03-27-2015, 09:15 PM
Lieutenant Folami was a bully. An educated bully, or at least what passed as one in the Sierra Leonean military. He was intelligent enough to know when he was being threatened, and worldly enough to know the reputation of Legion Premiere. But reputation was only worth so much in Lt Folami's eyes, and when he had an army at his back, the threats of a lone wounded Legionnaire were tempered, at least somewhat.
"I do not enjoy repeating myself, Paṅgu. This is not your country. Limp home and hold the hands of old ladies."
The phrase was Bengali for 'lame,' a stab at Jay's bad leg. Of course, if the Lieutenant did not have the upper hand at the refinery, his bravado would have been found lacking.
Azubuike's posture was exactly the sort of thing to appeal to a man like Folami. Quiet and afraid; he cared little about the girl other then for what her words could excuse him to do. "Your people are leaving now, Paṅgu. So hobble along and leave this to us."
-----
"I shall be blamed for many things before I die."
Jacques whispered that mostly to himself. He had bought all the time he could. His men were away with the children, but even the presence of the reporters would not temper the...enthusiasm...of Wallace-Johnson's hand picked men for much longer. Especially with so many people willing to stand up to them so blatantly. Of course, his men were not the best simply because they were good fighters. They were moral men. Ones who wanted to do good, an opportunity he did not frighten away from providing them, usually.
He gave Natalie's arm a tug, aiming her towards the waiting vehicles, and waved for some of his Legionnaires to round up the rest of the Red Cross staff. Whatever slim chance of a peaceful future for the refinery-turned-refugee camp had been lost with one scared child's foolish accusations, a reality the girl would have to live with, should her young mind even be able to truly grasp what she had done.
The Legionnaires, for the most part, tried to put on a strong face for what was transpiring. It did not sit well with any of them what Jacques' orders meant, but they trusted their employer.
"Legionnaire Carpenter. Miss Grey and yourself shall be riding with me. Legionnaire Vanders, you are on the guard rails. Everyone, mount up."
It would be a long drive back to Freetown for many of his men who would have to stand on the rails mounted on the sides of the vehicles. They could buckle on of course, but it still meant standing and death-gripping a handrail on the outside of the vehicle. Dangerous even when there wasn't a chance of someone shooting at you.
His tone had hardened. He was done playing; the longer they delayed now, the more likely it was the government forces would realize the other children were missing. And that would lead to questions he did not wish to answer. It would be bad enough for the parents whose children were 'missing,' but there was going to be no happy ending to the story. He couldn't win every battle.
-----
Lt Kamenashi and his few selected local men had little trouble ushering the children through the gap in the fence and towards the treeline a short distance away. The children were confused but cooperative; they had learned to trust the Lieutenant in the few days they had been under the care of him and his men, and the promise of a field trip to pick fruit and hunt some game, appealed to the children. A chance to help, the promise of adventure. Anything to take their minds off of what had happened. None of the men noticed the reporter, Monday, on their heels.
"I do not enjoy repeating myself, Paṅgu. This is not your country. Limp home and hold the hands of old ladies."
The phrase was Bengali for 'lame,' a stab at Jay's bad leg. Of course, if the Lieutenant did not have the upper hand at the refinery, his bravado would have been found lacking.
Azubuike's posture was exactly the sort of thing to appeal to a man like Folami. Quiet and afraid; he cared little about the girl other then for what her words could excuse him to do. "Your people are leaving now, Paṅgu. So hobble along and leave this to us."
-----
"I shall be blamed for many things before I die."
Jacques whispered that mostly to himself. He had bought all the time he could. His men were away with the children, but even the presence of the reporters would not temper the...enthusiasm...of Wallace-Johnson's hand picked men for much longer. Especially with so many people willing to stand up to them so blatantly. Of course, his men were not the best simply because they were good fighters. They were moral men. Ones who wanted to do good, an opportunity he did not frighten away from providing them, usually.
He gave Natalie's arm a tug, aiming her towards the waiting vehicles, and waved for some of his Legionnaires to round up the rest of the Red Cross staff. Whatever slim chance of a peaceful future for the refinery-turned-refugee camp had been lost with one scared child's foolish accusations, a reality the girl would have to live with, should her young mind even be able to truly grasp what she had done.
The Legionnaires, for the most part, tried to put on a strong face for what was transpiring. It did not sit well with any of them what Jacques' orders meant, but they trusted their employer.
"Legionnaire Carpenter. Miss Grey and yourself shall be riding with me. Legionnaire Vanders, you are on the guard rails. Everyone, mount up."
It would be a long drive back to Freetown for many of his men who would have to stand on the rails mounted on the sides of the vehicles. They could buckle on of course, but it still meant standing and death-gripping a handrail on the outside of the vehicle. Dangerous even when there wasn't a chance of someone shooting at you.
His tone had hardened. He was done playing; the longer they delayed now, the more likely it was the government forces would realize the other children were missing. And that would lead to questions he did not wish to answer. It would be bad enough for the parents whose children were 'missing,' but there was going to be no happy ending to the story. He couldn't win every battle.
-----
Lt Kamenashi and his few selected local men had little trouble ushering the children through the gap in the fence and towards the treeline a short distance away. The children were confused but cooperative; they had learned to trust the Lieutenant in the few days they had been under the care of him and his men, and the promise of a field trip to pick fruit and hunt some game, appealed to the children. A chance to help, the promise of adventure. Anything to take their minds off of what had happened. None of the men noticed the reporter, Monday, on their heels.