Once upon a time, there is a Russian princess, her name is Ekaterina. She works in the Navy in Russia. Everything seems fine, until the storm...it changes her whole life...

P.S. : It maybe unlike the one in the movie. I may have changed some scene.

A fairy tale love story between a French boy and a beautiful lndian girl which gets exciting when actually this sets up in the 90’s



 

 

Copyright © 2016 by Oscar Luis Rigiroli 

All rights reserved. Neither this book nor any part thereof may be reproduced or used in any way 

without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. 

 

 

 It is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead or actual events is purely coincidental. 

 

 

 

 

 Index 

 

Credits and Acknowledgements 

Prologue 

Preface 

Cast of Characters 

Glossary 

Chapter 1 

Chapter 2 

Chapter 3 

Chapter 4 

Chapter 5 

Chapter 6 

Chapter 7 

Chapter 8 

Chapter 9 

Chapter 10 

Chapter 11 

Chapter 12 

Chapter 13 

Chapter 14 

Chapter 15 

Chapter 16 

Chapter 17 

Chapter 18 

Chapter 19 

Chapter 20 

Chapter 21 

Chapter 22 

Chapter 23 

Chapter 24 

From the Author 

About the Author 

Books by O.L.Rigiroli 

Author's coordinates 

 

 

 Prologue 

 

As happens with most of the members of my generation- and not just men- Africa has occupied an important place in my imagination since childhood. At the time I read and re-read all the novels and stories of Edgar Rice Burroughs, Joseph Conrad, Ernest Hemingway, H. Rider Haggard, Karl May, Christopher Wren, Wilbur Smith and many others of the classic period of this genre and even today, I miss the taste of adventure with a special connotation if it took place in the once mysterious Dark Continent. Powerful names like Timbuktu or Zinderneuf evoke romantic stories of courage and danger. 

Then there has been all the rich African literature and even I have written several novels and short stories that take place in Africa today, including issues of painful as "ethnic cleansing", simple variants of genocide, human trafficking and modern slavery. 

But I always miss the spirit of those classic African novels, which happened in imprecise geographical sites in foggy periods and with actors and events that have escaped the scrutiny of history. Is this flavor that I intend to rediscover and reproduce in An African Adventure. 

 

 

 

 

 

 Preface 

 

For countless centuries the African continent was home to one of the most infamous human activities that have been carried out in history: the slave trade. Though the unfortunates were abducted in various parts of Africa, most of them came from a wide strip around the Equator extending from the Atlantic Ocean in the west to the Indian Ocean in the east, or approximately what today are part of the Republic Democratic of Congo, Zaire and Tanzania. 

 Often the slaves’ hunters were Arab merchants and warriors in collusion with native chiefs who captured and sold residents of neighboring villages with which they were permanently at war although they sometimes sold even their own people. Then the Arabs used to arrange the transportation of their victims in caravans that crossed hundreds and even thousands of miles along predetermined paths in which many of the slaves died since they were forced to walk those endless routes on foot and heavily chained to prevent them from escaping. Although there are no credible figures of the magnitude of this traffic over the centuries there is no doubt that millions of Africans suffered this sad fate. 

Arab traders brought their caravans to the Indian Ocean ports that lie off the coast of the island of Zanzibar, powerful trading center which was also one of the major slave markets. From there the slaves were sold and directed towards Arab countries, Persia and even India, where they would work as cheap labor in agricultural plantations in these countries and even serve as cannon fodder in the armies of their employers whilst women were used to work in housework or were used as concubines or prostitutes. Other routes of these caravans extended to North Africa to supply labor to the plantations of the same continent. 

Later befell the expansion of the European empires around the world and in Africa in particular, so that the powers of the continent joined the infamous traffic which fed labor to their farms in the Americas and later in their own colonies in Africa, that in the late nineteenth century covered more than 10 million square miles, or a fifth of the planet's land. 

One of the main routes used by caravans of slavers began in a kind of assembly center in Ujiji, on Lake Tanganyika, and ran 750 miles to Bagamoyo, on the shores of the Indian Ocean off the island of Zanzibar; a large number of secondary routes to the same destination converged in the main path. Along this road can still be recognized ruins of strongholds and stations used by the Arabs in their activities. 

The current population of the coastal area is an ethnic cocktail of the thousands of people who transited the route coming from across the whole African hinterland. 

Eventually the slave trade was banned in most of the world in 1873, under the influence of several western nations including the British Empire, but in practice it continued to exist as an underground activity for decades and we cannot ensure it has been completely eradicated at present times. However the economic equation of slavery suffered due to the persecution and the importance of it in the world began to shrink. Merchants should then seek alternative sources of income. 

During the nineteenth century ivory trade began to occupy the economic space left free by the slave trade and acquired a greater magnitude than it. Ivory in East Africa is softer than other regions, which makes it more suitable for carving and with the finding of new uses for that material Europe and America were added to the traditional ivory markets in Asia, including India and China. These two activities constitute the economic background of the events that take place in this novel. 

 

There is also a political context in which these actions are developed. Although there were intermittent colonies of European nations in North Africa since the Roman Empire, a fast process began to develop in the nineteenth century, culminating as expressed before in the occupation of almost the entire so-called Dark Continent by the main powers of Europe. Indeed, at the end of this process in 1914, only the Ethiopian Empire and the tiny Liberia were independent nations and the rest of the vast continent was colonized by England, France, Belgium, Portugal, Spain and Germany. 

The Berlin Conference in 1884 had the purpose to establish guidelines for the occupation of territories in Africa by the European powers, so as to limit the conflicts between them caused by the expansion of their empires. From there was born the Belgian Congo and the delimitation of the colonial areas particularly belonging to England, France and Germany. 

Germany consolidated its possessions in Cameroon, German South West Africa and German East Africa. 

The area where most of this novel takes place is the last of these colonies, located in the Great Lakes region of Africa, comprising areas that today belong to Rwanda, Burundi and Tanzania. 

 

 

German East Africa 1892 (the year in which our history begins) Cast of Characters 

 

Alain Garnier: French expeditionary. 

Djamba: Garnier´s Congolese assistant. 

Tswamba: carrier and hunting assistant of the manyema ethnicity. 

Helmut Westkamp: Lieutenant of the Schutztruppe. 

Adia: Westkamp´s native girlfriend. 

Abdullah al Shamoun: Bedouin Sheik. 

Alima: Abdullah´s wife. 

Farrah: Daughter of Abdullah and Alima. 

Fadilah: Farrah´s maid service staff. 

Ahmed ben Assaff: Bedouin military leader. 

Leilah: Farrah cousin. 

Faisal al Khoury: Bedouin young warrior. 

Karim and Nadiyah: Faisal´s father and mother. 

Walaka: tribal chief of the Kamba ethnic group. 

Abboud al Kader: powerful Arab leader. 

Mohamed el Amin: Elder in Shamoun´s clan , and one of his advisers. 

Otto von Holstein Ransburg: Colonel of the Schutztruppe, head of an expedition. 

Paul von Öttling: Mayor of Schutztruppe based in Bagamoyo. 

Vijay Avninder: Indian captain of a freighter in the Indian Ocean. 

Captain Jean Paul Duclós: French intelligence officer in Madagascar. 

Colonel Geoffroy De la Fontaine: Alain Garnier´s boss, in Franceville, Gabon. 

