Blonde Needles in a Giant Haystack 13

The trip had lasted some two hours, and the sun had already risen to burn down on the truck when Ben could see a shadow at the horizon that looked like a group of buildings. When they approached, he saw it was some clay huts and tents built around a larger, fortress-like house, and except for some servants, all men wore military uniforms. Ben guessed that this place housed some 500 men – quite a force in the Free Zone with its 50.000 inhabitants.

»You and your men will be given rooms, food and water, the Colonel expects to see you in one hour!«

They were escorted inside, and some of the soldiers stared with interest at the large bundles Barrot and Nico were carrying. The fortress was in fact an old caravanserai, with a large court and rooms around it, along the walls. Ben was escorted to a room that had a clean bed and looked as if it was the best this place had to offer. The Officer wanted to lead his men towards another housing, but Ben insisted that Barrot and Nico placed the captives on the bed, and that both Jean and Sid would stay with him.

»The Colonel’s orders said that your men should sleep in one of the tents!«

»Well, these two won’t sleep, they will help me prepare for the meeting! In addition, they speak Arabic, I don’t!«

A short staring contest followed, and after a few seconds, the Officer lowered his head and withdrew. Ben ordered Sid to place himself beside the door with his gun ready. He and Jean bent over the smaller of the wrapped blankets and cut the ropes before opening the blanket.

»Jean! Some water, please!«

The room offered no running water, but on a desk was a large canister and a bowl, and Jean returned with some water. Carmen’s body was covered with sticky sweat and wool fibres, and Ben washed her skin whilst Jean unwrapped the tape from her head. When he pulled the pantyhose from her head, she blinked, and she slightly writhed on the bed.

»It has ben a rough ride, but for the moment, it has come to an end!«

Carmen could only see his lips move, since her ears were still stuffed. Jean plucked the cotton wool plugs from her auricles, and she twitched, as the faint noises of the garrison hit her. Ben continued to wash her with the lukewarm water, allowing her to more and more recover from the strenuous trip whilst Jean untied her and also removed her gag. She panted when the large ball of Inga’s panties was plucked from her mouth. Except for the scarf tied between her legs, she was free, but still too weakened to sit up, let alone get from the bed.

Ben instilled her some water, taking care she didn’t drink too hastily, whilst Jean unwrapped Inga from her cocoon. The tall Swede had fainted, and it was only after she had been completely freed and after a prolonged rubbing with a wet rag and Jean instilling water into her throat that she finally opened her eyes. In her case, he had cut the agonizing crotch rope, and the red marks around her throat and on her pubic mound indicated that the wet leather had been much worse than Carmen’s cloth crotch rope.

Jean cuffed Inga’s left ankle to Carmen’s right, an unnecessary precaution, as both girls were too exhausted to even think of resistance or escape. Their eyes just widened when Ben took off his djellaba, followed by his T-Shirt and trousers.

»Don’t worry, I am just trying to make myself presentable for meeting with a potential business partner! However, that does not mean you should feel too save right now!«

He provisionally washed, put on some deodorant and then dressed in a clean shirt and trousers he had spared for that moment. Whilst doing so, he explained to the girls that they were part of what he would bring to the table.

»However, I am not considering to just offer the Colonel to get to my room and to have his way with you! I am not a pimp!«

»No, you sure are a man of honour!«

Inga’s voice was barely more than a breath, but she showed a glimpse of her former defiance. Ben smiled.

»I am indeed, I am just defining the word in a different way! Now, we are at a place that is inhabited by soldiers – soldiers that haven’t seen a woman for some time! So, I propose that you keep your heads low and stay here with Sid to protect you whilst I negotiate with the Colonel! Maybe, your future fate won’t be that bad!«

Inga swallowed a comment, for though she was sure that the last sentence had been a lie, Ben was right about nobody in here being their friend, and a hoard of horny soldiers would not improve their current predicament. Carmen just seemed too exhausted to even express her thoughts.

»I am afraid that this room offers no bathroom, but I will see what I can! Now, wish me some luck!«

Ben had combed his hair and put on his sunglasses, making him look as if he was on a holiday. Jean still wore his uniform and had only washed his face and arms, and contrary to Ben, he still wore his gun when the two men now stepped onto the corridor that allowed them to look down at the court where a few soldiers were cleaning a mortar cannon. A man who had been hanging around close to the door stepped towards them, obviously wanting to send them back inside. Ben put up a broad smile.

