The Protea at Oakwood Park             The Gainsborough               The Stroll Home for Chuck Dodson
                   Lagos, Nigeria                                  London, England

This work of adult fiction, loosely based on characters portrayed by Russell Crowe, includes adult language and experiences; you have been warned.  No copyright infringement on the original work is intended.  Copyright Diana Walker 2007.



SOOZE
I was looking forward to working on my office project list but not this way.  Seven kidnappings at one time is too much strain for such a small firm, even one as good as ours.
 
Before the guys had even landed in Nigeria, Dee arrived at the office.
 
“Good morning,” she said softly. 
 
“Hello to you, too.  I wasn’t expecting to see you.”
 
She seemed almost shy as she stood in front of me.  “I spent the night at The Gate.  I need to run home and pick up some clothes so I decided to pop in on the way and see if you needed anything.  Ellie and I have worked out a schedule so Reags won’t be alone too long. 
 
“If you hear from Max before we do, will you let him know that Ellie and I will be trading off shifts staying with her?”
 
“Be glad to.  You look like you could use some coffee.”  One of the nice things about Dee is that once she considers you a friend, she lets you read her like an open book – the good, bad, and the ugly.  The dark circles under her eyes were obvious.  Her whole body looked tired.
 
She smiled, nodded, and walked to the coffee room, talking all the while until she was back with me.  “I was up all night.  I put together this elaborate plan on moving all the guys’ cars to their respective homes when I finally realized that it would be easier on them to cab it here from the airport when they get back.”  She shook her head and laughed at her own efforts.  We're all human, and we all tend to overanalyze when we're tired.
 
“Sooze, do you need any help around the office?  If you do, call me, and I’ll be here.  You may keep Reags and me from annoying each other too badly.”
 
“I doubt that I will, but I do appreciate the offer.  The phones are normally quiet even when everyone’s here, and I have my ‘todo’ list.
 
“Do you know if Max had a chance to tell Reags I’m her stand-in Lamaze coach?”
 
“Yep.  He did.  No offense, but I hope we don’t need you.”
 
I picked up the Lamaze book Max had given me.  I’d started my refresher course last night before falling asleep; I needed to keep reading.  My turning pages as Reags panted would not inspire confidence should she need me as coach.  My ‘todo’ list could wait a while longer; some of the items on it were over a year old.
 
“No offense taken.  If I need you, I’ll call.  I promise.”
 
 
DINO
The three of us alternately reviewed files and rested on the way to Paris.  Jet lag was not an option on this trip.  Nigerian kidnappings are known for their fast turnaround.  The only reason the hostages wouldn’t be released before we arrived was because the kidnappers had taken all the guys who could negotiate and transfer funds for the release.  No one ever said kidnappers are the brightest bulbs in the box.   
 
Max called Sollar from Paris during our layover for any updates as we were hustling to make our connecting flight.  He filled us in after he finished the call.
 
“Sloane has dispatched Timothy Moman from their Chicago office to facilitate our transaction.  He is fully authorised to make any company decision on site.  His arrival in Nigeria is two hours after ours.
 
“Terry, the emergency contacts for each man have been personally notified of their situations.”
 
We don’t talk much when we’re flying.  Aircraft cabins have ears.  The more other passengers think we’re insurance wonks off to see a client the better off we are.  As soon as the Paris to Lagos embarkation hubbub died down, all three of us dove into our files to find out as much as we could about Mr. Tim. 
 
Timothy Moman graduated from Rice University in Houston with a major in international business and a minor in petrochemical engineering; he’d moved up the ranks at Sloane quickly.  The last line on his bio told me why.  He’s the founder’s grandson.  Christ, he’ll have to be joined at the hip with us, or his policy will be called into play. 
 
 
Every fucking international airport terminal in the world looks the same on the inside.  Tan jetways to get off the plane, a maze that resembles cattle chutes to herd the passengers to Immigration, and long, slow lines once you get there.  A small man in a good suit recognized Max and waved him to the far counter.  Terry and I hustled along behind him.
 
“Christ, I almost didn’t recognize him out of uniform,” Terry whispered to me. 
 
“You’re one up on me.  I didn’t.”
 
Max reintroduced us to Col. Chikwe, and our passports were stamped quickly with our legal entry permits into Nigeria.  Chikwe made his excuses and left us to our own devices with the mandatory, “Call me should you have further requirements.”  We all saw his perfunctory statement for what it was.  “You’re on your own, Boys.  I don’t want anywhere near this nasty situation.”
 
None of us had expected or wanted a government official to hold our hands on this trip.  As corrupt as Nigeria is, we’d rather not have any governmental involvement.  Hell, we’d all been alone in this same situation on prior work.  This time all three of us were here.
 
Max drove our rental to the warehouse where he kept our in-country equipment stored.  We all dove for the weapons; we were feeling naked and vulnerable without sidearms.  Lagos is a very dangerous city in an equally dangerous country. 
 
Max's crew is good.  When he put them on notice we were inbound, they'd come to the storage shed and made sure everything we needed was available.  All three weapons were clean as a whistle, but they’d left cleaning supplies just in case we wanted to work on them more; we would.  The three radios looked to be in good condition and fired up immediately as we tested them.  We loaded up and headed for the hotel.
 
The Protea even had our rooms ready for us.
 
This is going too well.  When’s the shit gonna hit the fan?
 
 
TERRY
After quick showers, we gathered in Max’s room to compare the thoughts we’d all had on the flights.  Dino quickly swept the room for listening devices though I doubt anyone could hear us over the ancient, wheezing, rattling air conditioner; this isn’t what anyone would identify as a five-star hotel.  We could scarcely hear each other.  Max took the lead as I’d expected, motioning for Dino and I to take seats round the table that is omnipresent in all business hotel rooms.  This is his job, after all.
 
