The Devil's Handshake

24

Ras Kamboni, 2006

Wasir Osman Hassan, due to his Clan links in Adwalland, had always had a reputation for delivering. In the south, on the Kenyan border where the Foreign Islamists were using the area as a base camp, his links weren’t as strong and as such, he was suffering.

With the only healthcare available in Ras Kamboni in the form of a small pharmacy, the Al-Qaeda foreigners had contracted him to deliver to them their medical supplies from the Yemen.

Unfortunately, despite a heavy investment of bribes, Wasir, because the Kenyan coastguards were receiving more money from the Americans to stop the deliveries, and after the loss of another boat this morning, had come to the bitter conclusion that it was time to cut his losses and run.

Unable to fulfill the foreigner’s delivery, he was in a vile mood as this meant he was now going to have to purchase another load out of his own pocket to meet the order as one didn’t stiff or disappoint a client like the Al Qaeda if you wanted to survive.

His mood greatly improved while sitting in his little villa picking his teeth when one of his runners briefed him about an Englishmen in Lamu who was looking for a boat captain to bring into Ras Kamboni some much needed medical supplies from the Red Crescent Society for the little pharmacy to distribute.

“Arrange the meeting!” He barked at the runner. A plan formed in his mind before getting up to select one of the terrified young girls that he intended to use for his evening’s entertainment.