“Ah,” he said. “That’s one I can answer.”
Chapter 101
AN HOUR LATER, I was in the waiting room at an executive suite on the thirtieth floor of Unilight International’s administrative offices in Ikeja. I knew that Unilight was one of the most successful packaged goods company in the world, but that was about it.
Glossy pictures of Lubra Soap and Oral Toothpaste hung on the walls, and I was trying to figure out exactly what I was doing here. Flaherty had dropped me out front with a business card and a floor number. “Willem de Bues wants to meet you, and you want to meet him.”
“Dr. Cross?” A receptionist called over to where I was sitting. “The director will see you now.”
I was shown down a hallway to a double door, which she opened for me, into a huge corner office with floor-to-ceiling windows.
Stranger and stranger. What did a successful multinational corpora
tion have to do with a murder case?
A massive desk sat at an angle to the door with two comfortable chairs opposite it. A pair of tufted leather couches took up another corner, where two men in dark suits, white shirts, and clubby ties were just standing up.
“Dr. Cross,” the taller of them said. A white man with close-cropped blond hair and heavy-framed rectangular glasses came over and shook my hand.
“I’m Willem de Bues.” His accent was Dutch—I think. He motioned to the other man. “This is Thomas Lassiter, an attorney with our legal department.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, not quite sure yet if that was true or not. How could I know? I half expected to be beaten up and to have my nose broken next.
“It’s our understanding you’ve been following a local man known as the Tiger,” de Bues said, throwing me for a loop. What could this businessman possibly have to do with a killer for hire?
“That’s right,” I said. “I came here from Washington, where he had committed a couple of savage murders. Savage by our standards anyway.”
“Then, we might have something to talk about. Sit down,” Mr. de Bues said. It was clear he was used to giving orders. “Your reputation as a policeman precedes you, of course. Your record for solving difficult cases.”
“How about you tell me what this is about first? And why your attorney is here.”
De Bues’s demeanor didn’t crack. In fact, he smiled.
“We’d like to help you find the Tiger. And, given that this is a rather . . . irregular situation, I want to make certain that I don’t say, or offer, anything illegal in this meeting. Is that honest enough for you? Please, sit down, Detective. Sit.”
Chapter 102
“WHY WOULD YOU want to help a murder investigation?” I asked. I was genuinely curious.
“Unilight International has a considerable interest in Nigeria. Our cosmetics and skin-care business alone has grown enough to justify the expansion we have planned in the southeast. This is true of many multinationals, not just the oil companies.”
“In the Delta?” I asked.
“Port Harcourt, yes. And, of course, Lagos. Whatever relationship we now have with local factions seems to be irrelevant to some of the Islamic extremist organizations that are now moving into the region.”
“Are you saying the Tiger is Islamic? Because that’s news to me.”
“No, I have no idea about that. I doubt that he’s a religious man. But it’s no secret he deals in goods that bankroll these groups—conflict diamonds, lifted crude, that sort of thing. Essentially, he creates inroads for them and makes life more difficult for all foreign corporations. And, as I’m sure you know, Tiger is the local term for ‘killer for hire.’ ”
“And you want somebody to help you get the killer, or killers, out of your way?”
De Bues looked over at his lawyer, who nodded, and then answered. “We want to help with your criminal investigation, that’s all. We’re the good guys here, Dr. Cross. Just like you. This is not a ‘conspiracy,’ like in one of the Bourne movies.”
“Why not go through the local authorities?”
He smiled again, that nonsmile of his. “You condescend to me, Dr. Cross. The political situation, as we both know, is complex here. It is fair to say that civil war is almost inevitable for Nigeria, but war is like fire, yes? Even as it burns something away, it leaves fertile ground.”
It seemed like every day in Africa, I was falling a little farther through the looking glass. This conversation was turning out to be no exception. The CIA had directed me to a multinational corporation—or maybe a clique of them—for help in a brutal murder case?