“After reading the captives’ dossiers, what is your assessment of their current state?  If Jeffery Torrence’s alcoholism is advanced, he will be in need of a drink; that will make him vulnerable.  Dalton Sessoms and Duncan Hennessey have drilled all over the world, thus they should be fatalistic about kidnappings; they have seen successful outcomes.  They should be calm as they await our intervention.”
 
I followed with, “Charles Dodson will be strong for his family though his love of the outdoors will make confinement inside, even in a shack, difficult.”
 
“Andy Lindquist has some health issues, but they aren’t serious.  Chuck Howlett has a strong religious foundation and a family in Houston; he’s lived all over the world.”  Dino nodded his judgment that Howlett would be fine before finishing his comments about his last charge.  “I’m most concerned about Han Li.  He’s the youngest and healthiest of the bunch, but this is his first job out of school.  He hasn’t developed the whiskers the others have to survive.  He’d be better off housed with one of the old hands.  I doubt he gives his guards any difficulty, though, even if he’s alone.”
 
We had matching evaluations about our clients and supporting reasons for our appraisals.  Aside from Torrence’s need for a drink, none of our clients was in dire need of anything but for freedom.  Hopefully, Jeff’s captors would recognise his need and keep him supplied with at least enough beer to prevent his going into delirium tremens and dying before we could make the exchange.
 
The rig worker interviews the Nigerian Army had obtained had been waiting on us at the Protea front desk when we arrived.  We spent the next hour reading them.  They included very little additional information on our clients’ whereabouts.  The interesting point was that only one of the kidnappers spoke during the entire take over.  He may be the only one with sufficient English to speak to us.  That made Max's strategy look even better. 
 
Max re-started the discussion.  “When we see the call schedule, we will revise our responsibilities accordingly.  The initial contact will need to be longer than our normal communication.  I would like to have a very good idea what the correct payment will be at the end of that call.  After the initial contact on the second man, I may take over all radio contact if we are agreed the same person is on the radio.”  Max wasn’t asking for ideas; his plan was in place, and until we had additional information in the morning, I considered our meeting concluded.
 
Max had one more duty to delegate.  “Dino, since none of us has met Timothy Moman yet, would you collect him from the airport?”
 
 
I rather identified with Tim Moman.  Because of his family connections, most people would assume he’d attained his position through birthright, not unlike my situation – being the general’s son-in-law – in the military.  He put me at ease quickly; he wasn’t an entitled sod.
 
He listened – and heard what we said – from the moment he walked in the door.  He’d done his homework; he’d read the interviews before he landed in Lagos.  He nodded as Max gave him the basics, the speech we give on every kidnapping – we aren’t the police; we won’t be looking to punish anyone; we’re here to free the hostages.
 
“What do you need from me?  Other than you’d rather it not be me who’s here?” 
 
Good.  Tim understood his blood tie to the company was a difficulty.
 
“We will require that you be with one of us at all times.  You will follow our every instruction immediately; they are designed for your safety.”  Max was laying down the law.  Tim didn’t seem surprised at that.
 
“I’m only here for whatever help I can give you.  One of our seasoned managers is coming in from our Edinburgh office to run the Nigerian operation for a while; he’s bringing in his rig management crew.  They’ll be on site next week at the latest.  Their first task on arrival is to beef up Sloane’s security.  Andy and the rest won’t be coming back here for a while.  If they choose to return – and I don’t have a great deal of confidence they will – we want to make it as comfortable for them as possible.  If they don’t want to return to African waters, they’ll be reassigned to our North Sea rigs.”
 
Tim looked each of us in the eye.  “Let me explain why I was sent.  From the time I could walk, my grandfather took me to drilling sites with him; he wanted me to have the hands-on drilling operations as a ground of being.  Pop told me I could learn the back office side of the oil bidness in school.  As soon as I was old enough, I worked on one of his friends’ rigs every vacation.  As a result, I can do every single job required on a drilling rig, from running cable to whipstocking.  Pop and Dad wanted me to be ready for any situation Sloane might have.  I’ve even been through an attempted rig take-over in the Gulf of Mexico.
 
“All that said, Pop and Dad taught me I’m a damn good generalist.  They also taught me to let the specialists do what they do best.  Max, you’re calling the shots.”
 
Tim Moman will be an asset on this trip.
 
 
MAXIMUS
The Protea is designed to serve visiting petroleum employees and is situated across the street from the oil pipeline terminals.  It does not provide luxury accommodations, though the facilities are adequate for our purposes.  Sloane’s offices are located next to Chevron’s Nigerian headquarters.  The Sloane building appeared a deserted shell when compared to the bustling Chevron edifice.
 
Timothy greeted his three frightened employees by name and introduced us.  Grandfather Sloane and the elder Mr. Moman had groomed their heir-apparent well. 
 
Sam Anigriz spoke for the group.  “This envelope was under the door this morning.” 
 
Timothy accepted it from him gingerly and read the scrawled note on the front aloud.  “We have no quarrel with our Nigerian brothers.  It will be best for you to leave.”  Timothy looked to me for guidance.  I nodded in agreement at the dismissal of Sloane personnel.  Once swept for listening and recording devices, this building would become our headquarters.
 
“Go home to your families.  You’ll be on full pay until this is over.  I’ll call with your return date.  Rest up because when you come back, we’ll have a lot of work to catch up.  Thank you for staying this long.”
 
Terry took the envelope from Timothy and disappeared into the conference room off the lobby. 
 
Timothy shook hands with each of the workers as they departed.  Tim’s added hand on Sam’s shoulder and a sincere, heart-felt “Thank you” appeared to comfort the man.
 