Dimitriou Ioannidis: Captain of a Greek steamer. 

Pierre Chenaut: Delegate of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of France, based in Paris. 

 

 

 

 Glossary 

 

Schutztruppe (German) Forces of protection. German Colonial Army 

La illahah illahah (Arabic) There is no God but Allah. 

Assalaamu Alaykum: Peace be with you. Greeting. 

Bismillah (Arabic): In the name of Allah. 

Ya Allah (Arabic): expression of displeasure. 

Tawak kalto ul Allah (Arabic): I put my faith in Allah 

Boma (Swahili): palisade 

Bwana (Swahili) Master, boss. 

Kiji (Swahili): village 

Simba (Swahili): lion, lions 

Temba (Swahili): elephant, elephants. 

Swala wa (Swahili): antelope. 

Askari (Swahili): Native soldier. 

Djellaba (Arabic): long tunic with hood and wide sleeves for male use. 

Chador (Arabic): veil with which Muslim women cover their heads and part of their faces. 

Nasrani (Arabic): Christian. 

Manyemas, Kambas, Konongos (Swahili): Bantu ethnic groups. 

Kibanda (Swahili):Cabin, hut. 

Aduar: Bedouin camp, consisting of tents and huts. 

Baobab: Adansonia digitata. Deciduous tree, typical of Tanzania. 

Savannah: Plain, especially if it is very large and has little or no trees. 

Fatwa (Arabic): Death sentence declared by a competent authority. 

Tirailleurs Sénégalais (French): Regiments of the French colonial force. 

Dhows (Arab): Barges, sailing cargo vessels used by the Arabs in the Red Sea, with one or more masts and lateen sails 

 Chapter 1 

 

Congo Free State-1892 

 

The man left the heavy backpack on the ground covered with grass and sat on a thick root of a large tree. He watched his men unload the packages carried on their heads and their backs and sit squatting on the floor; he marveled at the endurance of those porters who walked tens of miles with extremely heavy bundles that would exceed what a donkey could withstand. Alain hated the kind of exploitation that he had to subject these men to but to carry out his mission he had no choice. It was impossible to travel the kind of sylvan territories they were crossing with horses or donkeys. His dealings with a manyema wren had allowed him to secure the services of five porters at a reasonable cost, allowing him to carry the tents, supplies, weapons and ammunition and other elements necessary to travel through the tropical jungle and set up camps after each day journey . The men seemed submissive and obeyed the orders Alain gave them through his lieutenant. Alain watched Djamba discussing hard with the manyemas to ensure they gave the vital packages a proper treatment; the man was a native sergeant- major of the French colonial army who had been with him for five years, when fate brought them together in a patrol near Franceville, a city founded in 1875 by the Italian Count Pierre Savorgnan de Brazza in Gabon, the territory that France had obtained in the Congo basin in an international agreement between the European powers, the same one that gave the Belgian king Leopold II most of the territory that was then called Congo Free State and would later form the Belgian Congo. 

The small expedition had traveled by river over most of this vast country, many times larger than Belgium, and after three months of sailing and some travel by rail in the area of the Livingstone Falls the group had left behind the Congo River and its tributaries and was now approaching Lake Tanganyika and the border with the colony named German East Africa, its true goal. Alain had mapped the details of the route they had been following and had carefully recorded them in his notebooks, but previously he had coded all relevant data in an encrypted language developed by him for the case where his notes were confiscated by any of the authorities of the sites that they were to transit. His facade was a forest technician who conducted surveys for a Belgian company looking for land suitable for planting rubber trees, that extraordinarily profitable crop originated in Brazil that King Leopold wanted to implant in the Congo State of his property. To this end Alain was carrying forged letters in three languages certifying his status as a researcher ... but Alain Garnier, a lieutenant in the colonial army of the III Third Republic, was actually a French spy. 

After a short break and very reluctantly the Frenchman stood up; as soon as he saw him Djamba began to incite the manyemas to collect their packages and get on track. The small group began to walk the short distance that separated them from the great Lake Tanganyika. 

 

 

Ujiji- Lake Tanganyika 

 

They descended from the canoes with which they had crossed the majestic lake and went to town, actually a tiny and miserable village, which however was the head of a long road of caravans of Arab merchants who transported all kinds of goods, including the most infamous kinds such as slaves and ivory. 

Garnier decided to camp at some distance from the village to prevent getting in contact with the odors and dirt from the native huts. As he looked around the man caught sight of an Arab camp near a tree grove and a stream that flowed into the lake. As ensuring the provision of fresh water not as contaminated as the one coming from the lake was an important task, he placed his camp on the other side of the watercourse. After a few minutes two Arab dressed in their robes and turbans approached the stream and began to observe the small contingent, no doubt in order to guess the intentions of the newcomers. Djamba approached the French explorer with a casual gesture. 

“We're being inspected.” He said. 

“Not only that. Those sentries are sending a message.” 

“That message is that?” 

“That our presence is not welcome.” 

“What will you do about it?” 

“Simply ignore the message. I will not let a bunch of hucksters armed with daggers and muskets drive us away.” 

“But they are numerous and have many Bantu servers.” 

“Even so we´ll stay.” 

“At least let me talk to their servers. I'll try to explain that we are in transit and are not interested in their activities.” 

“Go if you want. Nothing is lost with it.” 

Djamba crossed the flow of water through the narrowest part and approached one of the black men that judging by his outfit looked like an important subordinate of the Arabs, who followed him with his eyes. Alain smiled pleased by the spirit of initiative of his follower. In fact the French officer had unlimited confidence in his deputy, a man of great resources and knowledgeable about the customs of the countries in Central Africa. 

 

The next day Djamba clapped his hands in front of Garnier´s tent in order to wake him. When the Frenchman finally answered he said. 

“Lieutenant, it's already five o'clock.” 

“Well, well, I'm coming. I told you not to call me lieutenant until we get back to Franceville. Have the men rekindle the fire to prepare breakfast.” 

They were working in the camp for a couple of hours rearranging the packages according to the needs of the next few days and mending the tents damaged by the prolonged use and contact with vegetation in countless previous camps. Alain proceeded to clean and condition the rifles and shotguns and preparing cartridges for the latter. 

“We are running out of meat.” Djamba told him. “You should go hunting to replenish our stock.” 

“All right. Tell Tswamba to be prepared. We´ll leave after noon taking advantage that today is not so hot.” 

Tswamba was one of the manyemas, with a special ability as a scout and an instinct for finding hunting prey. 

After an early lunch Tswamba and Garnier set off into the forest north of Ujiji, following the shore of Lake Tanganyika. To do this they had to cross the stream and get closer to the Arab camp with its white pointed tents; the Lieutenant saw the two sentries armed with muskets following their activities, particularly attentive when they saw that the approaching men were also armed. Alain decided to ignore once again the implied threats looking away from the men on guard. Involuntarily his eyes scanned the tents and suddenly focused on a slender female figure dressed entirely in white; the French knew enough of Arab garb and immediately realized that by the richness of the dress she was a lady of importance in her social environment; squinting Alain tried to observe her face but the midday sun at its zenith in the equatorial location dazzled him preventing to achieve his purpose. He felt someone touching his arm and realized that Tswamba was cautiously pulling his sleeve pointing at the two guards who were approaching in a hostile manner. 

Garnier and his companion continued their course and the two Arabs returned to their control location. The Frenchman was visibly affected by the fleeting feminine appearance and his attitude showed it very clearly. 

