The Council of Galdopho meets in the university city of Ithaca, New York. By 6 pm the members begin to arrive at the single-story house on Emerald Street behind the city’s Games Reserve. Recessed from casual view by a well-maintained forest of birch trees, the little house creates the picture of unassuming and reclusive elegance, owned, most likely, by a retired CEO of a bank or an insurance company. A signboard by the entrance warns passers-by that it is a private property and no one should enter the grounds. But it is all a façade. In reality, it is a safe house maintained by the Council, guarded day and night by the most sophisticated electronic surveillance gadgets that money could buy. No one approaches the house from any angle without being seen and taped by an array of hidden cameras, monitored day and night by a team of five staff that double also as guards. They are headquartered in an underground cellar in the forest behind the house, completely hidden from view. If a curious passer-by decides to enter the grounds, an alarm goes off underground and a guard will suddenly emerge to warn the wanderer off. If he proves intransigent, another guard will appear, leading a growling Doberman. Usually, that is enough to persuade the curious to exit the grounds with some alacrity. In case of a more serious resistance, the remaining guards will emerge, armed with rifles, and releasing the two other dogs from their underground cage. If this is not enough, a phone call to the precinct police station will bring a special detachment of the NYPD hurtling down to the house in a matter of minutes. But such an emergency has never arisen.

As usual, the Council members arrive one by one; for security reasons, no two members arrive together or ride in the same car. They are all brought in by a fleet of dull painted Ford Explorer jeeps, regular order stuff, with unusually powerful engines and tinted side glasses so dark it is impossible to see the occupants from outside. Each vehicle is driven by a muscular man who was once a marine. The driver carries a holstered pistol and doubles as a guard if the need arises. Accompanying each member in the passenger seat is another ex-marine with a rifle, whose eyes sweep the traffic on every side continuously. The Council member sits at the back quietly. He or she talks to no one, and no one attempts to talk to him or her. That is standard procedure. No deviation allowed.

The first car turns into the stone-paved road that leads up to the small courtyard and stops in front of the building at exactly 6 pm. The marine on the passenger seat jumps down and opens the door. The first member steps down and is received by Francis and Marie Temple, husband and wife, house-keepers on these occasions, and ex-navy SEALS. They have no children and are not desirous of any because their line of business is lucrative but too attractive to sudden death. The Temples greet each member and usher him or her into the house without much ceremony. As soon as the member steps in, the Temples immediately collects phones and other electronic gadgets brought by him or her, and then sweeps the body with a hand-held electronic detector. Once the member is certified clean, he or she is ushered into the council chambers and Marie serves coffee or tea, water and cookies as desired. Besides these four items, there is no other food on the menu. That, too, is standard procedure.

The remaining six cars arrive within the next one hour and each member goes through the ritual of admittance without a murmur. By seven o’clock, all the Council members are seated in their traditional places. At the head of the table sits the chairman, Carl Alessandro, Italian American multi-billionaire whose business interests lie majorly in oil and gas and the new ICT industries. He was born in Galdopho, but grew up in Milan, Italy. His parents were well-to-do businessmen dealing in wines. They brought him up as a devout Catholic. Just before his tenth birthday, his parents were gunned down in a cross-fire between rival mafia gangs and his world collapsed. Within six months of his parents’ death, he knew all the colours of poverty and hunger, his parents’ business having been taken over by the gangsters. To survive, he became a runner for one of the dope-dealing mafia families, but was caught by the police during one of their raids in Turin. Instead of sending him to jail, however, the judge, a woman, considered his age and sent him to a juvenile correctional centre in Milan. There he was sent back to school and excelled in academics. Two years later, Smile of God, an international non-governmental organisation specialising in reforming teenage prisoners, picked him up and sponsored his education to the polytechnic where he read Business Administration. After his diploma, he joined the American marines, served for seven years, was honourably discharged and went into business with one of his former generals, now retired. His brilliance and natural daring made him to buy stocks of blue chip companies at a time when the markets were extremely down. By the time the market rebounded a year later, he was a multi-millionaire and expanded into oil and gas, and ICT. He vowed to use his wealth to help poor people, especially oppressed children and teenagers all over the world. And when he heard about the Premium Girls, a group of seven girls that miraculously escaped from Boko Haram captivity in Nigeria’s Sambisa forest, he handpicked six other members to form the Council of Galdopho, and have silently been funding the education and welfare of the seven girls. He called the emerging organisation the Council of Galdopho in honour of his birthplace. Alessandro is built like a tank from top to bottom. His mates in the marine used to call him ROO, Rock of Offence. Anybody he falls upon will crumble, and whoever falls upon ROO will be broken.

