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    The African Trilogy, Book 1 (Lust, Money & Murder #7)
    The African Trilogy, Book 1 (Lust, Money & Murder #7)
    The African Trilogy, Book 1 (Lust, Money & Murder #7)
    Ebook373 pages5 hours

    The African Trilogy, Book 1 (Lust, Money & Murder #7)

    By Mike Wells

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    About this ebook

    When U.S. Secret Service Agent Elaine Brogan and her husband are called to the American Embassy in Paris, they believe they’re about to receive an award. Instead, they’re separated and thrown into a treacherous adventure that neither of them could have ever imagined. From a black site at some unknown location, to Morocco, to Chad, and finally to the war-torn region of Darfur, Elaine fights to free herself and arrest the man responsible. In addition to Elaine and Nick, the The African Trilogy features the usual cast of Lust, Money & Murder characters - Luna Faye, Dmitry, Tony, and the notorious Giorgio Cattoretti.
    Put on your seatbelt and prepare yourself fo another wild, ‘unputdownable’ ride.

    Note: This book was previously titled: Lust, Money & Murder, Book 7 - Off the Grid

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMike Wells
    Release dateMar 8, 2016
    ISBN9781311196422
    The African Trilogy, Book 1 (Lust, Money & Murder #7)
    Author

    Mike Wells

    Mike Wells is an author of both walking and cycling guides. He has been walking long-distance footpaths for 25 years, after a holiday in New Zealand gave him the long-distance walking bug. Within a few years, he had walked the major British trails, enjoying their range of terrain from straightforward downland tracks through to upland paths and challenging mountain routes. He then ventured into France, walking sections of the Grande Randonnee network (including the GR5 through the Alps from Lake Geneva to the Mediterranean), and Italy to explore the Dolomites Alta Via routes. Further afield, he has walked in Poland, Slovakia, Slovenia, Norway and Patagonia. Mike has also been a keen cyclist for over 20 years. After completing various UK Sustrans routes, such as Lon Las Cymru in Wales and the C2C route across northern England, he then moved on to cycling long-distance routes in continental Europe and beyond. These include cycling both the Camino and Ruta de la Plata to Santiago de la Compostela, a traverse of Cuba from end to end, a circumnavigation of Iceland and a trip across Lapland to the North Cape. He has written a series of cycling guides for Cicerone following the great rivers of Europe.

    Read more from Mike Wells

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      The African Trilogy, Book 1 (Lust, Money & Murder #7) - Mike Wells

      Chapter 1

      Burgundy, France

      It was a perfect June day, the temperature in the high seventies. The warm summer air buffeted through Elaine Brogan’s shoulder-length blonde hair as the Dodge Charger cruised along the Route des Grands Crus, or road of the great wines.

      Nick LaGrange was at the wheel of the car, relaxed.

      Elaine was excited. Yesterday morning she had received a phone call from Raj Malik asking her and Nick to meet him today at the American Embassy in Paris. Her first thought had been that they would be receiving some kind of official commendation for the work they had done on the Giorgio Cattoretti case.

      We might be up for the Meritorious Service Award, or the Award for Valor, she’d told Nick after she hung up the phone with Raj.

      Nick gave a sarcastic laugh. Yeah, right.

      "Well, it might be an award, you never know. The Ambassador always presents those when the recipients are overseas. Raj’s office was at the Interpol Headquarters in Lyon, where the main U.S. Secret Service office was housed. Why else would he invite us to the embassy?"

      I can think of a dozen reasons why, Nick muttered, and none of them are good. He chuckled, glancing at her, and noting her new haircut and nail polish. Honey, when are you going to learn? We do all the dirty work and the higher ups get all the credit. We’re probably going to get chewed out for breaking so many rules or get a lecture about not violating our security clearances.

      He wouldn’t want to meet us at the embassy for that.

      Nick only grunted.

