Why did he look so familiar? He looked a little like… “Doug?” Jordan stood and approached his childhood best friend, disbelief warring with the anger be’d been fighting. Dark circles under his brown eyes accentuated the sallowness of his skin. Man he’d aged in the last ten years, but that didn’t explain the stress etched into his face.
He pulled Doug into a strong hug, slapping him on the back. “How’re you?”
Doug’s hug was half-hearted at best. “Not good.” He pressed his lips together in a thin, tight line.
“What’s going on? How does this involved Emme?”
“Let’s sit down,” Colonel Bates said.
Jordan turned. The Colonel stood in front of his desk, indicating the small, round conference table. Jordan pulled out a chair and waited for Doug to sit before taking his seat. The other two joined them.
Doug rested his elbows on the table and ran his fingers roughly through his thick, dark hair before dropping his hands to the table and gripping them together so tight his knuckled turned white.
The deep breath he took shuddered out before he spoke. “Emme’s been kidnapped.”
“What?” How was that possible? Emme was only…well crap, she had to be in her late twenties, early thirties by now. He leaned forward. “How? By who?”
“She was working in a clinic in eastern Mali. She and three other workers were taken by an armed group,” Doug said.
Jordan shook his head. What the hell was she doing in Mali? “I don’t—”
“Why don’t I explain?” Westin asked.
Doug nodded and looked at Jordan, anguish radiating from his gaze.
“Emme France is a nurse practitioner employed by an NGO, non-government organization, at a clinic in Mali in West Africa.” Westin’s voice was even, almost detached. “Two weeks ago, she and three women who worked at the clinic were kidnapped by a small group claiming affiliation with al-Murabitun. The al-Murabitun spokesman has denounced the claim, saying it’s the work of a small faction not associated with their efforts.”
“Why is that important?” He couldn’t get the image of a teen with wild hair being kidnapped by terrorists. He had to think about this rationally.
“They don’t have the experience to handle the negotiations,” Westin said.
Jordan opened his mouth, but caught the subtle shake of Westin’s head. He was pulling his punches. Doug didn’t have the full story. Why?
Tapping his finger on the table, he studied the man across from him. Leaning back in his chair, Westin had the look of a someone without a care in the world. Jordan recognized the coiled alertness of someone who had the training and skill to dole out death without a qualm. What questions could he ask while keeping Doug in the dark? Westin would damn well give him the full story later.
“They’re demanding a ransom?” he asked.
“Yes,” Doug said.
He shifted his gaze to Doug. “Why not just pay it?”
Doug blanched. “It’s ten million dollars.”
“Is that what they started at?
“Yes.” He rubbed his eyes. “They’re refusing to negotiate for a lower amount.”
“Doesn’t the NGO usually pay in these situations?
“There’s some confusion as to which organization Emme actually works for,” Westin said, derision dripping from his voice.
“How do you mean?”
“Technically, she works for a smaller NGO which was subcontracted by a larger, more well-known organization. Her company doesn’t have the capital to pay the ransom and the larger NGO is saying she isn’t their employee.”
What a cluster fuck. No wonder Doug looked like he hadn’t slept in, well, two weeks. “Why me? Don’t you have the manpower for this type of operation?”
“The family is insisting.” Westin spoke as if Doug wasn’t sitting next to him.