“Beautiful.”Said Tswamba. 

Surprised by the comment Alain turned to his companion. 

“What did you say?” 

“The Arab woman. She is beautiful.” 

“Could you see her well?” The question was actually rhetoric. 

The manyema nodded. 

Garnier smiled once again both surprised and pleased. He recalled with contempt those imbeciles in Paris who wondered seriously if blacks have soul. 

Garnier and Tswamba spent almost two full days exploring the lakeshore and surroundings seeking adequate game prey to provide food to the small contingent during the subsequent days. Both men flayed and cut the slices of meat from a young antelope to make sure they would not carry unnecessary burdens to the camp and then started back. As they were approaching the stream near which their group had camped Tswamba pointed to the opposite shore. 

“The Arabs. Gone!” Exclaimed with his limited vocabulary. 

Alain felt a pinch in his gut. Since he had glimpsed her in passing he had made a point of looking at the face of the young Arab lady and now she had vanished into the jungle. The man already knew the customs of nomadic caravans of Arab merchants and thought that the chances to meet the woman again in the vastness of the African savannah were almost nil. It would have been only a momentary reverie. 

Tswamba took him again out of his abstraction and the Frenchman followed his steps toward the place where the Arabs had once raised their tents and was now completely desolate. The manyema pointed at marks on the floor. 

“There! Elephants.” 

Alain looked at the place his companion was pointing and saw on the loose soil the unmistakable marks left by elephant tusks that had undoubtedly been stacked on the floor before. 

“So they are ivory traffickers!” Muttered to him. 

In the depths of his psyche Garnier had trouble reconciling the pure image of the woman that his eye had caught with the well known predatory activity of elephant hunters. 

 


Exoticism and romance. A breath of fresh air.1892 in colonial Africa. A classic and everlasting adventure style. A French official travels Tanganyika in East Africa German to perform intelligence tasks. The daughter of an Arab sheik in danger. Ivory hunters, slave traders,conflicts between native wrens and Bedouin traffickers in the context of struggles among the colonial powers.
A gripping thriller that will take your breath from the start.

" oh , finally my drear wife is here " Shane August was there on the bed , laid on his side staring deeply at Elizabeth . 

She hovered over the doorframe , hesitating to walk in . 

" come in Eli , let's be husband and wife tonight " Shane said , patting a spot next to him . 

" n-no it's fine , i'm going to My Mother—" Elizabeth didn't want to stay here with him , she was terrified of him let along to stay the night with him . And what did he mean by 'let's be husband and wife tonight ' . 

" no you will not , now Elizabeth i said come " He roared again , more demanding as he patted aggressively on the sheets . " I don't want to repeat myself " 

She backed off , hugging her body when she saw his eyes piercing her as in undressing her  . " shane , please " 

" No more Talking , i want you now " he rose from the bed , walking toward her with fast steps . His eyes were dangerous , lust written all over them . " i would like to fuck you tonight , like a husband would do to his wife " 

Elizabeth squeezed her body even harder , scared and shocked , she did not feel safe nor comfortable, she looked around him for an escape route but even if she tried hovering the window , the room was on the eight floor and she'd probably drown even if she made it out  . 
" shane" she stuttered , stepping back after every big step shane took until her back was against the wall . 

" shsh , I will no longer wait for your permission " he pushed her even further . " i will do it against your will .... with force " 

When he titled his head down , Elizabeth's heart thumped against her chest . 

She pushed on his chest with all her will but he was stronger he didn't even budge . 

" stop moving " he growled in her ear making her fight even harder . 

She screamed and struggled until she was exhausted of fighting . " Please , S-stop" she cried when his hands traveled up her thighs  when he was closer to her private parts . 

" Shane " she screamed and hit his chest . 

" woman stop " he caught her wrist and put them above her head . " i will not—" 

The door was busted open . " shane August , unhand her " Ambroise voice sent chock waves through her body , she felt safe now . 

Shane rolled his eyes and stepped back . " Chief , if i must remind you that this woman is my wife " he locked Ambroise and Jasper with a death glare . 

" yes " Ambroise hesitated , aiming his electric gun at Shane . " but no man forces a woman into an affair that way , it's called sexual harassment " he exclaimed looking in between Shane and Elizabeth . 

" we will put you in another room overnight " Lieutenant Jasper said as he pointed toward the hallway . 

Other men walked in with a military uniform , escorting Shane out . 

" are you okay ?" Ambroise kneeled down , hugging her tightly against him . 

" thank you " she softly said , hugging his suit jacket . " you keep saving me from him " she cried . 

" it's okay baby " he wiped her tears away and brushed her hair gently . 

A moment later , he felt her snuggle further into him . He looked down and saw that her eyes were closed and her breathing was stable , he smiled . 

" chief , would you like us to wait for you ?" Lieutenant Jasper exclaimed , stopping by the entryway . 

" no , i will stay with her " Ambroise said without looking back at him . " keep team Beta on the watch " he added before Lieutenant Jasper saluted him and left . 

Ambroise carried her to the bed , putting her slowly under the blankets . He stepped in the other side and wrapped his arms around her , his breathing followed her's in a slow motion until he was slowly dozing off to sleep . 


" Ambroise ? " He heard his name but couldn't see where it was coming from . "Ambroise wake up" 

His eyes fluttered open and was met with Elizabeth beautiful face . 

" good morning " she said excitedly with a smile , a contagious smile that he couldn't help but return . 

" good morning " he smiled and admired her under the beaming sunlight . 

She was surprised to see him smile for the first time . " you fell asleep last night , thank you for what you did , Again " 

He unwrapped  his hands from her body and sat straight at the end of the bed . " this is why i'm telling you that his a man unworthy of your love " he wipes on his face frustrated. 

" Ambroise —"

" when are you divorcing him ?" He looked back at her. 

" he said soon , but i don't know " she answered . 

Ambroise was thinking , he wasn't aware of the fact that she was right behind him , hesitating to back hug him . 

" do you love him " he turned around and she immediately pulled her hands away . 

" uh" she gave him a lipped smiled . " I don't know what love feels anymore Ambroise " 

" is that a yes " he asks impatiently. 

" there's no Yes or No as a response to your question, because i'd lie about both " she looked away , out of the window and at the beautiful view of the ocean . 

He followed her gaze and landed at the blue sea beneath . " do you want to dive in ?" He asked .

She turned to stare at him in her wide puppy eyes . " but We can't " 

" who said we can't ? It's my orders that goes around " he took a quick glance at her before looking out the window . 

" but i don't know how to swim " she blurred out and he turned to stare at her from his right shoulder , raising an eyebrow . 

" you don't know ? Really ?" He was really shocked to hear this . 

She nodded. 
" i can swim in a pool , but not in the deep water , the ocean scare me" she shyly exclaimed . 

He pulled her chin up . " i will teach you " he smiled 

" But—"

" no butts" he held his hand toward her . " now move your butt up and let's go have breakfast " he chuckled deeply . 

She admired him for awhile before taking his hand into her's and intertwining their fingers together . 

They walked to the dining haul , it was still empty and half decorated . The chef spotted them and fast walked toward them . 

" chief , Princess Elizabeth your highness " He bowed . He had a hint of a french accent when he spoke . 

Elizabeth was thought multiple languages .... she spoke in German , french , Arabic , Korean , Japanese , Chinese and now learning Russian. 

