“But you think it would be counterproductive,” Westcott said.
“I do. Momentum is everything, and we have it now. We can see this through. We’re close. I can feel it. We can’t take the foot off the pedal now. Last time we decided to veer off course—”
Westcott interrupted him by raising his hand.
“If you were about to mention North Korea, don’t,” he said. “We knew from the get-go it was a long shot.”
Months ago, Westcott had authorized a risky operation to help North Korea acquire a new generation of optical packages for satellites and guided missiles. The operation had failed, and Westcott had lost one of his most precious assets in the process. Furthermore, in prioritizing the North Korea operation instead of the one in Africa, he’d almost lost the momentum he had worked so hard to get in the DRC.
“Nailah would have wanted us to push through, Everett,” Mpassi said, his voice low and compassionate.
Westcott knew his friend was right. On both counts. He’d made a promise to Nailah. And he intended to keep it. There was just too much at stake to slow down.
Thirteen percent of the world’s global hydropower, to be precise.
Since he had founded Hearts United, he’d watched Africa continue to tear itself apart, thanks to the corrupt governance structure of many African countries. But blaming everything on the unethical regimes that plagued the continent—or even on extremist groups like Boko Haram andAl-Shabaab, who had no morals and weren’t shy about exploiting weak states, poverty, and poor education to recruit and terrorize civilians—would be shortsighted.
Westcott had studied history, and it was obvious to him that Africa had been dealt a bad hand by the colonial powers who had completely disregarded the ethnic, linguistic, and cultural boundaries of the African people when they had drawn the borders during the Berlin Conference of 1884. In dividing the continent the way they had, the fourteen countries that had attended the conference, the United States being one of them, had forced rival groups into the same states and split unified people into different ones. In Westcott’s opinion, this had planted the seeds for many of the current internal conflicts.
While he didn’t have the power to rewrite history, he did have the influence and the means to do something about the current leadership in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, a country he deeply cared about. Not just because of its mineral wealth and strategic potential, but because his Nailah had been born there. The DRC was where Hearts United was the most needed. The country could still be saved, but only if its future were guided by the right hands.
His hands.
The country’s enormous population growth, if not controlled, would lead to an even worse humanitarian crisis. The numbers were terrifying. As of this moment, the population explosion had no infrastructure to support it, and the country’s institutions were gutted by corruption and fear. If he didn’t intervene, there was a chance the DRC would never recover.
I can’t let that happen.
In order for the DRC to rise, he would have to break it first. The old guard needed to be removed, surgically and one by one. Like he’d done in Aruba. There, too, Mia Hernandez had excelled.
But there were many others who needed to be shown the door.
And if he was to trust Mpassi, this part of the plan was coming along nicely. In their place, Westcott would install leaders loyal not to foreign interests or their own clans, but to a vision. His vision. Nailah’s vision.
Just like I’ve done in Senegal and Kenya.
There had been resistance there too. But resistance had a way of vanishing when roads were paved, when lights came on, when fresh water was readily available, and when jobs returned. While there was still a lot of work to do in these two countries, Westcott, through Hearts United, had brought much-needed political stability to these regions. Hearts United had poured a lot of money into Senegal’s growing energy sector and had sponsored a multitude of vocational youth programs that had helped thousands of young men and women.
And, of course, Westcott had also backed the right people to run the show. The soft coup hadn’t been perfect, but it had wielded positive results.
As for Kenya, Westcott had solicited private equity firms to invest in Nairobi’s booming start-up ecosystem. It hadn’t been easy, and it had taken a few more years than he had hoped, but ultimately, his plan had worked, and everyone involved had benefited from it. Though he’d always refused to take credit for it, Westcott knew it was because of him that Nairobi had earned the nickname of Silicon Savannah. But he hadn’t stopped there; he had teamed up with Doctors Without Borders and funded its intervention in Garissa County, a large-scale operation focused on the communities in and around the Dagahaley refugee camp, a location that had been affected by severe flooding. Hearts United had financed all needed medical care and the distribution of hygiene kits to displaced families. Westcott had also traveled to the Dadaab refugee complex to personally supervise the construction of two hundred communal latrines as well as a medically assisted therapy clinic, which offered methadone and buprenorphine treatments, mental health services, and social-reintegration support to drug addicts. These initiatives had earned him favors not only with Doctors Without Borders but with the Kenyan government too.
Favors he had already called in to appropriate large mineral-rich swaths of land, which would help Hearts United finance its other initiatives, like the one in the DRC.
Now, Westcott’s eyes were on the Democratic Republic of the Congo. And the clock was ticking. He would do anything in hispower to restore the dignity of the Congolese people. And if that meant silencing critics, bypassing democratic delays, and sending highly skilled operatives like Mia Hernandez to get the job done, then so be it.
“Sir,” Mpassi said, pulling Westcott out of his reverie. “What do you want to do about Istanbul?”
“You really don’t think these two operatives are a threat?” Westcott asked.
“I’m not worried about them. As I said, I believe we mitigated the fallout. We flushed them out with the arrest warrant. And with what they’ve done at the airport, I can guarantee you the police will be looking for them.”
“But they’re still out there,” Westcott said.
“They are, yes, but we must think strategically here. If we pursue these two further, we increase our profile. And right now, they have nothing. They may be good, lucky, or both for all I care, but they’re in the wind now.”
“And what about your contacts outside of law enforcement?” Westcott asked. “Do you know anyone in Istanbul that could help? Discreetly?”
“Not directly, but there’s a broker I’ve done business with in the past who could potentially reach out to his own contacts. Using him would keep Hearts United out of the picture.”