Sitting to his right is the secretary of the organisation, Dr. Solomon Adam, a Nigerian of Fulani extraction. Dr. Adam is the most brilliant human being that Alessandro has ever met. He finished sumna claud laude in Harvard where he read Business Administration, went on to the London School of Economics for his master’s degree in International Economics and was overall best student of his graduating class. He crossed back to the United States to obtain a doctorate in Military Economics at Cornel. He lectured for a season in his alma mater, but dissatisfied with the pay and prospect, he crossed over to the Bank of America as an executive, rose to the position of a director, and then crossed again to an armament producing multi-national company as sales director. In his rare foray into the arms world, Alessandro met Adam in the company headquarters in Seattle and was impressed by his acute intelligence, efficiency and honesty. When he was forming the Council, he picked him as the secretary, not only for his impeccable qualifications but because he is a Nigerian, the only Fulani that Alessandro has met who is unapologetically Christian. Adam is in his sixties, very light in complexion with a mane of bushy white hairs and sideburns that stand him out in a crowd.

To Alessandro’s left is an elegant lady from the Ukraine, whose chic appearance is a mask for a steely character shaped and toughened by many wars, social upheavals and terrorist debacles. Her name is Sandra, shortened form of Oleksandra. Sandra is in her fifties although she looks forty. The better part of her life she lives pursuing her one great passion, saving children from the ravages of war and war-related situations. She is a regional director of the Red Cross whose offices are based in New York. But she is rarely there, as she often goes from one war front to another, saving and providing for her children. She was in N’Djamena, Mali on that fateful day when the Premium Girls walked into the Red Cross headquarters after their miraculous escape from Boko Haram captivity in Sambisa forest. Even though Sandra had always been a Christian, the story of the girls converted her into an almost fanatic Christian and she goes about her calling with renewed fervour. She resolved long ago that being a wife and having children would interfere with her vocation, and so remains single.

To her right is Greg Winterbottom, a retired Briton who worked for an oil company in Nigeria. Greg is a geo-physicist, and for a long time was based in the Northern part of Nigeria, Maiduguri specifically. He was part of a well-funded project searching for oil in the north and travelled all over the region in their often-futile search for the black gold that would make the north less dependent on the south for revenue. He retired after surviving a series of attacks by the Boko Haram terrorist group. He was one of the ten expatriates captured in the Chad basin. His company had to pay thousands of dollars to secure his release. His American wife who had never liked the situation in Nigeria threatened to divorce him unless he left the country. His two sons supported their mother. So he was forced to take a generous pension and retire to Texas, where he serves as a consultant to an oil servicing company. His brutal experiences in the camp of the terrorists where he witnessed many rapes and beheadings ironically changed Greg from a nominal to a serious Christian, for he never really believed that the terrorists would release him after collecting the ransom money. So many times the terrorists went ahead to kill their victims after money has been paid. Therefore, Greg attributes his release to the mercy of God.

