Information about the book
Prologue
Kellie
Newcastle. NSW
Sunday, 24 August 2008
Oh god, I missed the phone. I hate clients calling on a Sunday. It's around 10.30 a.m., and I think to myself, If it's important, they'll call back, just as the home phone starts ringing.Arrrgh.
'Hello, Kellie speaking.'
'Hi, Kellie, I'm sorry to call you on a Sunday morning.'
'Yeah, right,' I say. I'm curt but not rude. I just don't like discussing work on a Sunday - it's the only day my family spends time together without any interruptions. Besides, I'm a little hung-over and I haven't yet had the caffeine fix I need to get me going.
The woman on the end of the line has an Asian accent. She doesn't sound like a regular client who wants my time; she sounds genuinely apologetic for calling me, yet probing, wanting something. 'My name is Glenda Kwek and I'm from the Sydney Morning Herald. I'm sorry to call you about this as I realise it must be a terribly distressing time for the family but . . .'
But what? What the hell is she talking about? She must have the wrong number.
'. . . but can you confirm the kidnapping of Nigel Brennan in Somalia?'
'What?! Are you serious?' I ask. She must be having a laugh.
'Yes, I am very serious. There are reports that an Australian man called Nigel Brennan has been kidnapped in Somalia with Canadian journalist Amanda Lindhout.'
Oh, holy crap.
There is a long pause.
I feel the blood drain from all parts of my body; my knees buckle underneath me and I slump into a nearby chair. My armpits start to prickle and I can feel the adrenaline building in my body.
Matt is looking at me, questioning me with his eyes. On a nearby notepad I scrawl the words 'Nigel and Amanda have been kidnapped in Somalia' and pass it to him. He disappears.
I am numb to what Glenda is saying so I ask her to tell me exactly what she knows.
She does so, and it all becomes a bit too real. As Glenda repeats Amanda's name, I know it's true, even though I hadn't heard that Nige had hooked up with her again.
My mouth is dry and as I go to talk, I have to try a couple of times before I can peel my tongue from the roof of my mouth.
'Look, all I can confirm is yes, Nigel Brennan is my brother-in-law; he was going to Kenya last I heard. And yes, I know Amanda Lindhout.'
'Is this the first time you have heard this?' she asks, sounding more shocked than I am.
'Yes. I have no idea what you're talking about.'
The penny drops for her. Glenda has just realised that she, a journalist from a major daily newspaper, has informed our family of their son and brother's kidnapping. Not the cops, not the Australian Federal Police, not the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade, but a journalist.
Matt appears in front of me with a map, showing me that Somalia is next to Kenya.
Oh my god, this is really happening. Matt starts to pace the room and I can see what he's thinking. How? Why? When? By whom?
Glenda informs me that it happened yesterday, 23 August. Nigel and Amanda were reported missing when they didn't return to their hotel after a day out taking photographs of refugee camps. DFAT is presently unable to confirm exactly what's happened to them.
She asks if she can speak with Nigel's mother.
'Ah, no,' I say. 'I will take your number and get her to call you.'
Glenda gives me her number and we say goodbye.
I have never forgotten the sound of Glenda Kwek's voice. I'm not sure whether it is adrenaline or instinct, or both, that takes over at this moment, but I turn to Matt and say, 'Right, I need to call your parents to let them know. Your mum needs to phone Glenda Kwek, and we'll go from there.' I feel like I could run a marathon, yet my legs are like jelly.
The knot in my stomach feels as big as those in the fastening ropes of an ocean liner and my head is starting to pound. I dial the number and wait.
Part of me is hoping Matt's mum, Heather, won't pick up because then she will have just a few more minutes of normality before I turn her and Geoff's life to shit. Another part of me is willing them both to the phone so that we can find out exactly where Nigel is and whether he is okay.
Why did he go to Somalia? This question keeps going over and over in my head.
Heather answers the phone in a bright, cheery voice, a voice that sounds like a beautiful sunny Queensland morning. I am about to deliver a cyclone right into her house.
'Hi,' I say, trying to sound like my usual self. 'Is Geoff with you?' 'No, he's outside. How are you?'
'Ah, good. Can you do me a favour and go and get him? I've got some news to tell you both.'
'What's wrong?'
'Oh, nothing. I just need you both to be there together.'
The last time I did this I told them I was having another baby.
How do I tell my in-laws this kind of news? And why does it have to be me? I figure it's best that it comes from a family member and not the press, as I have just experienced. And it's too much for Matt to handle.
'He's here,' she says. 'Now what's wrong?'
'I need you to sit down.'
'I don't need to sit down. What is it?' Her tone is anxious.
'I've just had a phone call from Glenda Kwek. She's a journalist with the Sydney Morning Herald, and she told me that Nigel has been kidnapped in Somalia with Amanda Lindhout.'
'Don't be ridiculous! He's in Kenya,' she says.
'Heather, Kenya is next to Somalia. Glenda said they haven't returned to their hotel and are feared kidnapped.'
'Oh, that's ridiculous. He wasn't going to Somalia.'
'Look, here's her number. You need to ask her all the details. She's waiting for your call.'
'You're serious about this, then?'
'Yeah, I am. Just call her and find out as much as you can and we'll talk again soon.'
Matt and I stare at each other in silence, and then he starts ranting.
'The stupid little fucker!'
I let Matt continue for a bit as I can't seem to move. All I can feel are vibrations through the chair legs as Matt stomps around on the floorboards. He continues to pace.
'Matt, we don't know anything yet. We need to wait for your mum to call back to see if she can confirm if it's Nigel or not.'
'I don't need it confirmed. How many other Nigels do you think Amanda knows who would do something this fucking stupid?'
What happens next can only be described as a barrage. I hear my mobile first and when I don't answer it, the home phone starts ringing off the hook. On the other end are journalists who've just discovered the news on the wire, and are desperate for a comment. If you look up 'Nigel Brennan' on Facebook, you find me. My mobile number is listed on my profile, along with my business details and email address.
I have never been involved with the press in any way. I am a media virgin. As the day unfolds, I learn very quickly that nothing is private, especially when there's a story in it.
The phone is ringing again and thank god for caller ID - it's Heather and Geoff's number.
I pick up the phone, still hoping that it's all just a horrible misunderstanding. Heather tells me she can't get hold of Nigel's girlfriend in Scotland to find out where he was going, as it's the middle of the night there, and that DFAT cannot confirm what's happened to Nigel at this stage, only that he is missing. Heather gives me a number for DFAT so I can call someone called Emily, our newly appointed media liaison officer. Emily will provide me with a blanket statement that family and friends - anyone who might be contacted for a comment or background information - can give to the press.
So while Heather calls Nigel's friends to see if he told anyone where he was going, I set out to phone people to give them the official statement, just as the 11 a.m. news has the first hint of the story.
By 3 p.m. I'm still on the phone, calling everyone I can think of to warn them about what they will see in full detail on the 6 p.m. news. The phone is ringing again and I pick it up.
It's the phone call Matt and I have been dreading. Confirmation.
To the world this is just another news report about some unknown people in a dangerous country. Most are immune to this sort of story. The war in Afghanistan has been raging for years, and images of men in jeeps with machine-guns are disturbingly familiar. But the gunmen's home country is different this time.
In the news story there are no US troops, no villages are annihilated by rogue bombs. This story involves us, the Brennans, and a member of our family. This story is about to become our entire world.