" morning " she curtsied . Sometimes she was shied away from showing off her linguistic skills . 

" bonjour Monsieur Ambroise , j'ai des french croissant pour toi Aujourd'hui. Special breakfast fo'r you"  he was very excited to see Ambroise at the breakfast table that was not yet prepared. 

" Des croissants ? Where's Mrs.Raya ?" Ambroise answered fluently in french . He was an impressive man . 

" oui oui , elle voulais préparer les croissantes juste pour toi " he pointed toward the fare end of the haul . His hands tightened around her fingers and she looked up at him worriedly . 

" my apologies but i'm in a hurry , i would like to have whatever the princess is having " He answered almost immediately when a woman showed up . 

That woman was very familiar to Elizabeth . She studied her form , her face and tried to memorize from where she could have seen her . 

" d'accord, your highness please follow " the chef turned and started walking , following only one step behind, they reached a 6 seat table and each one of Ambroise companion sat from opposite of each other that there was no other empty seat for the two of them . " your table is this way " The chef commented , making Elizabeth look at him with a frown . 

" we aren't sitting here ?" She directed to Ambroise.

" unless you want to sit on my lap , i have no complaints " he said . she was sure he was joking but his face was expressionless , the more she looked at him the more she felt like a prisoner of his charms . 

He walked away and she followed to another room , a balcony with one VIP table at the middle . She looked around mesmerized at the clear sky and the very blue ocean beneath . Also the room was decorated with all kind of flowers that were hard to miss . 

The chef left and Ambroise sat down , watching as Elizabeth toured the room . He watched her face attentively as she made all sort of expressions when she walked from a side to another . 

" it's beautiful, i didn't know this was here " she Happily smelled the sun flowers. 

" are you sure this is your father's cruise , you can tell me " he winked and laughed . 

She laughed along with him too . " yes " she shyly looked down at her lap while smiling . 

" so about getting into the water " he reminded her . 

" uh and how are we going to do that ?" She didn't want to admit her fear of water to Ambroise but she also didn't want to face those fears with him neither . 

" simple, we will arrive at Manhattan shortly , i can take you to a secluded private beach then " he said confidently, looking down at the shore only miles away . 

That's why the dining haul was empty , because people were already getting ready to leave . 

She gulped down nervously as she looked at him . " so , uh .... i heard you have a very important meeting with the mayor of the town—"

" no , the meeting can only include your father , i already had my own plans " Ambroise paused and looked at the door when the carter stepped in with their food . 

When the waiter left , he leaned further into his seat , his face eliminated with the sun . 

" what about those plans you already made ?"  She didn't want to have to spend the rest of the day wandering around , but she did not want to go swimming . 

" why ? You want to get rid of me ? You are nervous aren't you " he frowned down putting a finger underneath his chin . " you can tell me what's wrong " he titled his head over . 

" okay " she scratched her scalp nervously. " i would like to spend the day with you " 

He raised an eyebrow when he noticed her pointed finger aimed toward his chest . " however , i don't want to swim , i am scared of the ocean " she poked his hard chest . 

" okay okay , we can do whatever you want " he looked down at their fresh food . " let's eat " with a smile , they started digging in

“ i would not wish any companion in the world but you  “


To all My loyal readers , can you please search for this book under the name of Manar Ajjab and view it there too because i will be getting paid for every view from you . It will be off a huge help to me . The chapters are going to be available here at the same time in the other Page so don’t forget to check it out there . Thank you so much

The Phoenix Program that the CIA commenced in 1969 aimed to kill all the communists in political power and their remaining cells. The plan, which was spearheaded by William Colby, who was then the head of the Vietnam CIA division, progressed violently.
 
The American military, Navy SEAL, and Vietnam's military and police force commanded by the CIA was mobilized. Assassination, torture, and terror proceeded, and they even committed atrocities, including killing crowds of planting farmers.
 
The SDECE, now known as the DGSE, had a large number of local informants back then. Several of them were killed or imprisoned due to the Phoenix Program.
 
The head of the Chinese SDECE asked the CIA to change its strategy manual. The head of the CIA regarded the request as an interference of activity. The fight for pride turned into an assassination battle between agents. A combined total of 20 agents from both sides died in two months, and for the first time, an SDECE project manager was assassinated.
 
This was unknown to the outside. The French foreign relations stated that several Vietnamese-French were killed due to misjudged shots. The French intelligence department hid behind a veil. In addition to the DGSE, the Ministry of Internal Affairs (DRSI), the Ministry of Home Affairs DRM and DPSD, and the Custom's DNRED never stepped forward. For the head of intelligence to reveal internal documents and appear on South Korea's media was unimaginable.
 
From then on, an unspoken rule that involved intervening in other agents' projects was not condoned.
 
"I'm not asking you to save Davis. The person who leaked the information was his boss. Davis was unfairly accused and is holding on to papers that can serve as evidence."
 
"Hm, that's a frequent occurrence in intelligence organizations. His boss must have blocked his evidence submitting route. The CIA has 30,000 people as full-time workers. It wouldn't be strange to have such trash in the body of a dinosaur."
 
You b*stards are worse than trash, you f****** s***!
 
Black Mamba snorted in his mind. The DGSE was as bad when it came to dirty jobs. It was funny how they judged others when they tried to kill their own soldiers who were carrying out a mission. It was like a dog rubbed in s****, accusing a dog rubbed in fleas.
 
"That's right. Davis will do the rest as long as you open the route for him."
 
His crumpled expression smoothed out.
 
"Interfering will be a problem, but I can help with that much."
 
Ariba disappeared off somewhere with a telephone in hand. It was a coded message, which made it hard to understand. A small smile graced Ariba's face as the call ended.
 
"Boss Bonipas said he'd talk with the CIA's executive director, himself. Is there anything else you need? I received an order from the headquarters to complete anything tasked as long as it's within reason."
 
"No. I'm leaving for N'Djamena tomorrow. Tell Geofrey in George Island that Black Mamba sends his regards."
 
"Regards?"
 
Ariba flinched. The Kanma's regards...that was basically asking him to wait with his neck stuck out. Recently, Geofrey had been unable to eat, traumatized by fear.
 
Ariba realized that Black Mamba's tenacity was the true cause of fear. He'd burned Miguel to death in the middle of the Alps mountains and had brutally murdered colonel Tanshe by infiltrating the airborne regiment.
 
There was a rumor spreading around the intelligence headquarters involving Black Mamba. Once you get on his bad side, you're as good as dead. Hearing the guy's words made it sound as though he knew the connection between the DGSE and Geofrey. Chills ran down his back.
 
"Right. I will."
 
Sorry, Geofrey. It seems like the strategic division can't protect you any longer.
 
Ariba felt sorry. Unlike Miguel, he thought highly of the traditional HUMINT work. The basis of HUMINT was trust between superiors and subordinates. Trusting that one's intelligence agency would shield one's identity stopped the agents from betraying.
 
All Geofrey had done was to work with the DGSE. He had made a smokescreen that involved Etang, but everything had gone south due to colonel Philip's rushed work.
 
Geofrey had already entered Black Mamba's shooting range. They had to protect a helper until their last breath, but with Black Mamba as their opponent, it was better to give up. The entire intelligence department would be met with a disaster if they tried.
 
