Antiphon

"There is one hundred thousand dollars as you asked. Do you promise me, that once you have the money, my parents will be released? When will my parents be released?" "You money give me, the old people we let go, that is what we do." The man suddenly grabbed the briefcase, and made a dash for the door. "We let go, when I get back with money." He was gone, and so was the money. Frederik eyed the closed door with misgiving. Were his parents still alive? He did not know. He also had no way of knowing if the seedy looking character who had just left, had told him the truth, and that, now the ransom had been paid, his parents would be released. Boko Haram had a fearsome reputation for cruelty, and committing atrocities, proclaiming their actions to be in the name of their religion. He thought this claim was spurious. From what Frederik had learned of the organisation, it consisted mainly of young men, thugs, of little or no education, unemployed, and for the most part largely unemployable, who were, in essence, violent criminals. That their crimes were committed in the name of Allah, in pursuit of an ill-defined jihad, was denounced by most Muslims. Boko Haram killed, because they enjoyed killing. Had he a choice? How else might he have negotiated with the big black man who had come into his room? Frederik fretted, sleeplessly, waiting to hear something. It was two weeks later, before the news came through. The heads of the two Swedish kidnap victims, impaled on stakes, had been found near the Sudanese border. Their bodies were never recovered.