28-03-2019, 03:14 PM
Three shots were fired into the night air. A half-mile away, lights turned on, illuminating a gate ahead, which began opening. The convoy of Humvees made their way off the road and into the compound.
Shots of welcome were fired into the air as they approached, hailing the conquering heroes returning from their hunt. A man walked toward the incoming vehicles with a video camera, recording as they roared through the gates; the mercenaries looking as fierce as possible for the camera.
A large black man emerged from the lead Humvee, cigar clenched in his teeth. A face the world had come to know from YouTube videos and recent news exposure. He approached the one that had been in the rear and opened the back.
"Has she spoken," he asked the mercenary who was getting out of the vehicle. The merc handed him the woman's purse, which he tossed to a subordinate.
"Nothing, Mr. Igazi. She has been quiet the whole time. In fact, I think I heard snoring."
"And she is still wearing all of her jewelry?"
"You told us not to take it, Mr. Igazi. Everyone knows the penalty for stealing from you."
Igazi looked over her hands, finding the emerald signet ring he'd hoped for. He removed the hood and looked at Maria's face. Sometimes women he removed the hood from were terrified, sometimes they were relived to be out of it. This was the first time he'd ever removed a bag from over a woman's face to find her sleeping peacefully.
"Hey," he said loudly to the sleeping woman. When she did not move, he tapped her on the forehead and yelled "HEY!" Maria continued sleeping. He motioned for two of the men to bring her to one of the huts, then turned toward the men in the yard of the compound. The mercenary who'd rode with her followed the two men carrying Maria.
"There will be no fun with this one! She is mine," he yelled so all could hear. Many of them turned away in disappointment. "You have done well. Beer for all!" The disappointment turned to cheers as coolers were opened and cans and bottles passed around. He walked toward the largest hut in the compound, the men hoisting beers and cheering "Igazi, Igazi" as he walked away from them.
He unslung his rifle as he entered and sat down at a hexagonal poker table in the center of the room. The man who'd been recording their return knocked on the door. "Come," he called.
"Mr. Igazi, we have some good footage. Shall I edit it and deliver it to the media?"
"Not yet. How long were we gone?"
"Three hours, sir."
Igazi put out his cigar. "Then we still have eight hours before she arrives. I'll record my demands, and then it shall be delivered not to the media, but to the San Finzione embassy in the capitol."
"If you say, sir. Permit me a question, but I am told the girl is some kind of royalty?"
"Some kind, yes."
"Then with a prize this great, you could have the world's attention. Every television camera in the world would be pointed at Uongo and the name of David Igazi would be on the lips of all."
Igazi didn't remember the man's name, but he recalled that he was American. He'd taken a semester in journalism before dropping out of college, so Igazi had put him in charge of media affairs.
"This is not for attention," he told the cameraman. We need this girl, and we need one person alone to know where she is." He walked over to the small refrigerator by his desk and pulled out two bottles of beer. He set one before the cameraman and opened the other with his teeth before producing another cigar. "Once we have recorded my part, take it to the embassy."
"As you wish, sir," the cameraman said, setting down his camera and opening his beer. "I take it they will pay a greater ransom if the media is not informed?"
"Possibly, yes. But it is not ransom I seek."
"Your plans are greater than my understanding, sir," the cameraman replied. Americans always knew just how to kiss his ass.
"You'll want to get this," Igazi said, gesturing to the camera. The cameraman picked it up, pointed it at him and pressed record, giving a thumbs-up. David Igazi looked into the camera.
"If you want to trap a witch," he said to it. "First you must catch her familiar."
Shots of welcome were fired into the air as they approached, hailing the conquering heroes returning from their hunt. A man walked toward the incoming vehicles with a video camera, recording as they roared through the gates; the mercenaries looking as fierce as possible for the camera.
A large black man emerged from the lead Humvee, cigar clenched in his teeth. A face the world had come to know from YouTube videos and recent news exposure. He approached the one that had been in the rear and opened the back.
"Has she spoken," he asked the mercenary who was getting out of the vehicle. The merc handed him the woman's purse, which he tossed to a subordinate.
"Nothing, Mr. Igazi. She has been quiet the whole time. In fact, I think I heard snoring."
"And she is still wearing all of her jewelry?"
"You told us not to take it, Mr. Igazi. Everyone knows the penalty for stealing from you."
Igazi looked over her hands, finding the emerald signet ring he'd hoped for. He removed the hood and looked at Maria's face. Sometimes women he removed the hood from were terrified, sometimes they were relived to be out of it. This was the first time he'd ever removed a bag from over a woman's face to find her sleeping peacefully.
"Hey," he said loudly to the sleeping woman. When she did not move, he tapped her on the forehead and yelled "HEY!" Maria continued sleeping. He motioned for two of the men to bring her to one of the huts, then turned toward the men in the yard of the compound. The mercenary who'd rode with her followed the two men carrying Maria.
"There will be no fun with this one! She is mine," he yelled so all could hear. Many of them turned away in disappointment. "You have done well. Beer for all!" The disappointment turned to cheers as coolers were opened and cans and bottles passed around. He walked toward the largest hut in the compound, the men hoisting beers and cheering "Igazi, Igazi" as he walked away from them.
He unslung his rifle as he entered and sat down at a hexagonal poker table in the center of the room. The man who'd been recording their return knocked on the door. "Come," he called.
"Mr. Igazi, we have some good footage. Shall I edit it and deliver it to the media?"
"Not yet. How long were we gone?"
"Three hours, sir."
Igazi put out his cigar. "Then we still have eight hours before she arrives. I'll record my demands, and then it shall be delivered not to the media, but to the San Finzione embassy in the capitol."
"If you say, sir. Permit me a question, but I am told the girl is some kind of royalty?"
"Some kind, yes."
"Then with a prize this great, you could have the world's attention. Every television camera in the world would be pointed at Uongo and the name of David Igazi would be on the lips of all."
Igazi didn't remember the man's name, but he recalled that he was American. He'd taken a semester in journalism before dropping out of college, so Igazi had put him in charge of media affairs.
"This is not for attention," he told the cameraman. We need this girl, and we need one person alone to know where she is." He walked over to the small refrigerator by his desk and pulled out two bottles of beer. He set one before the cameraman and opened the other with his teeth before producing another cigar. "Once we have recorded my part, take it to the embassy."
"As you wish, sir," the cameraman said, setting down his camera and opening his beer. "I take it they will pay a greater ransom if the media is not informed?"
"Possibly, yes. But it is not ransom I seek."
"Your plans are greater than my understanding, sir," the cameraman replied. Americans always knew just how to kiss his ass.
"You'll want to get this," Igazi said, gesturing to the camera. The cameraman picked it up, pointed it at him and pressed record, giving a thumbs-up. David Igazi looked into the camera.
"If you want to trap a witch," he said to it. "First you must catch her familiar."
Like, Comment and Give Rating.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)