--------------------------------- May 15th, 1960 / Addis Ababa --------------------------------- Sara Reicker found the false smile she had practiced so many times over the past few years coming naturally when she had been introduced to the Rhodesian Diplomatic Envoy to Ethiopia. Mr Reginald Heap summed up everything there was to hate about White Rhodesians. He was boorish, had a stupid accent, an overinflated opinion of himself, and was almost comically racist against non-whites. If she didn't know better she would have thought it was an act but after reading his file as the Bureau she realized he was as actually as terrible as he seemed. **Two Days earlier** Her journey North to Ethiopia, her first International assignment, had been a long one. The train system through much of Africa may have been somewhat passable in the days of the Colonial Empires but they had fallen deeply into disrepair since that time. The only true railways she had travelled one, that didn't involve hand carts, walking, riding donkeys, bush pilots and even a few boats, were in Rhodesia and Ethiopia. She had some time to reflect on her life as she went, passing through numerous shit heap towns and pathetic villages full of men who treated her like property and their terrified, and sometimes cattle like, wives. She had only left one body in a ditch, back in Mozambique, when the man who ran the mule train refused to take no for an answer and she had driven a screw driver through his ear. The cruelest irony of all was that she owed her position and skills to the Whiteman. Only in White Rhodesia could a coloured woman, or even a black woman, hold a position like hers, be trusted, well paid, and treated like an equal by most of her colleagues. If the local Black population ran the country she'd be either flat on her back or squatting in the mud delivering babies. Okay, maybe that was unfair to the Black folk but hell, she'd seen what happened in Zambia when the Whites lost power, utter fucking chaos. She was fairly certain that the recent round of murders involving dead White farmers was going to lead to a military intervention by the Rhodesian Security Forces. That would be interesting to watch. Her arrival in Addis Ababa had been very interesting indeed. The train, an old steam engine that had carried her without fail for the proceeding two days, chugged into the main station and ground to a halt with an explosion of steam. After the final stop before the capital she had changed out of her Khakis into something more "culturally appropriate". The dress, which was white and went right down to her ankles, was hemmed with a vibrant blue. The effect was rather cooling and easily allowed her to conceal a small pistol on her right thigh, and a knife on the left. She had allowed herself a moment's fantasy of a young woman on her way to a secret rendezvous with a lover but her ride to the Rhodesian Consulate had destroyed that throughly. The Consulate car, a British built Rolls Royce, met her at the train station and the driver, a native Ethiopian, had wasted in time in warning her about the Heaps. "Make sure you're never alone wit heem." The man had said, eyeing her in the rear view mirror, his accent strange to her ear. "He likes to play wit the ladies. And his missus is no betta. She will finger you too if she can." He had gone on about the majority of the staff and by the time she actually arrived at the consulate, she was a pretty good idea of what sort of lifestyle she could expect for the next little while. The Heaps were obviously philandering perverts, the majority of the white male staff had been hand picked by Reginald Heap and as a result tended to be very "forward". The local Black employee's stole anything that wasn't nailed down and Beatrice Heap had a spending problem that somehow had spilled over into the Consulate budget. Now that was interesting. A thirty minute drive had been them draw up front of the Consulate, a grand old Colonial Mansion done up in yellow with black shutters, and she had been deposited on the gravel drive with her single suitcase before the car roared away again. She was still surveying the tall windows when a middle aged white woman with long black hair came bustling out of the building. "Oh, um, well, hello... You must be Sara! Yes, of course, hello. I am Beatrice, Reggies better half." She laughed, an almost high pitched note that made her seem a touch mad. Sara noticed Beatrice give her a hair to shoe once over, a small smile appearing as she did so. "Nice to meet you Beatrice." Sara held out her hand. There was an awkward moment in which the two women stared at each other and then Beatrice laughed again. "We don't shake hands with the help, my dear girl, Ethiopian thing dontcha know." That was a load of bullshit if Sara had ever heard it, but it confirmed her initial deductions about the woman from the Bureau files. "Reggie is out at the moment but do come in, I'll have one of the staff show you to your room. I understand your good with your hands?" There was a strange look on the womans face as she said it, almost sly. "For typing of course." Sara nodded, now throughly uncomfortable. She would make damn sure she locked her bedroom door at night. "Oh Charles!" Beatrice called out, perhaps louder than necessary, and was answered almost immediately by a strongly built black man who appeared at the consulate doorway. He didn't speak but simply bowed his head slightly. "See! That's how it should be Sara, do take notes. Now off you go." Beatrice chattered away as she dismissed Sara with a wave, hurrying back into the Consulate like a scalded cat. "She thought you were the Master. Otherwise she'd never have come out." Charles said quietly as he picked up her bags and gestured towards the Consulate. "Your room is on the third floor, in the East wing, you'll get some lovely sunrises from there." Sara followed him after a grateful "Thank you". The stairs were marble, the hallways marble, the walls covered in gorgeous local hangings that showed plenty of skin and, in more than a few cases, plenty of sex. It was no wonder the Rhodesian Government was not entirely happy with "Reggie". "In here." Charles said as they stopped in front of a large wooden door. He leaned in close to her for just a second. "Check for spy holes." It was the last thing he said as he walked away. Sara picked up her bag, turned the door knob, and stepped into a small but comfortable apartment. A cozy sitting room was closest to the corner of the house, two sides being open to the outside with a small balcony facing East. The third side had two doors, one into a bedroom, the other into a bathroom which had a lovely walk-in shower. She took a moment to look around the main sitting area and found nothing out of the ordinary. She did not have to look very hard to find a peephole in the shower, and another in her bedroom. Both had commanding views of places she was likely to be naked. Well that was disturbing it did tell her that behind the walls of the house, running throughout the whole building perhaps, was a hidden series of passageways. That meant there would be a door, and that meant she could access it. She carefully moved a plant to block the peephole in her bedroom and hung a towel to block the one in the shower. It was a start. She went back into the sitting room and stepped out onto the balconey. The City of Addis Ababa spread out before her with all of its sights and smells. She had arrived.