01-06-2015, 11:14 AM
The internet signal out here was terrible. The connection, although satellite, kept going out and every time it did, Lawrence swat the device until it worked again. For crying out loud, she knew she should have bought that upgraded package, but that salesman had slime written all over him. She figured he was just another goon out to make a commission. Guess he was right.
Despite the difficulties, she was gathering great footage. At one point she'd gone up to a large warning sign written in Chinese, taped it, then superimposed the English translation over the letters and panned around to reveal a disturbing lack of chinese workers. "The site where I now stand is owned by Chinese companies and protected by Chinese security. Law states their military cannot maintain presence on foreign soil, therefore their military was restricted to the embassy in Freetown, but as they have pulled from Sierra Leone completely, it seems their property is up for grabs. This refinery processes a valuable and rare metal. I find it surprising the Chinese would abandon their 'gold-mine.' It makes sense that Wallace-Johnson wants control, but what here holds Jacques Danjou's interest? It has to be more than mere refugees. This is Lawrence Monday, reporting from the hot zone in Sierra Leone. MondayMargin.net"
Two soldiers were coming her way with a certain 'look in their eye.' Quickly, she typed in the password, processed her thumb print, and snapped a picture of one iris to get the story and video published online before they confiscated her stuff.
She eyed the number of chevrons on their arm and the patches of their brigade. "Hello, sirs. Put it away? Sure. I can do that."
She smiled far too compliant than they expected. Both men exchanged looks like they were disappointed.
True to her word, Lawrence powered off the wallet. It was configured for broadcast grade technologies featuring a greater-than HD camera, state of the art resolution, and real time cloud backup. One thing she made sure to purchase, however, was the remote lens embedded in her sunglasses.
Sighing, she shaded her eyes and peered across the grounds. "I'm actually with Mister Danjou. So I'll get in the vehicle when he gets in the vehicle. Boy its sunny out here." She smiled her signature grin and plucked a pair of aviators from where they hung on her shirt.
She turned to walk away, confidence high that they would leave her alone simply for having been compliant and sure of herself. Instead, one of them clamped down on her arm and tugged her a few steps out of her path.
"In the car, American."
She pushed the glasses higher on her face, subtly pressing a hidden button behind the bridge. There was always a time to stand your ground and there was a time to obey. Lawrence knew the difference, but a stubborn streak spiked stronger than common sense. She yanked back her throbbing arm, but refused to wince. Why did men like them always think grabbing a woman by the arm was the best way to control her?
"Alright, cool your jets. I'll go to the car."
That seemed to please them, so she sauntered toward the indicated vehicle. But rather than climbing in, she leaned against the outside, arms crossed and observant. She was betting the farm on Danjou. Either he wasn't going to let this business go on much longer, or he had a plan for Freetown. Whatever it was, so long as she stuck by him, she was going to be safe.
And Zanders was still out there, somewhere.
Despite the difficulties, she was gathering great footage. At one point she'd gone up to a large warning sign written in Chinese, taped it, then superimposed the English translation over the letters and panned around to reveal a disturbing lack of chinese workers. "The site where I now stand is owned by Chinese companies and protected by Chinese security. Law states their military cannot maintain presence on foreign soil, therefore their military was restricted to the embassy in Freetown, but as they have pulled from Sierra Leone completely, it seems their property is up for grabs. This refinery processes a valuable and rare metal. I find it surprising the Chinese would abandon their 'gold-mine.' It makes sense that Wallace-Johnson wants control, but what here holds Jacques Danjou's interest? It has to be more than mere refugees. This is Lawrence Monday, reporting from the hot zone in Sierra Leone. MondayMargin.net"
Two soldiers were coming her way with a certain 'look in their eye.' Quickly, she typed in the password, processed her thumb print, and snapped a picture of one iris to get the story and video published online before they confiscated her stuff.
She eyed the number of chevrons on their arm and the patches of their brigade. "Hello, sirs. Put it away? Sure. I can do that."
She smiled far too compliant than they expected. Both men exchanged looks like they were disappointed.
True to her word, Lawrence powered off the wallet. It was configured for broadcast grade technologies featuring a greater-than HD camera, state of the art resolution, and real time cloud backup. One thing she made sure to purchase, however, was the remote lens embedded in her sunglasses.
Sighing, she shaded her eyes and peered across the grounds. "I'm actually with Mister Danjou. So I'll get in the vehicle when he gets in the vehicle. Boy its sunny out here." She smiled her signature grin and plucked a pair of aviators from where they hung on her shirt.
She turned to walk away, confidence high that they would leave her alone simply for having been compliant and sure of herself. Instead, one of them clamped down on her arm and tugged her a few steps out of her path.
"In the car, American."
She pushed the glasses higher on her face, subtly pressing a hidden button behind the bridge. There was always a time to stand your ground and there was a time to obey. Lawrence knew the difference, but a stubborn streak spiked stronger than common sense. She yanked back her throbbing arm, but refused to wince. Why did men like them always think grabbing a woman by the arm was the best way to control her?
"Alright, cool your jets. I'll go to the car."
That seemed to please them, so she sauntered toward the indicated vehicle. But rather than climbing in, she leaned against the outside, arms crossed and observant. She was betting the farm on Danjou. Either he wasn't going to let this business go on much longer, or he had a plan for Freetown. Whatever it was, so long as she stuck by him, she was going to be safe.
And Zanders was still out there, somewhere.