to look for Ariane, or Levon, or the other slave owners. And even if it did, it’s not like we’d care.”
“Not at all,” he growled. “Not one bit.”
THE property in Tampico, Mexico, had been in Edwin Drake’s family for four decades, but he never had any use for it until recently. After several years of dormancy, the land was now critical to Drake’s slave exportation business. It served as a makeshift airport in the middle of nowhere, a place where they could load people without interference.
The boat of slaves, piloted by Octavian Holmes, reached the Tampico coast just before dawn and was greeted by two trucks full of dark-skinned guards, all chosen from Kotto’s plantations in Nigeria. The Africans loaded six slaves into each truck, then drove them to Drake’s property, which sat ten miles northwest of the Mexican city. When they arrived at the camp, the slaves were quickly herded into a containment building. They were stripped, hosed, deloused, and clothed, before being fed their first meal in over a day.
The slaves were then examined by Kotto’s personal physician, who treated each of their injuries with urgency—these people were Kotto’s property, after all—making sure that every wound was cleaned and every infection was attended to. After certifying and documenting the health of each person, the doctor gave the slaves the immunization shots they would require for their trip to their new home, Africa.
Once the medical details were taken care of, the slaves were led to Drake’s homemade airfield. There the guards checked the names and ages of each.
Doubting the ability of the foreign guards, Levon Greene double-checked the list of passengers. He realized these twelve people would generate a huge payday and knew how far that money could go in Africa, so this wasn’t the time to make any mistakes.
“How do things look?” Holmes asked, no longer worried about Payne or Jones. “Are the dirty dozen ready for their trip to the motherland?”
Greene nodded. “As ready as they’re ever gonna be.”
Holmes smiled. “To help their transition, we’ve selected Roots for their in-flight movie.”
CHAPTER 58
Wednesday, July 7th
Ibadan National Railyards
Ibadan, Nigeria
(56 miles northeast of Lagos)
THE dark-skinned American looked both directions, making sure that the busy rail station was free of incoming traffic. When he was satisfied, he continued his journey forward, lifting his white cotton robe away from the grease-covered tracks. After crossing the congested railyard, he turned left, walking parallel to the far rail while trying to conceal the limp in his gait. It was the only thing about him that was the least bit conspicuous. Other than that, he blended in perfectly, resembling the rest of the peasants as they rode the trains home after a hard day of work.
“May the peace, mercy, and blessings of God be upon you,” said a passing Muslim.
“And also with you,” he replied in Yoruba, one of the common languages in Ibadan.
With a watchful eye, the American continued forward, searching for the designated meeting spot. He had already completed his reconnaissance of the neighborhood—checking the security around the Kotto Distribution Center, studying the building blueprints, looking for weak spots in the perimeter of the industrial plant. Overall, he was happy with his findings, but his opinion mattered little in the greater scheme of things. He was simply a pawn in a very complex game, one that he knew very little about.
But that was about to change.
At the rendezvous point, he glanced in all directions, making sure that he wasn’t being followed. Everything looked clear to his well-trained eyes. Smiling confidently, he knocked on the railcar five times, the agreed-upon signal to gain access to the boxcar that had been commandeered for the current operation.
“Who is it?” called a high-pitched voice from inside.
This wasn’t a part of standard protocol, but the dark-skinned man was more than willing to play along. It helped to lessen the tension of the moment. “Domino’s Pizza.”
“Your delivery took more than thirty minutes. I expect a large refund.”
The American grabbed his crotch with both hands. “Open the door, lady. I’ve got your large refund, right here!”
The cargo door slid open, revealing a white soldier in full black camouflage. “Oooh,” he exclaimed in a feminine voice. “And what a big refund it is!”
Both men laughed as the black soldier climbed into the railcar.
“Any problems with your recon?” asked one of the soldiers inside.
“None, except for my damn gun.” He reached under his robe, removing the weapon that had been strapped to his leg. “I need to get a new leg holster