The Freedom Broker (Thea Paris #1)(49)
Rif stood. “How do you know that?”
“Hel-lo, I’m the numbers guy. Who do you think arranges the insurance for all the top executives? For security reasons, the C-suite people are never told how much they’ve been insured for, in case they’re taken and tortured. I made sure Christos had the maximum, a fifty-million-dollar policy plus excess coverage.”
Peter sure had motivation to be involved in the kidnapping if he was looking for an early-retirement fund. But the real kidnapper hadn’t even asked for a ransom. Yet. She studied the CFO for any tells. So far, he seemed genuinely surprised, as well as curious about her work.
“Why hasn’t there been a ransom demand?” he asked.
“Every kidnapping is different.” He didn’t need to know details about the ten-million-euro FARC farce or the Latin texts. “Silence is common while the hostage is being transported to a new location—it buys the abductors time.”
She made an espresso, adding a dash of cinnamon in her father’s honor, weary of fielding Peter’s questions. Waiting to hear from the kidnappers made her crazy. And that was exactly what they wanted.
“What can I do to help?” Peter asked.
“Tell me more about this oil deal.”
“Sure. Paris Industries currently contributes about sixty percent of Kanzi’s GDP through the purchase of biofuels, but biofuels were small change compared to the potential billions involved in fossil fuels. Our exploration led to the discovery of some very large oil fields. Some of the oil is in the land that we already have a lease on, but the majority of the find is tied to land not covered by our current agreement.”
“And Papa’s relationship with the prime minister wasn’t enough to secure these other rights at a reasonable price?”
“Kimweri knows he’s sitting on billions. Why not pit us against the Chinese National Oil Company to get the best deal? I would. Biofuels are a pittance compared with the money from the oil.”
“Is there anything else we could use as leverage?”
“Up until this discovery, the Kanzi government has been disorganized, unable to supply the proper food, water, shelter, and stability needed for a healthy population in certain regions. The lack of water in the west has led to an internal refugee crisis. Tribes battle other tribes over watering holes and herds. Our proposal includes a plan to help all Kanzians establish a peaceful existence. Schools, firm borders between tribes, hospitals, places of worship. If they had the proper infrastructure, and everyone had enough of the necessities, they might avoid most of the current violence.”
“I’ve always loved the natural beauty of the country, but even as a kid, I noticed the poverty and struggles.”
“And the politics are a hot mess, typical for Africa. Prime Minister Kimweri and his brother-in-law, Bini Salam—the finance minister—were born in Kanzi’s capital city, where tribal violence wasn’t as much of a threat, whereas General Ita Jemwa, the security minister, hails from the west and understands the plight of the desert dwellers.”
The General. She suddenly remembered Nikos’s journal: the kidnapping stemmed from “the General’s” desire to help the poor. That sort of thing might appeal to a soldier, but not necessarily to a politician. Kimweri seemed like a good man, but power-hungry dictators often projected an air of benevolence when necessary.
“Can you prepare a brief that covers all the players in the Kanzi deal? Maybe something in it will help me figure out who took my father.” Kidnappings rarely resolved quickly. It could be days or even weeks or months before some vital piece of information came to light; Thea planned on finding out everything she could. Having Peter’s insider analysis could be quite helpful.
“Gladly. Why don’t we meet for dinner so I can fill you in?”
“Let’s see how the evening unfolds.” She had no interest in lingering over a bottle of Bordeaux with Kennedy. She just wanted the information. “I’m going to check in with the pilots. We’re almost there.”
She strode through the salon and knocked on the flight deck door. A voice called out to enter. She found the first officer alone at the controls, a fresh coffee from the cockpit’s Keurig in his left hand. “Where’s Captain Houston?”
“I’m afraid he must have taken ill—hasn’t left the head in the last ten minutes. Maybe something he ate? Can you do me a favor and check on him?”
“Will do. How long before we land?”
“Thirty minutes. We’re descending over the desert now.” Sweat trickled down his temple, she noticed. Maybe he was catching something, too?
She peered through the windows at the endless stretch of sand. It brought back memories of happier times, her father racing a Land Rover alongside galloping camels, Thea and Nikos in the backseat. But that was all before her brother’s kidnapping.
A sudden bout of turbulence interrupted her reflections. She braced herself against the bulkhead until they passed through the worst of it.
If only flying wasn’t a requirement for her job.
“I’ll go check on the captain. Be right back.”
The first officer’s shoulders looked tense, and his voice sounded a bit unsteady when he said, “Appreciate it.”
She didn’t like the fact that Houston wasn’t on the flight deck. Redundancy comforted her, especially in the air. She turned to the lavatory door and noted the red flag that showed the cubicle was occupied. A light knock didn’t receive any response. She knocked harder. No answer.