"He wouldn't be able to contact the CIA if he's being tracked by the clean up team. Tell the Davis guy to contact this number after a week."
 
Ariba wrote down a number on a piece of paper and handed it over.
 
"Send Bonipas my thanks. I'll forget all ill feelings from this moment onwards."
 
"Thank you. The minister's diarrhea and headache will finally be solved."
 
Ariba's face brightened. The upper levels of the DGSE hadn't been able to relax at all, due to Black Mamba. It was a common understanding that Black Mamba was an uncontrollable predator. It would be a great loss if Black Mamba, who was valued as a national treasure, went against them.
 
"I've only let go of some past grudges. I'll be cutting off necks, next, without warning."
 
"How terrifying. We'll prepare a Hercules for N'Djamena, in return."
 
"My, even the electricity fees!"
 
Black Mamba was truly surprised. He hadn't expected them to pay for the electricity.
 
"This is Monsieur Bonipas' and my sincerity."
 
Ariba pushed over a thick envelope. Black Mamba, who received it, smiled in satisfaction.
 
"You two know how to connect with people."
 
"The minister said that fights disappear when gold clinks."
 
Ariba smiled sourly. He recalled his boss's words, which were to give everything down to one's clothes when it's time to give. Black Mamba was a fierce predator. He had to be given many feeds to be silenced.
 
"Viva France!" Black Mamba suddenly shouted a cheer.
 
Trips to Africa were always a problem. There weren't direct flights, and the planes' movements were always loose. He was grateful to those who had prepared a flight for him, on top of the electricity fees. France was a grateful nation.
 
Ariba was confused by the sudden shout. It was said that talented people had psycho tendencies, and Black Mamba was as hard to grasp.
 
"Viva France!" Ariba shouted with a tortured expression.
 
"Edel, check how much is in there."
 
Black Mamba handed the envelope to Edel. Edel's eyes grew wide upon seeing its contents.
 
"My god, 300,000 francs! There would still be some left for you, Black, even if you take a trip around the world with a woman."
 
"You can take a cruise vacation if you want, Edel."
 
"Hmph, it's not as if you'll go with me anyway. What's the point of going on a trip by myself?"
 
"You can meet a gentleman."
 
"Tsk tsk, those overconfident ones?"
 
Edel snorted as though it was a chore. All the men in the world were scarecrows compared to Black Mamba.
 
"It's enough for everyone if you take 100,000 francs each."
 
Their mouths dropped open. This was too great a gesture. Sun WooHyun's mouth split open. The master had allocated 100,000 francs for their vacation. A big rice cake was bound to give more droppings.
 
"Wakil, the sum is too great." 
 
"There's nothing like 'too much,' there's only big happenings. You figure it out, Ombuti. You can use it to invest or drink yourselves to death. Whatever!"
 
"Wakil can use it for your trip home."
 
"Keke, there's a lot of b*stards who can give me that fee. Let's see how much Philip throws up. Kekeke!"
 
Black Mamba laughed like a gangster.
 
"Lackey, you have something else to do."
 
"Whatever you say, Wakil. I can bring you the president's head."
 
Sun WooHyun's loyalty and confidence reached the skies.
 
"Nonsense, why would you take the neck of a president who's staying still? I'm heading to N'Djamena tomorrow after tidying up some things here. I'll be reporting to Philip, then leaving for Korea."
 
Black Mamba clicked his tongue. Those who were sly were more prone to moments of idiocy.
 
"Wakil, do we need to be separated for three months?" Ombuti asked in fear.
 
There was nothing like his expression. It looked like a girlfriend was sending off her boyfriend to the Korean Army Training Center.
 
"There's a lot to do. Lackey, you should dig into governor Kuera first. He smells rotten. Investigate the Samaria farm case seriously and report."
 
"Okay."
 
"Don't kill that Nick b*stard."
 
"I won't 'kill' him."
 
"Don't touch a hair on him. If he's the one behind Monsieur Colton's death, I'll hang him on the cross myself. A betrayer has to be judged by Allah."
 
For a moment, Black Mamba's craze for blood could be seen by the light pink hue in his eyes. Memories of his uncle who had tried all kinds of tricks to steal his brother's strip of land and his aunt who had shoved her cousin into s*** flickered before his eyes.
 
Hehe, I wonder if they're fine? Yes, they must be living very well.
 
Black Mamba smiled eerily.
 
The military hospital workers of Val-de-Grâce erupted into cheers on the morning of the second day. The VVIP guest on the seventh floor had finally left. They'd been suffering from all kinds of discomfort due to the unknown guest.
 
They had to go through four check procedures for one bag of laundry. They had to do a little leg work every time they moved to departments C and D of the seventh floor since department B was blocked. Their underground fitness center entry had also been restricted. Most of all, the men in black had been thorns in their necks.
 
VVIP was bound to impose on normal people whether they wanted to or not. That was why careful actions and higher morals were demanded of them. Of course, reality was a s***hole.
 
Creaaaak—
 
The Hercules lowered its great body. Except, it had been an extremely inefficient flight of over 10,000 kilometers with four people on board.
 
The three Gazelle, which had been waiting on the runway, each headed to their respective destination. Black Mamba towards the base by Shari lake and Sun WooHyun, beside Oriental. Ombuti and Edel were on the Gazelle with extra fuel.
 
The call name "Black Mamba" submerged by the end of the Chad mission. All there was left was a normal second class private mercenary called Park. Black Mamba's return to the base was arranged in secret.
 
The only person who had returned to camp amongst the Ratel team members was Black Mamba. Everyone else had left for their vacations. Even after their vacation, nobody returned. Captain Paul left for Djibouti while Emil left for the Aubagne headquarters. Bellman and Jang Shin were retiring.
 
"Oh, Park!"
 
Pieff, who had received the commandant position, greeted him in front of the headquarters' regiment with wide arms. The badge drew Black Mamba's attention. He raised his eyebrows.
 
Crack—
 
"Agh!"
 
His greeting was returned with a punch. Pieff, who had his chin punched in by a palm as hard as iron, rolled onto the ground like a fallen leaf.
 
There were plenty of reasons for the beating. Pieff had been the one to recommend a small group of snipers. Pieff had been the one to choose the members. Pieff had also become baggage for jumping into a rescue mission without a plan.
 
It was unjust in Pieff's perspective. He had received Paul's advice to bribe Black Mamba the moment he arrived. His chin had been shattered even before he could produce the envelope in his pocket.
 
The mercenaries, surprised by Black Mamba's unhesitant handiwork, stared on.
 
"Pieff, I didn't shatter your brain because you're my direct commander. I'll let go of all ill feelings with this."
 
Of course, Pieff, who was blinded and deafened, couldn't reply.
 
"What are you doing? Move him to the medical office."
 
The crack in his scream caused the mercenaries to run over, moving Pieff away.
 
"Huh! That b*stard's the flying viper."
 
"His temperament had turned worse after the mission."
 
A few mercenaries who recognized Black Mamba began to whisper.
 
Beeep—

Bam bam bam— 

Veteran officer Charcosi, who was contacted, appeared like lightning. A veteran unit rushed at Black Mamba with vigor, in gunpoint position.
 
"Stop!"
 
The sound of thunder reflected the ground. The mercenaries covered their ears and most tilted, losing their balance.
 
"Stop, Charcosi you f****** idiot, do you want to kill all the kids!"
 
Lieutenant colonel Louis ran out of the tent blue-faced, as though he was rolling.
 
