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[u][b]Early September: Djibouti, Ethiopia[/b][/u]
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Djibouti had the reputation of a Sun City, but to Leyla it looked like an endless warehouse district. There were no flashy signs, no glamorous people or modern showcase architecture. The dull adobe buildings hardly rose above ground level. Cracked cement roads ran through the city, criss-crossing with rough dirt paths, the main courses crowded with pedestrians, slowing the trucks that belched diesel fumes into the scorching air.

The heat was intense. Leyla followed Elias off the train, feeling meek as she exited into this alien place. Sweat beaded on her forehead before they'd crossed the street. They'd dressed for this, wearing the cotton robes girded with belts, holsters openly visible. In the distance, she could see the steel pinnacles of great battleships. Elias eyed the hulking towers suspiciously as they went into an open air coffee house. Somalis and Arabs sat on benches, teeth green by chewing [i]khat[/i], talking loudly among themselves. They saw Leyla and Elias, but they did not seem to register them.

She heard bits of conversation. The navy had moved from Mogadishu. They would hunt pirates. There was a war in Somalia. A war? Elias ordered coffee for the both of them, and they sat down on a pillowed bench.

She tried to listen, but her attention wandered as she took in the overwhelming amount of new things. For such an uninviting city, it was surprisingly diverse. There were Ethiopians and Somalis, but also Arabs, and blacks, and whites as well. They were mixed together, unaware of the new comers as far as she could tell.

Elias handed her coffee. "[i]Ras[/i] Hassan has declared a [i]jihad[/i] in the name of the Somali Muslims." He kept his voice low.

"[i]Jihad[/i]?" she knew [i]Ras[/i] Hassan as an important noble, and she knew that he worried the [i]Shotel[/i]. 

"It was a long time coming. But why has the [i]Bahr Negus[/i] abandoned Mogadishu and come here? That leaves Adal uncontested."

"What do you think?" 

Elias shrugged. "Probably treason."

"Should we investigate it since we are here?"

"No. We have a job to do."

She remembered, but she didn't understand its importance. Djibouti was the hub of a drug trade, one that had spread throughout the rough parts of Africa. To her it seemed irrelevant. 

"Where next?" she asked, sipping the bitter brew.

"Now, there is a man we need to speak to. His place of business is somewhere you will not like." Elias pulled out a pack of cigarettes: Marvolo's, with an image of the pyramids on the front. He lit one, looking toward the door.

"I will not like? What kind of place is it?"

"You will see." he said, "I want you to learn that we cannot work in places that are comfortable to us."

"I know this." Leyla replied, "I am not a little girl. I am willing to take risks."

"Good" Elias grunted, cigarette clinched between his teeth. He pulled it out and held it over an ashtray. "You are here because one gun is better than two. Do not say anything unless someone is preparing to draw on us. Do not show your feelings."

"Am I of any use to you?" she asked, holding back feeling as much as she could. She felt like she was going to burst. Sadness, angry, fear, anxiety, exhaustion. She couldn't really tell anymore. 

"Yes. I told you. One gun is better than two. Now come on. Watch what I do, listen to what I say. You are in school today."

They went into the sun-tortured streets. Even palm trees wilted in the heat. The streets were loud, the throaty rumble of trucks, people shouting at each other instead of talking. Leyla tailed Elias so closely she almost stepped on his boots more than once. 

"I thought this place was dangerous." she said, watching a young girl heedlessly leading a mule past a beggar as if he were a rock.

"It is." Elias replied. They walked through an alley. "But not in the middle of the day. The freight companies pay guards. They work better than the police in Addis, if we are to be honest."

She thought of the bored looking officers in their shoddy police booths back home. Here, she'd seen armed men, but she hadn't thought of them as professionals.

"If they work better during the day, why don't they work at night? Wouldn't that bring safety?"

Elias smiled back at her. "They are part of who make it dangerous. The line between private policeman and gang member is academic. The freight companies have other interests. Moving narcotics, apparently. Working with pirates. Slavery."

"Slavery?"

They were on a main street again, as busy as before. The battleships loomed closer. The sun reflected like a laser from the rising tower of the nearest. Along the street was a mixture of rough shops and long warehouses where men loaded and unloaded trucks.

Somewhere, in the distance, she thought she heard a gunshot. Nobody else reacted.