Timothy locked the door and turned to us.  “Sam taught me everything I know about Nigerian culture and politics.  I lived with his family for a month.”
 
“We will make this building our base.  Timothy, is there a more discreet entrance where supplies can be unloaded with minimal observation?” 
 
He pointed to the back.  “There’s a loading dock behind the warehouse.”
 
Terry reappeared in the doorway.  “This is the call schedule and frequencies.  The first one is in thirty minutes.  They want to talk about Li first.”
 
They have chosen to begin with a small ransom.  Should they succeed in establishing a high threshold with Mr. Li, they can expect higher rewards with the others.  They will be disappointed should that be their goal.
 
 
The warehouse echoed with our footsteps.  We had driven our rental vehicle inside the building itself, unloaded our laptops and a single radio at present, and connected it in the conference room.  The aggressive call schedule mandated we could do nothing further to organise our materiel until after the second call.
 
The radio crackled to life.  “Sloane Petroleum?”  The voice was clearly Nigerian.
 
Dino answered, dialling in a clearer reception.  “This is Sloane.”
 
“I believe I have someone of interest to you.”  Terry began the profile development on this negotiator.
 
“You very well might.  Let me talk to him.”  We had settled on voice recognition as our preferred proof of life when Timothy assured us he could silently assist in this quicker guarantee our charges were safe.
 
“What makes you believe Mr. Han Li is with me?”
 
“You’re a smart guy.  You want your money as quickly as you can get it.  It makes sense for you to keep the captives close.”
 
“Is Nigeria’s reputation so widely known?”
 
“Yeah, it is.  The only way you profit is to move this along.”
 
A soft, stilted voice spoke.  “Hello?  This is Han Li.  I am fine.  I am being well treated for the moment.  I have been fed.”  We heard shuffling and muffled voices.  Transmission interruptions are always a problem when a frightened hostage is asked to read a message in handwriting unknown to him.  They often stumble over words or cannot decipher the writing at all.  Terry made note.
 
“Don’t make this hard on me.  Please pay the ransom quickly.”  The voice stopped.  Timothy nodded vigorously in recognition of Li’s voice.
 
The Nigerian voice returned.  “When will you have the money for Mr. Li’s release available for us?”  There was no mention of the amount, only the supreme confidence we would pay and quickly.  Neither Terry or Dino registered surprise; they were intent on hearing every nuance as was I.
 
Dino will be required to manoeuvre our contact into discussing the amount.  “I can have your money wired into your account in five minutes, Buddy.” 
 
The male voice laughed.  “We do not wish our one million American dollars in a corrupt bank.  With the fees, service charges, and bribes required to get it into our hands, we would be fortunate to finish with one hundred thousand.” 
 
“I can deliver fifty thousand in American bills if you’ll tell me where to meet you and Han.”
 
“You must be the red-headed one.  Your voice does not have the timbre to come from the barrel-chested men.  Shall I call you Red?”
 
“That’s fine if it will send Han home soon, though I’d rather our work be finished before you and I get to a first name basis.”
 
“When you offer me only fifty thousand, I fear you and I may become quite close before we can conclude our business.  I will call again this evening.  Consider a better offer.”
 
The radio went silent. 
 
Dino leapt from where he sat and began pacing quickly.  His natural hyperactivity had been held in check too long.  “Jesus, we know they have someone on the inside here.  Now they have someone watching us, too?”
 
Tim continued to sit silently as he had been instructed. 
 
Terry began reading from his profile.  “Let’s refer to this bloke as ‘Buddy’ though from the cadence of his accent, the Nigerian version of ‘Joe’ would be better suited.  He could be anyone who lives here, but from the precision of his diction and the fact that he speaks English, he clearly has some education; I didn’t hear a hint of any other language influence.  His word choices would indicate at least some secondary education.
 
“They’re holding Han at the same place they’re broadcasting.  We know Buddy has at least nine men working with him – probably more since someone’s watching us. 
 
“Buddy’s confident we’ll deliver the money.  He’s relaxed enough to laugh.  He was calm throughout the call.  He told Dino the amount he wants for Han but didn’t ask for it outright.”
 
Dino agreed with Terry’s observations.  “I had my ear on the speaker – couldn’t even hear him breathe.”  He stopped.  “The fucker was smoking while he talked to me!  I heard the snick of his lighter.”  Terry added to his profile.
 
Timothy had a contribution.  “Han was nowhere near Buddy when he lit up.  Han’s allergic to tobacco smoke and immediately starts coughing whenever he’s around it.”
 
Dino flipped through the Li dossier.  “Good point.  Based on that, Han came in, spoke his piece, and left.  I didn’t hear the lighter until Buddy asked when he could have his money.”
 
I also agreed with Terry’s observations.  “He observes human nature.  He was able to connect Dino’s physical attributes with his voice.
 
“There is another possibility to consider.  Mr. Li was never with Buddy.  There was a radio tuned to our frequency at the place Mr. Li is held, and he spoke from there.”
 
 
TERRY
“It doesn’t really matter where the hostages are physically as long as we can get a proof of life on them.  These bastards aren’t known for killing their captives; they only want the money.”  Max’s nod said he took my comment as it was intended – another way to view our circumstances.
 
Timmie’s knowledge of the geography added to our discussion.  “The swamps down in the Delta lend themselves to small encampments.  There isn’t enough dry land to build a camp to hold more than five people, but they could have several close together, and the hostages would never know the others are around.  The undergrowth is thick.  Sam’s family is from that area.”
 
His information would be helpful if we had to go in for our charges, but in reality, that probably wouldn’t be necessary.  I could see Dino and Max filing the geography away for future reference.
 
Our opponents are smart operators with good information.  Dino set the minimum expectation; when I was finished with the initial call on Dodson, we’d know what their top price would be.  It’s up to me to keep their hopes to a manageable number.
 
