabi, why would I attack Yetunde?"

  "That's the puzzler," Sidorov replied "That, and the phone calls placed by someone who appears to know a great deal about all of this."

  "A white man," Ajani said. "Anyhow, the one who spoke to me, demanding money."

  "Have you paid him yet?" Sidorov asked, half smirking.

  "I'm following his orders, doing nothing. Waiting for instructions on the drop."

  "And when you get them?"

  "We shall see who walks away with money... and his life."

  "At least that's settled. But I've been thinking." Sidorov paused before continuing. "What if it is the same man calling everyone? Yourself, my boss. How many others have been contacted? Is Afolabi waiting for instructions, too? And what of the Chinese?"

  "Who could it be?" Ajani asked.

  "Consider this — four incidents, so far, and two of them involve Jared Ross or his daughter at K-Tech Petroleum. Perhaps he has what men of the cloth call a guardian fairy."

  "Angel," Ajani said, correcting him.

  "Whatever. If someone, an outsider, wished to destabilize Warri, he's going about it the right way, I think."

  "But why?"

  "A name, I can't provide. But think about which country has a stake in K-Tech? Which would like to see both Russians and Chinese expelled from Warri — or Nigeria itself? Which country had condemned militant action by both major tribes in Delta State, from CNN to the United Nations?"

  One answer covered everything. "America!" Ajani blurted.

  Sidorov nodded, seeming pleased for once.

  "Now," he said, "all we have to do is find out who they've sent and neutralize him."

  "Oh, is that all?"

  "For the moment. In the process, there's a possibility that we may profit from his actions."

  "And how do we do that?" Ajani asked.

  Sidorov smiled. "I have a few ideas," he said.

  * * *

  "Shall we continue with rotation on the targets?" Umaru asked.

  "I'm considering a change-up," Bola
n said. "A little razzle-dazzle."

  "Sorry. I don't understand."

  "Just when they start to see a pattern, you discard it. Double back and hit them in the same place where you hit the last time, or go long with something none of them expect. Like that."

  "I see." Umaru's tone left Bolan in some doubt.

  "Our last two hits were Afolabi's people, if we count the guy at your safehouse."

  "I count him," Umaru said.

  "So do I," Bolan replied, "although it's possible nobody's missed him yet. Whatever, there are two ways we can go — hit Afolabi a third time to increase the paranoia, or pick someone else and keep stirring the pot."

  "More phone calls?" Umaru asked.

  "Shouldn't be required," Bolan said. "If we have a living witness we can talk to, I'll leave him a message. Otherwise, who knows? Graffiti? Mash notes at the scene?"

  "Mash.....

  "Never mind. It was before your time. Some kind of written message, I'm suggesting."

  "Ah, yes. Good. Should I prepare one?"

  Bolan thought about it, then asked, "How much paper do you have?"

  Umaru pulled a notebook from an inside pocket of his windbreaker. It wasn't large — about the size detectives often used in the United States for crime-scene notes — and bound on top with spiral wire. Umaru read the cover and told Bolan, "Fifty sheets."

  "Okay. Write five notes, then."

  "Five notes?"

  "One each to the Ijaw and Itsekiri, to the Russians and Chinese, and to Yetunde."

  "Yes, of course. What should I say?"

  "I'd keep it simple," Bolan said. "For the Itsekiri, something on the lines of 'MEND must go!' Maybe some kind of tribal insult for Ajani. For the rest, if we get to them, warning them to leave town ought to be enough."

  "I think the Russians and Chinese should leave Nigeria completely," Umaru said.

  "Works for me," Bolan replied. "Go with your gut. Block letters, by the way, and simple words. To mask your handwriting and make it easy on whoever finds the notes, in case they're not great readers."

  "Yes, I have it."

  "Do Ajani first," Bolan suggested. "I don't want him out there pouting, thinking that he's been forgotten."

  "No," Umaru answered with a cunning smile. "We can't have that, can we?"

  "And on the way," Bolan went on, "we need to find another set of wheels. This ride's been seen by Afolabi's men, and there's a chance they could have tipped off headquarters by cell phone or a two-way radio."

  "No problem," Umaru said, already engrossed in drafting his first threat. "I know a place where there are many cars and no closed-circuit cameras."

  * * *

  "What do I pay you for, if not protection?" Idowu Yetunde asked the officer of the Delta Police Command.

  "You've received protection," the officer said defensively.

  He was a captain, the third-highest rank within his department. His name was Johnson Mashilia, as if that mattered. To Yetunde, he was just another greedy bastard with his hand out, always wanting more for this or that good cause. Money well spent, as long as the police performed — or failed to perform — as Yetunde required.

  But now...

  "Protection, you say?" he challenged the captain. "When gunmen can invade my home and kill employees there?"

  "We are police, not full-time bodyguards," the captain said "Most certainly, we cannot see the future or read minds."

  "And how, if I may ask, is your investigation of the raid proceeding? Do you have suspects? A name? Affiliation? Anything?"

  "As you must know, Mr. Yetunde, there are no surveillance systems in your home or... place of business."

  "So you're telling me what, Captain?"

  Mashilia shrugged and spread his empty hands. "We have no pictures of the men responsible. No useful fingerprints, thanks to the fire and water damage. We have a sketch artist working with your various employees to prepare sketches but.....

  "They barely resemble living people, much less someone you are trying to arrest."

  "The quality is variable, I admit," the captain said.