      Elaine refused to let her husband’s cynicism spoil her lovely mood. Instead of flying to Paris to meet Raj, they had decided to drive up and enjoy the nice weather, and had set out almost immediately after receiving the call. They had spent the night at a romantic little hotel in Gevrey-Chambertin. It was wonderful to have some relaxing time to themselves. They’d eaten a delicious dinner, made love, and then got into the hot tub together for a glass of wine.

      Now, as Elaine gazed out at the endless villages and vineyards scattered along either side of the highway, with Nick beside her, she felt content for the first time in years, perhaps for the first time in her life. Nick had stopped doing extractions for the CIA, and the Giorgio Cattoretti case was finally behind her. She was no longer worried about leaving the kids at home with Tony looking after them. Cattoretti had not exactly given his word that he would never bother her family again, but Elaine’s instincts told her that he would abide by her request. Their final encounter had left a strange, unspoken understanding between them. They were still enemies, yes, she was still a Secret Service agent and he was still a wanted criminal. But she felt that the fact that she had let him go, and that he had given her the name of the mole inside the KBA Giori plant in return, had created a kind of mutual respect.

      Nick glanced at his watch as they passed another winery, the hill behind it dotted with lovely limestone houses with orange tiled roofs. We still have time for one more wine tasting, he said. What do you say?

      * * *

      The Embassy of the United States of America in Paris is located on the Avenue Gabriel, in the city’s 8th Arrondissement. The four-story chancery, which houses the ambassador’s office, looks onto the Avenue Gabriel and the gardens of the Champs-Élysées and Place de la Concorde, with its spectacular statues, fountains, and gilded columns.

      On top of the Chancery, hidden from view, is a sight that is not so beautiful—a cluster of antennas that comprise an electronic spying unit set up by the CIA to monitor the phone conversations of French presidents, who reside only a short distance from the embassy.

      Nick and Elaine arrived fifteen minutes early for their three o’clock appointment.

      A heavily armed security guard watched the Charger pull up to one of the employee entrances, protected by a massive gate with spikes running across the top.

      We have an appointment with Raj Malik, Nick said.

      Your names?

      Nick LaGrange and Elaine Brogan.

      The guard ran his finger down a clipboard. Meanwhile, another guard was already moving a telescopic inspection mirror beneath the chassis of the car to check for bombs, the heavy device thumping against the chassis.

      Your passports, please?

      Nick and Elaine pulled out their documents and handed them to the guard through the window.

      The uniformed guard spent a moment checking the photos against their faces, then finally waved at someone else inside the guardhouse.

      There was a loud buzz. The spiked gate began to roll to the side, with both guards now carefully watching the street. Park around to the left, in one of the visitor’s spaces.

      Nick started to press on the accelerator, but looked back at the guard who had spoken. What about our passports?

      We’ll hold on to ‘em. Be quick about it, please, we can’t keep the gate open!

      Nick quickly drove through the gap and found the visitor’s spaces—there was only one slot left.

      Nick opened the door to get out, but Elaine pulled out her compact to check her makeup.

      Dolling yourself up for the photographers? Nick said, with a snicker.

      Well, you never know. She looked him over as they climbed out of the car—at least he was wearing slacks and his best sport coat. She’d tried to get him to wear a tie, but getting Nick to don a tie was like getting a gorilla to wear a tutu.

      They headed across the parking lot towards the entrance, which had more gates and more guards, along with the usual metal detector and x-ray machines. Elaine had never been to the Paris embassy before. As they stepped inside the door and entered the security checkpoint, she did not see a full body scanner—at least she would be spared that humiliation.

      ID’s please, another armed guard said when they stepped inside. They handed over their Secret Service badges.

      The man nodded and gave them back. You’ll need to surrender your service weapons.

      We’re not armed, Nick said, glancing at Elaine. Neither of us. They had seen no reason to bring pistols to a meeting at a U.S. Embassy.

