---

On the same day we resumed external activities, a special gift arrived from the Al Bas Tribe.

“Who are those people?”

“They’re for guidance and protection.”

In the front yard of our lodging, several pickup trucks were parked, filled with locals armed with bulletproof vests and automatic rifles. They were the armed escort dispatched by the Hassan Warlord.

The Warlord Duo introduced them this way:

“Al Bas Tribe’s elite guard. Very skilled.”

Leaving the self-assured Warlord Duo behind, I surveyed the guards of the tribe.

From their equipment and vehicles to their health and discipline, the level of the elite guard was on a different plane compared to the gangsters or checkpoint soldiers. As Camila evaluated the elite guard alongside me, she began nodding her head in satisfaction.

“I think this should be reassuring.”

That was certainly the case.

I nodded in agreement.

“You look as sturdy as your belly.”

“W-what do you mean by that?!”

It seemed that the recent robbery had greatly affected Nayan’s pride. After all, he was treating this elite guard like a precious treasure.

Even if it felt a bit too late to repair the barn after losing the cow, with the timing of him sending his elite guard, I couldn’t help but reassess my opinion of Nayan. He was a cautious yet decisive person and regarded me as quite an important individual.

That was a good sign.

Thanks to the robbers, I was enjoying such luxuries. I chuckled to myself while putting on sunglasses.

“It was just a joke, so hurry and get in.”

“What do you mean a joke? You’re teasing me, right?!”

“What’s wrong with gaining a little weight? Better than being a pig, right?”

“Kyahhhhhh!”

Under the strict vigilance of the Warlord’s armed escort, we advanced into the territory of the Al Bas Tribe.

—

**Episode 16 – The Six Million Dollar Man**

Among information officers, a source is metaphorically referred to as an ‘Asset’.

Information officers collect intelligence from both domestic and international sources, process it into information, and conduct intelligence operations based on that information. For them, information is a source, a property that enhances the effectiveness of their missions.

Thus, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that an information source is the most important asset for an information officer.

The reason we went outside was to recruit such information sources.

To be precise, we had come out to scout for potential sources.

“Recruiting information sources is essential for all information officers. However, what’s more important than that is finding a person with qualities that are worthy of becoming a source. We call this scouting.”

On the way to our destination, I took the opportunity to conduct a brief lecture. A one-on-one special lecture for those aspiring to become spies.

Camila began listening intently with a serious expression.

“First, let me briefly explain the cycle of acquiring an information source.”

The cycle of acquiring an information source refers to the process commonly used in intelligence agencies for recruitment and employment.

I divided this process into five stages.

“The procedure for acquiring a source typically consists of five stages: goal selection, evaluation, recruitment, management, and dismissal. You understand what this means, right, Camila?”

“Roughly speaking, yes.”

“Great. Then it’ll be easier to explain.”

The procedure for recruiting a source is broadly divided into five categories.

First, the goal selection checks if there’s someone who can access the information needed by the information officer, followed by an evaluation to see if they can be employed as a source.

During the evaluation stage, the key is to determine what desires the other party has and whether there’s a way to recruit them as a source.

Usually, the most common desires at this stage are money, power, and recognition. Going a step further, frustrations, insecurities, tastes, background, and upbringing also factor into the evaluation.

The next step is the recruitment phase — a process that information officers often refer to as ‘employment’.

“Recruitment is the second most challenging part of sourcing. The potential source must not know the identity of the information officer, must not be aware of other sources, and as much background check on the source should be completed before employment.”

“There are quite a few hurdles to overcome. If this is the second most difficult task, what’s the first?”

“Well, naturally that would be management.”

Management comes next after employment. It’s the process where the information officer controls and oversees the source.

This is the stage that takes the longest time. It requires substantial effort as well.

I added while turning the wheel, “Typically, if an accident happens while managing a source, it indicates something went wrong in the management phase. Problems can occur during the evaluation and recruitment phases too, but if issues arise during management, the information officer is also in danger. In other words, it has a higher level of risk.”

Management requires continuous monitoring, regular contact, and post-evaluations.

If an incident occurs at this stage or if the source’s value begins to drop, the information officer has to determine how to handle the source. That’s dismissal.

It marks the finale of the acquisition cycle for the source.

