“Have they made any ransom demands?” When I spoke, my voice was coolly collected and my emotions were duct-taped, gagged, and locked away.
“Yes.” He didn’t glance up from his laptop. “But they made the demand to the United Kingdom, not to the US.”
“They think he’s a British citizen?” Elizabeth studied me. “Does he have dual citizenship with the UK?”
“He probably told his captors he’s from the UK, which was smart. Up until recently, US citizens were killed more often than not because the US didn’t negotiate. But EU countries do negotiate,” Quinn hypothesized.
I agreed with him, Greg had probably been trying to buy time.
“I don’t think they’re actually interested in negotiating. I think they’ll take the ransom, but I don’t think they’ll let him go.” Alex’s gaze flickered between Quinn and me. “Your contact at the CIA, Banks, he said Greg was part of a task force, contracted by Nautical Oil.”
Dan frowned at Alex. “How did you know that? Didn’t Sandra just get hold of you?”
He shook his head. “I record all cell phone calls coming in or out of the building. I listened to the call.”
“And you turned down that job with the NSA why?” I could tell Dan was trying to keep his temper.
“Irrelevant,” Alex said, dismissing the question, and continued with his previous train of thought. “I believe this all boils down to oil . . . that rhymed. Boil and oil.”
Sandra always pointed out when she would make an inadvertent rhyme. He must’ve picked up this quirk since they’d been married.
“How so?” Elizabeth pressed.
“Well, Nigeria has been oil rich for decades, but very little of that money makes it to the people of Nigeria. And the ecological damage to the country has been significant, with Big Oil companies ignoring the devastation, and corrupt factions of the government turning a blind eye while lining their pockets. Knowing Greg,” Alex paused, meeting my gaze, and for the first time since he’d entered the apartment, allowed a hint of emotion to penetrate his mask of efficiency.
“Go on,” I prompted.
His voice was softer when he continued, as though he were speaking just to me. “Knowing Greg, he’s not going to pander or pull any punches. He was probably going to recommend some very harsh reforms—if he hadn’t already—and shed some light on the corruption, both within Nautical Oil and the Nigerian government. His first priority would be the people of Nigeria and the environment. I’m guessing he wasn’t very popular with corrupt officials.”
Everything Alex said made sense. Greg was passionate about doing the right thing. He was gifted at swaying hearts and minds because of this passion. But if those hearts and minds were corrupt, his message wouldn’t be welcome.
“Even if we pay the ransom, you don’t think he’ll live,” I said, stating the obvious, fighting a tidal wave of nausea as I did so. I couldn’t panic, I couldn’t think about it, I couldn’t allow myself to feel. Not yet.
Alex nodded, holding my gaze. “We need to go in and get him. I think the ransom is a red herring.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair. “I have some friends in Nigeria, from med school, part of Doctors Without Borders. They might be able to help, give Fiona a place to stay, provide a cover.”
“Wait a minute,” Quinn interrupted, glaring at the three of us, but addressing his comments to Alex. “If you heard the phone call, then you heard what Banks said about Fiona going to Nigeria. She could be arrested for treason.”
“I’ve been arrested lots of times.” Alex shrugged. “It’s not so bad, once you get used to it.”
“And what about Grace and Jack?” Dan grumbled. “Fiona, you know I like you, but how can you risk your life like that? What if neither you nor Greg make it back? You can’t leave those two kids without any parents.”
I considered Dan’s comments and wondered how I could possibly explain my perspective without sounding like an unfeeling mother. How could I explain to someone who’d never been married or never had children? I had to get Greg because of the children. I owed it to them. Because if Greg died, I would. . . I’d be dead too.
The look I was giving him must’ve been intense because he flinched and held his hands up between us. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“I’m not going to shoot you, Dan.”
Under his breath he added, “Christ, you’re scary sometimes.”
“But here’s what you don’t understand about me: in a street fight, in a gun fight or a knife fight, or even hand-to-hand combat, I would annihilate you. Quinn, too. No problem.”
Silence greeted my revelation. Dan stared at me like I was weird, then snorted, looking to Quinn for commiseration. In my peripheral vision I saw Quinn nod his head slightly, confirming my words.
I knew Quinn had run background checks on all of us when he’d proposed to Janie. He was suspicious by nature. But now I realized how extensive the background checks must’ve been.