Max had started talking to Tim about Sam Anigriz when we heard the ‘thump’ on the front door.  Dino went from walking off his adrenaline to having his weapon drawn and in a defensive posture at the window in a heartbeat.  Max had Tim behind a chair and covered.  I dropped flat, and anything or anyone who came through the conference room’s only door would have to go through me.  We heard busy harbour sounds, the expected noise from outside the Chevron building next door, and automotive horns – nothing else.
 
I crawled to the door and looked into the lobby toward the locked front door.  We had a delivery.
 
 
Irish and I reviewed the tape with seven proofs of life on it whilst Max dusted off our observer and gently explained that in Sloane’s security improvements, Sam Anigriz would require some scrutiny.  Sooze’s warning about accounting having access to the policy information, Sam’s family in the Delta – those were arrows pointing to Tim’s mentor as being somehow involved, even though it might be without his knowledge. 
 
Tim took it well.  Our employer trusted us as much as he did his own instincts.
 
Each man on the tape was standing in front of a nondescript tan sheet; they could have been in a photographer’s studio anywhere in the world for a formal portrait.  The camera was positioned so no ground was showing – no joy there.  Each man used many of the same words.  Where Han said he was being fed, Chuck talked about his back hurting from having slept on the floor for two nights.  Jeff seemed dulled, and his hands shook; he was missing his drinks.
 
After the third time through, Dino stopped the tape.  “No birds, Man.  No bird sounds.  Swamps always have birds.  No insects either.  No noise at all, not even from the fucking recorder.  Their equipment is new, and they’re not in the swamps.”
 
“Chuck said he slept on the floor, not the ground.  Doesn’t that sound like a building to you?”
 
Dino grinned.  “Think you can use that on the Dodson call?”
 
“If I can’t, you can on structuring the exchange.”
 
“Oh, yeah, Buddy.”
 
 
We didn’t have enough time to move any equipment before I had to change frequencies for the initial contact about Chuck.  Max sat close to Tim; Dino was detailed to develop this negotiator’s profile; and we were all clustered round the radio.        
 
The radio crackled to life.  “Sloane Petroleum?”  A Nigerian accented voice spoke.  It sounded the same, but I needed more than two words. 
 
I answered.  “Sloane, here.”
 
“I believe I have someone of interest to you.”  Christ, couldn’t this arsehole develop a different script for each negotiation?  Dino didn’t bother developing a new profile.  He sat back in his chair with his shit-eating smile on his face.  He’s convinced this is Buddy.
 
“I’m interested in Charles Dodson.  Put him on.”  That shook him a bit.
 
“Did you not see the video?” 
 
“Yes, I did.  I want to ask him about his back.”
 
“The video should be enough.”
 
“I have no idea when you and your friends made it, Mate.  A lot can happen in a few hours.”  Max nodded.  We’re agreed; this is Buddy.  I handed the mic to Max; he declined the offer to wrap this up.  Time to wind Buddy up a bit.
 
“For example, in a few hours you could receive a radio call that would make you a very wealthy man.  That transmission could also contain your instructions on where to deliver the hostages – all of them, in good condition – and receive your money.  Or not.  You interested, Mate?”
 
“Are you proposing I accept an offer I’ve not heard, and YOU control the release?”
 
“Wouldn’t dream of asking you to agree to a number you haven’t heard.  No more than I would.  I can guarantee when we talk on this frequency at 1500, you’ll like what you hear.  You’ll even think the transfer point is fine.”
 
“You’re very cocky, Oz.”
 
“It’s only cocky if I can’t back it up.  I can.”  Max was drawing his right thumb across his neck in a downward motion – the old Roman emperor's sign for the kill – and Dino was making a scissors motion.  Time to wrap this up.
 
“I’ll accept the video as proof of Dodson’s well being for the moment, and you’ll take the radio at 1500.  Agreed?”
 
“I will be waiting with baited breath.”
 
 
MAXIMUS
“You don’t fuck with Thorne, Espan, and O’Reilly!”
 
“Sorry, Max, the groove started, and it felt good.”
 
“Stuff of legends, AGAIN!  Are we good or what?”
 
Dino and Terry were too busy to explain the intricacies of what had just happened to Timothy who sat beside me, stupefied at the crescendo of noise that had erupted and confused as to the reason for it. 
 
Each negotiating session is draining in its own way, and we each react to its closure differently.  Dino had bounced round the room.  Terry’s reaction was far different and more controlled.  He leant back in his chair, rubbed his neck, and ran his hands through his hair.  Dino was more physical in his release of tension, yet it seemed to me that Terry was more drained.
 
Dino bounded over to me and beat on my back.  “Welcome to the Legends Club, Max.”
 
“I accept the membership with gratitude.  Mine was but the idea.  Terry’s jovial nature assured its success.”
 
“Max, do we have a deal?  Are my guys going home?”
 
“We have an agreement to make a deal.  Many things can happen before we see your men again.  It is most unusual for kidnappers to relinquish control of the contacts.  Once we determined our counterpart’s level of skill and his intentions, Terry was able to entertain him with a different approach.”
 
My partners and I spent the next hour debating the correct dollar amount to offer Buddy, an amount we hoped would be sufficient to convince him of its worth and draw our negotiations to a close.
 
Dino and Terry began the logistics of recovering our hostages.  Dino had settled into a chair though his leg remained in motion.  “I’ll get the plane here.”
 
Timothy had a better plan.  “No need.  I brought the company’s Gulf.  We’ll be a little crowded, but we can make it work.  I couldn’t get a commercial flight, and I didn’t want you here without a company representative.”
 