“The reasons for dismissing a source vary considerably. It could be that the goals are achieved, so there’s no longer a reason to meet the source, or the source got fired from their job, rendering them unable to access information. Or, it might include instances where the officer judges the source to be untrustworthy or when higher-ups instruct them to dismiss the source.”

Camila, who had been listening to the explanation, suddenly asked a question.

“What happens if a source gets arrested by counter-intelligence?”

“You should just cut ties without looking back.”

Once the counter-intelligence agency has caught a lead, the information officer has to wrap up all operations and withdraw. They’ll destroy all equipment and documents in accordance with procedures and escape with only critical information.

At this point, all sources managed by that officer are dismissed. Even sources that haven’t been detected by counter-intelligence are often processed wholesale.

I skipped detailed explanations about the final dismissal step. It would be hard for Camila to comprehend, and I thought that her sensitivity wouldn’t easily accept it.

The short lecture concluded here, and instead, I changed the subject of the conversation.

To something more productive and constructive.

“Alright, let’s have a quiz! If you, Camila, were an information officer, who should you try to recruit today?”

For a moment, she was flustered by the sudden question, but after gently tracing her lips with her slender finger, she answered.

“Well, since there aren’t any sources in this area… someone who can bring back as much information as possible?”

“Be a bit more specific.”

“Um…”

The distinguished British mind fell into thought.

It seemed that this question wasn’t easy even for Camila. It was the affliction of someone with little experience.

Yet, her clever brain didn’t let her down, and an answer quickly popped out. It was quite close to what I had in mind.

“A civil servant…?”

I smiled at Camila.

“That’s a slightly vague definition, but nonetheless, it’s the correct answer. Congratulations, Camila.”

“Yay! So what’s my reward? Am I going to recruit a source too? Or am I going to be taken on some secret operation?”

“……”

“Excuse me?”

Under the sharp gaze urging me for an answer, I turned away in silence.

Clearing my throat, I finally spoke.

“I’ll treat you to something delicious later.”

“Don’t try to lure me with food! What do you think I am, a beast?!”

—

Just as Camila said, the sources I had already pinpointed were local civil servants.

In this country, there were no information sources under my management. The Mauritania Continent was not the stage for my activities.

So unlike my previous workplace, I couldn’t just sit in an office and observe everything.

Thus, I couldn’t gather sensitive intelligence handled by government agencies such as the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Ministry of the Interior, or the Ministry of Defense. Not to mention, I also couldn’t obtain community news like who recently divorced, whose kids got married, or which elder fell seriously ill.

An information officer who can’t gather information is no better than a steamed bun without red bean paste, a pizza without pineapple, or a fish-shaped pastry without fish filling.

The absence of information translates directly into danger, and an information officer with no information is as good as a person tossed naked into a no man’s land teeming with monsters.

Hence, I needed sources.

I needed sources who could gather everything from trivial community rumors to seemingly inconsequential incidents and miscellaneous information.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go in.”

Thus, I began the search for sources along with Camila.

The first place we visited was a public office within the Al Bas territory – a den teeming with corrupt civil servants.

There was no particular reason for me to visit the local district offices or city halls instead of important government ministries like Defense or Foreign Affairs, other than the fact that I didn’t have the authority to enter those departments.

“Hello… I just happened to pass by and wanted to know if it’s alright to come in for a bit?”

I wore a big grin and greeted the civil servants while making small talk with my thick face. The locals scribbling on documents at their desks started staring blankly at the sudden foreigner.

Although the public offices appeared significantly shabby compared to the impressive buildings, I didn’t care a bit about the structure or the apathetic civil servants killing time.

Collecting intelligence in such places was part of the duty of an information officer, wasn’t it?

“I appreciate all your hard work. I came here to get a transit permit; I could get it here, right?”

“This is the civil service reception desk. Please go to the transportation department on the second floor.”

I used the conversation with the civil servants to understand the structure of the public office. Maybe because it was a backward country, there wasn’t even a simple building directory available.

Transportation, administration, safety, health, welfare, tourism, and local autonomy – even with a public office set up in a warlord’s territory, it had quite a few aspects covered. However, it was only a facade.

Camila couldn’t hold back her curiosity and asked as we ascended the stairs. She threw me a glance at the cracked, yellowing steps.

“What kind of information are you trying to obtain here?”

Was she questioning whether there was any information to be had in such a place?

