“How bad is the rebel problem?” Bolan asked.
“Becoming worse,” McReady replied. “They’re stepping up intimidation. A lot of it is out of the city and towns, away from the regular law-enforcement areas. Tempala only has a small military presence, and they’re spread pretty thin. So the rebels make use of that.”
“Sounds familiar,” Bolan said. “Only terrorize the people who can’t fight back, like the farmers who live in remote areas. How about the mining crews?”
McReady nodded. “Karima is trying to establish the copper production. The deposits here are huge. Which is why he wants an alliance with U.S. mining companies. It would be good for us both. But the rebels are opposed.”
Bolan smiled. “They would be.”
“Not all Kirandi are with the rebels. There’s a big percentage who have crossed the line, put the past behind them so they can improve the country. There are Kirandi in government positions, business. Hell, even Simon Chakra, Tempala’s military commander is a Kirandi.”
McReady pointed to a building ahead as the car rounded a corner. The straight approach to the government building was impressive. A wide square fronted the building. It was thronged with people enjoying the landscaped lawns and flower beds. Trees swayed in the warm breeze. Government House was a modest affair compared to some seats of power Bolan had seen. It was only two stories high, white and gleaming in the bright day. The car rolled to a stop at the foot of stone steps. Bolan and McReady climbed out. The Executioner followed McReady up the steps to the entrance, where they were confronted by armed soldiers in immaculate uniforms. Before they could respond to the challenge of the soldiers, Bolan and McReady were interrupted by a smartly dressed black man who held out his hands in greeting.
“Mr. McReady, punctual as usual. And this must be Mr. Belasko? Please come inside. The president is waiting for you.”
“Raymond Nkoya, Karima’s vice-president,” McReady said quietly as the man walked ahead of them.
Bolan and McReady followed the man into the building. He led them to a stone staircase and up to the next floor. There they emerged onto a long corridor with offices leading off both sides. All the offices appeared to be occupied. Bolan noticed there were a number of armed soldiers stationed along the corridor.
At the end of the hallway double doors opened to allow them to step inside a spacious office. A desk made from smooth, pale wood occupied a place in front of a wide window that overlooked the square fronting the building. Behind it sat the man Bolan recognized as Joseph Karima. The jacket of his light-colored suit was draped over the back of his leather chair and his sleeves were rolled up. He was in his early forties, handsome man, tall when he stood to step around the desk to greet his guests.
“Phillip, good to see you.”
“Mr. President,” McReady acknowledged. “This is Mike Belasko.”
Karima took Bolan’s hand. His grip was firm. “Thank you for coming.”
“I hope I can help, sir.”
Karima turned to McReady and Nkoya.
“Would you give us some time to talk?”
McReady nodded. “Of course, Mr. President, as long as you need.”
Karima closed the doors behind then. He indicated a chair for Bolan and returned to his own. “I am in your hands, Mr. Belasko,” he said. “Tell me what you need. If it’s in my power you’ll have it.”
“Photographs of the children would be helpful. Everything you have on the time they went missing.”
Karima picked up a file and handed it to Bolan. “It’s all in there.”
“Did the rebels have help from inside?”
“They were well informed about the children’s movements on that day. While it wasn’t a state secret it wasn’t common knowledge.”
“How many of your people had access to that information?” Bolan asked.
From Karima’s reaction he realized the man had been taken aback by the question.
“Sir?”
“It never occurred to me that I might have a…”
“A traitor in your camp?”
“So who do I trust, Mr. Belasko? How do I not know that the next person to walk through that door is one of those who conspired to take my children? If I voice my suspicions or point a finger, I risk alerting someone involved. There could be reprisals. Bringing someone into the open could push them into doing something premature. And that would put my children in even greater danger. You understand my predicament, Mr. Belasko?”
Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t, Bolan thought.
Bolan sympathized with Karima. The man might have been the commander-in-chief of Tempala, but that didn’t render him immune from treachery. Most likely it made him all the more vulnerable. Being in the seat of power placed the man at risk from enemies both inside and outside his sphere of influence.
“I can understand your position, sir.”
Karima inclined his head, eyes searching Bolan’s face. “Your words suggest you are speaking from experience of betrayal yourself, Mr. Belasko.”
“That’s another story, sir.” Bolan dismissed the subject. “I take it that because you felt exposed and unsure who to trust you decided to ask my President for help?”
“Yes. I traded on our friendship.”
“Nothing wrong with that, sir.”
“I had to go beyond my own people. A sad indictment of my trust but the way things are I had no other options. We have two tribes, Mr. Belasko, the Tempai and the Kirandi. Centuries of opposition between us. The difficulty is that not all the present-day Kirandi harbor this old tribal culture. They see the world through modern eyes. We have moved on. The Kirandi of today have pushed aside the old ways. Tempai and Kirandi have merged. We all want a new Tempala, free from superstition, looking to the future. If we don’t we will all pay the price.”
“But not everyone feels that way?”
“Not everyone,” he agreed. “Hence our rebel faction.”
Karima leaned back, his eyes wandering back and forth across the room. It took him a moment or two to regain his composure.
“Mr. Belasko, how did I fall into this situation?”
“I’d guess you have more than enough on your mind. A lot to handle. It makes you vulnerable. And that is exactly what these terrorists will use to their advantage.”
Karima took a deep breath.
“Mr. President, I make no apologies for calling them terrorists. Terrorists attempt to achieve their aims by using the tactics of coercion. Threats. Humiliation of their victims. They terrorize and hope to get what they want by those means.”
“My children are everything to me. Always precious but even more so after my wife died. Our children are the future, Mr. Belasko. Why else do we struggle to build a better world? But it angers me that these damned people use them to force me to make Tempala take a step into the past.
“Tempala is not a particularly sophisticated country, Mr. Belasko. We don’t yet have the high tech capability of the U.S.A. My security organization is basic. Even our armed forces operate on a simple level. Just men and weapons. Our mechanization runs to trucks, some artillery and a few light tanks. We have no air force to speak of. No satellite communications. In time we may improve but until then we will have to make do with what we can afford. This is why the copper mining is so vital. The contracts will bring in a great deal of revenue, which we need.”
Karima stared through the window, watching the people moving about in the square.
“Money will help to