Directly opposite Greg and to Adam’s right is a young lady from Paraguay named Lisa Rochas, thirty years of age, an MIT graduate and ICT whizz kid who knows more about the new technologies than ten “professors” put together. She works in one of Alessandro’s ICT research and development companies as a “special analyst”, a title given to her by Alessandro for want of a better nomenclature to justify her huge pay comparative to her age and few years of work experience. Lisa was the first person to notify Alessandro that an ugly situation was developing out in Taiwan. She told her boss that she got wind of the problem from stuff picked up from the ether by her sophisticated electronic ears, euphemism for spying satellites. Like the rest of the Council, she does not really know her boss’s special interest in the country but has been instructed to keep an eye on Taiwan. She assumes that Alessandro must be protecting his many business interests in the Asian block.

To Lisa’s right is Chen Lee a Chinese American, and opposite him sits Dan Schneider a German. Lee is in his fifties, a retired marine colonel who has made a lot of money as a “security expert”. He has a network of experienced security personnel who specialise in facility protection, most especially oil and gas facilities. He has contracts with major oil companies all over the world, including Petrogas, a major oil company that used to operate in the oil-rich but volatile Niger-Delta region of Nigeria. Schneider, on the other hand, is a finance guru who can make any amount of money to disappear and reappear in any part of the world within seconds without leaving a trace. But since he became a Christian ten years ago, his company, Dan Limited based in Stuttgart and New York, now specialises in tracing looted funds especially from Africa and recovering same for a handsome fee. Nigerian governments have recovered over a billion dollars of looted funds stashed away in Swiss Banks, the Cayman Islands or other safe havens of stolen money through Schneider’s company.

The Council chairman, Carl Alessandro, Italian American billionaire businessman, clears his throat and the murmur of chats and greetings stops. All eyes are riveted on the chairman in tense anticipation. The Council holds its meeting once in a quarter and met only six weeks ago. This meeting, therefore, is an emergency one, which means that something has gone wrong somewhere.

“We have a problem,” begins Alessandro without a preamble. “One of the Premium Girls was attacked yesterday in Taiwan. The secretary will fill us in. Shall we pray?” The chairman says a short opening prayer and they all chorus “Amen”. Afterwards, the chairman nods to the secretary.

“Thank you, Chairman. Yesterday Sunday at around 8 o’clock local time Mary, one of the Premium Girls pursuing Peace Studies at National ChengChi University, Taiwan was kidnapped by three hoodlums.”

A gasp of incredulity and fear whipped round the room.

“What!” exclaims Sandra with visible trepidation. It is not a secret that she regards the Premium Girls as the children she would never have.

“Who did it, Boko Haram?” demands Greg.

“How did they find her?” asks Chen before Adam has any chance to answer the first question.

“Let’s calm down, ladies and gentlemen,” intervenes the chairman. “I know how you feel. I was shocked myself when I first heard the news. But let’s remain calm and hear the secretary out.”

“Thank you, chairman,” begins Adam again. “I will try to answer all your questions within the limit of facts available to us. To continue, Mary was kidnapped by these hoodlums. Fortunately, the police got wind of it within minutes and swung into action. The hoodlums were traced to Maryam’s apartment where she was rescued, but two of her attackers committed suicide to avoid arrest!”

Another gasp of disbelief and dread rips through the assembly.

“Earlier, the third hoodlum has been apprehended by the police. He was detained but he also committed suicide before the police could interrogate him.”

“So what do we know?” interrupts Greg again.

“Mary later tells the police that they asked her for a list or a set of papers supposedly stolen from late Abukakar Shekau the Boko Haram leader around the time the Premium Girls escaped from Sambisa forest. They ripped her room apart in her absence but obviously found nothing. So they kidnapped her and searched her person with no better result.”

“Is she safe?” asks Sandra anxiously.

“She’s safe, Sandra,” answered the chairman. “Thank you, secretary. Please have your seat.” Adam sits down and all eyes now rivet on the chairman. “This incident raises a number of serious questions. The first is: what’s in this list or papers that is worth dying for? Has anybody any idea what the list is all about?”

He looks round the table, but no one seems to have an idea. Eventually, Lisa clears her throat and nods her heard slightly.

“Yes, Lisa?”

