Peter Savage had been on the phone for most of the morning trying to get answers from anyone in the Federal Government who might even remotely be in a position to help. Finally, he called his high-school buddy, James Nicolaou. The number he dialed rang to Jim’s phone at The Office—the headquarters for SGIT, the Strategic Global Intervention Team. Peter had played the voice recording over the audio connection so that Jim could hear Ethan’s entire message.
“Is that all there is to it?” asked Jim.
“I’m afraid so. I was at a restaurant when he called and I had the phone off. I didn’t get the message until early this morning.”
“All right… try to stay calm. I know that’s hard to do, but try. Let me make a few calls. Other aid workers may have also had a chance to get word out. Chances are good that someone in intelligence is aware of the attack and can shed some light on the matter.”
“Thank you, Jim. You’ll check on this ASAP, right? In the meantime, I’ll be getting ready.”
“Ready for what?” Jim was almost afraid to ask, knowing Peter’s penchant for action that more than once had him running off half-cocked. He had hoped Peter would give him some time to come up with answers before reacting.
“Surely you don’t expect me to sit here and wait for Ethan to be freed, do you?”
“Now slow down. We don’t know anything about the situation. We don’t even know where Ethan is being held.” Jim couldn’t bring himself to add the obvious—or if he is even alive.
“I know enough. I know he was at an aid camp in western Sudan. Someone with the Peace Corps can give me the location—I have a call in to them and expect an answer soon. I figure it will take close to two days to get there. While I’m traveling, you’ll be getting answers. You can keep me posted while I’m en route.”
Jim took in a deep breath. “Look, Peter. You know that I love Ethan as if he were my own family. But I can’t interrupt everything I’m doing to work this problem right now; I have superiors to answer to, and I can’t feed everything to you that I learn. Nearly all of my intelligence work is highly classified.”
Jim paused and tried a different approach. “And what do you think you’re going to do even if we can find him?”
“Everything I can to get him back from the bastards that kidnapped him.”
“Listen to me… this isn’t the Wild West! You’re talking about going into a foreign country; you have to follow their laws!”
Silence hung across the airwaves. Finally Peter answered, his voice steady and calm, like a machine. “I will do whatever is necessary to get my son—whatever is necessary.” Peter emphasized the words so there could be no misunderstanding. “I would think you’d understand that,” he added softly.
Jim knew the conversation was over. “I do understand.” He sighed heavily before continuing. “As much as I hate to admit it, I’d do the same. Just give me one hour, can you do that? Just one hour. Let me see what I can learn, and I promise to call you within the hour. Can you give me that?”
“One hour,” and Peter hung up the phone.
Rather than waiting to hear back from Jim, Peter immediately dialed another number.
“Gary, it’s Peter.”
“Hi Peter,” replied Gary Porter. “Haven’t heard from you in a while. How’s everything going?”
Gary was a year older than Peter. They grew up in the same neighborhood in Sacramento and became fast friends at an early age. As teenagers they went camping and hunting together, and both men shared a love for nature and the outdoors. Gary remained in central California and ran a very successful computer-security consulting firm with Nancy, his wife of 25 years. It wasn’t uncommon for Gary and Peter to go twelve to eighteen months without uttering a word to one another, but they were as close as any two brothers would be.
“It’s bad, Gary, that’s why I’m calling. Ethan was in Sudan doing volunteer work at an aid camp. Last night—early morning in Sudan—the camp was attacked and Ethan was kidnapped. He was barely able to leave a voice message on my cell phone before he was cut off.”
“Oh man, I’m so sorry. Okay, let’s stay calm.”
“You’re the second person to tell me that and I’m tired of hearing it.”
Gary understood his friend’s frustration and fear. “Do you know where he’s being held?”
“No, but I have connections working on that as we speak.”
“There’s nothing going on here that can’t wait for a while, and Nancy can keep an eye on the business. What do you need me to do?”
Peter smiled. “I knew you’d say that; you’ve always been there when things get rough.”
“That’s what friends do.”
“I have a bad feeling about this, Gary. It could get very ugly in a hurry.”
“And your point is?”
“My point is this. I’m going to Sudan to get Ethan back. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I will bring him back with me. I don’t know where he is, but by the time I get there I trust I will know. I expect this to get bloody… very bloody.”
“Nancy and I did a consulting gig in Egypt last year. The best way to get to Sudan is through Chad, via Paris. I’ll start packing. If I remember correctly we can book a night flight from San Francisco.”
“Thank you. I expected as much from you, but I wanted you to know the score before you committed.”
“Sounds like I should bring some firepower?”
“Bring your hunting rifle and your Colt revolver. I think the airlines limit each passenger to eleven pounds of ammo. You should double check the regs and max out. As far as the airlines and customs agents are concerned, we’re on safari.”
“Got it. I always wanted to hunt in Africa.”
“I hope that isn’t a wish you later regret. We’ll meet you at the airport in San Francisco this evening. If we can’t get a commercial flight from Bend to San Francisco, I’ll book a charter plane.”
“Who is ‘we’?” Gary asked.
“Another buddy—a guy I work with—Todd Steed.” Then Peter added, almost as an afterthought, “Todd has also been itching to go on safari in Africa.”