"Let's go in. The major general is awaiting you."
 
"Major general?"
 
Black Mamba glared at lieutenant colonel Louis. Louis, on the receiving end of his sharp glare, stumbled back with a flinch.
 
Hoo, it's terrifying. Was he the same guy that had left for the Sahel?
 
Louis wiped the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand.
 
"Oh!"
 
Quick on his feet, lieutenant colonel Louis ruan back into the tent. 
 
A party soldier came out a beat later.
 
"Act! The commander is awaiting you."
 
"Armang, it's noisy outside."
 
He wasn't asking because he didn't know. Officer Armang looked pitifully at Philip. Philip looked very nervous.
 
Crash—
 
The door was banged open. Lieutenant colonel Louis ran in.
 
"It's Black Mamba. Pieff was taken out by a single blow. He's being carried to the doctor's office."

A silhouette of a man standing upon a boulder with the crescent of the moon shining behind him.
A kukri dripping with blood in one hand and a pistol in the other.
The image of burning flames surrounding him.
The countless mercenaries screamed as they saw this scene.
"It's a demon!"

July 7th 
Location:-France,Military Headquarters
A group of Men were seated in front of a projector with serious expressions 
On a closer look we can find that everyone one of those guys present served at high positions where even the smallest rank is a Lieutenant! if normally these high level officers meet at the same time some might even think they are thinking of some war strategies but now everyone are listening to the lecture given by an old man in his 60's wearing white clothes holding a long stick He has a pair of glasses and exudes wisdom
*This has been going for an hour now finally the
man turned to the military leaders and said with a a somewhat panicked expression*
Sir this is what we found it seems the earth is changing rapidly in the past month just looking at it makes one feel extremely strange look!.... here we even found many youngsters bodies changing rapidly they have become pretty strong even the ones with weak physique are also seemed to have eaten a drug which has made them ruddy and healthy suddenly the animals are also extremely active recently
The US,Russia,India,China,Japan and Other countries reports say the same thing which seems it has something to do with the increase in earth's energy levels *The man points to several other reports which are shown on the projection*
*A commandant suddenly lifted his hand and asked the old man confusingly*
Professor jean isn't this a good thing that humans are becoming healthier it means we can lead a better life what's the problem with this? 
Sir Commandant lan this isn't the problem the thing is because of this phenomenon we are afraid that there might me some mutations in the gebed of humans and animals and may lead to a catastrophe so I hope the military forces all over the world can be ready if something goes wrong said proffesor Jean.
You mean something like special powers or something?!* A lieutenant exclaimed suddenly in surprise*
It might be lieutenant carl but we can't be sure *professor jean answered him adjusting his glasses*
This looks like a story from science fiction prof jean please don't talk nonsense I respect You a lot Don't say some strange things and confuse us 
*A certain commandant spoke in harsh voice*
Yeah this is some story you are telling us!!
*Another voice came*
Don't go assuming crazy ideas prof jean your words carry weight!*Another one followed*
This really isn't any story but the reality it is happening sir  I just said some possibilities*Prof jean said firmly*
*Tap* *Tap* *Tap*
Suddenly the man in Centre of the table who was silent till now tapped the table 
*The room was instantly silenced*
As he was the one with the highest rank in the military today A Marshal  
The living legend of French Military Marshal Francis uliel who is in his late 50's
Prof jean will there seriously be a problem that will lead to a mutation?
*The marshal asked in a deep voice*
Sir Francis I can't be sure but the chances aren't low we even think some kind of new viruses may form or the old ones mutate which would be very harmfuls for us  *Prof jean said with respect*
Hmm....this is indeed a huge problem we humans are really afraid of these viruses more than a war
*Marshal Francis said in a clear voice*
Ok try to find more abnormalities among the crowds especially the youngsters prof jean please check the conditional changes of animals regularly also while you are it.....
I'll do my best sir! *Prof jean said with firm eyes*
Let's stop the meeting now I'll speak with other country military forces and discuss the changes they must also get these reports by now.                You guys! We are seeing a change never before don't give a single officer a leave everyone will have to be on duty cancel all the ones who are on leave and call them back contact the french police and give strict orders!! 
 I'll also speak to the president Now everyone disperse!! *Marshal francis instructed everyone*
Yes sir!! * United chant*
*Around the globe several countries are also undergoing the discussions about the change in atmosphere*



