You could depend upon Nadif to do his level best to help.
I wondered for a moment whether the school prospectuses were for his own kids. With the sort of hostage numbers Jules was talking about, business must be good. This shithole certainly wasn’t where he lived. It was a bedsit without a bed. He probably lived near the university, in a townhouse that would put anything that cost as little as £500K to shame.
18
‘Nick, my friend, as a show of faith between us and the people who have your loved ones … an appropriate price would be ten thousand dollars, I think. Then I can talk with the clan leader, a very important man, without insulting him. I can talk to him right now, and let you speak to all three of your loved ones. But you must know these services cost money. I understand your concern, but I must talk of these things first.’
Unless he was bullshitting me, I now knew one thing: they had moved up the food chain, from the kidnappers to a clan. The kidnappers would have declared the hostages to their clan leaders. They’d probably have funded the whole thing with a loan from the nearest warlord. When their demands were met, the pirates would take their cut and repay the loan, plus interest and whatever percentage he demanded.
If there was no cash, or the hostages died, the debt still stayed in place. Maybe the guys who’d snatched Tracy had to pay off an existing loan. What the fuck did it matter? I was going round in circles, and I hadn’t yet had any proof of life. That was all that mattered right now.
Nadif reappeared with a pewter teapot and glasses on a tray, just like he would have back in the old country.
‘Nadif, I’ve been sitting here thinking about how to get that sort of money quickly. It’s very, very difficult. But I have come with some money. I’ve got three thousand pounds on me — nearly five thousand dollars. Maybe that would be enough for you to let me speak to them now.’ I paused. ‘And whatever money is finally agreed, maybe … maybe twenty per cent could go to you when they’re released.’
I knew he’d be making about five per cent from the clan. And if he went the hawala route with the money, maybe he’d take another five per cent on top.
He sat down again and poured the tea, slowly and from a generous height. The oxygen it absorbed as it splashed into the glasses was supposed to improve the flavour. I smelt apples as the steam came my way.
Somalis are a cultured and ancient race. Even when they’re living in shit, they show each other great politeness and respect. Centuries ago, they were pouring tea like this when we were still burning witches and gnawing turnips. At the same time, they could be savagely brutal — though I guess they saw it as no more dramatic than a lion killing an antelope. Not evil or malicious, just the way of the world.
I sat and waited for him to complete the ritual of the tea, and the ritual of making me wait for his answer. To be a demanding arsehole didn’t work with these people. They were businessmen, and their business just happened to be trading in humans.
The pouring stopped. He offered me sugar. I shoved in three teaspoonloads and stirred. He did the same. And then, lifting the glass gently between thumb and forefinger, he offered a toast.
‘I think that’s a very good suggestion, Nick. If you pay me that cash now, I will make contact, and we can start getting your loved ones back. You can pay me in instalments as everything moves on. But can I trust you?’
‘Of course you can trust me.’
‘These people are very dangerous. You can’t deal with them. Only I can get your loved ones out.’
‘I know that, Nadif.’
I pulled out the roll of money and put it on the table. It sprang open and doubled in size. Seeing cash physically increase in value always focuses the mind on the deal.
We raised our glasses, clinked, and both took a sip of tea.
He looked at me. ‘You know, my friend, I think we will get your loved ones back home, and safe, quite soon.’
I got some very sweet apple tea down my neck.
He took another sip and then got up. ‘Please excuse me …’
He went back into the kitchen and I watched as closely as I could while he fumbled about under the sink. He conjured up a mobile, an old grey pay-as-you-go thing, like a rabbit out of a hat.
He checked his watch once more. Mogadishu is three hours ahead. It would be very early morning there.
‘Nadif, aren’t you worried that the police, or the intelligence service, can hear what you’re saying?’
He smiled as he dialled. ‘Please do not be concerned. No one cares about being listened to. Nothing will happen. In Somalia, there are no police, no government, no army — no one. And here, why would they want me to stop? I am performing a service. I return people’s loved ones to them. I help them. Your government, they do not. The Americans — they too can listen if they want to. Will they come back into my country after what happened to them last time? I don’t think so, my friend.’ I could hear the phone ring. ‘You see, everything is fine. Please be calm.’
He brought it up to his ear. I caught a few syllables of Somali waffle. Nadif didn’t bat an eyelid.
He turned and looked at me, phone still glued to his ear. ‘Nick, it may be a little time until you can speak to them. They have been moved — for their own safety.’
I was about to open my mouth when his hand came up.
‘It’s OK. I will make sure they are not harmed. Trust me, Nick. Please, one moment.’
There was more waffle. He sounded as calm as if he was ordering a takeaway from the boys with the white trainers. Then he passed the phone across to me. ‘It’s a message for you, Nick. Don’t talk, just listen.’
I put it to my ear. The line was terrible. In among the crackling I could hear birds sing. A vehicle rumbled past. Then I heard a woman’s voice. ‘Yes — yes, of course I will …’
There was a rustling sound, and then a sniff. ‘In here?’
I couldn’t help myself. ‘Tracy, it’s Nick …’
Nadif waved a hand. ‘She cannot hear you, Nick. You are listening to a message.’
Her voice was flat and dull. It was obvious she was reading. ‘Help me. I am very sick. My health is deteriorating markedly due to fever and dysentery. I need to see a doctor. They will not give any of us the medicine. I have a toothache. My tooth is badly broken and very infected and abscessed. I need help immediately. Please.’
It sounded like one of those Nigerian email scams.
She didn’t stop there. ‘My son has severe stomach problems. There is no one to take care of him. I don’t want him to die here. Please do not let my son die here. I’m so afraid I will die of diseases if I don’t get help soon. I don’t know how much longer we can bear this. Someone, please help us. Please.’
Her voice quavered. ‘The men who hold us are very serious and they say that, if the ransom is not paid, they will kill all three of us. But I’m telling you, our conditions are very serious right now and we could very seriously die of an illness. My son, Stefan, might die. Justin might die. We’re very sick people.’
There were a few mumbles from whoever was holding the mike and I could hear the rustling as it was taken away from her. There was a click, and Nadif held out his hand. ‘Please, Nick. Thank you.’
They exchanged a few more words and the line went dead. He put the phone down and sighed theatrically. He looked at me like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. ‘Nick, these are dangerous people. I can help you, but you must get the money. Somehow, please.’ He put his hands together again, as if he was praying. ‘My friend, I have done my part. I will make sure that you get to talk to her tomorrow. I will organize this. Are you now going to show some more good faith, Nick? I am helping you. Now you have got to help me. They must be paid so your loved ones are free.’