Carrying his planner and his computer bag, he leaves the Tusk lounge, walks past ‘Duma’s Corner’, through the lobby and into the front parking area. He had not valet parked, this time. With firearms in the Rover, never a good idea to let someone unknown have access to the vehicle. Too dangerous and too valuable.
He walks to the far left side of the parking area. Today he is in his 2009 Land Rover Sport. It is gun barrel silver (how appropriate), and way too nice for where he is about to go. He usually drives his older ‘Discovery’ into the bush. Using his remote key, he unlocks the doors, places his computer bag on the floor behind his driver seat, and closes the door. Starting the car, the ‘Eagles’ cd he was playing when he shut off the engine almost three hours ago, starts again.
“Oh, gotta’ call Makali.” shutting off the engine. Looking up his number in memory, presses ‘send’ as rolling down the window a little. “How strange,” he thought to himself as he listen to the first two rings. “Calling my tracker at his village in the middle to nowhere, by cell phone.”