      Keys, rings, phones, belts, anything metal goes in these, the guard said, handing them baskets. You’ll both need to take off your shoes as well.

      They passed through the metal detector with no problem and then recovered their things from the baskets. Nick muttered to himself the whole time—he hated having to go through any kind of security checkpoint.

      A man in a blue suit appeared. Ms. Brogan, Mr. LaGrange?

      Nick nodded. Elaine smiled and said Yes?

      Follow me, please.

      The man let them both walk ahead. He touched Elaine lightly on the back as they passed through a side door, then guided them down a long hallway, down two flights of stairs, and then along another long, white, sterile-looking hallway. Elaine had heard that for security purposes, the basement of the building had even more floors than the above-ground section.

      They were ushered into a room with a plain looking conference table.

      Two more men in suits were standing there stoically. Elaine had expected to see Raj and maybe the Ambassador, but these two were strangers to her.

      Nick LaGrange? one of the men said.

      Nick nodded and reached out to shake his hand, but he looked at Elaine. Elaine Brogan?

      Yes—

      Turn around and place your hands behind your back. You’re both under arrest.

      Chapter 2

      Elaine was in a daze as the shackles were snapped around her wrists.

      You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney...

      Nick was equally dumfounded. Elaine’s first thought was that this was a joke. But if it was a prank, it was in very bad taste. Her mind flashed back to the time she had been arrested in Moscow by two Secret Service agents who turned out to be slick Russian mafia men.

      You have no authority to arrest us here, Nick said. We’re in France, in case you’ve forgotten.

      The man who had just finished reading them their rights said, "You’re standing on United States soil, in case you’ve forgotten."

      Elaine realized that he was right—the interior of any U.S. Embassy in the world was technically U.S. territory. With a sick feeling, she wondered: did Raj lure us both here so we could be legally arrested? But why?

      Finally able to find her voice, she said, in an outraged tone, What is the charge?

      At that moment, Raj Malik stepped into the room.

      There were no greetings. He looked coldly at Nick, then Elaine, and pulled out a piece of paper. For starters, the charges are conspiracy to provide material support to terrorists. Conspiracy to make false statements. False verbal statements involving a terrorism offense. False written statements involving... He looked up at Elaine. Shall I go on? Without waiting for an answer, he nodded to the men who had a hold of their arms. Put her in Room A and LaGrange in B.

      * * *

      They were both marched out of the door and further down the hallway. Elaine was shoved into a room on the right. She only glimpsed Nick for a split second before he disappeared. The door was slammed in her face and locked from the outside.

      She looked around the room in a state of shock, her head swimming, unable to make any sense of what was happening. There was only a folding table and two chairs, one on either side, for questioning.

      Elaine’s heart was pounding so hard her whole body shook with each beat. She noticed that there was a mirror along one wall and guessed it was two-way. She told herself to appear calm, to show no signs of guilt. Her wrists were shackled uncomfortably behind her back. She glanced up at the ceiling and noticed a camera in the corner. She casually turned away, facing the locked door again.

      Her mind was racing even faster than her heartbeat—the only explanation for all this could be that Raj had somehow found out that she and Nick had let Giorgio Cattoretti go. But how could he have found that out? The two mercenaries that had dropped down to the train from the helicopter had been quite a few cars away from them when they had done it. And she knew Nick had wiped his fingerprints off the coupling, because she had watched him do it. So how could Raj have known they had let The Cat go?

      Then a terrifying thought struck her—what if there had been a camera somewhere on the last car of the train? She remembered the End of Train device that Nick had mentioned, the one that replaced cabooses on modern trains. Could it have had a camera attached that caught what they had done on video?

      If so, why had it taken Raj six months to do anything about it?

      The door opened and Raj stepped into the room. He nodded grimly towards the table. Sit down.

      Elaine swallowed and did as she was told, awkwardly pushing back the chair with her calves. He made no move to help her. He remained standing, glowering at her as if she was guilty of treason, hands behind his back.