»Ah, good to see you! Please, show us the way to the Colonel!«

He had spoken French, not sure whether the soldier did also. However, he understood the word »Colonel«, and after some hesitation, he made a gesture that Ben and Jean should follow him along the corridor, towards a bigger door flanked by two armed guards. One of them barked something, and Jean translated:

»The Colonel is busy, and we shall the fuck wait until he calls for us!«

Ben reached into his breast pocket. The two soldiers looked alert, and Ben’s smile grew a little contemptuous when he drew a pack of cigarettes. Placing one between his lips, he offered the pack to the men, but only the one who had led them here accepted one whilst the guards still stared at him angrily. Ben shrugged and offered fire to the man before lighting his own cigarette.

»Say, will the Colonel’s call with Mr. Donald Trump be long?«

The confused frown on the guards’ faces told him that they had understood his French. He calmly smoked, waiting for their curiosity to take over. And indeed, after less than a minute, one of them asked why he was assuming the Colonel was talking to the American President.

»Well, if your Colonel can allow himself to let me waiting, I guess the person he is talking to is more important than me – in other words, someone like Trump!«

One of the guards scoffed, but the other one looked at Ben’s face and guessed that he was not joking. After a few seconds, he knocked at the door, waited for the unfriendly answer and went inside. He returned after just a minute, telling Ben that the Colonel was awaiting him.

***

Babette had almost fainted, but a part of her brain was still working, and she was wondering whether she had been kidnapped by a giant.

She had remembered the faint thunder that had even found a way through her earplugs, and the slight shaking of the ground, followed by the vibrations caused by running feet. She had then been again carried around, only to be dumped over what seemed to be the biggest shoulder she had ever seen. To her surprise, the giant seemed to walk sideways, and he also seemed to be untiring, for since she had been hoisted over his shoulder, he had never paused or even slowed down.

Had she not been blindfolded, she would have realized that she had been packed onto the back of a dromedary, beside Dalanda. The Black, however, had fainted long ago. She was even more exhausted from the orgasm the vibrator had forced out of her, and the wave of guilt and embarrassment had made her look for an escape she had only found by losing her consciousness.

The dromedary was tied to a conspecific ridden by a man in a djellaba, and beside him were two more mounted camels. They were making slow pace, as one of the riders, Wassim, wasn’t too skilled in riding a dromedary and therefore, it took them some three hours until they reached a few palms and bushes beside a small well. Beside it stood a tent, and there were also more dromedaries and maybe half a dozen men.

»What happened to the others?«, Wassim asked the man riding beside him. He knew that Sheikh Mansur didn’t have a big army, but he would have expected at least some 200 men.

»They will return when the Sheikh calls for them!«, the man replied, leaving it ambiguous if they had left his services or were on a mission somewhere. They slowed down and dismounted, with a few men loading Babette and Dalanda from the dromedary whilst two figures stepped out of the tent. One was wearing a white djellaba and sported a grey beard: Sheikh Mansur. Wassim frowned at the other one who wore a black djellaba and a matching turban with a veil that only left his eyes free; eyes that were hidden behind sunglasses that reflected the sunlight.

»So, the Phantom is still with him?«

The other just shrugged. Wassim gulped. A few months ago, the mysterious Phantom had appeared, becoming the Sheikh’s advisor, though he only spoke when the two were alone and remained silent in council. Some of the more superstitious men considered him a demon, though his advice had been good so far.

»You are coming alone, Wassim!«, the Sheikh stated after they had greeted each other. Wassim gave a short summary of Ayoub’s and Ali’s capture, ending with pointing at the two bundles that were now placed in front of the Sheikh’s feet.

»However, I managed to get what you sent us for – and more!«

The Phantom suddenly held something in his gloved hand that looked anachronistic in the surrounding: a cell phone. He showed Wassim a picture he knew all too well, for he himself had sent it to the Sheikh some time ago: it showed the face of Dalanda. Wassim nodded and pointed at the cocoon from which a pair of black feet protruded.

»The girl that managed to escape – and another one who is also beautiful! A blonde!«

The last word made the Sheikh look up, but the Phantom seemed unimpressed.

»Get them into the tent! Let’s have a closer look!«, Sheikh Mansur ordered, and four of his men followed his order whilst he approached Wassim.