Dino was suitably impressed.  “Alrighty, then.  I’ll cancel our plane.  Have yours ready to go with a two-hour notice.  Until the guys are in our hands, your pilot knows nothing but he needs to put wheels up fast when he gets the call.  I don’t want anyone but us in on the exchange, and the airport ramp workers will talk to the military.  Have him work his pilot magic on getting the flight plan to ….” Dino looked to me for our destination.

“London.  Connecting flights are plentiful, and it is the closest English speaking country.”
 
Dino finished his sentence seamlessly.  “Filed at the last possible moment.”
 
Terry had his own self-assigned duties.  “I’ll scout for a new transfer site.  Be sure there aren’t any nasty surprises we didn’t see last night.  When I get back, I’ll give the families a discreet update.”
 
 
TERRY
I’d lost our watcher after I’d gotten a good view of both the man and the car he drove.  That left my search for the hostage transfer point unencumbered.
 
The open area behind TEO’s Lagos warehouse where we'd retrieved our equipment upon arrival in-country was ideal.  It’s hidden from the main street so no curious eyes would see our meeting.  The neighbouring manufacturing plants have extra supplies stacked outside providing flanking cover for both sides.  There were two roads leading to the area, and several empty lots we could use for alternate escape routes.  It’s five minutes from the airport for additional back up if we should need it; the airport has an armed soldier posted every fifty feet and roving patrols.  I couldn’t have designed a more promising location for a hostage exchange.

The only problem is we can't use it for the exchange.  Since we’re being watched, Buddy knows we know this area well. 
 
I drove up and down the streets and found the sister location to our warehouse including noting the presence of an open field behind it.  Developers are predictable the world over; they’ll use the same building plans again.  It’s cheaper and easier to find tenants to use buildings ‘as is’ than build to specification. 
 
The two alleys on either side of the building are narrow but still wide enough to fit Sloane’s van, and there is a third road leading to a major thoroughfare.  The flanking cover was not as substantial, but we’ve survived with less. 
 
I finished drawing my map for our use, noted the address to convey to Buddy, and drove back to Sloane’s, still unaccompanied.  I was gone less than an hour.
 
 
Dino, Tim, and Max had been busy in my absence.  Max had the finances arranged and available to us.  Dino and Tim had all the preliminary work finished on our transportation, including passports and exit visas. 
 
“Man, once we had the replacement passports in hand, Max found an amenable Immigration official who, for a price, pre-authorized our exit.  We're good to go.”
 
“And I've found an equally acceptable hand off point for us to use.  Here's the map.  Why don't you take a look at it whilst I make my phone calls?  Dino?  Have you swept an office?” 
 
He nodded.  “Sam Anigriz.  His name's on the door.  Didn't find anything.  The whole building's clean.  The information they got came from a human on the inside.”
 
I felt sorry for Sloane Petroleum.  In the petroleum industry, they’re a small firm in employment, but big enough in production to be noticed.  I’d grown to respect Timothy Moman in the short time I've been with him.  Sloane would be fine in his hands once he became President.  He knew each of his employees personally, yet he knew the health of Sloane Petroleum was more important than any individual employee. 
 
“Tim, would you like to sit with me and say a few words to the families?”
 
“I would.  I need to do a quality check on Brent Sollar.  He might be a frat brother, but he's gone to that well once too often.”
 
I briefed Tim on what I would tell the wives and families waiting at home for news and what parameters he had for his convo as we walked to our commandeered telephone room.  I didn't want him inadvertently disclosing our intentions.
 
Dal, Dunc, and Jeff had notes in their files about where they were to be buried in the Emergency Contact space.  The front line oil management life was as hard on relationships as K&R.
 
Our first call was to Sweden.  Andy Lindquist's wife, Audrey, couldn't be arsed to fly to meet her husband; she'd stay in Uppsala to revel in her social circle's sympathy.  I had a picture of a tall blonde wrapped in white fox fur, wailing her grief whilst discreetly checking her impact on the other society matrons round her. 
 
Tim finished his convo with Audrey.  “Mrs. Lindquist, if you need anything, you have Brent Sollar's phone number.  Call him day or night.”  Once he rang off, pushed the disconnect button a second time, and waited ten seconds, he spoke again.  “Andy's such a nice guy.  I don't know how he let himself be saddled with such a social climber.”
 
I could only smile.
 
Our next call was to Hong Kong, to Han Li’s parents.  His mother and grandmother were about to leave for the airport; they were flying in to be in London when Han arrived.  Even though I doubted we would leave Nigeria before tomorrow, they’ll barely reach the Gainsborough before Han. 
 
Arlene Howlett in Houston was our last call.  “Mrs. Howlett, this is Terry Thorne.  I’m calling from Nigeria with Tim Moman.”
 
“Call me Len.  I wasn't expecting to hear from y'all for a while.  Let me get the kids outside to play.”  We could hear a good natured commotion as the high-pitched voices and giggles of small children faded into the distance.  “That's better.  Our daughters brought the kids over to keep me company. 
 
“What can you tell me?”
 
“We've had contact with your husband's kidnappers, and I've seen him on video.  He looks well – a few bumps and bruises but nothing serious.”
 
Arlene laughed.  “Cliff might have had those before; that man trips over throw rugs.”  We could hear a warm love in her voice.  “We've been married forty years.  Lord knows, I know the man.  Have you talked to them yet?”
 
“The kidnappers?”
 
“Of course.  Those snakes wouldn't let you talk to Cliff direct.”
 
“Yes, we have.  The negotiations are progressing.”
 
“Well, good.  When Mr. Sollar called, I couldn't decide if I should try to get to London or not.”  Tim's face closed, and I believe that was the moment Mr. Sollar's fate was sealed.  No doubt TEO will have a new contact at Sloane Petroleum when we return to the States.
 