I lightly smiled and replied.

“Everyone can collect information. City hall civil servants, corporate analysts, even supermarket employees and job seekers do it. But why do you think the state invests incredibly in training information officers?”

“Because we need people to analyze the intelligence into information?”

“Right.”

“What does that have to do with my question?”

“I just told you. An expert is needed for information analysis.”

Anyone can collect intelligence. But the crucial task of filtering through meaningful intelligence and converting it into useful information belongs to information officers.

In that context, public offices were suitable places to acquire intelligence.

“Census officials, traffic managers, tax collectors, welfare workers… these people have more knowledge about their area than anyone else because that’s their job.”

Let’s assume I’m going to source a civil servant.

That civil servant only handles information related to their work, so they don’t hold any value from an information officer’s perspective. What could I possibly gain by sourcing a welfare bureau employee regarding state secrets?

However, if a close friend or relative of the target has access to welfare benefits, that changes things. The welfare officer could provide all sorts of information about people close to the target, enabling the information officer to uncover new ways to approach the objective.

“That’s why I’m here. Because you never know when we might need the aid of civil servants.”

I immediately got down to business.

The first thing I did was warm up to them. Under the pretense of needing a document issued, I greeted the public office employees.

Handing over a bribe that amounted to two months’ salary of the respective civil servant for a transit permit might seem like a foolish act to anyone, but my intention behind that bribe wasn’t simply to bypass complicated administrative procedures.

I got introduced to other civil servants through the person in charge of transportation. Be it in traffic, administration, budget, welfare, or health, I gave them a small bribe of cigarettes and exchanged trivial banter. All that was part of warming up to them.

This process is known in psychology as building rapport. In other terms, it’s forming a common ground.

Watching this unfold, Camila posed another question. She wanted to know why I was doing all this.

“If you need information, wouldn’t it be easier just to approach someone high up and give them a bribe? They’re all corrupt officials anyway.”

“Every situation has its procedures,” I began to explain the inner workings of a corrupt public sector to the aspiring information officer.

“Even corrupt officials would refuse to accept a bribe out of the blue. For them, it’s a burden and a risk. So first, you have to throw them a small bribe for minor matters.”

To cut the paperwork duration from five weeks to three hours or to squash a traffic fine; all recruitment starts from small concessions.

Thus, a single cigarette turns into dollars, and dollars morph into bags later on. By that point, the civil servants would start noticing something odd and try to withdraw, but the information officer, not wanting to get fired for accepting bribes, would threaten them to stay silent.

“It’s just like putting a frog in a pot of water. If you suddenly pour in hot water, it’ll jump out from shock, but if you gradually raise the temperature, the frog will stay put. People are just the same.”

“That statement sounded very immoral for a civil servant. Still, I get the point.”

“Today I ended with just a cigarette, but tomorrow it’ll be cash. Not much, just around $50? By next week, I expect it’ll exceed $300.”

Soon, the bribed civil servants will brag about their newfound fortune around their peers. They’ll boast about how they earned a month’s salary in a day from a foreigner.

With that smell of money in the air, the sardines will flock to the bait. Whether it’s actual fish bait or something thrown in by a fisherman will only be realized later.

“Anyway, our business at the public office is done, so let’s move on.”

“Where to next?”

“Let’s break through the police first.”

Exiting the public office, I walked into the police station. It was a den filled solely with Al Bas Tribe members collaborating with the warlord.

From the outside, it appeared as a normal police station, but to my eyes, it was more like an underground pit. The way officers rushed at the sight of a foreigner showcased that.

Upon spotting the foreigner who had walked in voluntarily, officers, according to their habit, immediately asked for a bribe.

“Did you do something wrong? Don’t worry. We are good people.”

At first, they demanded money, mistaking me for a criminal, but when they realized I wasn’t one, their disappointment was palpable.

The officers, who had been casually smoking cigarettes, started throwing out strange charges, claiming that I could be jailed for illegal vehicle modifications, scaring me with their threats.

The funny thing was, illegal vehicle modification wasn’t a crime here. Sure, some form of law existed, but in a place where traffic enforcement was laughably inadequate, who was even going to punish illegal modifications? Loosely enforced punishment was a typical face of a corrupt society.

The officers trying to con a foreigner backed off promptly after a superior appeared. He was the information chief, who rambled on about how he was here to help since it looked like the foreigner was in trouble.