It was five o'clock on a winter's morning in Syria. Alongside the platform at Aleppo stood the train grandly designated in railway guides as the Taurus Express. It consisted of a kitchen and dining-car, a sleeping-car and two local coaches. 
By the step leading up into the sleeping-car stood a young French lieutenant, resplendent in uniform conversing, with a small man muffled up to the ears of whom nothing was visible but a pink-tipped nose and the two points of an upward-curled moustache. 
It was freezingly cold, and this job of seeing off a distinguished stranger was not one to be envied, but Lieutenant Dubosc performed his part manfully. Graceful phrases fell from his lips in polished French. Not that he knew what it was all about. There had been rumours, of course, as there always were in such cases. The General's, his General'stemper had grown worse and worse. And then there had come this Belgian stringer all the way from England, it seemed. There had been a week, a week of curious tensity. And then certain things had happened. A very distinguished officer had committed suicide, another had suddenly resigned, anxious faces had suddenly lost their anxiety, certain military precautions were relaxed. And the General, Lieutenant Dubosc's own particular General, had suddenly looked ten years younger. 
Dubosc had overheard part of a conversation between him and the stranger. "You have saved us, mon cher," said the General emotionally, his great white moustache trembling as he spoke. "You have saved the honour of the French Army you have averted much bloodshed! How can I thank you for acceding to my request? To have come so far" 
To which the stranger (by name M. Hercule Poirot) had made a fitting reply including the frase "But indeed, do I not remember that once you saved my life?" And then the General had made another fitting reply to that, disclaiming any merit for that past service; and with more mention of France, of Belgium, of glory, of honour and of such kindred things they had embraced each other heartily and the conversation had ended. 
As to what it had all been about, Lieutenant Dubosc was still in the dark, but to him had been delegated the duty of seeing off M. Poirot by the Taurus Express, and he was carrying it out with all the zeal and ardour befitting a young officer with a promising career ahead of him.                "To-day is Sunday," said Lieutenant Dubosc. "Tomorrow, Monday evening, you will be in Stamboul." 
It was not the first time he had made this observation. Conversations on the platform, before the departure of a train, are apt to be somewhat repetitive in character.                                                "That is so," agreed M. Poirot.
"And you intend to remain there a few days, I think?"        
 "Mais oui. Stamboul, it is a city I have never visited. It would be a pity to pass through, comme ça." He snapped his fingers descriptively. "Nothing presse, I shall remain there as a tourist for a few days."         
 "La Sainte Sophie, it is very fine," said Lieutenant Dubosc, who had never seen it. 
A cold wind came whistling down the platform. Both men shivered. Lieutenant Dubosc managed to cast a surreptitious glance at his watch. Five minutes to five  only five minutes more! 
Fancying that the other man had noticed his glance, he hastened once more into speech.                  "There are few people travelling this time of year," he said, glancing up at the windows of the sleeping-car above them.           
"That is so," agreed M. Poirot.             
 "Let us hope you will not be snowed up in the Taurus!" "That happens?"    
"It has occurred, yes. Not this year, as yet."          
"Let us hope, then," said M. Poirot. "The weather reports from Europe, they are bad.              
"Very bad. In the Balkans there is much snow." 
"In Germany, too, I have heard."   
"Eh bien," said Lieutenant Dubosc hastily as another pause seemed to be about to occur. "Tomorrow evening at seven-forty you will be in Constantinople."   "Yes," said M. Poirot, and went on desperately, "La Sainte Sophie, I have heard it is very fine." "Magnificent, I believe."
Above their heads the blinds of one of the sleeping-car compartments was pushed aside and a young woman looked out. 
Mary Debenham had had little sleep since she left Baghdad on the preceding Thursday. Neither in the train to Kirkuk, nor in the Rest House at Mosul, nor last night on the train had she slept properly. Now, weary of lying wakeful in the hot stuffiness of her overheated compartment, she got up and peered out. 
This must be Aleppo. Nothing to see, of course. Just a long, poorly lighted platform with loud, furious altercations in Arabic going on somewhere. Two men below her window were talking French. One was a French officer, the other was a little man with enormous moustaches. She smiled faintly. She had never seen anyone quite so heavily muffled up. It must be very cold outside. That was why they heated the train so terribly. She tried to force the window down lower, but it would not go. 
The Wagon Lit conductor had come up to the two men. The train was about to depart, he said. Monsieur had better mount. The little man removed his hat. What an egg-shaped head he had! In spite of her preoccupations Mary Debenham smiled. A ridiculous-looking little man. The sort of little man one could never take seriously. 
Lieutenant Dubosc was saying his parting speech. He had thought it out beforehand and had kept it till the last minute. It was a very beautiful, polished speech. 
Not to be outdone, M. Poirot replied in kind. …        
"En voiture, Monsieur," said the Wagon Lit conductor. With an air of infinite reluctance M. Poirot climbed aboard the train. The conductor climbed after him. M. Poirot waved his hand. Lieutenant Dubosc came to the salute. The train, with a terrific jerk, moved slowly forward.             
"Enfin!" murmured M. Hercule Poirot.           
"Brrrrrrrr," said Lieutenant Dubosc, realising to the full how cold he was.    
"Voilà, Monsieur!" The conductor displayed to Poirot with a dramatic gesture the beauty of his sleeping compartment and the neat arrangement of his luggage. "The little valise of Monsieur, I have put it here." 
His outstretched hand was suggestive. Hercule Poirot placed in it a folded note.                  
 "Merci, Monsieur." The conductor became brisk and business-like. "I have the tickets of Monsieur. I will also take the passport, please. Monsieur breaks his journey in Stamboul, I understand?"               M. Poirot assented. "There are not many people travelling, I imagine?" he said. "No, Monsieur. I have only two other passengers—both English. A Colonel from India and a young English lady from Baghdad. Monsieur requires anything?"     
Monsieur demanded a small bottle of Perrier.         
 Five o'clock in the morning is an awkward time to board a train. There were still two hours before dawn. Conscious of an inadequate night's sleep, and of a delicate mission successfully accomplished, M. Poirot curled up in a corner and fell asleep.                   
 When he awoke it was half-past nine he sallied forth to the restaurant car in search of hot coffee.                 There was only one occupant at the moment, obviously the young English lady referred to by the conductor. She was tall, slim and dark perhaps twenty-eight years of age. There was a kind of cool efficiency in the way she was eating her breakfast and in the way she called to the attendant to bring her more coffee which bespoke a knowledge of the world and of travelling. She wore a dark-coloured travelling dress of some thin material eminently suitable for the heated atmosphere of the train. 
M. Hercule Poirot, having nothing better to do, amused himself by studying her without appearing to do so. 
She was, he judged, the kind of young woman who could take care of herself with perfect ease wherever she went. She had poise and efficiency. He rather liked the severe regularity of her features and the delicate pallor of her skin. He liked the burnished black head with its neat waves of hair, and her eyes cool, impersonal and grey. But she was, he decided, just a little too efficient to be what he called "jolie femme."                    
Presently another person entered the restaurant car. This was a tall man of between forty and fifty, lean of figure, brown of skin, with hair slightly grizzled round the temples.               
"The Colonel from India," said Poirot to himself.           
The newcomer gave a little bow to the girl. "Morning, Miss Debenham."  "Good morning, Colonel Arbuthnot."             
The Colonel was standing with a hand on the chair opposite her. "Any objections?" he asked.                 "Of course not. Sit down."             
 "Well, you know, breakfast isn't always a chatty meal." "I should hope not. But I don't bite."                    The Colonel sat down. "Boy," he called in peremptory fashion. He gave an order for eggs and coffee.                 
 His eyes rested for a moment on Hercule Poirot, but they passed on indifferently. Poirot, reading the English mind correctly, knew that he had said to himself. "Only some damned foreigner." 
True to their nationality, the two English people were not chatty. They exchanged a few brief remarks and presently the girl rose and went back to her compartment. 
At lunch time the other two again shared a table and again they both completely ignored the third passenger. Their conversation was more animated than at breakfast. Colonel Arbuthnot talked of the Punjab and occasionally asked the girl a few questions about Baghdad where, it became clear, she had been in a post as governess. In the course of conversation they discovered some mutual friends, which had the immediate effect of making them more friendly and less stiff. They discussed old Tommy Somebody and old Reggie Someone Else. The Colonel inquired whether she was going straight through to England or whether she was stopping in Stamboul.                  "No, I'm going straight on." "Isn't that rather a pity?"        
 "I came out this way two years ago and spent three days in Stamboul then."    
"Oh! I see. Well, I may say I'm very glad you are going right through, because I am." 
He made a kind of clumsy little bow, flushing a little as he did so. "He is susceptible, our Colonel," thought Hercule Poirot to himself with some amusement. "The train, it is as dangerous as a sea voyage!" Miss Debenham said evenly that that would be very nice. Her manner was slightly repressive. 
The Colonel, Hercule Poirot noticed, accompanied her back to her compartment. Later they passed through the magnificent scenery of the Taurus. As they looked down towards the Cilician Gates, standing in the corridor side by side, a sigh came suddenly from the girl. Poirot was standing near them and heard her murmur:                  
 "It's so beautiful! I with!" "Yes?" "I wish I could enjoy it!"         
Arbuthnot did not answer. The square line of his jaw seemed a little sterner and grimmer.                 "I wish to Heaven you were out of all this," he said. "Hush, please. Hush."    
"Oh! it's all right." He shot a slightly annoyed glance in Poirot's direction. Then he went on: "But I don't like the idea of your being a governasse at the beck and call of tyrannical mothers and their tiresome brats."           
She laughed with just a hint of uncontrol in the sound.      
"Oh! you mustn't think that. The downtrodden governess is quite an exploded myth. I can assure you that it's the parents who are afraid of being bullied by me."   They said no more. Arbuthnot was, perhaps, ashamed of his outburst.    "Rather an odd little comedy that I watch here," said Poirot to himself thoughtfully.  He was to remember that thought of his later. 
They arrived at Konya that night about half-past eleven. The two English travellers got out to stretch their legs, pacing up and down the snowy platform. 
M. Poirot was content to watch the teeming activity of the station through a window pane. After about ten minutes, however, he decided that a breath of air would not perhaps be a bad thing after all. He made careful preparations, wrapping himself in several coats and mufflers and encasing his neat boots in goloshes. Thus attired, he descended gingerly to the platform and began to pace its length. He walked out beyond the engine. 
It was the voices which gave him the clue to the two indistinct figures standing in the shadow of a traffic van. Arbuthnot was speaking.       
"Mary"
 The girl interrupted him.
"Not now. Not now. When it's all over. When it's behind us then "       
Discreetly M. Poirot turned away. He wondered. …
 He would hardly have recognised the cool, efficient voice of Miss Debenham. … "Curious," he said to himself.               
The next day he wondered whether, perhaps, they had quarrelled. They spoke little to each other. The girl, he thought, looked anxious. There were dark circles under her eyes.                   
It was about half-past two in the afternoon when the train came to a halt. Heads were poked out of windows. A little knot of men were clustered by the side of the line looking and pointing at something under the dining-car. 
Poirot leaned out and spoke to the Wagon Lit conductor who was hurrying past. The man answered, and Poirot drew back his head and, turning, almost collided with Mary Debenham who was standing just behind him.       
"What is the matter?" she asked rather breathlessly in French. "Why are we stopping?"                   "It is nothing, Mademoiselle. It is something that has caught fire under the dining- car. Nothing serious. It is put out. They are now repairing the damage. There is no danger, I assure you."                 She made a little abrupt gesture, as though she were waving the idea of danger aside as something completely unimportant.         
 "Yes, yes, I understand that. But the time!" "The time?" "Yes, this will delay us."
"It is possibile yes," agreed Poirot.            
"But we can't afford delay! This train is due in at 6.55, and one has to cross the Bosphorus and catch the Simplon Orient Express on the other side at nine o'clock. If there is an hour or two of delay we shall miss the connection."      
"It is possible, yes," he admitted.               
He looked at her curiously. The hand that held the window bar was not quite steady; her lips, too, were trembling.           
"Does it matter to you very much, Mademoiselle?" he asked. "Yes. Yes, it does. I must catch that train."                
She turned away from him and went down the corridor to join Colonel Arbuthnot.                   Her anxiety, however, was needless. Ten minutes later the train started again. It arrived at Hayda-passar only five minutes late, having made up time on the journey. 
The Bosphorus was rough and M. Poirot did not enjoy the crossing. He was separated from his travelling companions on the boat and did not see them again. 
On arrival at the Galata Bridge he drove straight to the Tokatlian Hotel.

