Elmore Leonard - Djibouti

Helene wiped her eyes, the romantic interlude over. She slipped off the director's chair saying, "I'll go below while you two do your man-thing."

"No, stay here. I told you Buck's a former SEAL? When I get different opposing stories from my contacts, I like to play my ace. Buck will charge me an arm and a leg, but he most always comes up with the goods. No charge if he doesn't deliver. I'll put him on the speaker so you can listen."

Helene found the sheet on Buck, a printout from CNN with Buck's head-shot on it, his cold eyes staring at her. Billy was looking at the twelve-digit phone number written across the top of the page, and the phone rang. "HI, IT'S DARA. WHAT'RE you doing?"

"I'm tailing the gas ship, hon. What you think I'm doing?"

"Helene still with you?"

"We get to India I'm gonna have a Jesuit missionary marry us. Here, say hi to Muff."

Dara said, "Muff? You must be the happiest girl in the whole world."

"I told Billy I'm gonna love being rich. Things just seem to work out," Helene said, "if you let them. Here's Billy."

Dara said, "Billy, you remember Jama Raisuli? One of the al Qaedas, not Sean Connery."

Billy said, "Yeah, the Gold Dust Twins were holding him for ransom, and the other one, Qasim."

"Jama killed Qasim and four Somalis guarding them and got away."

"Why would he kill his boss?"

"I don't know," Dara said. "That was three days ago. Yesterday we see him coming along rue de Marseille. We were visiting Idris. Harry's with him. I'll e-mail you about the Twins. I see him coming toward me and I put my spy camera on him. He's had a haircut, lost his beard and he's wearing a Brown University T-shirt, a bag over his shoulder."

"The murder weapon in it," Billy said. "Wait till I light my cigar. Paid fifty bucks for the son of a bitch and it keeps going out on me. So now he's disguised. How'd you know it was Jama?"

"I've shot him enough," Dara said. "You're right, the gun he used on Qasim and the guards was in the bag. He tried to hang on to it and Xavier hit him. Jama took off and Xavier shot at him but missed, only three bullets in the gun."

"What was it, what kind?"

"A Walther P38."

"Holds eight loads," Billy said. "He must've killed the five execution-style, one shot each. Had three left and Xavier wasted them on him. So now Jama's unarmed till he gets another piece. I wonder, is he African American or American African? Tell me what you're doing about him."

"We sat down with the chief of police. I told him what I know about Jama, and Xavier gave him the gun, the murder weapon."

"The cops'll start investigating," Billy said, "and Jama will know you ratted him out and come looking for you."

Dara said, "What he does is out of our hands."

"But you're still in Djib, aren't you? You're not calling from Nawlins. It's good you got Xavier with you, even if he can't shoot straight." Billy said, "The gas ship's scheduled to go to Lake Charles, but I'll bet it's stopping over in Djib for stores. They'll get a few suicide nuts aboard, blow the ship, take out most of Djibouti and whatever navy ships are close by. It won't be another 9/11 but it'll make an al Qaeda statement, won't it?"

Dara said, "You think you can do anything about it?"

"Go ashore and talk to the Port Authority, see they keep the gas ship a good twelve miles from town. The time comes I'll call the captain-what's his name, Wassef?-tell him to get all the good guys off the ship before I blow it up."

"Did you ever think, what if you didn't have money?"

"I'd make it," Billy said. "It's not hard."

"You're marrying Helene?"

"You sound like you don't believe it?"

"No, you were meant for each other. Helene's funny, if you listen to her."

"I've noticed that since I let her be herself." Billy said, "Did you hear Osama bin Laden's got a crush on Whitney Houston? They say he's gonna put a fatwa out on Bobby Brown for abusing her. Send some true believers to cut his head off. Bin loves Whitney but hates music, says it's evil. Love doesn't have to make sense, does it?"

"That's old stuff, Whitney Houston," Dara said. "Listen, I forgot to mention, when I first saw Jama he said something like 'How you making it?' Like he didn't recognize me, but he had to, I was with him before. He walked past and I said, 'James?' and he stopped and came back."

"You tricked him," Billy said, "and he bit."

"I didn't mean to. He looked so natural in the Brown T-shirt I called him James. And I'll bet anything that's his name." BILLY HANDED HELENE A color shot of Buck Bethards, the former SEAL, a nice-looking guy, dark hair, forty-one years old, five-eleven, 170 pounds.

"Look at his eyes."

"They're nice."

"They're killer eyes. Look how he's looking at you."

"He's smiling, sort of. Isn't he?"

"Muff, that's called a shit-eatin grin."

Billy reached over and turned the wheel to set Pegaso back on the trail of the gas ship, the wog with binoculars still on the fantail. Billy picked up the phone and dialed a number. He heard a voice this time, a live one, and looked surprised.

"Buck…?"

"Billy, how you doing?"

"You know how many numbers I had to try?"

"No more'n I gave you. You start with the last one. It's the newest, what I'm into."

"Where are you, Djib?"

"I believe so. Wait…Yeah, I'm still here."

"What's the latest on the LNG tanker?"

"Going to Lake Charles, Louisiana. That was in the paper and confirmed by people who know where ships are going. Those people make so much tipping off pirates they raised their bribe rates. I call those guys the Bribery Pirates."

"That's not bad," Billy said. "You think it's going to Lake Charles but might stop in Djibouti?"

"To take on stores. Arriving a week late after it was held by buccaneers. Man, they fucked up taking a ship al Qaeda wants."

"Even if it wasn't hijacked," Billy said, "I bet a hundred dollars the plan was to stop at Djib. You know what would happen the tanker blew up? I mean anyway near the Gateway to the East."

"That's what I'm talking about," Buck said. "I'm told al Qaeda's getting low on funds. They need to raise money to keep fuckin with us and're looking at the LNG tanker as a way to make some bucks. I got it on authority they're holding up Emirates Transport for fifty million. They don't pay, the Qaedas'll blow the ship to hell."

"Ram it into Djib," Billy said, "turn that town into a pile of mud."

"I doubt they'll let the ship come anywhere near Djibouti."

"Bin wants to blow up the Gateway, how you gonna stop him?"

Buck said, "I'd blow the ship out at sea."

Billy said, "I'll give it some thought. You find out if Emirates Transport wants to bargain with them?"

"They're not talking to me yet."

"Listen," Billy said, "the reason I called you, a guy named Idris Mohammed and his pal Ari Sheikh Bakar had two al Qaedas they wanted to turn in for rewards. They had the two right here in town, under heavy guard."

"I've seen the police reports," Buck said. "One dead with the guards and one absent."

"You knew of them or what?"

"I've followed their careers some. Qasim al Salah's dead and the other one's loose."

"Jama Raisuli," Billy said, "born in the U.S. He's in Djib somewhere hiding out. If there's a reward for him, you can have it. I want to know his real name and where he's from."

"He's American, huh?"

"At one time was called James or Jimmy."

"He never told anybody his name?"

"How would I know?"

"That's all you want, his name?"

"If you can get it."

Buck said, "You don't think I can?"

Billy said, "He kills people who get close to him."

BILLY CALLED THE NEXT morning early, 6 A.M., the blinds closed, the hotel bedroom still dark. She heard him saying they had a terrific tailwind pushing them toward Djibouti, Billy sounding breathless telling her they'd be in by midafternoon if it kept blowing.