Free Hellfire by Chris Ryan

I’ve a lot of confidence in him.’
    The chief sniffed, but didn’t reply.
    ‘You need to know that the PM is spitting feathers about this Nigerian situation,’ Gorman continued. ‘You have to give him some good news, and soon.’
    ‘There’s none to give. I’m sorry, Tessa, I know the guy’s probably a friend of yours, but if Boko Haram have him, the chances of him turning up alive are almost zero.’
    ‘If that happens it will look like a failure on our part,’ Gorman said. ‘And on yours, of course.’
    The chief gave her a serious look. ‘Blame can always be reapportioned,’ he said. ‘The Regiment are in-country. If they fail to find the hostages, it can always be put down to incompetence on their part. Hereford never answers back in public. They can take a hit now and then.’
    Gorman allowed herself a smile. ‘If you say so,’ she said. ‘If you say so.’

Five
     
    ‘For the record,’ Tony said, ‘I still think this is a shit idea. We don’t even know the hostages are definitely in the backwater we’re headed to. You agree with me, right, Ripley?’
    There had been no let-up in the rain. As the unit climbed into the vehicle, they were dripping wet, and the interior filled with condensation as soon as Caitlin pulled away from the High Commission building. A roll of thunder cracked overhead, accompanied by a flash of lightning that lit up the stern profiles of the four soldiers in the vehicle, just for a second.
    Danny had the passenger seat. He unfolded a detailed military map. Chikunda was circled with a black marker pen. He ignored Tony’s comment, and was quietly relieved that Ripley had done the same. Tony was proving as difficult to manage as Danny had feared. And it was true that their intel was weak, but it was all they had. ‘A1 north out of Lagos,’ he said.
    Caitlin nodded. ‘I know it.’
    ‘Where did you get all this local knowledge?’ Ripley asked from the back.
    ‘I was stationed in the Aussie embassy here for two years.’
    ‘Worst two years of your life, right?’
    ‘Not at all. I loved it.’ She paused. ‘I had a Nigerian husband.’
    ‘Had?’ Danny asked.
    Caitlin nodded. ‘The police took exception to him having a white wife. That’s how I know what goes on in the basement of the police building. He never made it out.’ She said it without any emotion. Danny found himself making a small mental adjustment about this woman. She must hate the police – really hate them – but she’d been willing to use their reputation to break Ntoga. She was a good asset. Ruthless, but good.
    ‘Do you really know the Inspector General of police?’
    ‘We haven’t been introduced.’
    ‘So why do you have his number in your phone?’
    Caitlin looked straight ahead. ‘Because one of these days,’ she said, ‘he and I are going to have a little chat about what he did to my husband.’
    ‘Why do I have the idea,’ Ripley muttered, ‘that he’ll end that conversation with a face like a busted arsehole?’
    No reply. The conversation died.
    The Lagos traffic was nose-to-tail, the air thick with the stench of exhaust fumes and the aggressive sound of car horns. But Caitlin evidently knew the roads well, and within twenty minutes she had negotiated their way out of the busy metropolis. Through his window, Danny had caught sight of the city behind them. In the dark, the glowing high-rises looked very modern. It would be easy to forget the slums that surrounded the city, and the tumbledown shacks that housed half the population. And just beyond the illuminated buildings he could make out the coast – not that he could see much of it through the dark and the rain. Just the vague impression of lights on the ships out at sea. Lagos was a busy port, and as they headed away from the interior, it felt like they were leaving civilisation.
    The road was bad as they headed north. Caitlin did what she could to avoid the many potholes that riddled the highway, but it was impossible to