Then I was pushed into position again.
Wall-standing.
Chapter 150
SOMETIME AFTER THAT, I began to seriously hallucinate and I wondered if there was something in the water, or maybe even the crackers I’d eaten.
I was convinced that I was back in Africa and that I was lost somewhere in a vast desert. I knew I was going to die soon, and that didn’t seem like such a bad thing. I actually welcomed death and wondered if I would meet Nana, Jannie, and Ali on the other side. Would Maria be there too? And others I had lost?
I was struck hard in the back—and I fell to my knees again.
“You were dreaming—asleep on your feet. That’s not allowed, hotshot.”
“Sorry.”
“Of course you are. Now, would you like this to stop? Would you like to sleep? I’ll bet that you would.”
More than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.
“Where—?” I began to say.
“Right—Where is your fucking family? You’re nothing if not consistent, or is it stubborn? Or stupid? Now, listen to me closely. I will let you sleep. I will give you closure about your family. . . . Are you with me so far? . . . Are you following what I’m saying?”
“Yes.”
“Yes what? Tell me what you are agreeing to.”
“You’ll tell me about my family. Let me sleep.”
“Provided that what?”
I don’t attack and kill you, you sonofabitch. Where there’s a will . . .
“Provided I answer your questions.”
“Very good. Would you like more water, hotshot?”
“Yes.”
The cloth hood was lifted halfway and the water bottle was returned to my lips. I drank as much as I wanted to, but then there was silence. It frightened the hell out of me. Had he gone away? The one who knew what had happened to my family? The one who had actually talked to me for a minute or so.
“I saw terrible things in Africa, especially in Sudan,” I said. “I don’t think any of that interests you. A family—the Tansis—were murdered. In Lagos. Maybe because they were talking to me. Or because of what Adanne wrote in the newspaper. . . . You can get her articles.
“Are you there? You wanted me to talk, right? Are you listening now?
“Anyway, Adanne Tansi and I were taken to a prison,” I continued. “She was murdered there. I saw it happen. The Tiger killed her. I don’t know who the other men holding us were. I don’t know who the hell you are!
“Before we got to the prison, Adanne told me about a long piece she was writing—it was to appear in the London Guardian . . . the Guardian. Maybe some other papers. I’m not sure.
“She had learned that the United States might be manipulating factions in the Delta . . . to ensure the oil fields would stay in the right hands. Adanne had tapes of interviews. They were taken from her.
“Whoever captured us . . . must have them now. You have the tapes, don’t you?”
I stopped talking and waited for an answer, any kind of response.
But no one said anything. That was the technique—and guess what? It worked. I kept talking.
“Adanne told me the man known as the Tiger was also being paid by our government. I don’t know if that’s true. You probably know, don’t you?”