»You showed great bravery! For now, I can only offer you a dromedary and a new rifle – but soon, you will get better payment!«

Whilst talking, he glimpsed at his men who, having placed the captives inside, had removed from his tent, with only the Phantom staying inside. Wassim understood that this was the Sheikh’s polite way of sending him off, and he bowed and went to a group of men where he had spotted an acquaintance.

Sheikh Mansur entered his tent and took care the entry was closed. Among the few modern things inside was a solar-driven lamp that provided the interior with enough light to read military maps – or to see if Wassim had promised too much.

He had to oppress a gasp when the Phantom, who had already cut the ropes of the blanket containing the black girl, unwrapped the captive, revealing that she was stark naked. Mansur felt that her ample boobs were pointing directly at him, and for a moment, he was puzzled because her pubic area reminded him of the toe of one of his beloved camels. Then, he saw the tight rope bisecting the girl’s crotch. Something shaped like a bullet, but fairly larger, had been shoved into the rope, and he frowned whilst the Phantom, who had removed his veil and sunglasses, showed a sardonic smile.

»Seems they took also care of her entertainment!«

His Arabic had the distinctive dialect of Southern Mauritania, the reason why he only spoke when he and the Sheikh were alone. The veil and the sunglasses, however, were just accessories, to make himself appear more mysterious.

The phantom pulled the vibrator from Dalanda’s crotch rope and smiled when he sensed the specific fragrance. With some grim amusement, he noticed she had her pubic hair shaved off. The girl’s chest heaved slightly, indicating she was barely alive, and he asked for water, barely concealing his order as a question.

After some rubbing of her skin with a wet rag, the girl squirmed weakly, and the Phantom hooked his index finger into her crotch rope, causing Dalanda to rear up, before he cut it and removed it from her. Now, her chest heaved more, and from underneath the tape, a faint moan could be heard.

He quickly cut Dalanda’s bonds, only to cuff her wrists behind one of the tent’s posts. He put the veil back on before unwrapping the tape and pulling the pantyhose from her head. Dalanda blinked at him, and he also removed the outer layers of her gag, but left the cleave gag in place, preventing her from trying to spit out the two pairs of panties. Dalanda groaned, and he reached for a water hose with a nuzzle, pushing it between her lips. When he pressed on the hose, Dalanda had no other choice than to suck the water through her panty-gag, sucking greedily despite knowing what was filtering her desired drink.

The Phantom didn’t say a word; instead, with the help of Mansur, he also freed Babette from her cocoon. In her case, the Sheikh was eager to wash her body, groping her breasts as he did so. Babette’s fair skin showed red marks when the crotch strap was removed, and she cringed when the Sheikh’s index finger followed these lines.

She was tied to another post, and the Phantom also cuffed her left ankle to Dalanda’s right and vice versa. The blonde was freed from her hood, earplugs and the outer layers of her gag, and she also had to suck water through her gag.

»I bid you welcome in the tent of the most honourable Sheikh Mansur!«, the Phantom announced in French with a strong accent. Babette just weakly looked up, but Dalanda’s eyes widened at the sound of his voice. The man turned towards her and removed his veil.

»Seems you haven’t forgotten me – like I did not forget about you!«, he said in Arabic.

***

Ana was lying on her side, her hogtie and the constant swaying of the truck preventing her from sitting up. With some dismay, she looked at John sitting next to her. He occasionally showed her a friendly smile, but Ana hadn’t forgotten how he had distracted her, so his comrade could knock her out. Her neck still slightly hurt from it, but what was more was the casual way in which John had used her falling for his kindness to his advantage.

»What if they won’t let me go?«

»Your friend isn’t used to cars with manual transmission, is he?«, Sato asked grimly when the truck hit another bump, causing him to jump from  his seat. John chuckled.

»I think the underground is to blame! I have no idea why we are not taking the road – but I hope your friend knows where he is leading us!«

The last sentence was aimed at Ayoub who hadn’t understood more than a few words and just tried to look confident. The truck slowed down, and both John and Sato reached for their guns as they peeked through a gap in the tarpaulin. They had stopped close to the highway, and right in front was an abandoned van.

In French, Ayoub explained that this was where they had left their comrade, and they wanted to see whether he had left any sign. Jeb took the opportunity to get behind a bush to pee and have a cigarette whilst John and Sato also inspected the van that had two flat tires. Frowning, they noticed some crumpled tape and cut ropes; it looked as if the men had transported a captive inside the car.

