The Hadrian Memorandum - Allan Folsom [79]
Now the video cut to a gruesome daylight montage of burned-out villages and hundreds of dead citizens. Many had been beheaded or horribly mutilated. Men, women, children, the elderly. Even animals. Dogs, goats, cows; a horse, still saddled, slaughtered and left on the roadway.
“Jesus God,” Marten murmured.
Immediately the images reverted to more clandestine night-vision footage, this time capturing army troops on a rampage through a village. Raw and terrible footage of soldiers executing civilians with machetes, pistols, rifles, and machine guns. There was a horrifying scene of a screaming woman being raped by five soldiers, one after another. A small boy ran in to try to pull the soldiers off. One of the soldiers grabbed him, turned him around, and made him watch. The boy’s terrified struggle and reaction was tragic, especially when it was contrasted with the faces of rapist-soldiers who had finished with the woman and were standing back laughing. Then the night footage cut to a scene where army troops were using flamethrowers to set huts on fire. Suddenly a naked man ran from the darkness with his hands up, pleading for them to stop. The next instant a soldier turned the flamethrower on him, immolating him in a searing jet of burning gasoline.
“For God’s sake, Anne, I can’t watch any more! Turn it off!” Marten blurted and started to look away. Then— “Wait!” he all but shouted as the night-vision video cut to an older man in army fatigues standing imperially with a small group of heavily armed soldiers at the edge of the battleground watching the proceedings. He was hawk-faced and gray-haired and clearly not a black African like the rest.
“I know him!” Marten said. “He was there when they were interrogating me in Malabo. Who is—?”
In a near perfectly timed response the narrative answered Marten’s query.
“This is Mariano Vargas Fuente, the former Chilean general known as Mariano, once a high-ranking officer in the notorious former Directorate of National Intelligence during the 1973 to 1990 dictatorship of the late General Augusto Pinochet. He is one of the world’s best-known human rights abusers, convicted in absentia of torture and mass murder. Fled war-crimes prosecution and vanished into the jungles of Central America. Is thought to have been recruited by President Tiombe to personally supervise his counterinsurgency program in Rio Muni and Bioko. This is the first known confirmation that he is in Equatorial Guinea.”
Immediately the video cut to a map of Bioko and showed the position of Abba’s forces as they moved north, closing in on Malabo.
“Indicators suggest Tiombe is preparing to flee the country if Abba’s forces continue to gain further ground. Analysts believe that Abba will take control of the government within ten to fourteen days. As of noon tomorrow local time the U.S. embassy will be closed until further notice. All nonessential personnel have been ordered to evacuate. The State Department has issued a warning to all U.S. citizens to leave Equatorial Guinea immediately.”
With that the picture faded and the video ended.
Marten stared at Anne. “You wanted me to see that. Why?”
“I wanted us both to see it. So we can tell the same story to Congressman Ryder. And so that you will trust me the rest of the way. Trust that I want the killing stopped as much as you.”
Marten was silent for a long moment; then he let his eyes find hers. “Does the term ‘all U.S. citizens’ include Striker personnel?”
“Abba’s people are trying to get rid of Tiombe, not us. Our people have been confined to the company compound, which is heavily guarded by SimCo mercenaries. They’re safe.”
“Are they? Let me tell you something. General Mariano knows about the photographs. It’s what they were trying to get from me during the interrogation. Or maybe you knew that.”
Anne shook her head. “No.”
“Just pray to God he doesn’t order his butchers into your company compound looking for them. White’s mercenaries wouldn’t have a chance. And once they fall, God help the drillers, the tech people, the secretaries, the bookkeepers,