In the courtyard of a stone villa in Damazin…
The talisman hanging above the porch kept the mosquitoes away, giving Joga a quiet space. Carman was helping Joga tend the garden with his son, Muto. They needed to clear the weeds and then plant the vegetable seeds that Joga had purchased.
The trip to South SD had made Carman a wealthy man. With one-third of the gold share and one-third of the spoils, Carman had become a man with a six-figure cash fortune.
Joga knew that what he was about to do might cause a lot of trouble, so he had been trying to urge Carman to send his son to Ethiopia. But unexpectedly, Carman's ambitions had grown. He no longer just wanted to send his son to Ethiopia. He now aimed for Europe, wanting his son to go to Italy first, and then possibly try Germany or Switzerland, and even the United States wasn't out of the question.
Joga was both amused and frustrated by Carman's lofty dreams. Here he was, a boss from Africa, and Carman, an uneducated rustic, wanted to send his son to Europe, to the most developed countries no less.
But mocking an employee's aspirations wasn't something a good boss should do. According to Carman, working with Joga made a target of $500,000 achievable. As long as he could get his son to Italy, even if it meant first going through a refugee camp in Liberia, the trouble afterward would be worth it.
The saying "every parent's heart" seemed to apply everywhere. Carman's heart was indeed large, seemingly ignoring the potential risks he might face.
Joga sipped his overly sweet SD tea and then, after repeatedly reviewing the footage on his phone, used editing software to cut out the parts about himself and voice-changing software to obscure his voice.
This material was definitely going to be handed over to the consulate, but he planned to bypass the South SD consulate and send it directly to the embassy in SD. However, this meant that Joga's abduction of a UN official would become a fact.
He wasn't familiar with Chinese government agencies, and if they got wind of his involvement, it was hard to predict his fate. This was Joga's dilemma. As a small player, he could walk away from the SD business with little trouble and start over elsewhere. But if he became entangled in a major event, he might be used as leverage.
The evidence had to be given, otherwise, Erin's death would be meaningless. The only problem now was how to deliver it without implicating himself.
Joga knew that sometimes the Westerners' dirty deeds were done without accountability. If they were unaware, they would quietly engage in wrongdoing, spending less and gaining more. If they were aware, they would go public, using media resources to control the narrative, with plenty of people ready to rally behind them.
The purpose of giving away the video was to let the embassy prepare in advance, minimize losses among compatriots, and at the very least, avoid harming their own people. SD, this unfortunate place, was no better than South SD. The late Liberian Colonel K had spent his life creating chaos in surrounding countries, with Chad and SD suffering greatly. Even now, Darfur in SD remained a mess, easily becoming a powder keg with just a little prodding.
Joga's former company was involved in infrastructure projects and knew many oil fields were near the contested regions of Kordofan and the Blue Nile, which were the most oil-rich areas. He needed to ensure his compatriots were prepared, even if it meant getting out ahead of time.
Therefore, he planned to go to Kammu personally the next day and leave the evidence at the embassy's doorstep.
Whether they would send spies to investigate or not, if they were determined to find him, even a few veteran detectives could uncover his whereabouts. At this stage, if questioned, he would claim ignorance and, if necessary, flee.
In the worst case, he would end up in Africa, but with money, one could enjoy life anywhere. Joga knew once he handed over the evidence, there would be no turning back. Returning to his home country meant losing all control, as he had killed a UN official. If the situation was exposed, not only would he suffer, but his brother could also be in trouble, possibly even embarrassing the nation.
Having already committed such deeds and killed someone, he didn't care who was to blame. If he lost his own moral compass, Joga would despise himself.
Resolving his thoughts, Joga stood up from his chair and loudly complained to Carman, "Didn't you say someone was coming to install the air conditioning today? They are already two hours late. Do they have any sense of time?"
Carman, patting his silent son's shoulder, walked over to Joga and said, "I thought you'd be used to this place and its people by now."
Joga shook his head and said, "This really is an unfortunate place!"
He then surveyed the nearly finished courtyard and said, "Tell Muto to stop working and go buy some food—vegetables, fruits, antelope meat, and if possible, a chicken. We'll have a nice dinner tonight. Tomorrow, you're coming with me to Kammu. If things go smoothly, we should be able to continue our business. If things go awry, take Muto to Ethiopia immediately."
Carman frowned and said, "Why? We've killed everyone. No one knows it was us."
Joga replied, "That depends on whether someone is investigating. People leave traces wherever they go, like footprints on the grassland. Even if you try to cover them up, there will still be clues. The Siruk people are dead, but the guns we sold them are still out there. Who knows if that Italian or that woman left any phone records or other evidence? There are few Chinese arms dealers in SD, and if they catch a clue, they'll quickly find us."
Carman, puzzled, asked, "Then why did you spend $10,000 to buy this place?"
Joga, with a sense of resignation, said, "I wanted to leave myself a memento because I've always dreamed of having a small courtyard that completely belongs to me. And I believe things might not necessarily turn out badly…"
Carman didn't fully understand Joga's words. He was a typical African who, unless a gun was pointed at his head, didn't want to change his plans. Now that he had money, he was working through airport boss Sairim to resolve Muto's visa. As long as Muto left smoothly, Carman wouldn't give up unless the sky fell.
Although he didn't quite grasp Joga's reasoning, Carman finally said, "Hu Lang, you're a good boss and a great shot. You'll definitely make a lot of money in Africa. I'll follow your lead. I'm 45 years old now. It's already a blessing to have lived this long in Africa. I want to make enough money for Muto to live happily for the rest of his life."
Joga understood Carman. A week ago, he was a desperate man willing to sell himself for $20,000. Now he saw the possibility of a complete life change. With $500,000, or even $1 million, his son could escape past shadows and start anew in a safe place.
If Joga were in Carman's shoes, he probably wouldn't give up either.