She seemed to be unable to decide, not an unexpected occurrence when her world has been turned arse over teakettle.  “You could leave as late as mid-afternoon and still have a good nap.” 
 
Arlene Howlett was a deceptive Southern lady.  She hadn't been dithering.  I'd been her sounding board.  “Well, if it's all the same to you, I think I'll stay in our own little house, and wait here.  I just appointed myself the Phone Chairman for the Houston contingent.  When you see Dalton, Dunc, and Jeff, tell them their exes send their regards, and that the girls actually meant it.”  Arlene laughed.
 
“Arlene?  Timmy here.”  That was the first time I'd seen an oil executive blush.  “Call me anytime.  My cell is 888.555.7041.  Anytime, you hear?”
 
“I hear you, Sugar.  You take care of yourself.”
 
I ended the call with, “We'll call when we have anything new to report.  Can't have one of our communications experts out of the loop.  Bye, Len.”
 
Tim was slightly less red when he spoke to me.  “Pop farmed me out to the Howletts a couple of times.  He wanted me to understand how hard our life is on relationships.  Arlene made sure I saw a good marriage to balance the divorces so common in this industry.  The Howlett girls taught me how oil patch kids cope.”
 
I think I'd like to meet Pop and tell him what a good job he'd done preparing his grandson.
 
 
DINO
Time to get serious about the next radio call.  Since Buddy has already talked to both Terry and me, realistically it should be one of us to make him the history making offer, but this is Max’s gig, so the final actions rightfully belong to him.  The practicality of the matter is Buddy seems to be very comfortable with Terry, and Buddy expected to hear Terry’s voice.  Any other and he’d boogie.  Kidnappers don’t like having surprises on our end.  Terry’d already sprung one on him; we couldn’t afford another one.
 
This kidnapping had every mark of being a sophisticated ring.  The sheer numbers of hostages required a lot of planning; one or two prisoners and you can tie ‘em up, stick ‘em in a spare bedroom, and bring in food.  Seven takes some forethought.  This ain’t Buddy’s first rodeo.
 
He tried all the traditional approaches – being condescending to me to gain the upper hand, displaying his certainty that we would provide the money, dropping hints as to how much he was expecting to make without coming out and asking for it.  The proofs of life were slick, too.  Let us hear an actual voice and follow-up with the vid.  Damn good thing this isn’t TEO’s first rodeo either.
 
One of the first things you learn in negotiations is whoever talks money first, loses.  I doubt Buddy even understands that he talked money first.  Sure, I was the first one to mention a number, but I coulda just as easily substituted the word ‘spaghetti’ instead of fifty thousand.  Buddy told me he wanted a million but would settle for more than $100k. 
 
Terry came up with the plan for the radio call.  He’d get Buddy on the horn and introduce the money man, Max.  He’d push for the earliest possible release time, but realistically, that would be first thing tomorrow.  That gave the bad guys time today to scout the drop, but Maxie and I would as well.  I liked dawn a lot; we could take up our positions in darkness and be ready for their arrival.
 
 
Terry and Max sat in front of the radio.  It’s my turn to babysit Tim.  He’s been a good boy so far, but I was ready to muzzle him if necessary. 
 
“Oz at Sloane Petroleum calling Buddy.”  You’d think Tio’s back in the SAS with his radio procedure.
 
“This is Buddy.  Have you had a busy day?”
 
“No busier than usual.  Saw a bit of the city.  Made some calls.  Relaxed with me mates.  I had a nicely balanced day.”
 
The SOB laughed.  “I like you, Oz.  You haven’t worked today.”
 
“It’s not my day to work.  It’s Money Man’s day.  Let me put him on; you’re probably anxious to move along.”
 
Buddy seemed to like Terry’s chitchat; Max’s more formal nature will keep him off-balance but hopefully not enough to queer the deal.
 
“Buddy, I have the information that interested you.”  Nice.  Max had his command voice.
 
“We are willing to offer you six million dollars US for the men you hold.”  Shit!  That’s two hundred thousand less than we agreed he’d start with.  We capped the offer at six five.
 
“How much of that is for Mr. Li?”
 
“That amount is for all seven.  I do not have a breakdown for each individual.”
 
“Seven men, seven million.  I rather like the symmetry.”  That further convinced me Buddy’s an old hand at this.  It’s in our blood.  We have to negotiate. 
 
“I believe a side proposal is perhaps in order.  Six million American dollars visible with an additional $250,000 in a Swiss bank account that only you will know.  I will pass the pertinent information to you when we shake hands in the morning.”
 
Buddy said nothing for the longest time; Max let him stew in his juices.  Silence is a dandy negotiating tool.  I looked at the kid with my index finger over my mouth; if he even moved right now, I’d kill him with my bare hands.  No noise.
 
Buddy cleared his throat.  The guy was going for it!  “I have your guarantee no one else knows of this arrangement?”
 
“My partners, of course.  Other than they, no one.”  There’s a trust that builds when talking to another once, twice a week over months.  That confidence in each other is what closes a successful negotiation.  We’d established that certainty with Buddy in three brief calls. 
 
“I find your offer acceptable.”  Tio and I broke into grins from ear to ear.
 
The General is always slick, but this time he was slicker ‘n snot on a door knob.  He continued with the details of the exchange before Buddy had a chance to reconsider.  He finished with the traditional ending. 
 
“We have a deal.” 
 
“We have a deal.”
 
“May I offer a suggestion?  One of the hostages, Jeffery Torrence, is an alcoholic.  His body requires alcohol daily.  His tremors were visible this morning.”
 
“We’ll see to it.  He’ll also be less likely to cause trouble during his transfer.”
 
“Sloane out.”
 
Only one more day for the shit to hit the fan, but if it did, we’d handle it.  We’d recovered the half-beat we’d lost during the power play.
 
