OOM - Africa before the storm.
Jul. 24th, 2014 07:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runningredStepping back into his world was a mistake. He meant to spend a few more days with the tribe before saying goodbye to Africa forever. But there were messages waiting for him and not messages he wanted to hear. The kidnappers had gotten to the village; they’d taken the two youngest girls and killed three men of the tribe.
Jay closed his eyes and let it soak in. Outwardly he seemed calm, perfectly calm. Leaning against a pillar in the foyer of Tangier’s best hotel, he looked like a tired traveller rather than a man planning murder.
He had planned to break the trafficking ring before he left, to find the ones reasonable and bring them to the attention of the UN – preferably beaten and left on the doorstep of their office in Sierra Leone, one of the few western nations left that still proper law enforcement.
But now they had taken the girls from his tribe, from Ali’s people. He breathed out slowly and pushed off the pillar. There were things to arrange.
A dozen phone-calls later, Jay stepped off a first class flight at Seguela Airport. No-one looked sidewise at him. In the middle of a civil war, it wasn’t wise to get the attention of rich white man; you never know who they might be connected too. And in his suit, hair pulled back and hidden under a dark fedora, Jay look like the sort of rich white man who was highly connected.
Half hour later he was on the edge of town, pushing open the back door of a small bar. “Milliways. I need my gear.” His voice was flat and toneless. Now is not a time for emotion.
{{To here}}
Jay closed his eyes and let it soak in. Outwardly he seemed calm, perfectly calm. Leaning against a pillar in the foyer of Tangier’s best hotel, he looked like a tired traveller rather than a man planning murder.
He had planned to break the trafficking ring before he left, to find the ones reasonable and bring them to the attention of the UN – preferably beaten and left on the doorstep of their office in Sierra Leone, one of the few western nations left that still proper law enforcement.
But now they had taken the girls from his tribe, from Ali’s people. He breathed out slowly and pushed off the pillar. There were things to arrange.
A dozen phone-calls later, Jay stepped off a first class flight at Seguela Airport. No-one looked sidewise at him. In the middle of a civil war, it wasn’t wise to get the attention of rich white man; you never know who they might be connected too. And in his suit, hair pulled back and hidden under a dark fedora, Jay look like the sort of rich white man who was highly connected.
Half hour later he was on the edge of town, pushing open the back door of a small bar. “Milliways. I need my gear.” His voice was flat and toneless. Now is not a time for emotion.
{{To here}}