“I don’t know if this will be useful, sir….”

“Go on!”

“Sometimes early this year, our electronic ears picked up bits and pieces about panic in Sambisa forest and in the northeast of Nigeria. But nothing, absolutely nothing came of it and that’s why I didn’t bring it to your notice.”

“Panic? What kind of panic, Lisa?”

“I don’t know, sir. We’ve heard nothing since then.”

At this point, Adam looks at the chairman and says:

“Excuse me, Chairman. I also heard about the panic. Sometimes in March, a friend of mine from Nigeria asked me if I had heard about the Chibok papers. I said I never heard of them and then pressed him for more explanations. Apparently, a silent tremor is going round the elite circle in the northeast of Nigeria and Abuja the capital over the loss of a certain list belonging to Shekau. According to the rumour, Shekau kept a list of his sponsors and their contributions to his terrorist acts. The list allegedly contains the names of prominent men and women in the Nigerian society and all over the world, who are the silent backers and financiers of Boko Haram. That’s the list that allegedly went missing from Shekau’s camp in Sambisa forest. It is also rumoured that a number of his close commanders had been executed over their suspected roles in the disappearance of the papers.”

“Why didn’t you tell us all this before now?” demands Chen Lee.

“Well, it was all conjecture, rumours that floated like a disembodied ghost in the atmosphere. Until now, I never gave it a serious thought.”

“Well, it’s obvious now that something like that happened,” cuts in Schneider. “Otherwise, three criminals won’t take their own lives just to protect the information.”

“I agree with you, Dan,” says the chairman. “It’s also apparent that some powerful people believe that one of our Premium Girls must have taken the list.”

“More like a powerful organisation, Chairman,” says Sandra. “What do we do?”

“If indeed such a list exists, we should have it,” observes Lee. “We have protected and nurtured these girls since they escaped from Sambisa. No other organisation deserves to have the list besides the Council of Galdopho!”

“And what will we do with it?” asks Sandra.

“Ensure justice is done!” shouts Lee and Greg simultaneously.

“Those criminals should not go unpunished,” adds Greg passionately, remembering his ordeals in the hands of Boko Haram.

“Calm down, gentlemen,” says the chairman. “We will take a decision on the issue now that we have an idea of what the list contains. This brings us to the second question: who are these people, and how did they find the girls after such a long time and the precautions we took?”

“Chairman,” begins Greg, “when I was in Boko Haram captivity in Sambisa, I heard snatches of their conversations. On many occasions, I heard them say the word “Basra”. I didn’t know what it meant but I had the impression that it refers to an organisation.”

“Any ideas?”

“Basra is an intellectual think-tank for the development of the Islamic World,” explains Adam. “It is made up of the best minds in the Islamic world and the goal of the organisation is the expansion of Islam by non-violent means. The United Nations is very much aware of Basra. It is not a terrorist organisation.”

“Could it not be used to funnel funds to Boko Haram?” asks Schneider.

“I doubt it. Basra promotes the integration of western education and Islam, but Boko Haram maintains that western education is forbidden or a taboo, haram in Arabic. Two cannot walk together unless they be agreed!”

After a lot of arguments, it is decided that since Boko Haram has pledged allegiance to Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS) also known as Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant, (ISIL), the organisation behind the search for the list is quite obvious. The realisation that the Council of Galdopho is up against such a formidable organisation sends jitters down the spines of members. None is in doubt that the council cannot match ISIS in resources and ruthlessness. In the end, it is decided that the council should provide the girls with private protection where they are. However, if any other girl is attacked henceforth, all of them will be pulled in and taken to safe houses where they could be given maximum protection. It is also decided that Sandra, the only face of the council known to the girls should visit them one by one to reassure them of their safety. Finally, the council decides to engage the services of a top-notch private investigator to quietly go after the list and obtain it if indeed it exists. The council ends its meeting at 2 am and members depart immediately. No paper work is left behind. That is also standard procedure.