WASHINGTON DULLES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
WEDNESDAY 12:05 P.M. EST
Judd squirmed in his seat, thinking about the long flight ahead. He’d just finished sending a text to his highly capable assistant Serena, asking her to dig around discreetly for more on Ambassador Katsina. He needed to know what Landon Parker was really up to. He tucked a pillow behind his back and tested out the recliner. The soft leather seat went fully flat, perfect for sleeping.
“Hey, not a bad way to fly,” he said, bringing his seat back upright. “Beats cattle class.”
Isabella sat across the aisle, peering out the window and ignoring him. She was steaming.
“If you have to go to Lagos at the last minute, this is the way to go.” Judd nodded to himself. “You ever flown in a G550?”
Isabella still didn’t reply, her eyes laser-focused on the truck outside refueling the plane.
“Isabella, I’m sorry to pull you into this. But I need your help. I wouldn’t have asked for you if I didn’t.”
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done, Judd?” she turned on him. “I’m in the middle of something big. Probably the biggest case of my entire career. Months of work. It’s all coming to a head. Everything I’ve been working for. It’s all building up to right now.”
“And I messed it up?”
“My team was saddled up and ready to roll. Three, two, one, and . . . the phone rings. The goddamn attorney general’s office telling me to stand down. My whole operation is on hold because someone needs me to go to . . . where? Nigeria. Qué jodienda! Why? For some State Department pendejo. I just knew it had to be you.”
“I’m sorry, Isabella,” Judd said.
“Liar,” she hissed. “You’re not sorry.”
Judd knew she was right. “What’s the case?”
“I can’t say. You know that.”
“If it helps, this will be a quick trip.”
“I’ve heard that before. How quick?”
“I don’t know.”
“Of course you don’t.”
“If we can sort everything out in Nigeria and get back here, then you can get back to your case. And I’ll be moving onto something big. Landon Parker has—”
“It’s not all about you, Judd,” she snapped. “There are other people in this town trying to do their jobs, too.”
“How could I know? You should have just said no.”
“I can’t say no to the United States attorney general. Just like you can’t say no to Landon Parker.”
Judd knew Isabella was right. He was doing Parker’s bidding yet again. “So, what happens to your case now?”
“The AG put Donatella Kim in charge while I’m gone.”
“Is that bad?”
“She’s fine. Donatella’s a Special Agent like me. We came up through field training together. She’s good. But she’s not me. It was my case. And I’m on this stupid plane with you going to West Africa.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” Judd said.
“You haven’t even told me why we’re going to Nigeria.”
“I will. Once we’re wheels-up.” Judd put his hand on her arm. “I’m sorry I pulled you off your case. Let’s go to Nigeria, fix the problem, and get back here so you can rejoin your friend Donatella.”
“You should have asked me before you had Parker make the call,” she said in a low voice. “We could have avoided all of this with a little backchannel communication. If you need me, you call me. You don’t have your boss call my boss. That’s not the way this is supposed to work.”
Judd was deciding how to respond, when his phone rang.
“Speak of the devil,” Judd said, and pressed the answer button. “This is Ryker.”
“You on schedule?” Landon Parker snapped.
“Yes, sir. On the tarmac now. They’re just refueling and then we’ll be en route to Lagos.”
“Excellent, Ryker. Do us proud. Bring Babatunde home safe and sound.”
“I will, sir.”
“I’ll let Congressman Truman know you are on schedule.”
“One more thing . . .” Judd hesitated.
“Make it quick, Ryker. We’ve got the Chinese foreign minister here today. It’s a cluster and I’m late.”
“I need your preauthorization for political asylum for Bola Akinola. It’s spelled A-K-I—”
“Who the fuck is that?”
“A Nigerian judge. He’s been working with DOJ helping to uncover corrupt government officials. But now he’s going to need U.S. protection. So I need you to tell the ambassador—”
“Is the judge already in the embassy? Why haven’t I heard about this?”
“No, sir. He’s in hiding. But he’s going to come into the consulate in Lagos once I’m in country—”
“No, no, no,” Parker interrupted. “Tell him not to do that. No way.”
“Excuse me?”
“Call him off. We can’t get entangled in Nigeria’s domestic politics. Not right now. Not while we’ve got these other problems,” Parker said. “Ambassador Katsina—”
“Katsina? What does she have to do with this?”
“Ambassador Katsina has been extremely helpful. I told you already. If we start meddling in their internal affairs, it’s going to throw everything off. Think about the optics, Ryker. The timing is for shit. We can’t do this right now.”
“I need it, sir.”
“Hell, our ambassador’s not going to like it, either.”
“That’s exactly why I need you to preclear Akinola’s asylum. The embassy will slow-roll and then it’ll be too late to help him. You have to authorize it before I land.”
“Why exactly would I do this, Ryker?”
“His life is in danger.”
“And I care about this judge why?”
“Bola Akinola is one of our allies. He’s the one fighting against the cartels and the corrupt politicians. He’s standing up for democracy. For everything we’re trying to do in Nigeria. We can’t give up on him now that his own government is trying to kill him.”
“Christ, Ryker! His own government? What is going on in that place? Kidnapping, scams, corruption. Now we have to save this judge from himself? Is everything falling apart over there?”
“Things fall apart. That’s why you have S/CRU. That’s why you’re sending me. I need this.”
Judd listened to Parker’s breathing, waiting for a reply.
“Sir? Can you hear me? I need you to send a cable to our embassy in Nigeria. I need you to ensure that we can give sanctuary to Judge Bola Akinola when he shows up at the consulate.”
“What do you suggest I tell Ambassador Katsina?”
“Tell her whatever you want,” Judd said. “Horse-trade. Give her something she needs. Maybe make her think we have some dirt on her to buy some time.”
“Do you have dirt on her?”
“I need asylum for Akinola, sir,” Judd said, intentionally avoiding an answer to Parker’s question. Better to let him wonder, Judd decided.
Parker paused, then groaned. “Okay, Ryker. I’ll do it. I’ll have my office alert the consulate. But don’t let this judge business sidetrack you from your mission. You’re going to Nigeria to find Tunde Babatunde.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“And, Ryker, be careful.”
The pilot arrived in the cabin. “We’re ready to go now, sir.”
Judd nodded back.
“I will, Mr. Parker.”
“Your mission is hostage recovery. Don’t forget that. You can help this Judge Bola-whatever, but nothing gets in the way of rescuing Babatunde. I’m counting on you.”
“Yes, sir,” Judd said, and hung up the phone, a satisfied smirk appearing on his face.
Judd Ryker had gotten what he wanted from Landon Parker by keeping his boss happy, by projecting a convincing pretense of compliance that was just good enough. Judd knew Parker was almost certainly doing the same thing with Shepard Truman, keeping the Congressman off his back by providing assurances, by promising that he was doing everything possible. Parker was probably on the phone with Truman already, reporting that the special State Department rescue team was on its way.
And then the game of favors and façades would be passed down the line. Judd wondered who Truman would be calling next, running the same line of assured promises. Everyone was pursuing their own goals, playing each other in a dense web of confidence games and smoke screens. Judd was getting the hang of it. And that begged the question: Who was playing him?
As the jet engines revved up, Isabella Espinosa’s face softened and a tiny smile appeared at the edges of her mouth. “We’re going to see . . . Bola Akinola?”