Algeria, Nigeria and Niger have signed a memorandum of understanding today, 28th July 2022, to build a natural gas pipeline across the Sahara Desert, Algeria’s energy minister said on Thursday.
This new trans-Saharan gas pipeline is estimated to cost $13 billion and could send up to 1.1 trillion cubic feet a year of supplies to Europe. The pipeline is expected to be about 2,500 miles long, starting in Warri, Nigeria, and finishing up in Hassi R’Mel, Algeria. Here, it will connect to existing pipelines that run to Europe.
Even more gas would flow north from Nigeria to join with the Algerian gas on its way to Europe. The pipeline routes across the Mediterranean were clearly of critical importance. Mike Kingdom wondered if Randy was involved in sub-Saharan African politics in any way (about which she also knew nothing).
Fourthly, she had read a report produced by the British FCO in Algiers entitled The Current Political Tensions in the Maghreb.
From it, she learnt two things that stood out to her: the Chinese were negotiating with Algeria to buy a port, and Algeria is the third largest importer of Russian military equipment – fourteen per cent of all Russian military equipment goes to Algeria. This was an absolutely mind-blowing statistic. She realised that she knew so little about this critical region of the world.
She read further and, disturbingly, saw that Russia and Algeria had agreed on 5th April 2022 to hold joint military exercises in the Algerian desert.
Mike was sincerely hoping that Randy wasn’t involved in monitoring or sabotaging anything involving China or Russia.
She walked back up the gentle hill between the stands of conifers until she reached her cabin. The smell of the pines after the rain was refreshing. She went up the outside stairs, pulling on the handrail, and unlocked the door. The three heads on the shelf, looking like members of a jury, stared impassively at her – the one in the red wig looked particularly threatening.
“You wanna know something?” Mike addressed all three, “The USA supports Morocco. Russia supports Algeria. That’s it in a nutshell. Which is great because Algeria is going to be the next Ukraine where East fights West. What do you think about that?”
Sensibly, the three stayed silent.
One hour after discovering the body, Walter was still in his hotel room in Colmar. He had exhausted the minibar’s supply of chocolates. Three staff from the British Embassy in Paris were flying down in the next few hours and would take over all aspects of the case. One would deal with the police; one would handle the administrative stuff, such as the body; and one, Edward Evans, would deal with tying up any loose ends (which is FCO-speak for secret-squirrel stuff). The French police had asked Walter to stay in his room as they would need to interview him.
There was a loud knock on his door. He answered it to a group of French policemen who introduced themselves as being from a brigade criminelle; the shortest of the three said he was the chef de groupe and would be leading the investigation on behalf of the commissaire, who would report to the prosecutor, who would report to the judge. Walter felt punch-drunk. He had never heard of a brigade criminelle and felt even more disturbed when they explained they only dealt with high-profile cases. The fact that Monsieur Musselwhite was a British government minister and was about to meet a French minister meant that it wouldn’t be investigated in the normal way.
They had immediately asked if Johnny Musselwhite had diplomatic immunity, as they hadn’t found his passport. Walter couldn’t answer that question; therefore, he stalled. Aren’t all British government ministers covered by diplomatic immunity automatically? he asked himself. He didn’t know. Does the involvement of drugs invalidate any immunity? Again, he didn’t know. It would be a few hours before the cavalry arrived from the embassy in Paris. He needed to keep it together until then.
This wasn’t exactly what Walter had signed up for. This was too James Bond for him.
He had been drinking coffee made using the last milk capsule in his room when the brigade criminelle had turned up, and he had idly been musing on whether he might get a knighthood for services to the Crown – his mother in Cornwall would be so proud – or be arrested for the murder of a British government minister. Did they still have the death penalty in France? Why did things happen to him?
“What is your exact role?” the chief asked Walter.
“I’m with the British Embassy in Paris; my superiors will be down here in the next few hours. I flew into Basel yesterday. I’m here for just a few hours to organise things and look after Mr Musselwhite,” Walter replied, managing to sound guilty of some unspecified crime.
“We haven’t found his passport, wallet, laptop, briefcase or such things, either in his room or car. Do you have them?”
“No. He drove down separately yesterday, as I understand it. He was intending to drive south on holiday after the meeting outside Colmar with your Minister of Energy.”
“Where did you both spend last evening?”
“I met him for the first time, here in the hotel, after taking a taxi from Basel. We discussed the meeting. He ordered room service and said he wanted an early night. I went out to an auberge and ate alone. I was in bed by 9.40pm. We arranged to meet downstairs for breakfast together.”
“Do you have anything of his that might help us in this investigation?” The chief had a very un-Gallic cold demeanour.
Walter could almost feel the business card in his pocket. “No, I don’t think so.”
“We would like you to stay in Colmar to help. When were you intending to fly back to Paris?”
“I was intending to fly back tonight. Perhaps I should wait until my superiors arrive?” Walter was already acquiring that diplomat’s knack of kicking anything unpleasant into the long grass.
“Good idea,” the chief replied with a disarming look. “I was going to suggest that we wait for the prosecutor to arrive. I am sure she will have some questions.”
Oh bugger! Walter thought, and then, begrudgingly, Touché.
“After all, it is not every day that we have the murder in Colmar of a British government minister.”
Murder, did he say murder?
CHAPTER FOUR
“What are you doing, Leonard? You appear to be going up and down,” Mike asked.
“Give … me … a … couple … of … seconds.”
“That looks like a playground in a park. I thought there were restraining orders in place?”
“I just … need … to join … this queue.” He paused. “That’s better.” The image steadied and the background came into proper focus.
“Are you jogging in Hyde Park?” Mike asked in disbelief.
“No, I was running to an ice-cream van that has just turned up, and the park is full of fat little shits.”
Mike managed to display considerable restraint. “Why are you in the park?”
“To talk to you, of course.” Mike could just about hear Leonard above the chatter of excited children. “This makes me appreciate my air-conditioned office. How are you doing?”
“Well, it’s only been twenty-four hours, but I’m now the world authority on Algerian gas pipelines. Thank you for that.”
