Dead Centre - Andy McNab [85]
‘When will Erasto have his three million dollars?’ Awaale handed me a glass.
I watched Erasto’s thumbs roaming over his iPhone screen.
‘Erasto, your expectations of me, your expectations of Tracy’s family and Justin’s family are just too high.’ I kept looking at him. I was talking to him, not his interpreter. ‘We are not the people you think we are. We do not have the sort of money you’re asking for. Erasto, we will never, ever, have that amount of money.’
Erasto’s thumbs got busy again. By the look of it, he was starting to text. All I cared about was that Awaale was passing on exactly what I had said.
Erasto looked up at him, then shrugged and gobbed off as if he was turning down a dodgy piece of fruit from the market.
I heaped a couple of spoonfuls of sugar into the brew and got a mouthful down my neck.
Behind me, one of the geeks started playing what sounded like a YouTube clip. A group of women sailing round the world were telling their mates – and any strangers who felt like listening in – that they were on the way from Oman to Zanzibar. Fucking good luck to them. That might be the last video blog they posted for a while.
Awaale nodded. I watched Erasto as I listened to his response.
‘Erasto says that unfortunately, if you do not have the money, he cannot do anything to help you. You must pay him. This is the only way your loved ones can go free. He wishes to help you, but this money must be paid. When you spoke to us before coming to Somalia, you said you had the money. So how soon can it be delivered?’
Erasto took a sip of tea and tucked the iPhone beside his ear. He mumbled away as if we no longer existed. I needed to be respectful, but I also had to make sure I was expressing myself extremely clearly. Any fuck-ups should stem from a crumbling negotiation, not a fundamental misunderstanding. I looked him in the eye. He fixed his on me for a second, then carried on with his waffle.
‘Erasto, I think we may have a misunderstanding. When I spoke with Awaale, I said the families were getting money together. We have managed to raise three hundred and nineteen thousand dollars. But you must know we will never be able to get one million, let alone three.’
I waited for Awaale to pass Erasto the news of the ‘misunderstanding’. The old man closed down his iPhone and continued drinking his tea. But I knew I had his full attention now.
‘Three million is an impossible amount for us. I believe that was a misunderstanding on my part, and I apologize.’
Erasto leant forward, placed his glass on the tray and allowed Awaale to refill it until he indicated that he wanted no more. He examined the tea minutely.
Awaale splashed some more into mine.
‘Erasto says that if you deliver the money now, you can have the boy first. The price is three hundred and nineteen thousand dollars each.’
I bent so low that Erasto had no choice but to renew eye-to-eye. I didn’t see a flicker of emotion, not even a hint of what was going on in that head of his. Erasto and Frank must have come from the same gene pool.
‘I’m sorry, Awaale. I can’t negotiate for individuals. The price must be for all three.’
Erasto sat back with his brew. He didn’t need Awaale to translate. He cut him off mid-waffle. Awaale faced me again.
‘Erasto wants more than you offer, and he wants it quickly. He’s willing to negotiate. He understands how important it is to get the family home. Can you get more money quickly, Mr Nick?’
‘I can arrange for the three hundred and nineteen thousand dollars to be here tomorrow. I will try and get more, but it will be difficult.’
The lack-of-cash story seemed to be holding. I was expecting Erasto to ask why, if everyone was so poor, they were on such an expensive boat. BB must have done a good job of smoke-screening. ‘But to raise more, and to bring the money to you, to ask the families to do this, I must know that they are safe.’
Erasto picked up his airport tax and got to his feet. He rattled off another set of instructions to Awaale. I wondered for a moment whether the Italiano question