»None of your business!«, Ali grumbled when John asked him about it. A second later, he was staring into the muzzle of the American’s gun.

»I bailed you out, so, whatever business you have, I decide whether it’s of interest for me!«

He had grabbed the man’s bandaged arm, and he inhaled sharply. Ayoub made a staggering step forward, but Sato stopped him, as he also wanted to know what this was all about. Glancing angrily at them, Ali reported that they had been sent to retrieve a fugitive girl in order of Sheikh Mansur.

»And who is this Sheikh Mansur?«, John asked, loosening his grip on Ali’s arm. He lowered his gun and even offered a cigarette to the young man who took it, and after a few draws, he told them that their comrade had captured a girl that had been meant for the Sheikh but had escaped.

»So, Wassim recruited us to help him get her back, and we captured her at Agadir! Then, the car broke down, we tried to get a new one and, well, you know the rest!«

»I still don’t know who Sheikh Mansur is – and why he is so desperate for girls!«

Ali exchanged a look with Ayoub before he continued to tell them that the Sheikh was one of the leaders of irregular troops that controlled a part of the Free Zone. John, who had done some research on the way to Morocco, asked:

»Is he related to a man who calls himself the Colonel?«

The way Ali grimaced and Ayoub spat onto the ground told them that the Sheikh and the Colonel were anything but allies, though both were fighting the Moroccans. John tried to get to a conclusion:

»So, we have two rivalling warlords in an area whose political status is insecure anyway! Sounds like a place where people like Ben Keane make their money!«

»Or people like Davenport!«, Sato added. John ignored him and focussed on Ali:

»So, why is your Sheikh so keen on this girl? I would assume in his position, a few dozen machine guns or some rocket launchers would be of greater importance!«

Ali was a young man, unable to hide all his feelings, and both John and Sato could read on his face that the young Arab had considered that, too. He sighed:

»I have no idea! Wassim told me that after he and his friends had captured the girl stumbling through the desert, they had sent him a picture, and he had seemed interested in – meeting her personally. Then, she managed to run away – and at first, the Sheikh just shrugged it off – only to send Wassim and us to retrieve her after a couple of days!«

When asked for further details on the girl, both he and Ayoub could only tell that her name was Dalanda, that she was a Black – and that she was quite pretty. John fingered the pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket and handed it to Ali.

»Please, put anything of value from this van into the truck! Meanwhile, Mr. Sato and I will have a closer look at the highway!«

It was obvious that he wanted to talk to Sato in private, and so, the Japanese followed him up the hill from which they could look at the cars on the asphalted road in front of them.

»So, what is this all about? Why is this Sheikh paying such an effort to get this girl? I mean, even in the desert, there should be easier ways to just get laid!«

Sato had no answer to this, so, he just stated:

»And if he is so keen on a specific girl – will he also be interested in those Keane has in his clutches? And does this make our position better or worse?«

He did not mention that he was all but sure that his and John’s position were the same. Davenport would not mind what happened to Babette and the others as long as his business thrived.

A shot interrupted their conversation, and when the two men spun around, they could see that suddenly, both Ayoub and Ali were holding rifles. The latter was aiming at Jeb who was cowering behind the bush he had stood by, and Ayoub now fired into the direction of Sato and John, causing them to throw themselves to the ground. Both still had their guns, but over a distance of more than 60 yards, aiming would have been virtually impossible. So, they just ducked and had to watch as Ali and Ayoub withdrew to the truck. The young man aimed at the load, preventing the girls from jumping off, and Ayoub took care that neither Jeb nor John and Sato left their covers. They had to watch as the two men entered the truck and drove off. Jeb cursed and wanted to fire after the car, but Sato stopped him. They were about to start a fight when John intervened.

»Stop it! We haven’t got time for that now!«

He kicked against a rock.

»Fuck! That’s why they guided us to their car! I should have considered that!«

Sato felt the urge to run after the vanishing truck, but he knew that if he had made it, the man sitting in the load would have shot him before he had even gotten close enough to hit him. Again, he had failed in protecting Johanna, and it was hardly a solace that both John and Jeb had been equally foolish.

