Then he stood and slowly began walking north towards Turkey.
SEVEN
Fitzroy sat across from Lloyd on the couch in his office. Even as the older man listened to the other end of the satellite connection, his angry eyes did not flicker away from the young lawyer.
“I see,” said Fitzroy into the phone. “Thank you.” He terminated the call and placed the phone gently on the table in front of him.
Lloyd stared back, hopeful.
Fitzroy broke the staring contest with a gaze to the carpet. “It seems they are all dead.”
“Who’s dead?” asked Lloyd, the tint of optimism ever growing in his voice.
“Everyone but the flight crew. I am told there was a bit of a dustup in the aircraft. Courtland did not go down easily; no surprise there. The pilot found two of my men’s bodies in the back, no sign of the other four. Blood on the floor, walls, and ceiling, over fifty bullet holes in the fuselage.”
“My firm will compensate you for the damages.” Lloyd said it matter-of-factly. He cleared his throat. “But they did not find Gentry’s body? Could he have survived?”
“It appears not. There was a lot of gear lost, the plane flew for miles with its rear cargo door open, and among the unaccounted-for items is a parachute, but there’s no reason to assume—”
Lloyd interrupted. “If our target is missing out the rear of an airplane along with a parachute, I can hardly convince the Nigerians the job is done.”
“He was outnumbered five to one against a tier-one crew, all ex-Canadian Special Forces. Clearly I have fulfilled my end of our bargain. I ask you to now kindly carry out yours. Stop your threats to my family.”
Lloyd waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Abubaker wants proof. He demanded Gentry’s head in an ice chest.”
“Dammit, man!” said Fitzroy. “I did as I was told!” Fitzroy was angry, but he was no longer fearful for his son’s family. Shortly before Lloyd arrived, Sir Donald had called his son, had him collect his wife and children, and rush to St. Pancras Station in time to make the morning’s second Eurostar train to France. At this very moment they should be settling into the family’s summer villa just south of the Normandy beaches. Fitzroy felt confident Lloyd’s men would not find them there.
“Yes, you did do as you were told. And you will continue to do so. I have a very quiet but very ominous Nigerian back in my office who will not leave with my assurances only. I will need for you to ascertain the flight path of the pilots, and I’ll need to send a team to investigate—”
The phone on Fitzroy’s desk chirped with a distinctive ring of two short bleats. Sir Donald spun his head to it and then back up to Lloyd.
“It’s him,” said Lloyd, responding to Fitzroy’s obvious shock.
“That’s his ring.”
“Then answer it, and activate the speaker function.”
Fitzroy crossed the room and pressed a button on the console on his desk. “Cheltenham Security.” The voice that came through the line was distant. The words came out between labored breaths. “You call that a rescue?”
“It’s good to hear your voice. What happened?”
Lloyd quickly pulled a notebook from his briefcase.
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“Are you hurt?”
“I’ll live. No thanks to the extraction squad you sent to pick me up.”
Fitzroy looked to Lloyd. The young American scribbled something on his notepad and held it up.Nigeria.“Son. I heard from the flight crew about the melee. These were not regular employees of mine. Just a mercenary unit I had used once before. I was rushed to get a team together after the Polish pulled out.”
“Because of what happened in Iraq?”
“Yes. That whole sector has become a no-go zone after your little demonstration yesterday. The Polish refused to go in. The men I sent instead let me know they’d do anything for money, despite the risks. Clearly someone got to them, bought them off.”
“Who?”
“My sources tell me Julius Abubaker, the Nigerian president, is after your head.”