"Don't worry, I won't let you be a slave." he said, grinning as they approached a door. The outline of an ibis appeared burned into the adobe wall, as if it were branded. "Remember what I told you." he said. He opened the door, and the smell of smoke overcame her. Some of it was tobacco, but she detected smells intermingled of which she was not familiar. They went inside.

They were in a small room, a tall man with a turban and a holstered gun looking down on them. The entrance into the next room was concealed by a curtain of beads.

"Who are you?" the armed man asked. His voice was like a big drum. String music came from the other side of the beads.

"Your master knows I am here." Elias replied. 

"I don't know that. Your weapons?"

"My hip feels lonely without it." Elias patted his holster. They shared a look, Elias irreverent, the guard unwavering. Elias started to undo his belt. Leyla followed his lead.

"I will take you, but you will leave the weapons." he disarmed them, slinging their belts and holsters over his shoulder before leading them through the beads, into a dark room filled with smoke. They walked toward a door on the other side of the room. A man was playing an [i]oud[/i] in the corner. Every surface to sit was covered in sheets and pillows. Men lounged lazily, not much different than in the coffee shop, nursing hookah nozzles. Near the [i]oud[/i] player was a stage. An olive-skinned girl walked across it...

Leyla's heart jumped in her throat. The girl was completely naked accept for silver chain she wore around her hip. Leyla had never seen another person unclothed before, aside from perhaps little children, and the sight felt invasive. The girl, looking like she was in a trance, danced slowly. She laid down on her back, hiked her... buttocks in the air, and lit a cigarette on a nearby candle. As they passed into another room, the girl began to smoke the cigarette with her...

"You are the [i]Shotel[/i]!" she heard a shrill male voice in front of her. Her head shot forward as if she'd been caught doing something she wasn't supposed. They'd entered through another beaded door, into a smaller room. At its center was a man who could have weighed half a ton. He had a bench to himself, looking like a massive lumpy pillow in his robes.

"Relax." Elias started, "The [i]Shotel[/i] doesn't care about what you do here. That's the business of the local courts."

"I do not think about the local courts." the big man replied with a big crocodilian grin, "But if you do not care, why are you here? You are not one of my employees. This place is for Ibis Company workers to relax."

"...and give their money back to the company." Elias said, "I'm not here to spend money. I'm here for information."

"Is the girl a trade?" the big man looked hungrily around Elias at Leyla. "I didn't think your agency employed girls."

A trade? Leyla's heart skipped. Her skin went clammy. She felt vulnerable, seeing what this place was, and for a second, her mind entertained the thought that she might have been recruited for this all along. She wanted to run.

"No trade." Elias's smiled washed away for a second, and he looked dangerous. Dangerous in a way that made her feel safe again. "Abba, this is Agent Leyla. Leyla, this is Abba al'Hadad, boss of Ibis Company."

Leyla said nothing. Abba gave her a suspicious look, before turning his attention back to Elias. "I did not expect the girl, but you know I don't give information without a fee. You have dispensation?"

Elias's grin came back. "You've worked with my kind before. Yes. You will be paid."

"Then ask your question."

"Who is the [i]Hakim[/i]? The good doctor? We know he is involved with smuggling into Adal, and perhaps even Swahililand. We've retrieved information that he is smuggling something of interested to warlords..."

"The Hakim." Abba shuttered. "I have never met the man, but I don't like his people."

"Dangerous?"

"No." Abba said, "Unsavory. He rents our services from time to time. I only worked with him once. He hires ugly people. Victims of mutilation I think."

"Who is he using now?" 

Abba smiled. "Well, this is where I need to be payed, isn't it?" 

Elias pulled out an envelope. Like he were a performing magician, he showed the envelope to the fat man, then slowly drew out its contents. There was a thick stack of tan bills tied together with twine. The fat man licked his lips as if he were being presented a particularly succulent cake. "I do like fresh notes!" he said as Elias put them in his balloon fingers. 

"Will that do?"

"I could keep this money and have you thrown out."

Leyla looked to Elias for a reaction, but saw nothing. "You could." he started, "But why create trouble?"

"You would be no trouble at all." that crocodilian smile was back. It might have been ear to ear if it wasn't for the man's ham-like cheeks.

"I wouldn't be." Elias replied, "But if we were to disappear, the [i]Shotel[/i] would be back. The loss of two agents is the loss of reputation. If our people are to do their jobs, we have to keep that reputation."