Murder on the Orient Express is a detective novel by British writer Agatha Christie featuring the Belgian detective Hercule Poirot. It was first published in the United Kingdom by the Collins Crime Club on 1 January 1934. In the United States, it was published on 28 February 1934, under the title of Murder in the Calais Coach, by Dodd, Mead and Company. 

The elegant train of the 1930s, the Orient Express, is stopped by heavy snowfall, with many passengers. A murder is discovered, and Poirot's trip home to London from the Middle East is interrupted to solve the murder.

Giancarlo Rossini
Real ePublisher

A month later the Marines adopted me as one of their own and gave me a bunch of medals, including the Congressional Medal of Honor. Then they found out I was only 17. They didn't take away any of the medals, but they did muster me out of the service. 

I "retired" from the Marine Corps in 1944 as a full colonel. It shows you what a little bit of luck will do for you. That was the only action I saw in the entire war. I did get two purple hearts in the action, and I think that's the main reason they got rid of me. I probably would never have passed the physical to re- enlist anyway. 

My left foot didn't work too well after I got shot. Eric and I are about the same age. He told me about his own escapades and how he came to be a freighter captain when he was 16. I decided to join his lodge after he offered to send me to college. I started college that fall at Northern Michigan College in Marquette, Michigan with a full scholarship from Eric Tanner. It's good to have rich friends!

Colonel Paul Hannah U.S. Army Air Force. September, 1947. After reading the exploits of the others in this lodge, I wonder at my own qualifications for belonging. All I can say is that I responded positively to the invitation by Eric Tanner.

My only claim to fame is that of being an ace fighter pilot having had 23 kills before I was shot down over France in 1943. I was flight leader on that flight. We were escorting a flight of B24's when we were hit by German fighters that outnumbered us. I was one of the first casualties. 

I waited until I had almost hit the ground before jumping out. I barely had time for my chute to open. The Krauts were famous for shooting the pilots after they jumped from their planes, so I guess I fooled them on that score.

When I landed the French resistance was there to take me to cover. I spent the rest of the war with them participating in many raids on the Germans in France. I learned French and German along the way and served as a liaison with both, liberating several Germans who could finally see the writing on the wall.

Without spending a lot of time on it, suffice it to say the French were very satisfied with my work and gave me their highest awards. The Army did the same, and I got the Congressional Medal of Honor upon the end of the conflict.

I spent three more years with the Army before getting out in June of 1947. I was married at the time and my family and I settled in my hometown of Engadine, Michigan.

I was contacted shortly thereafter by Eric Tanner and invited to join the people of Lodge 16. I accepted immediately and continued to help with the building of that lodge while running a used car company in Manistique.

Jayne skipped a few pages of detail in Colonel Hannah's synopsis of his action. A familiar name caught her eye. I know this guy, she thought. He's some big wig senator today from Michigan, I think.

May 9, 1948
Major James "Hap" Andrews 5th Cavalry (Tank Corps)
I'm originally from Michigan and enlisted there in Jan of 1942. My bachelor's degree got me into the 90 day wonder program for the Army and I got second lieutenants bars for my trouble. I took tank corps training and ended up with the 5th Army in Italy.

Heavy fighting south of Rome resulted in my captain getting killed in his tank and I was tapped as the commander of the tank corps. We saw a lot of action and I was credited for saving a company of soldiers one day during an advance. They gave me a big medal for that. The Congressional Medal of Honor to be exact.

I stayed in the Army until 1948, when certain cutbacks in the military pretty well forced me out. I mustered out as a Lieutenant Colonel and went to work in Washington D.C. in a consulting service.

Early in 1948 I met Eric Tanner and he invited me to join Lodge 16, ostensibly a hunting lodge in the Seney Swamp in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. I knew a couple of guys in the lodge and decided it was a good idea. 

I probably won't get there often with my job as a military consultant in D.C., but it looks like a good deal. Eric showed me how I could be of service to the Lodge by bringing a degree of military discipline in its organization. I like his plan of teaching the kids all he can about living and surviving. The following is what I have contributed toward this end.

Action Organization Lodge 16.
1. ACTION is defined as any organized activity in Lodge 16.
2. S-1 will be the code for the individual or group of persons responsible for on ground intelligence needed to complete the ACTION.
3. S-2 will be the code for the individual or group of persons planning the ACTION itself. S-2 will be responsible for determining the number and expertise of the personnel required for the ACTION.
4. S-3 will be the code for the individual or group of persons responsible for the procurement of the supplies needed to complete the ACTION. The determination will be reached by coordination with S-1 and S-2.
5. S-4 will be the code for the individual or group of persons responsible for the after action report of the completion of the ACTION.
6. S-5 will be the code for the individual or group of persons responsible for implementing any ACTION required should something go wrong with the original ACTION. This section is sometimes referred to as the CYA clause. (Cover Your Ass!) 

Born an outcast, Drazon grew up shunned by every other dragon in his home, except for his mother and teacher. Yearning for strength enough to defend himself and find his own way in the world, Drazon is forced from his home and on the run.

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