48 Hours

The diplomat spoke first. “Martin, it is not good business to come into the Embassy una

The Ambassador’s brother was the President of Marat.

“I had no alternative, Jalou. The Hokobu woman has just landed at Heathrow Airport.” The Afrikaaner pronounced Hokobu as Huckooboo, just as the lady herself did.

“This is not possible. You have made a mistake.”

“No mistake. I saw her for myself. She arrived from Bangui on a KLM flight, changing at Schiphol. My informant stood behind her at passport control and assures me that she told the officer that her return journey is booked for Friday evening. My opinion is that she had someone drive her to the Central African Republic, so that you would not know she had travelled.”

“This is very bad news. She was supposedly under virtual house arrest. She will now speak at the international conference on Thursday morning and at the very least cast our government in a bad light. At worst she will persuade the Americans and British send their aid by way of food, medicines and clothing rather than in cash. Then the foreign aid workers distributing the aid will spy on us, and our income streams will be interrupted.”

“That need not happen, Jalou. You have the Chameleon here in London. You have used him before.”

“Martin, we have just seventy two hours before she speaks. Even that cold hearted killer will not be happy with such an assignment.”

“I think you underestimate the Chameleon, Jalou. Whilst we have no real idea who he is, we do know that with very little notice he killed the Israeli Minister of Culture when he was in Paris visiting the Jewish Memorial Centre, and the minister was being guarded by Mossad. Victoria Hokobu has no such protection; there is just her husband to watch over her.”

Jalou Makabate thought about the potential problems Mrs. Hokobu could cause and decided that investing in the Chameleon was necessary, if a little expensive. The assassin demanded one million dollars per successful hit, and always ensured that payment was made. The Chameleon had let it be known to all prospective clients that the reason the Israeli Minister had been eliminated, and Mossad had been embarrassed, was not a political one. It was because Mossad had refused to pay the balance of the fee for assassinating a Hamas leader. Good marketing.

Whilst the Israeli cabinet made a huge fuss and complained to the international community that it was an unconscionable act of evil by Hamas, Mossad knew the reality, but they weren’t saying.

***

Once he was alone, Makabate’s first phone call was to the Marati Chief of Police, a fellow Somali, instructing him to pick up and question Vincent Utembo, the Hokobu’s head of security, immediately. Makabate understood very well that if he reported to the Ambassador before he knew the woman’s plans and had a plan to eliminate her, he would be punished for allowing her to make the journey. He had no intention of being sent back to Marat, through no fault of his own, where they would have him living in a hut somewhere, supervising a mine.

With a few more touches of his IPhone screen the diplomat called an answering service in London, left a message and told the girl that he needed a call back from Chameleon Enterprises by noon.

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