Of course, it was utter nonsense.

“Oh, I’m so sorry for the trouble.”

“No need to apologize.”

“Do you smoke? Since this is fate, let’s smoke a cigarette.”

“Sure.”

I led the information chief to the smoking area (which was merely the back alley of the station) and handed him a cigarette.

After sharing some light conversation, I got to the main topic.

“Actually, I’m a journalist.”

“A journalist? Foreign journalists are rare. Did you come to cover the warlords?”

“Just trying to get by. Though, it’s mostly just to scrape by.”

At the mention of ‘journalist,’ the information chief’s eyes lit up. He caught the whiff of money.

I continued smoking while gently teasing at his inner thoughts.

“The news wasn’t exactly eye-catching. Maybe it’s because I’m a foreigner, but everyone seemed on edge.”

“People are rarely kind to foreigners. Ah, but I’m not one of them. Haha.”

“Speaking of which, I hope the manager can lend me a bit of help.”

I cautiously opened my pocket and clenched my fist. The cash was neatly folded within my hand.

“I haven’t been here long, you see. Just help me this once. We’re all trying to make a living here.”

“Uh, hmm.”

The information officer looked down at the cash with a feigned look of discomfort. Then he nervously glanced around before opening his own pocket.

I slipped the cash into the officer’s uniform pocket. He, puffing away on his cigarette, fell silent for a moment, then tossed the butt onto the floor and muttered in a low voice.

“I heard that Sanya and Hassan got into some trouble at the western border a few days ago… What was it again? Something about a dispute over mining shares?”

That was new information.

The information officer, pretending not to, fed the war correspondent some useful info. Grateful, I promised to come back soon.

Thus, I successfully recruited informants at both the government office and the police station.

While the government office still had only candidates, I had a collaborator at the police station. If managed well, I could keep them as informants for several months.

That was good news. When I shared the cheerful tidings, Camila was as excited as if it were her own achievement and congratulated me.

“That’s great! While the collaborator is still just that for now, if you maintain regular relations, good results should follow.”

“What does it matter if you’re happy about my work?”

“Why get hung up on that? Good things are good! So what are your next plans? Have you set up your next appointment?”

Seeing the eager look on Camila’s face as she asked about how to manage the informant, I couldn’t help but smile.

As they say, even a dog that’s been in a school for three years can recite poetry. Camila was beginning to act like an information officer herself.

“Well, I need to think about that gradually. Rushing an informant never leads to anything good. That’s just how human psychology works.”

“Take it easy with the informants. Okay, got it. But what if they refuse to cooperate?”

I chose not to answer that question. Camila, staring at me intently, eventually asked another question in a casual tone.

“So, where to now?”

I manipulated the gears and replied.

“To the military.”

It was time to recruit a soldier.

*

The process of placing an informant in the military is much more challenging than penetrating government offices or police stations.

At a time when martial law is being discussed, soldiers would not welcome a foreign reporter.

The military is inherently security-sensitive and does not permit foreigners to wander around military facilities. Even local civilians cannot enter without permission, let alone foreigners.

Thus, the recruitment of soldiers was thoroughly conducted outside the base. I arranged to meet some officials from regional defense units through an elderly doctor who had been bribed by the warlord duo.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Asud.”

The military officials were rather decent informants. They were worth recruiting. If all went well, they could provide information about military movements and local government military secrets.

I brought the selected candidates for informants to a restaurant in the city. Having bribed the owner to close shop for today, only the officials and I occupied the space.

The officials chosen as informant candidates were a colorful lot, representing a variety of ranks. From low-ranking lieutenants and sergeants to administrative officers, captains, and lieutenants stationed in brigade headquarters.

Among them, one captain stood out to me, laden with experience.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Asud.”

“Ah, the pleasure is mine. Please, have a seat.”

The local man in his early thirties was an officer working in the region. I had reasonable grounds for marking him as a prime candidate.

He was up for promotion reviews, had no meaningful support, and his background was pretty shabby. Competing with graduates of officer training schools for captain and lieutenant ranks, he lacked skills and connections.

Was his family well-off? Not at all.

“I’ve heard a lot about you. You had your third child, right?”

“Ah, yes… well, that happened.”

The officer mentioned that his wife had given birth this year. But raising three children didn’t come cheap.