»Any good ideas, Samurai?«, Jeb grunted as the van had disappeared behind a hill. Sato glanced at him, reflexively seeking for an excuse to hit the man. John pointed over his shoulder, where they could hear the sounds of cars on the highway.

»At least, we are not stranded in the desert – and I think we still have everything we need to persuade someone to borrow us his car!«

***

Both Inga and Carmen had been so exhausted they had almost dozed off, though they were very aware of the fact that having arrived at the Colonel’s lair didn’t mean the end of their ordeal. When they had asked Sid about the whereabouts of Babette and Dalanda, they had only gotten a monosyllabic answer about an ambush at the bridge.

Their current prison was more convenient, and Sid did not hinder them from getting more water and some of the fruits on the table, only reaching for his weapon when they approached the door. The room had a window, but they could only look at a few tents and some soldiers. Given the fact they were both naked, they had decided not to expose themselves to them.

Most of the time, they were lying on the bed, the sheet loosely draped over their middles. After about two hours, Ben returned, followed by Jean who placed a large box on the floor before he and Sid withdrew from the room.

»So, I am sure you don’t want me to bore you with details of our negotiations and want me to concentrate on the part that involves you!«

He made a pause, filling a glass of water and taking a sip.

»Currently, the Colonel has some 420 men under his command, and some 250 of these are now here at this post which is also his headquarter!«

Again, he waited, and both Carmen and Inga felt dismayed. There was one obvious answer to the question why they were involved in the presence of 250 men, and none of them liked the idea. Carmen, who, during her addiction, had served men for money, asked:

»Will you – give us to them?«

She had tried to sound calm, but her voice was hoarse. The smile on Ben’s face was surprisingly friendly as he replied:

»I could now tell you that I would never have allowed such a thing out of respect or to save you, but we would both know it would be a lie! However, just the two of you for all these men would rather raise the tension than to decrease it, and so, you will do – other forms of troop entertainment!«

»Cooking and washing?«, Inga scoffed, causing Ben to laugh.

»Not exactly! Let’s say, you will be given an opportunity to show your acting skills!«

He patted the box Jean had brought and his smile turned into a grin.

***

»If you keep on walking so slow, I will keep all the gold for myself!«

With a sigh, the 11 years old Brahim looked at his eight years old brother who was just climbing over one of the rocks lying in the ravine. Mohammed was waving his wooden sword, and in his fantasy, he was some famous warrior.

The evening before, when their clan had reached the area, their grandfather had told them that some 300 years ago, a caravan had gotten lost in a sandstorm, and that the treasures the camels had transported had consisted of gold and silver. When he had further told them that some said the caravan’s remnants could be found in the ravine, Mohammed had been intrigued, and their father had allowed him to go on an expedition, only insisting that Brahim accompanied him.

Brahim was sure that his parents just wanted to have a few hours for himself and therefore had sent them away. So far, they had found an old tin can and he hoped that Mohammed would soon also get bored of that game.

»There! A rifle!«

He was convinced his younger brother had either found a stick or a piece of pipe, but when he approached him, he could see it was indeed a rifle. Being 11, he had sometimes been allowed to train with his father’s gun, and this one looked even better. Mohammed whispered:

»Do you think it’s from the lost caravan?«

Brahim was no expert, but even he could see that this was a modern weapon, and so, he shook his head. Before his brother could show his disappointment, they heard a sound from behind a rock. Mohammed hid behind his brother, and Brahim raised the rifle, not sure whether it was loaded or functioning. They stood in silence, and now, they could hear a faint groan.

»Maybe, a wounded animal!«

He gulped. If the animal was only slightly wounded, they could perhaps cure it. However, if not, it would be left to him to put it out of its misery.

Mohammed stormed forward, only to withdraw immediately.

»I-it’s a m-man!«

With the rifle risen, Brahim approached, and indeed, there was a man lying in the shadow. He wore a djellaba that had slid up his legs, revealing Khaki trousers. On his chest, Brahim could see dark stains, and as he looked closer, he saw the man was black. He weakly raised his hand when he spotted the boy, and since Brahim knew some French, he understood he was asking for water.

Like most boys his age, Brahim couldn’t wait becoming a man, and here, he was given an opportunity to prove he was already one!

»Mohammed! Get back to the camp and tell Father that we have found an injured man! Hurry! I will stay here with him!«

Mohammed opened his mouth to protest, but when the man ached, he darted forward. Brahim opened his water hose and held it to the man’s lips. He vaguely knew that some wounds made it dangerous to drink, and he just hoped that the one the man had gotten was none of these.