"And if this city falls?" Abba leaned forward, like a fat cat sitting up.

"To [i]Ras[/i] Hassan? Do you think that occupation by some desert nomads will stop the [i]Shotel[/i]?"

Abba held his pose, saying nothing, staring down at the two agents as if they were ants beneath his magnifying glass. Leyla saw his body guards standing all around, and knew she and Elias couldn't take them all. Could he see her thoughts? 

Then Abba al'Hadad laughed, low and hearty, sounding like a train starting off from the station. "You are right. It costs me nothing to give this information to you. They are using the docks belonging to Tall Palms. The goods come in by truck and are loaded onto trawlers. They load at midnight, Wednesdays and Fridays."

"Tonight is Wednesday." Elias said.

"It is. Like I said, you are looking for mutilated men."

"Do you know, perhaps, what boats they will use? That would save us trouble."

"No." Abba waved his hand at the big guard. "Give them their weapons back. They are not a threat. My Shotel friends, it was pleasant meeting with you. May Allah guide you."

"Yes." Elias nodded, "Allah guide you too."

--  

There was, off the main road near the port, a safe house. It was a studio apartment, sparsely furnished. They ate a flavorless meal of canned lentils. The light in the room shifted as the sun went down.

Leyla missed the propaganda office. The repetitive arguments between artists and agents. The smell of coffee. Scraps of paper and ink stains showing up in places they shouldn't be. The fact she could go home, see her father, relax knowing tomorrow wouldn't bring any challenges she hadn't known before.

"How is your first day in the field?" Elias asked.

"It's a lot to take in."

"You're taking it better than I expected. I thought you might cry, when we were out of public."

She said nothing. Her eyes were heavy, her head numb from all the unprocessed thoughts. But now he said it, she was feeling the urge to cry. She fought it by saying nothing.

Sunlight came orange through the window. Elias went to it and looked out. "I'm going to scout out the building. I've waited this long because the workers will be leaving for home now, and the streets will be hectic. I'll be less conspicuous. You should clean your gun."

"I did when we were on the train."

"And we've been in this dirty fucking town since then. You need to do something." 

She nodded. He went for the doorknob.

"One more thing." she said.

He turned around, looking at her inquisitively. 

"Why does it matter this Doctor sells drugs? There are no laws against it."

"That doesn't matter. We are not the police."

"By why are we trailing this doctor?"

Elias dropped his hand from the door and turned to face her. "What has come to our attention isn't that this unnamed doctor is selling drugs. It's that he keeps himself secret. Okay, that's interesting, it's what made him high profile enough for us to notice. But what's more interesting is who he sells to. The Swahili communists? Okay, perhaps they are selling across the border, making extra money selling into Ostafrika. But Adal? [i]Ras[/i] Hassan? Do you see what I mean?"

"I am not political."

"[i]Ras[/i] Hassan has one thing on his mind. We've all known it. He's a barracks man. Money? He lives like a warrior, not a King. That he would be involved in a drug trade. Well, as far as we know, he's only worked for one thing. It is this war he has started."

"You knew he was going to start it?"

"I'm surprised you didn't know. Even as a little girl in school."

"Then why didn't you stop him?"

Elias grinned. "Politics. I need to go. Keep yourself busy with that gun, Agent Leyla." He left her. 

She had more questions. Alone in this room, she said them out loud. "Why send us?" she asked the naked walls. That sentence, like the top of an iceberg, hid a more complex thought. Why risk agents on such a bland lead? Was there some great security risk in a warlord taking up an unusual hobby? And even if it meant something, something they didn't see yet, what could it possibly matter?

Flies buzzed around the open cans sitting on the counter. The fading sunlight was now a dull red, an orange went blood orange. She pulled the magazine from her gun and began. The stale masculine scent of oil grew more and more as she worked. She was certain the smell would stay with her the rest of the night. 

It was dark when Elias returned. "Are you ready?" he asked.

She'd put her gun back together by then, and he'd found her nearly napping. She sat up and nodded. They went out into the night.

The air was cool now, though it still held the scents of baked earth and gasoline. It was quiet enough she could hear the ocean, the tide playing its music not far from them. But there were still other sounds, city sounds. Somewhere she heard muffled gunfire. From many directions, there were lively voices, always coming from a different alley, or an open door. An old woman sat in the dust, wrapped in her shawl like a cigar. It was cold. Leyla pulled her robe close around her.

