LAGOS, NIGERIA
FRIDAY, 11:51 A.M. WEST AFRICA TIME (6:51 A.M. EST)
The gasoline fumes burned inside Judd’s nostrils. Then he heard a whoosh and, a second later, was hit by a blast of searing heat.
The terrorist group Boko Haram was known to lock people in buildings and then burn the whole place to the ground. No, no, he told himself, this wasn’t Boko Haram. Maybe it was a militia? He knew gangs in South Africa killed their enemies by forcing a fuel-filled rubber tire around a victim’s chest and arms before setting it on fire. They called it “necklacing.” But he’d never heard of the practice used by Niger Delta militants.
It must be a criminal gang, he decided. They were notorious for pouring diesel fuel on rivals, lighting a match, and then videotaping their victims as they sizzled to death. The attackers must have poured gasoline. They must be torching the van, he thought. Was Bola inside? Tunde? And, he gulped, Isabella? Was he next?
As the thought made him nauseated, Judd was yanked to his feet and dragged away from the fire. He tried to resist but was pushed into another vehicle and the door was slammed shut.
Judd felt a guilty rush of relief. Maybe they weren’t going to kill him after all. At least, not yet. But the relief was temporary. As the engine started up, a wave of new questions hit him. Where were they taking him? Was he being saved for a grisly video? Would he wind up on the Internet, an embarrassment to the government? A horror for his family?
Judd blocked out these questions. It was all speculation until he knew their intentions. Their motivations. He couldn’t possibly know what would happen next until he knew: Who was taking him?