Predator. Wilbur Smith

but! My point is, Mateus da Cunha’s determined to do what his father never could and create an independent Cabinda.’

      ‘With him as President-for-Life.’

      ‘You got it.’

      ‘And a large chunk of the oil revenues siphoned into his bank account.’

      ‘There you go.’

      ‘But before he can do that,’ said Cross, seeing where this was all heading, ‘he has to start some kind of uprising. And the best way to let the world know that he’s serious would be to blow the hell out of some fancy new oil rig, way out there in the Atlantic.’

      ‘That’s right, but it’s a delicate balance. He wouldn’t want to wreck too many of them, because oil is the source of his money, long-term, and he doesn’t want to scare people away. One way it might play out is an attack takes place and da Cunha blames it on rogue elements within the independence movement. He tells everyone not to worry, he can deal with these hotheads, but it would sure help if he could tell them that the world is listening to them and respecting their need for freedom and independence.’

      ‘This sounds like an old-fashioned protection racket.’

      ‘Exactly. Then, da Cunha hopes, the world gets the message and tells Angola to let Cabinda go.’

      ‘At this point huge amounts of money appear in a bunch of Swiss bank accounts, held by senior Angolan politicians and military commanders, just to make sure they sign on the dotted line.’

      ‘That’s a possibility. And then Mateus da Cunha’s got himself his own private African kingdom.’

      ‘Which can be done,’ Cross said. ‘I’ve seen it. So are you telling me that there’s a clear and present danger of this happening any time soon?’

      Franklin gave a shake of her head. ‘No, I wouldn’t go that far. But there’s a real possibility of unrest that might affect oil installations off the Angolan coast. So I’m advising you, as the Bannock Oil director with responsibility for security, that it would be sensible to take precautions.’

      ‘Anything specific you have in mind?’

      ‘Well, any threat you face is going to come in by sea or by air. I’m not aware of any terrorist attack anywhere involving helos. But there are many, many instances of pirate and terrorist attacks made by boat – from the attack on the USS Cole off the coast of Yemen in October 2000, to all the Somali pirates who are still operating to this day.’

      ‘I’ve seen that, too.’ Cross was tempted to add: I’ve led a raid on the coast of Somalia that wiped out a nest of pirates, destroyed their base and freed two billion dollars’ worth of captured shipping, but thought better of it. Instead he said, ‘I think I’ve got a rough idea of what we’re going to need, in terms of personnel, equipment and training. Thanks for giving me the heads-up on what we can expect out there, Ms Franklin.’

      ‘Please,’ she said sweetly, ‘call me …’ She paused teasingly and then said, ‘Dr Franklin. I have a PhD, after all.’

      Cross laughed. ‘It’s been a pleasure, Doctor Franklin. And, if you don’t mind, you can call me Major Cross. Until we meet in less formal circumstances, that is.’

      ‘I’ll look forward to that,’ she said, and then the screen went blank.

      Hector Cross leaned back in his office chair. ‘Well,’ he said to himself, ‘that was more interesting than I’d expected.’ He looked at the monitor, and even though the lovely Dr Franklin could no longer see or hear him he added, ‘And I’ll look forward to meeting you very much, too.’

      It was something Weiss said,’ Malinga told Connie Hernandez when they were going over the interviews, back at Company A headquarters. ‘I asked him if he’d ever previously represented Johnny Congo, prior to now, and he thought awhile then said …’ Malinga looked at his notes to get the phrasing absolutely correct, ‘OK, here it is. He said this was “the first time in my life that I represented a man called Johnny Congo”. Doesn’t it strike you as odd, the way he said that?’

      ‘You know lawyers,’ Hernandez replied. ‘Always trying to twist words.’

      ‘Yeah, they do. But only when there’s a reason for not giving the straight answer. He didn’t say he’d never represented Johnny Congo. It was “a man called Johnny Congo”. Not even “the man called Johnny Congo”. It was “a man”.’

      ‘A man, the man, what’s the diff?’

      ‘Because “a man” could be called something else. Don’t you get it? He didn’t represent a man called Johnny Congo. But he did represent a guy with another name …’

      ‘Who was actually Johnny Congo.’

      ‘Maybe.’

      ‘But how would he not know that the two people were the same guy? He was his lawyer.’

      ‘What if he never actually met the first guy? What if it was all done by phone calls and emails? Think about it. Congo was out of the country, in Africa or wherever. He couldn’t come back, couldn’t even use his real name. But he hires Weiss, Mendoza and Burnett to work for him, using an alias.’

      ‘OK,’ said Hernandez, starting to become a little more convinced. ‘So we go back to Weiss, ask him what the deal was.’

      Mendoza shook his head. ‘No. I don’t want to alert him. But here’s what you can do for me. Call the Marshals. See if you can speak to anyone who was on the crew that brought Congo back from Abu Zara. Find out anything they know about where he’d been before that, any aliases he might have used. See, if Congo used another name to deal with Weiss, he might have used it to get out of the country, too. And if we know how he got out, we might just be able to figure out where he’s gone. And then maybe we’ll catch the son of a bitch.’

      Hernandez had once dated a guy who’d been on the US Marshals Gulf Coast Offender and Violent Fugitive Task Force. It hadn’t ended well. If she’d never said another word to him in her life she wouldn’t have complained. But needs must, so she gave him a call.

      Her old date wasn’t any happier to hear from Connie Hernandez than she was to speak to him. He couldn’t help her directly, but just to get out of the conversation he put her on to someone else who might, and three more degrees of law enforcement separation later she found herself talking to one of the men who’d lifted Congo out of Abu Zara.

      ‘This is off the record, right?’ the Marshal insisted.

      ‘Sure, whatever, I’m just looking for a lead. Where I get it isn’t an issue.’

      ‘OK, so this whole Abu Zara thing was just weird. I mean, there was no formal extradition. We just get the call that an escaped murderer who’s been wanted, like, forever is sitting in a cell somewhere no one has ever heard of. But the Sultan who runs the place is happy to let us have the killer as a favour to his good buddy, some Limey dude who caught him.’

      ‘Caught him where?’

      ‘We weren’t told. Africa somewhere was all we heard.’

      ‘How about the Limey? Did they tell you anything about him?’

      ‘The man could throw a punch, I can tell you that much. Knocked Congo out cold with one shot, and that evil bastard was a beast.’

      ‘What? A civilian hit a prisoner in your custody and you just let him?’

      ‘Wasn’t that simple. We flew into Abu Zara and were told to go to the Sultan’s private hangar. Man, it was vast. The guy basically has his own personal airline. Anyway, we get there and the Limey has this team with him, guarding Congo – all high-end mercenary Joes, ex-Special Forces. So they hand Congo over and suddenly Congo goes apeshit, starts trash-talking the Limey, cussing him out, real filthy language, and we’re trying to restrain him but it’s like trying to tie down Godzilla. Then Congo