Awoken
An uneasy silence filled the room. He had been sitting, unmoving and deep in thought for longer than he could remember. The plain room that had become his sanctuary and his prison was completely empty save an unusually large stack of books in one corner and a mattress in the other. As quiet and empty as the windowless white-washed room was; his mind was loud, racing, and full of everything that had happened and everything he had to do. He finished the last pages of the book he had only just picked up as his mind spurred his body into action. Mack was now fully galvanized and mentally ready to take on the calling that had been laid before him.
Mack left the one room flat he had been using in the middle of Dakhla. He came from the complex to find the bustling city reassuring. The Dakhla people went about their daily chores unaware that the man that had just entered the street was angry inside, that he had revenge on his mind, and that he was preparing after a 2 year slumber to bring hell to earth. He had called Africa home for too long and it was now time to enact revenge on the group that had destroyed his life.
The dusty streets of the city with the dust colored buildings created a very surreal atmosphere that made anyone who had been to a northern country long for the color green. Not all parts of Dakhla are dusty, but being in the western part of the Sahara has its disadvantages. The African sun beats down with an intensity that is not to be found many other places in the world. Everything in this place that can not hide from the heat is eventually turned into more dust.
Mack took the surroundings of southern Dakhla in; street merchants were lined on both sides of the street, selling everything imaginable. They sold their wares with a tenacity that truly made one understand how desperate they were. The dire situation of this people can be seen in the fact that appearances are unimportant; the trash that covers the streets indicates that in their lives there are more important tasks than keeping their society clean. The items that Mack needed though were not to be found in the inventory of a street vendor. He would have to go see Zula.
Magmus
Magmus Corporation has made the news lately, but not for good reasons. Magmus is being investigated for violating antitrust regulations. The UK Government is considering options on what to do with the Energy Giant to include fines or possibly breaking up the conglomerate.
Pete exited the black limo that had all but become his home over the last few months (rework). The conglomerate of people and cameras surrounded Pete per usual; shouting question after question trying to be heard over the other rats in the group. Man how he hated the press.
"No questions, please. We will put out a press release when we have conclusive answers to provide."
"Mr. No... Mr. Novak, do you have anything to say about the allegations that your company has been illega--
Smiling Pete calmly cut the young lady off that had asked the question, "Again, we will put out something conclusive when we have something conclusive to put out; ergo, I have nothing to say at this moment in time."
The questions continued as Pete walked in to the all glass mirrored 35 story building. The structure had been finished 3 years ago, in time for Pete's father to see it before he passed away. In hind sight Pete thought to himself that he should have had a fence installed around the compound.
"Mr. Novak, Mr. Benson is waiting in your office for you." The receptionist called out to Pete as he came through the door."
"Thank you, Melissa. How long has he been waiting?" Pete walked to the desk and smiled at her.
"Not long. He arrived around 10 minutes ago. Would you like me to hold your calls?"
"Please," said Pete as he walked down the corridor towards his office.
Pete came in to his office and closed the door. He glanced around the office before setting eyes on Mr. Benson.
"Majaliwa, I trust you found your flight pleasant?" asked Pete as he shook Majaliwa's hand.
Majaliwa name was deceptive and so was his appearance. His mother was British and his father was Namibian. He had grown up in Africa most of his life with his father after his mother passed away, however his father was able to afford for him to go to school in the UK. Majaliwa was a large man with a firm handshake. He had a dark complexion with piercing blue eyes and short dreads.
"I did," he said in his African accent.
"Good. I am pleased with the results of our agreement. I have deposited the money into your account."
"Very good and thank you."
" Majaliwa, you have been working off and on for me for a couple of years now. I would like to hire you full time to be my representative in our African operations." Pete sat down in his chair and lit a cigar.
Majaliwa sat back in his chair as he crossed his legs. He sat for a while thinking about the offer before answering. "I would be pleased to work for you further, Mr. Novak"
"Great! Talk to Melissa on your way out; she will sort your arrangements out while you are here in the UK. I will contact you in a few days. Please take this time to tour the building here."
Majaliwa and Pete both stood up at the same time to shake each others hand. There was a moment of pause in the handshake as they looked into each other's eyes.
"Good and good bye, Mr. Benson"
"Good bye."
Alex and Sonya
Mack drank alone at a busy bar in the rather beautiful and tourist city of Casablanca. The bar was located in the cities heart. The heart of Casablanca is not actually in the center of the city; it lies on the couple of miles of coast line that look out towards the Atlantic Ocean. He was meeting Zula tomorrow afternoon; so he figured he had at least half a day that he could drink. Zula would understand also if he needed to rest when he got there. She always understood. Mack looked out at the dark area of sky that he knew met with the deep blue ocean as he thought about the people drinking in the bar. They all seemed so happy. They seemed so completely and utterly happy. He wondered how it would feel to be one of these naïve people that socialized and drank in this bar.
"Probably would feel pretty good,"
"What would feel good," said a rather more feminine voice then he had expected to hear tonight.
"To be naive."
"To be naive? Why would it feel good to be naive?" shot back the voice again.
She's quick and on her toes. Mack had not looked at her yet. He was afraid that reality might not come to par with the picture he had in his mind. He pondered the question.
If I was naïve I wouldn't know how fucked up everything is? No thats not it.
"To be naïve is to be free. To be free from guilt and worry."
He had tortured himself enough and managed a glance in the direction of the voice. Green eyes. Green eyes held him in a stare which he could not leave until allowed to. After a few excruciatingly comfortable moments the voice allowed him to have another drink.
"I'm Alex, who are you," said Alex.
"Mack, so what brings you to hell?"
"Is this Hell? I was rather enjoying myself."
"As one does in Hell I suppose. So what does bring you to Morocco and how old are you by the way?" Says Mack as he takes a long drink from his beer. The beer was good. It had been a long while since he had indulged and it felt good.
"I work for Allitan, out of the UK. We are working a deal to export phosphates and some other raw materials." Alex paused while she took a drink from her wine glass. "The export market has really expanded in recent years from Morocco.
