Quinn studied me for a long moment, then sighed before responding, “Alex put Greg in touch with Banks.”
“Spenser and Greg spoke?” If I weren’t already pushed beyond my limit, this information would have floored me. Greg did not like Spenser, and the feeling was mutual.
“That’s right.” Quinn nodded, his gaze once again probing. “Greg explained about the money and the acetone, how we’re dealing with one hundred million dollars or more, instead of a few million.”
“The money—or rather, the amount of money—changed everything,” Dan added dryly. “The CIA is now fully invested, instead of just making a show of it in order to patronize Nautical Oil and Buhari.”
I guessed the Agency’s reasoning. “That kind of money is typically associated with terrorist cells, not small illegal oil refineries.”
“Exactly.” Dan nodded once, grabbing a water bottle behind him, leaning forward and handing it to me. “The CIA doesn’t want to lose track of the money trail.”
“Greg and Banks came up with a revised plan, since Greg was already on the ground, had the Intel, and time is of the essence,” Quinn explained.
“What is the plan?” I became aware that the tanker was moving, thus we were being transported somewhere. I gripped the counter at my left, bracing my weight against it. “And why did the Agency rope you guys in? Don’t they have their own people on the ground?”
Quinn continued, “The CIA isn’t happy about our involvement, but it was one of Greg’s stipulations for agreeing to his part. As I understand it, the basics haven’t changed from the original plan you and Greg devised with Alex: use the threat of the exploding refinery as a distraction, move the mysterious pile of illegally begotten money to a safe location, ransom for the hostages using the stolen money.”
Dan cut in, “Except, since neither Alex nor the CIA can find the hostages, and it was decided that determining their location and rescuing them is the highest priority, Greg agreed to be taken.”
“That makes no sense!” I surged to my feet, growling.
“No. It does.” Dan’s tone softened. “He’s being tracked, and he’s wired. Quinn has the earpiece in right now, and you can listen too if you want. We can hear everything he hears; we know exactly where he is.”
“And we’re not the only ones. He’s being tracked by the CIA, and a unit of Special Forces,” Quinn added.
“But that doesn’t guarantee his safety. You’re using him as a beacon to find the others, but they could-they could—” they could easily kill him. I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.
Quinn reached forward and took my hand, encouraging me to sit down again. “Fiona, we don’t believe they’ll harm him. First of all, they know he’s been sent in by Buhari, the US, and Nautical Oil to conduct the negotiations.”
“Who are they, anyway? Who are we dealing with?” I was grasping at straws, but if I knew the enemy then I would better understand what they were capable of.
“Alex believes this group is spearheaded by Abayomi Contee, the former oil minister of Nigeria, who was deposed when Buhari came into power. Contee had been working in conjunction with Boko Haram and was responsible for . . . well, let’s just say many atrocities.”
As Dan would say, Well, fuck a duck. We were dealing with psychopaths and terrorists. Just great.
Dan’s big eyes were rimmed with compassion despite the fact that I almost broke his nose. “Don’t forget about the hundred million, Fiona. Once Greg and I secured it, Banks sent Contee’s people a message. Contee knows we have her money.”
“And Alex believes the money is a payoff for Boko Haram, their portion of the illegal refineries’ profit,” Quinn added evenly. “Abayomi Contee needs that money, or else Boko Haram will come after her family, her people. Contee won’t do anything to Greg or the hostages until she has that money in hand.”
“Where is the money?” I narrowed my eyes on Dan. “How did you and Greg move it so quickly?”
“I took a helicopter this morning, then drove from Enugu and met Greg at the guard house.”
“You mean the sentinel house? Where we found the money last night?”
“That’s right. It was a sonofabitch to find. I had to follow the pipeline.” Dan covered his nose with the ice again. “We moved it into one of the dry pipes.”
“You put the cash into the dry pipes . . .” And that’s why Greg didn’t need the mobile clinic. Hiding the money was just as effective as moving it, assuming Greg and Dan were successful at covering their tracks.
“Greg has it rigged to explode if anything should happen to him. He has to speak certain phrases every hour into a transmitter Alex had me bring over this morning.”
“They could torture the information out of him,” I hypothesized, but even as I said the words I knew them to be false.