started pouring in. I took the profits and bought the controlling interest in an African oil company within two years. It cost over a hundred-million dollars. In two years I went from nothing to over a hundred-million dollars. On the advice of some business magazines I bought from street vendors with baskets on their heads, I decided to diversify. I talked to my friend, the prince, who by now was quite well off too, and he mentioned other business possibilities. The biggest one across Africa, apart from oil, is war.”
Weapons .
“That’s something I can’t smile about.”
I dropped it. The conversation had come to an end and I drifted off. As I fell asleep, I was conscious of Stafford drifting around the room and the vague thought of wondering whether there was any truth to the story of the African prince and the hundred-million.
It was some time at night when I woke. I found Stafford with the light on gazing at an iPad. I got up and slipped off to my room. The soft pitter-patter of rain hitting the gutter outside was pleasant and lulled me back toward sleep, which I would have entered nicely if it wasn’t for the sound of a knock at my door.
Expecting it to be Stafford, I got up and peered through the peephole. On seeing nothing but an empty hall I opened the door. No one was there. I closed it and sat down on the bed. Nearing sleep, I suddenly opened my eyes with the fearful thought that there might be a presence at the foot of the bed.
What I saw gave me chills. There at the end of the bed stood Emma Green. A mysterious faint light enveloped her and I noticed a second person step forward from behind her. It was Ava Madeiros. They both stared at me with expressionless faces. I lay paralyzed with fear.
In my thoughts I said, “What are you doing here?”
Emma communicated her thoughts directly without moving her lips.
“We are real. You were warned. Let the judgment begin.”
I looked at Ava. Her thoughts spoke to me.
“The judgment has begun.”
I finally managed to roll over, and woke up, realizing I had dreamed the whole thing. Still, the awful haunting feeling of the dream clung to me like a damp mist I couldn’t shake.
I got up and walked over to the refrigerator. I found a bottle of wine inside and several bottles of beer, plus a few bottles of liquor. I opened the wine and drank the whole bottle.
Sophia Durant’s Diary
November 17, Mahé Island, Seychelles
As Stafford and I sat down to breakfast in the hotel dining room, an enchanting woman approached our table. She was English and looking for company.
“Your first breakfast here?” she asked in a delightful tone.
“Yes,” Stafford obliged.
“I’m Emily—Emily Mordaunt. I own the hotel across the street. The Majestic.”
“Ah, it’s beautiful,” he exclaimed.
“Yes.”
“You must have quite a fortune, owning a hotel like that one.”
“Nothing like your fortune, Mr. Stafford.”
“You know who I am.”
“I’ve read about you in magazines from time to time.”
If she made him uneasy, he didn’t show it.
“All good things, I hope.”
“You’re incredibly wealthy. I’m sorry if I’m intruding. It’s just that I see so few English speakers come to Mahé and I’m starved for company. The staff pretty much shuts me out over there.” She laughed.
“Have breakfast with us. This is Sophia, my…my good friend.”
I smiled and took her hand briefly in mine. I got a small shock of static electricity on touching her. The shock surprised her and she jolted upright, recovering with a smile.
“I’m here on business. I should be meeting my man in not too long.”
“You’re welcome to come have a tour of the Majestic later on if you wish. Also, I can show you around the island. Show you the nice beaches. That is if you have time, of course.”
“I’d love it. We’ll be here a few days. We’ll have to exchange numbers. I’d love a tour.”
For a minute I wondered if she was the FBI agent I was to meet
Margaret Dilloway
Henry Williamson
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Shakir Rashaan
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Judy Griffith; Gill
Shadonna Richards
Robert Girardi
Scarlett Skyes et al