      I’m only going to ask you one question. Did you and your husband detach the last car on that train and let Giorgio Cattoretti go?

      So that was it. He had found out, somehow.

      All sorts of panicky thoughts ricocheted through her mind at once, colliding with each other. She swallowed again, trembling, staring back at Raj. Should she lie? Or admit the truth and try to defend herself? In the end, Raj had gotten the name of the mole, which was what he was really after. Should she try to justify her actions?

      He just stood there, staring at her, waiting.

      Elaine opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again. At the last instant, she changed tack and said, I want to talk to a lawyer.

      Raj nodded as if this was what he had expected. He turned and walked out of the room.

      The deadbolt snapped shut behind him.

      * * *

      The minutes ticked by. Elaine was frozen in the chair, so scared she could not find the energy to move a muscle. She now understood that she and Nick were in an unimaginable amount of trouble. She had no idea how Raj knew what they had done, but there was no question that he did know and was confident about whatever supporting evidence he had.

      The question was: what he would do with them now?

      Elaine turned and looked at the door handle, remembering again the time she had been duped at the airport in Moscow. But this was no dupe, this was the real thing. She wasn’t unknowingly locked in the Aeroflot baggage handler’s break room. She was in the basement of the United States Embassy in Paris, with layers of guards and walls and fences around her—there was no escape from this government fortress.

      Now she wondered what Nick had told Raj. Her guess was that he had said nothing, that he would also assume that Raj had found out what they had done and would keep his mouth shut, probably ask for a lawyer as well.

      She sat there in the room for almost half an hour, in a high state of anxiety, before the door opened again.

      This time an armed man with a crew cut and wearing military fatigues stepped inside, motioning for Elaine to stand. He grabbed her firmly by the arm and marched her out into the hallway. She glimpsed another man ahead of them who had a hold of Nick’s arm.

      Where are we going? Elaine said, her voice wavering with fear.

      She received no reply.

      * * *

      Elaine and Nick were escorted to an underground parking garage and hustled into the back of what appeared to be an unmarked SWAT team van. They were seated side-by-side, on a padded bench. Their handcuffs still behind their backs, the guard locked their wrists to a metal bar that ran along the vehicle’s walls.

      Elaine could tell Nick was thinking of trying to escape, of kicking the man in the stomach or the head, but there was another soldier standing outside the open doors, a pistol leveled at them.

      The man with the pistol stepped around to the front, opened the driver’s door, and climbed behind the wheel. There was a heavy metal screen separating him from the back. The other soldier pulled the back doors shut, locked them, and sat down opposite Nick, expressionless.

      The van rolled out of the garage and up to a gate that led out to the street.

      Where are we going? Nick said.

      The question was ignored.

      We have the right to—

      You don’t have the right to a goddam thing, the soldier snapped, barely looking at him. You’re in France and you don’t have passports, so keep your mouths shut. He looked at Elaine. Both of you.

      Elaine glanced nervously at Nick, and muttered, This has to be illegal.

      I said shut up!

      We want to talk to a lawyer, Nick said, and he turned to Elaine. Don’t say a word to anybody until we—

      The soldier leaned towards Nick, nose to nose. You want me to duct tape your mouth, prick?

      Nick didn’t respond. He could have torn the guy in half under ordinary circumstances. Elaine prayed that he could keep his cool. Thankfully, he just sat there, his jaw set, returning the man’s hard stare.

      The soldier finally leaned back against the wall of the van, touching the pistol on his hip as if to telegraph to them that he would not hesitate to use it.

      Elaine said in a calm, respectful tone, I don’t see why you can’t at least tell us where you’re taking us.

      You’re going back to the States, the driver called, glancing at them in the rearview mirror. Now shut up or we will gag both of you. We’re just following orders.

      That’s impossible, Elaine thought, with growing alarm. What would happen to Ryan and Amelia? Thank god Tony was there.