  "The quality is shit!" Yetunde raged at him. "One black, one white. They could be anyone."

  "You see my problem, then."

  "Your problem? Did they burst into your home while you were entertaining guests? Are you losing an average two thousand U.S. dollars hourly, because the boiler room is closed?"

  "I only meant.....

  Yetunde fanned the captain's words away to silence him, the fat cigar he held between his first two fingers trailing smoke in crazy spirals. Suddenly, Yetunde felt the anger draining out of him, as if someone had pulled the plug on a simmering tub of venom.

  "All right," Yetunde said. "How can you help me? Surely you must have informers on the street. You can find out which gang is the most envious of my success. I only need a pointer, Captain."

  "It may not be quite that simple," the officer said.

  "I'm sure you are aware of the attacks on other, um, targets, occurring recently?"

  "Trouble between the Ijaw and the Itsekiri," Yetunde said. "What has that to do with me? I'm friends with both of them, a simple businessman."

  "We have begun to think," the captain said, "that the attacks suffered by either side are not mere tribal warfare. Witnesses from each scene speak of two men — one black, one white."

  "The same men?"

  "That I cannot prove, but I would say the odds against two interracial murder teams working in Delta State are nothing short of astronomical."

  "So, you can locate them!"

  "If they were staying at a hotel or a licensed rooming house, of course. We're checking those and moving out into the suburbs, but so far," the captain said, "we have found no evidence that they are staying anywhere."

  "I don't care if they're sleeping in a car, or in a highway culvert, Captain," Yetunde said. "I still expect my money's worth from you, and don't forget it!"

  "I'm not likely to," the captain muttered.

  "Two more hours. That's your deadline," Yetunde said, rising from his chair to end the meeting. "If you don't have something for me then, I'll speak to your superiors."

  And as Yetunde left the coffee shop where they had met, leaving Mashilia at their corner table by the broad front window, he thought that at least two-thirds of the men in Warri had to be superior in some respect to the browbeaten captain.

  Yetunde was surprised to find himself smiling as he retreated to his waiting car.

  * * *

  "What word from the Ijaw?" Arkady Eltsin asked.

  "They're agitated, as you might expect," Valentin Sidorov replied.

  "Of course. How may we calm them?"

  "I do not believe it's possible," his number two replied.

  Eltsin could only frown at that. "Why not?"

  "Ajani wants revenge, not compensation from third parties," Sidorov explained. "He won't be satisfied until he's killed the men responsible for shaming him."

  "He sounds more like a Russian gangster every day," Eltsin replied.

  "Beneath the skin, they're all the same," Sidorov said. "Obsessed with pride."

  "Has he become a liability to us?" Eltsin asked.

  Sidorov considered that, then shook his head decisively. "Not yet," he said. "If Afolabi falls — perhaps I should say when he falls — we want a friend taking his place. It will be good for Uroil. Good for Warri, all around."

  "Replacing one beast with another, eh?"

  "Our beast," Sidorov said. "Responsive to our needs and our suggestions."

  "So you hope, at least," Eltsin said, sounding skeptical.

  "Of course, there are no guarantees, sir," Sidorov replied stiffly.

  "You understand how these things work," Eltsin said. "Guarantees or not, there will be consequences if you fail. The Uroil board can't fire Ajani when they won't admit hiring him to start with. In a case of costly failure, scapegoats must be found. You don't expect the company's directors to dismiss themselves, surely
?"

  "No, sir."

  Sidorov's eyes told Eltsin that he'd been around this track before. The contents of his hefty dossier confirmed it.

  "If it's any consolation, Valentin, you won't go down alone."

  "None of us need go down at all, sir, if we win."

  "Then I suggest you do precisely that," Eltsin replied "By any means available."

  "Deniable, of course," Sidorov said, not quite smirking.

  "Deniability and positive results are all we ever ask," Eltsin said. "If Ajani manages to do the job without your help, more power to him. If he needs assistance, there must be no ties between him and yourself. No link to anyone from Uroil."

  "Understood," Sidorov said.

  "I'll leave you to it, then, and hope for swift results."

  "Yes, sir."

  Sidorov left the office without shaking hands or glancing back. He closed the door softly, gently, when Eltsin thought he longed to slam it.

  Never mind.

  Sidorov knew his place. He would perform as he was ordered to, like an attack dog. And when he had outlived his usefulness to Uroil, he would be put down exactly the same way.

  * * *

  "I am disturbed," Huang Li Chan declared, "by the increasing incidence of violence in the city."

  Lao Choy Teoh considered his response, then settled for, "This is Nigeria. Nigeria's worst state for crime, in fact."

  "Surely you don't pretend the recent outbreaks are a normal thing?"

  "No, sir. I do believe that the relations between hostile tribes are breaking down, becoming worse each day. Which need not necessarily discourage us."

  Chan frowned at his subordinate. "I realize our people have a global reputation for inscrutability," he said. "But here, at least with me, you may speak plainly."

  "Yes, sir. Simply stated, I believe that this unrest may work to our advantage, if we back the winning side."

  Chan's frown deepened. "Go on."

  "MEND and the Itsekiri are more numerous, it's true. But they opposed all foreign drilling for petroleum, which marks them as enemies of the state and economic progress. Their foolish jingoism — Nigerian oil for Nigerians— fails to account for the lack of domestic technology, training and knowledge required to succeed. In short, they're doomed to fail"