With a soldier’s salary, he couldn’t manage three kids, so his wife had to step into the workforce. They had no means to beg their elders for help.

I clearly understood how tough their situation was. I had gathered sufficient information about their home circumstances from the civil servants I met at the government office in the morning.

“Excuse me for a moment, I need to smoke.”

I put a cigarette in my mouth, having already smoked over twenty that day, without asking for his permission.

This was a subtle hint that the initiative was with me.

Sure enough, the officer, glancing around nervously, opened his mouth with a tense expression.

“Uh… my uncle told me you needed to see me about something…”

“Actually, I just require some assistance.”

“Assistance?”

“Yes. Assistance.”

I offered him a cigarette. He took it with a bewildered expression.

“When you say assistance, what exactly do you mean…?”

“Nothing burdensome for you, really. I just have some business to attend to here at the base.”

Lighting my cigarette, I continued speaking directly.

“I need information.”

I proceeded with more detailed explanations.

“I’m looking for documents produced by your base, news from nearby units, local movements, and any official communications from higher-ups.”

“Is it alright if I ask why you need that…?”

I honestly responded.

“I’m a person who makes a living off such information.”

The unexpected request seemed to fluster the officer. Fidgeting like someone sitting on pins and needles, he eventually excused himself to go to the restroom.

“I’ll just be a second.”

“Ah, go ahead. You should take care of that.”

He hurriedly stood up from his chair. As he prepared to leave, I casually muttered towards the back of his head.

“By the way, I wonder if I can find baby formula at the market today.”

The officer froze momentarily at the doorknob. Ignoring that, I carried on.

“Carrying a baby around the market isn’t an easy task. It might not end well if mom runs around leaving the kids at home.”

This wasn’t just idle talk.

By now, his wife would likely be at the market with the third child bundled in cloth. The elder siblings would be at home, catching up on school homework.

“…….”

I silently pointed to the empty chair across from me. The officer, reluctantly standing upright, carefully returned to the seat.

Faced with a local man avoiding my gaze, I spat out this detail.

After a brief pause, the officer seemed to find his conversation rhythm and finally asked me.

“…So, you need some information.”

I quietly took out my lighter. As the flame ignited, the informant lit his cigarette resting on the table.

Click!

With a satisfying snap of the lighter, I smiled.

“Good decision.”

*

Seven civil servants from the government office. One manager from the police station. One officer from the military.

This was today’s harvest.

“I have eight local collaborators and one informant. I’ll contact the remaining candidates soon to decide their employment status.”

I organized the list and reported it to Leoni.

After receiving an encrypted report from the Military Intelligence Agency headquarters, Leoni reviewed the documents and provided immediate feedback.

-‘The ranks of the informants are generally low. Is there no way to recruit someone from a higher tier?’

“Recruiting higher-ups would be a risky operation. For now, I’ve deemed it prudent to focus on building a network with low-ranking informants.”

-‘How do you plan to manage the informants?’

“For now, I intend to periodically bribe the enlisted personnel and the potential police officer likely to develop into an informant, and as you said, I will scout for candidates among superiors at the government office.”

In the intelligence agency, those who receive a fee per operation are classified as collaborators, while those who receive regular financial support are considered informants.

So it meant keeping the officers as informants while leaving the rest of the civil servants as collaborators.

It didn’t take much for Leoni to understand my intent. He was my superior, once a resident in the position of a senior intelligence officer overseeing overseas branches. He could probably funnel enough informants from his fieldwork to form a whole brigade.

-‘The scenario looks good. Proceed as planned.’

Leoni indicated that I could continue my operations.

-‘I’ll trust you to manage the informants, but be particularly cautious with that soldier. If things go wrong, even taking his family hostage is acceptable, but ensure he doesn’t betray us. Just be careful about that, and you should be able to return safely unless you run into those counter-intelligence folks.’

“Since you mentioned it, please send over that counter-intelligence agency’s activity report.”

-‘I’ve sent the materials. Check it out.’

I hung up the communication and accessed the documents sent from the Military Intelligence Agency. The situational report contained information obtained by turning a local counter-intelligence agent stationed with Abas into a double agent.

The document was prepared by the counter-intelligence department. The very department led by Colonel Clevenz.

Indeed, the experience of an investigator is something that won’t go to waste. I was astonished while reading through the materials.