 
TIMOTHY MOMAN
I can see why Pop insisted on these guys being our negotiators on our kidnap insurance.  They’re three different men acting as one.  They slide in and out of roles seamlessly.  When the video package arrived so unceremoniously this morning, they moved as one into three different places.  Dino covered the whole room from his position, and Terry was like another door into the conference room.  I think Max would have died protecting me. 
 
They also each have the human touch Sloane requires.  Terry didn’t chime in when I baited him about Mrs. Lindquist and her pretentions.  Poor woman has to find her acknowledgment somewhere.  Even when he’s home, Andy doesn’t pay any attention to her.  Theirs is a marriage in name only.  Dino scared the Hell out of me when Max was on the radio.  I think he’d have ripped out my vocal cords bare handed if I’d made a noise.  Max’s concern for Jeff’s alcoholism touched me.  Keeping his alcohol level even until he gets back to the States is the right course, but I swear to God, Jeff is going to Hazelden as soon as we get home.
 
 
The plane was on stand-by.  The pilots were sleeping on board tonight.  They’d heard rumors in the pilots’ lounge about fuel thefts from onboard tanks.  They didn’t want to run out of fuel over the Med and didn’t want to call attention to the aircraft by refueling again. 
 
Max gave me my orders.  “Tim, you are with Terry tomorrow.  Do you see this set of platforms?”  Max pointed to a place beside a building on the map.  “You will take cover there.”  Nice euphemism for ‘cowering like a mouse.’ 
 
Terry took over the instructions.  The warmth in his voice made me feel slightly better about adding to their work.  “Leave me some room.  If we go loud, that’s my cover as well.”  
 
“Your job is to get all your men into the van as fast as you can.”  I had my assignment.
 
 
We rolled out of bed at three even though I know the three of them had been up until one going over the plans.  Max wanted Terry, Dino, and me in place no later than four.  The rendezvous was at six.
 
Dino had taken up his post on the far side of the building from Terry and me.  Terry ushered me into my hidey-hole and stood watching the road.  I heard Terry say, “Alpha One.  Four-by-four.”  Their radio check was complete.
 
It seemed like Dino and Terry had the entire field covered from where they stood at the corners of the building, and they could see the alleys as well.  Terry handled his rifle very naturally; Dino seemed to be getting used to his. 
 
Terry chuckled slightly.  “Dino hates AK’s.”
 
It was barely light enough to see.  In the gloom, we heard the sound of a truck’s engine long before the lights shone down the alley beside Terry.  He flicked on the flashlight he carried and circled the light then pointed it towards the back of the building.  The truck drove slowly past us, pulled to the center of the field, and stopped.
 
A well dressed black man stepped from the truck cab.  Max walked slowly towards him.  They exchanged a few words and shook hands.  Buddy never looked at his hand, simply put his own into his pants pocket, and walked with Max to where two foot lockers sat.
 
He opened one, nodded, and motioned for someone to approach.  Four guys appeared from under the truck’s tarp, slung their rifles over their shoulders, and walked to where Max and Buddy stood.  Terry tensed appreciably.
 
More figures left the back of the truck, looking around, as if wondering where to go.  They saw the van with the Sloane logo on the side and began hurrying towards it.  Dal pointed Han to the van; Cliff was helping Chuck along.  Dunc had his arm under Jeff’s shoulders, supporting his weight and had hold of his belt, half dragging Jeff.  Andy walked backwards, watching the area, bringing up the rear.  How I feel about the way Andy treats his wife doesn’t matter; he does right by his employees
 
“Now, Tim.”  Terry had his eyes focused on the truck; both he and Dino held their guns easily across their bodies.  Dino’s earlier discomfort with his was not evident now. 
 
I shoved the first two into the farthest seat at the back of the van and started filling the seats towards the front.  As soon as I counted the seventh body go past me I crawled to the van’s far side and said, “Buckle up,” to anyone who was listening.  Most of them already had and were helping the ones who were too stunned to move.  Terry sat on the step within the van but with the side door open, his AK still at the ready.
 
I looked up to see Chuck Dodson staring down at me on the floor.  “Welcome back.  If the ride gets wild, it’ll be me hanging onto your legs.”  Chuck has always had a ready laugh, and he began softly. 
 
I have no idea when or how Max and Dino got to us; the next thing I knew about them was that Max was in the driver’s seat, and Dino was almost literally riding shotgun.  Max started the van and circled the back of the truck slowly, giving Terry a free shot if he needed it.  He didn’t.  When we reached the alley beside the building, Terry accordioned himself into an impossibly tight ball and slammed the side door shut.  As soon as Max left the driveway, he sped up to match the flow of traffic.
 
Dino produced a flask from his jacket and passed it to Jeff without taking his eyes from his scan.  “Here you go.  Take the edge off.”
 
Chuck started the bedlam.  “You’ll never believe who’s at my feet!  Tim!”
 
Someone from the back yelled, “The Kid’s here?”
 
“We must’ve been in more trouble than we knew.”  Once the laughter and talking started not even Max could’ve stopped it.
 
We were on the plane before Jake had the flight plan filed.
 
 
TERRY
We looked like a bunch of tired, dirty oil field workers in town for a break.  The Gainsborough had our rooms ready and clean clothes for everyone.  Han didn’t have a chance to enjoy either for a bit.  Mum and Grandmum were waiting in the lobby.
 
Chuck Dodson didn’t even go in; he and I walked down the row of Georgian townhomes to 25 Queensberry Place. 
 
I raised the brass knocker, let it drop, and stepped back, off the small porch.  Chuck had one little blonde headed girl wrapped round each leg, and Peggy stood between them as soon as the door opened.
 
Her mouthed ‘Thank you’ was plenty for me.  It was a nice stroll back to the hotel.
 