»Thank you!«

His eyes fell shut, and Brahim feared that he had died, but then, he saw that his chest was still heaving, albeit weakly. Nevertheless, the boy spent the next 30 minutes either praying or anxiously looking for the return of his brother.

Finally, he heard voices and steps, and then, Mohammed arrived, followed by their father and his uncle. When the latter bent over the black man, his father put his hand on Brahim’s shoulder.

»You did the right thing!«

Pride and relief washed through Brahim’s body, and he just stood with a sheepish grin as the two men took care of the wounded.

***

Still naked, bound and gagged, Babette and Dalanda sat vis a vis, whilst both the Sheikh and the Phantom were sitting beside them, talking in Arabic. The Sheikh had groped Babette’s breasts, caressed her blonde hair and felt the tightness of her butt before he had withdrawn. The Phantom hadn’t shown much interest in either of them, though he had spoken to Dalanda who seemed not only frightened to death, but also seemed to know him.

Dalanda indeed knew the man, at least his first name. Omar had been the right hand of the plantation owner, and though the slaves had hardly seen him, they knew he was the boss of the guards and overseers. Obviously, he had also another job – searching for fugitive slaves.

»We are missing you, Dalanda – and once we are home, we will take care that you will never again cause us so much trouble!«

She had no idea what he was implying – would she be publicly punished, or even killed, to discourage other potential fugitives? Had they feared she could have told anyone about the plantation and wanted to get all the information out of her?

She looked at Babette, and she knew that the microSD was still sewn inside her panties the blonde was currently chewing on. It reminded her of the panties in her own mouth, and she retched, though she had had enough time to get used to their taste.

Unlike Babette, she could overhear some of the conversation the two had. Obviously, Omar was offering something in exchange for her, most likely money. The sum seemed to be large, and she wondered, since she knew from her own experience that a slave sold at 2000 or 3000 Dollars. Sure, she was young, healthy and pretty, but even that would not raise the price over maybe 5 Grand.

It seemed that Babette was not meant to be sold, as the Sheikh was talking about his son, in a way that implied he would not be too sad if the son would disdain his new toy and allow his old man to play with it instead.

»I wonder who of us has picked the worse lot!«, she thought with a shudder.

***

Though all three men still had their guns, John had opted for a non-violent way of getting a car.

»If we threaten someone and steal his car, he will call the cops after us, and we can’t risk being followed by a company of Policemen! And if we kill him and someone drives by and sees it – same problem, but then, they will shoot before arresting us!«

There wasn’t much traffic, and Sato was getting nervous as no car showed up. They had one chance to equalize the head start of the truck: the old car needed quite a lot of Diesel, and they would have to refill before they reached the border. Also, there weren’t too many petrol stations available, and Jeb had already marked them on his phone.

They heard the sound of approaching engines, and all three prepared to wave their hands. Too late, they saw it was not a car, but a group of bikers. They stopped, and it would have looked more than suspicious if they had run away or told them they were okay. So, John went to the one who looked to be the leader and drew his phone.

The men were Canadians, and it turned out they had rented the bikes at Agadir. This made it easier for John who, since he had access to the internet, could pay via PayPal and since he was backed by Andrew Davenport, he didn’t have to be stingy.

Sato had no idea whether they bought John’s improvised backup story about them being members of the CIA, but in the end, they had come to an agreement, and the bikers, rather amused than suspicious, unloaded their luggage from two of the bikes. Since they of course didn’t want to leave anyone behind, they could not sell a third, though they obviously seemed more than happy with the money they had gotten for these.

»No Harleys, but at least, they are also good for off-road-biking!«

Jeb had mounted the bigger bike and was just testing the engine. John looked at Sato and asked him whether he could ride a bike.

»I know how to drive a scooter!«

This didn’t seem to convince John who mounted the other bike, leaving it to Sato to be the passenger. Unfortunately, John’s bike had only one seat, so, he had to sit behind Jeb and even sling his arms around the man.

»Don’t take advantages, Samurai-boy!«

Jeb deliberately did a quick start that nearly caused Sato to fall off. He grudgingly leaned against Jeb’s back and thought:

»My punishment for failing Johanna again has already begun!«

***