At that moment, Camila appeared.

“Om nom nom.”

In her hands, she held a plate piled high with fruit, making a bizarre sound. Considering the dire local conditions where even food supplies were scarce, it was quite the strange assortment.

“Where did you get the fruit?”

“The warlords gifted them to me. Wow, they are really delicious. You should try some.”

I popped in a slice of the tropical fruit she peeled. The moment my teeth sank into the flesh, the juice burst out; it was exceptional quality.

“That’s delicious.”

“Um. How’s communication with the company going?”

“Yes.”

Camila, who had wandered over, began reading the intelligence report I had just written. She had assisted me throughout the day, so I could overlook her reading what was basically an insignificant report.

Though the company wouldn’t be so forgiving.

After reading the report, Camila commented while peeling an orange.

“Is it good to have recruited two informants and seven collaborators in just one day?”

“That’s a relatively decent result.”

“Did you have good conversations with the informants?”

“Of course.”

I promised generous treatment to the information officer and the captain.

To the police chief, I offered funds amounting to twice his salary along with performance bonuses on a regular basis. It was only fitting, as he was motivated by money.

Likewise, I proposed regular monetary support and performance bonuses to the captain, but also suggested other forms of compensation related to his family.

Considering he valued family highly, it was necessary to better secure our relationship by offering benefits that involved his family.

I mentioned supplies necessary for raising the third child, educational supplies to assist the kids, and even medical service support. If things went well later on, I promised to send all the children abroad for study. Of course, that study would require the approval of the Military Intelligence Agency.

In any case, both the captain and the information officer seemed satisfied with the proposed rewards. Thankfully.

However, it appeared that Camila had a different perspective.

“But is it really okay?”

She expressed concern while munching on the peeled orange.

“You practically coerced the last guy into becoming an informant.”

Camila was asking me whether it was wise to operate the officer as an informant. She had been aware of the fact that I had threatened the officer with his family’s safety.

That was to be expected. The one who had identified the family’s whereabouts was Camila herself.

Initially, she had opposed my decision to threaten the officer’s family but ultimately confirmed their location only after I made a promise not to actually take them hostage.

I spun the pen in my fingers.

Not wanting to raise her concerns, I dodged the question, but Camila persistently demanded an answer. In the end, I had no choice but to raise my hands and speak the truth.

“To be honest, I’m anxious about it. Relationships built through threats aren’t likely to last long.”

An informant coerced into compliance is like an unpredictable bomb. From the very start, they were intimidated by an information officer.

Thus, both the informant and the officer can’t trust each other, making it difficult to prolong an unstable relationship.

But I had my own plan.

“That’s why I proposed a compensation plan that could help their families. An informant desperately seeks a stable home.”

“You mean you’ve taken advantage of someone’s desperation.”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“That’s just how things work in intelligence agencies.”

“This is mild compared to what others do. If you see what the CIA folks do, Camila, you’d be horrified, I assure you.”

“No way.”

“I’m serious.”

Camila, telling me to stop joking, placed the orange she peeled in front of me. The orange she made just for me.

While eating that orange, I organized the documents. I burned the paper and the trash, then went to visit the armed guards of the Al Bas tribe to inform them about tomorrow’s schedule.

The guard unit Nayan had assigned me was indeed a reliable presence as Camila had said. Usually, they displayed their power to deter robbers, but during crucial moments like meeting informants, they would discreetly step aside.

“Tomorrow, I plan to visit the checkpoints near the border. You all are aware of this?”

“Understood, Mr. Asud.”

At the border checkpoints are the soldiers I had bribed, so if I wanted to find new informants, that would be my best bet.

They were human early warning systems, monitoring the highways and roads, able to relay news of any suspicious individuals or military movements immediately.

So, I returned to my lodgings and spent time with Camila.

Despite not having a proper conversation due to organizing materials until late, she continued to chatter beside me, helping keep me alert.

Then, late at night, someone knocked on the door of my lodgings.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Asud. It’s me.”

It was the warlord duo.

“What brings you here? Visiting so early in the morning is unusual.”

“Hassan contacted us. It’s very urgent.”

“What’s the message?”

I asked sleepily. The warlord duo responded with serious faces.

“The Sheikh is calling for you.”

It was news that the leader of the Hassan warlord was looking for me.

 

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