Tamara mistrusted handsome men. Stephen had been handsome. They could be vain and self-absorbed. She had once gone to bed with an actor who had said afterwards: ‘How was I?’ Tab could be like that, although she did not really think so.
Was Tab as good as he seemed, or would he turn out to be another one of her ghastly errors? She had agreed to see him again, and she could not pretend that the second date was purely business. So I guess I’ll find out, she thought; and with that she went to sleep.
CHAPTER 5
Tamara swam in the embassy pool first thing in the morning, when the sun was low and the air was still cool and free of dust. She was normally alone. For half an hour she could think over everything that was on her mind: Abdul’s courage, Dexter’s hostility, Karim’s fondness, and Tab’s unconcealed interest in her. She had her second date with Tab tomorrow: drinks at his apartment and dinner at his favourite Arab restaurant.
When she got out of the water she found that Dexter was sitting on a poolside lounger, watching her. She felt irritated, especially when he stared at her wet swimsuit.
She wrapped a towel around herself and felt less vulnerable.
‘Something I want you to check out,’ he said.
‘Okay.’
‘You know the N’Gueli Bridge.’
‘Of course.’
The N’Gueli Bridge crossed the Logone River, which formed the border between Chad and Cameroon, so the bridge was an international crossing. It connected N’Djamena with the Cameroonian town of Kousséri. In fact, it was two bridges, a high viaduct for vehicles and an older bridge, lower and narrower, now used only for pedestrians.
Tamara shaded her eyes and looked south. ‘You can almost see the bridge from here – it’s about a mile away as the crow flies.’
‘It’s a frontier post, but not strictly policed,’ Dexter went on. ‘Most vehicles don’t get stopped. As for the pedestrians, they all seem to be friends and relatives of the border guards. Only white people are detained. They’re charged a fictional entry tax, or exit tax. The amount depends on how affluent they look, and the guards accept only cash. I assume I don’t have to draw you a picture.’
‘No.’ Tamara was not surprised. Chad was notoriously corrupt. But this was not a CIA problem. ‘Why are we interested?’
‘An informant of mine tells me the jihadis are taking over the pedestrian bridge. They have quietly insinuated armed men. They don’t bother the local people, but they’ve taken over the shakedown. They increased the prices and they share the proceeds with the real border guards, who don’t care.’
‘And do we? This sounds like an issue for the local police.’
‘You bet we care, assuming my informant is right. The bribes aren’t the point. ISGS wants control of a frontier post.’
Tamara remained unconvinced. Why would ISGS seek such a thing? She saw no advantage to the jihadis. ‘How reliable is your informant?’
‘Good. All the same, we need to check out the story. I want you to go there and take a look.’
‘All right. I’ll need protection.’
‘I doubt it. But take a couple of soldiers if it makes you feel better.’
‘I’ll talk to Colonel Marcus.’
She returned to her apartment, got dressed, then emerged into the heat of the morning. The military had their own building in the embassy compound. Tamara entered and found Susan Marcus’s office. An assistant told her to go right in, the colonel would be there in a minute.
Tamara looked around the room. One wall was covered with maps that, joined edge to edge, formed a large-scale chart of all of North Africa. A sticker in the middle of Niger was marked ‘al-Bustan’。 On the opposite wall was a large screen. There were no family photographs. Marcus had a computer workstation and a phone. A cheap plastic desk tidy contained pencils and paper and Post-its. Tamara thought Colonel Marcus must be obsessively neat, or determined not to reveal anything personal about herself, or both.
Colonel Marcus was part of what the military called a Tier 2 Combined Joint Special Operations Task Force, or, for short, Special Forces.
She came in a moment later. She had short hair and a brisk manner, like every other military officer Tamara had ever met. She wore a khaki uniform and a peaked cap, all of which made her look masculine, although Tamara could see that underneath she was pretty. Tamara understood both the look and the office: Susan needed to be treated equally in a man’s world, and any hint of femininity could be used against her.