There were still people in the road. They gathered in front of the doors of shops, absorbed in their own conversations. The battleship spires glowed bright blue from the moonlit sea. 

"Food." a beggar called out. He didn't look at anybody, only the ground. Leyla gave him a wide berth. "Food." she heard him behind her. 

They stuck the side of the road, beneath the shadow of the chipped buildings. Some people looked at them. Most minded their own business. They rounded a corner and saw a small crowd in front of an open door. A man was holding another against the doorway, putting a knife to his neck. Elias didn't seem to notice, or care.

They heard gunfire toward the center of town. One shot. Elias didn't seem to notice, or care.

Elias stopped in front of a long warehouse, adobe, painted white, two straight palms growing in a patch of dirt out front, next to each other like guards. A thin dirt path lead around it, creating an urban canyon through which she could see the sea. He looked down the road, then turned down the path. Leyla scrambled to keep up.

A sound reverberated, the clap of wood against wood, echoing like a gunshot. Leyla stopped, her senses increasing, like a gazelle that'd just heard a lion. Elias continued.

There were other sounds. Scraping. Maybe voices. It was hard to hear over the murmur of the sea.

Elias climbed the chain link fence dividing the access road from the property of Tall Palms. He moved slow, but the fence still jingled ever so slightly, making Leyla wince. She went over after him. She was clumsier, but she weighed less, so she got over quietly enough.

"There it is." Elias whispered, pointing out toward the burbling sea. Big floodlights bathed the crystal blue water in artificial day. There were several ships in port, but among them was a smaller thing dwarfed by the freighters flanking it. A large beat up yacht. Elias, crouching, moved closer, between the sheds and tall stacks of crates.

Leyla tugged at his robe. Her eyes were wide. "Are there guards?" she whispered.

"Patrol every hour on the hour." he whispered back, pointing to his watch. It was fifteen after. She let go, and followed him. They ducked behind a shed. Elias pulled out binoculars. Leyla saw her partners back, and heard distant voices. 

He looked at her and pointed at the binoculars. She gingerly took them, and leaned forward so she could see the ship. There were people surrounding it, working, lifting boxes. She brought the binoculars to her eyes.

At first, what she saw was a blur. Elias grabbed the binoculars with one hand and pushed her head into them with the other. It came into focus. Every move she made sent her vision whirring across the zoomed distortion, but she steadied and adapted herself, finding faces.

There was something wrong with the man she saw. He wore a keffiyeh covering his face, and an eyepatch covering one eye. The rest of his skin had a sickly pallor, perhaps swollen. 

She heard a scuffle behind her. Elias shouted, but the wind left him. Her head shot around to see what was happening. Big hands grabbed her. She dropped the binoculars, and found herself hoisted like a sack over the shoulder of a tall man. His body odor assaulted her nose. From between his arms, she saw Elias being picked off the ground. His gun was taken from his holster.

"Where do we go?" the man in front asked. 

"The boss says give them to Abba al'Hadad."

Leyla's holster was pressed into the big man's neck. As he walked, her hand slapped against his holster. 

His holster.

Her mind began to work. 

"Come on little girl. Abba al'Hadad will be happy to see your pretty face."

Elias was hanging limp. It was only her now. Her hand slapped her carrier's holster. She felt for the leather flap and pulled it back as cautiously as she could. Her fingers felt the cold wooden grip.

In one quick move, she pulled it out. She felt the big man's muscles tense as he reacted to her movement. She freed the gun and shot him through the belly. Hot blood splattered her feet, and she was dropped. Before she hit the ground, she fired two more shots, both hitting the man in front of her. She didn't see him go down before she hit the ground. It knocked the air out of her with a girlish "Huff." The big man hit the ground squirming. Blood pooled on the hot cement, beneath the cold moon.

She jumped to her feet. Elias was waking on the ground.

"We need to go!" she said, not worrying about sound. She looked around, expecting to see ugly-faced brutes, monsters beneath keffiyahs. She saw the boat behind them, its men still working, indifferent to the scuffle they surely heard.

"I got the name." Elias said. He looked dazed. His eyes widened when he saw the two bodies.

"We need to go!" 

Elias nodded. They jumped the fence and went back to the safe house. Nobody bothered them.