      * * *

      When the van pulled onto the A1 highway and headed north from Paris, towards Brussels, Nick had a distinct feeling they were being taken to the Chièvres Air Base in Belgium, the same NATO air force base where many of his extraction missions had originated.

      It turned out he was right. After riding two and a half hours in total silence, the van pulled up to the base’s south gate, which he knew well. He thought he even recognized the guard on duty, but there were no windows in the back of the van for the man to get a good look at them.

      We’re expected, the driver said, handing over some kind of document. The soldier who had been sitting across from them moved up behind the driver and passed his ID through a slot in the partition. Got a couple of prisoners in the back we’re flying to the States at nineteen hundred hours.

      Elaine once again heard the thumping of an inspection mirror being run underneath the chassis to check for bombs.

      If you’re extraditing us, she said loudly, where’s the paperwork? She looked at Nick. They’re breaking all kinds of international laws here.

      She was ignored.

      We can’t be taken to the States! Elaine thought, panicking. It will be days or even weeks before we’re back! What about Ryan and Amelia...?

      She took several deep breaths to calm herself, trying not to jump to conclusions. It didn’t help.

      The guard waved the vehicle through and the soldier sat back down across from Nick. They drove down a road, then across a tarmac, past several helicopters and fighter jets, and finally were directed into a large hangar. There was a military transport plane waiting for them.

      Exactly where in the States are we being taken? Elaine said as the soldier freed her wrists from the wall of the van. Can you at least tell us that?

      He looked like he was about to tell her to shut up again, but the driver said, Creech Air Force Base, Nevada.

      Elaine looked at Nick as the soldier freed his wrists, wondering if he had any idea what that meant.

      Nick shot Elaine a look that told her it would be better if she simply remained silent.

      Chapter 3

      A long twelve hours later, the plane touched down. Elaine and Nick were separated the entire time, with him near the front of the windowless transport jet, his wrists and ankles shackled to his seat, and Elaine near the back, shackled to hers the same way. They were too far apart to speak to each other. She had noticed Nick dozing during the flight. She was so keyed up and afraid she could never have dozed off, but it did make her feel a little better. If he was able to sleep then maybe he thought this was all just a mistake or a mixup, and that once they reached the air force base, it would all be sorted out.

      A new soldier was watching over them now. He sat about halfway between them and read on a tablet computer the whole time. Elaine was terribly thirsty but was given no water. When she asked to use the toilet the guard merely shook his head. Elaine’s bladder began to feel like it would burst.

      After the plane landed, it taxied for a long while and finally came to a stop, the engines winding down. When the door opened, the guard stepped towards her with a black hood in his hand.

      Hey! she screamed, as he roughly pulled it over her head.

      It’s just for the transfer, he said, and unlocked her from the seat.

      She couldn’t see a thing and had to be guided down the stairs. A helicopter was landing somewhere nearby, a dry, hot wind blowing hard as the noise increased.

      Nick? she cried, as her head was pushed down and guided under the rotors.

      I’m here, baby, he said from behind her.

      She lost one of her high heels as she climbed the stairs. My shoe! she said, but was ignored. She was sweating under the hood and felt like she couldn’t breathe.

      Once inside the chopper and secured to the seat, the guard finally took off the hood. She blew her hair out of her sweaty face, turning to look for Nick. Again, he was shackled in a seat far away from her, facing the cockpit.

      I have to go to the bathroom! she said, but the guard ignored her.

      * * *

      The chopper was in the air for more than an hour. Elaine no longer believed they were going to Creech Air Force Base, or Nevada or even the United States. She was even more scared. But the pain in her bladder, combined with hunger and thirst, almost outweighed her fear. She could not believe she was being treated like this! Not even given a glass of water.

      It was dark outside, but Elaine was too far away from the helicopter’s windows to see anything. Finally her ears started popping and she realized they were descending.