 
“G’day, Lady.  I’m coming home.”  She might be awake.
 
“Of course you are.”  Then again she might not.  I could almost hear Holly Girl smacking her jowls in her attempt to waken.
 
“Diana.  Talk to me.  It’s Terry.”
 
“I know it’s you.  I can smell your pillow.”   She might be awake, but she’s not alert.
 
“Good dream?”
 
“Um hum.  It’s almost like you’re here.”  Her face is soft, and the outside of her mouth begins to lift in a sleepy smile.
 
“Time to wake up.  I’ve only an hour before my flight boards.”
 
I hear Okie’s growl.  I can see the little bugger bouncing onto the floor as her haste to sit up moves him off the bed; his displacement warms my heart.
 
“Boomer.  Is it really you?  I thought I was talking to you in my dream.  I thought your pillow was you.”  She’s reached alert mode.
 
“Yes, Lady.  It’s really me.  Put down the pillow and concentrate on the phone.  I’ll be home tonight.”
 
“That was fast!  I didn’t even have time to miss you.  Are you all right?”
 
“I’m fine.”  I’ll let her work her magic on my pulled hamstring tonight.
 
“You weren’t gone long enough to call.  You’re where?”
 
“Gatwick.  In the Departure Lounge.”
 
“Gatwick’s in London, right.”  She knows perfectly well Gatwick’s in London.
 
“Would you like for me to ring back when you’ve had some coffee and have the cobwebs out of your brain?”
 
“NO!  Don’t you dare hang up this phone!  Talk to me!  Read me the signs around you.  I don’t care what you say, just let me hear your voice.”
 
“Taxi stand.  Amenities.  News Vendor.  Admiral’s Club this way.  Luggage trolley.  Gate 12 and there’s an arrow.”  Her laughter bubbles out.
 
“Not the arrow I’m interested in.”
 
“Stop that.  I’m in public.”
 
“Spoil sport.  All right, I’ll stop with the phone sex preliminaries then.  Have you called Henry?”
 
I should have suspected that question was coming once she got her wits about her.  “No, and I won’t.  I’ve squeezed time for him around other obligations in the past.  I’ll not do it to him again.  I don’t really know where he is at the moment.”
 
“So you’re not calling him because of altruistic reasons?”
 
“I’m not sure altruistic and Henry belong in the same sentence where I’m concerned.”
 
“I think they do, Boomer.  You want to spend more time with your son.  Not a quick, superficial chat in some airport waiting room.  You want to know the young man he’s become.”
 
“You summed up my deeper thoughts nicely.  You always have.  That’s one of the lovely, yet spooky, things about you.”
 
“I’m sorry.”  She loves me.  “I need to apologize.”
 
“Can it wait until I’m home?”
 
“No.  I don’t know what got into me the day you left.  I’ve thought about it for the last three days.”
 
I’m baffled.  She brought lunch, knowing we’d be too busy to go out ourselves.  She read whilst I worked; she took me to the airport.
 
“Tell me.”
 
“I kissed you good-bye at home.  There was no need for me to go to the office.  I used to be independent.  I’ve turned into a clingy girl!”
 
“You must admit, I don’t have a great track record returning from trips abroad.”  She’s laughing.  “But we do survive them.
 
“I rather like the clingy part particularly when I’m there to enjoy it.”
 
“I don’t understand why I need to be with you.”  That’s my Diana.  She’s trying to be rational about her feelings.
 
“My bright, sparkling personality?”
 
“Your grumpy, fast wake-up.”
 
“My witty repartee?”
 
“Your long, intense silences.”
 
“My boyish charm?”
 
“Your ability to fuck up my book stacks.”
 
“My kind and giving nature?”
 
“I love everything about you – even when you’re annoying the hell out of me.”
 
“Is loving me such a bad thing, Diana?”  I’m supremely self-confident about everything in my life but for her.  Diana is my weak spot. 
 
“No, loving you is possibly the best thing I’ve ever done.”  In one sentence she’s soothed away my greatest fear.  “It frustrates me that I don’t understand it.”
 
“Try not thinking about us for a while.  We’re fine as we are.”
 
She laughed.  “Seems like I’ve heard that before.”
 
 
ELLEN
I didn’t get to the phone before the answering machine picked up, and then he was gone.  I replayed the message half-a-dozen times.
 
“Hey, Sweet Pea.  It’s over, and I’ll be home tonight.”
 
 
REAGAN
I answered the phone on the second ring; his voice was like warm honey in my ear.  He’d called every night whilst he was gone, but this was the one I’d been waiting for.
 
“Cara, I am coming home to you.”
 
      
 
 
NOTES

The Gate	Shorthand for Elysium’s Gate, Max and Reagan’s farm.
Todo	A list showing things to do.  A sister invented word not used in this story is 'Roundtuit.'  It stems from the statement “I'll do it when I get around to it.”
Delerium tremens	AKA, “DTs.”  Sudden withdrawal from alcohol can actually kill a chronic alcoholic.  Alcohol is the ONLY addictive drug that can kill if its use is terminated suddenly.  For that reason, alcoholics are sent to a rehab facility to detox, i.e., gradually decrease their physical dependence through use of drugs (such as Librium – the preferred drug) that are cross-tolerant with alcohol until the body can function without either substance.
Oil bidness	Texans are notorious for saying 'bidness' rather than using the correct word, i.e., ‘business.’ Texas has men in the “oil bidness,” “the cattle bidness,” “the plumbing bidness,” “insurance bidness,” and “the cotton bidness” among others.
Whipstocking	Oil workers’ trade vernacular for directional drilling.
Hazelden	A rehabilitation center for substance abusers.  Clients who complete their program have higher than average success rates at staying clean and sober.