      The guard got up and threw the damn hood over her head again. She cursed him now and said she was going to sue him and the U.S. Air Force and anyone else involved in this illegal fiasco, but her threats sounded hollow, even to her.

      She was hustled into another vehicle, and the hood was finally taken off. Thank goodness Nick was still with her. Elaine looked around. They were in what appeared to be a paddy wagon, shackled to the benches. The driver’s area was completely sealed off from the back. The two soldiers who secured them were wearing black masks. They made sure the shackles were in place, then got out and shut the door.

      The vehicle started moving, with only one dim ceiling light illuminating the back.

      At least she and Nick were finally alone and could talk freely.

      What the hell is going on, Nick? she whispered, her voice tight with anxiety. Where are they taking us?

      He made a slight motion towards a camera that was mounted in the roof just behind the driver’s area. She had already seen it.

      Don’t say another word until we talk to a lawyer, Nick said clearly, as if he wanted it recorded. We’re in the United States now and we have constitutional rights.

      Did he really believe they were in the United States? Even if they were, Elaine wasn’t sure about any rights they might have right now. Raj had issued the Interpol Red Notice on Giorgio Cattoretti, under the false name, that classified him as a terrorist, and using that, he could bypass quite a few legal procedures. And if they weren’t in the States, then where the hell were they? How long would they be kept here? Would Tony be notified? Could he stay with the children that long? He had a debit card for her bank account...

      She struggled to hold her fear in check and decided it was better to play dumb about everything and do what Nick told her.

      I’ll get us out of this, he whispered under his breath.

      The van was only in transit for three or four minutes before it turned sharply, slowed, and finally came to a stop. Elaine was so desperate to use the toilet she did not think she could hold it more than another minute or two.

      She could hear the sound of a heavy garage door closing outside the van somewhere. Then, the van just sat there. The soldiers up in the front were talking to each other and speaking over a radio or walkie-talkie that kept crackling. The voices that responded were too tinny and faint to make out anything specific.

      It was stuffy inside the vehicle, but even with all the doors closed, Elaine could already tell they were somewhere in the desert. There was a little sand on the van’s floorboards—her one shoe ground against it when she moved her foot. Finally, the van rocked as the two men climbed out and came around to the rear.

      The doors were pulled open.

      With their shackles still in place, Elaine and Nick were taken out of the van by the two soldiers.

      Standing before them, in front of an open steel door, was a big man in army fatigues with a black hood over his head. His eyes, nose and mouth were visible through the holes, his thick, muscular arms crossed in front of him.

      Welcome to the Creech Air Force Base Health Spa, he said, with a crooked smile that was visible through the mask’s mouth hole. You’re going to love it here.

      * * *

      A firm hand on her arm, Elaine was guided across the concrete of the garage and through the secure steel door.

      If you lay a hand on her— Nick said from behind, but she was roughly pushed through another door and into a small room. There was another masked figure in army fatigues, this one much shorter and squatty. From the shape Elaine could tell it was a woman.

      She had no gun, but there was a black baton swinging from her waist. She unlocked Elaine’s handcuffs and handed them to the muscular man, who stepped outside and shut the door, leaving them alone.

      She began snapping on a pair of white latex gloves.

      Strip, she said bluntly.

      Elaine backed away.

      I said strip! She pointed to a basket that was sitting on a table. Put your clothes in there.

      You can’t treat me like this, Elaine said in a strained voice. I’m a Secret Service Special Agent.

      The woman narrowed her eyes, and she pointed the baton at Elaine’s nose. You’re gonna do as you’re told when you’re on my watch, lady. I don’t have time for any crap.

      Elaine swallowed hard, looking at the black nightstick. She had never felt so small and helpless in her life. She stepped out of her one high heel and then took off her suit jacket and put them both in the basket.

      Hurry up, I don’t have all day!

      Elaine removed the rest of her clothes, humiliated and seething with rage.

      * * *

      By the time Elaine was shoved into her cell, she felt utterly degraded. Elaine was handed

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