The plane landed at Nairobi's Kenyatta International Airport at noon. The sun was overhead, the heat intense. Paula Connors adjusted the weight of the bag on her shoulder, put on shades and headed for customs. She was a tall woman, beautiful with short-cropped blond hair.

"Hi, Paula," Geoffrey Preston called as soon as Paula had gotten her bags from customs. "You look great." He reached for the bags.

"Thanks. So do you, Jeff," she said eyeing him. He was dressed in a sports shirt, shorts and sneakers. All light khaki. He was in much better shape than the last time she had seen him, and he had been much younger then. The tan was incredible. "Look at that tan."

"A day in this bloody sunshine with the right apparel and it's all yours." He gave her a hug and a peck on the lips.

"Lukewarm," she commented on the kiss. He kissed her long and hard.

"Hot, Jeff," she said feeling a bit weak. "That's hot."

"I believe I still got the touch," he bragged.

"Wow!" she exclaimed looking him over. "A tan in January? Unbelievable." Of course she was from Massachusetts. "I, on the other hand look like a fish's belly."

"You look grand, Paula," he lied. "Well, shall we go?"

"Of course." They walked out to his car. "So this is Kenya," she spoke softly as he drove away.

"How do you like Kenya?" He asked, swerving around a bend.

"So far so good. I mean, it's wonderful. The city is so clean it's amazing. I never knew there was anything like this out here."

"Why do you think I love it here? Anyway, it has been a while since we were last together, Paula," Geoffrey said.

"Two and a half years." The air conditioner hummed soothingly; a pleasant relief from the heat. In less than twenty hours, she had moved from winter to summer. She was taking it well, jet lag and all.

"You refused to answer my letters," he complained.

"You could've called, Jeff."

"I did. Got the bloody answering machine. You know I like reading letters better. They are physical objects that I can keep and read over and over again."

"Come on, Jeff. I'm here, right?" She said glancing at him. "That's what matters." She stared at the other cars and suddenly realized that everybody was driving on the wrong side of the street.

"Who are you fooling, Paula?" He spoke with a thick English accent. "I'm no bloody stupid bloke. You did not come to see me. You are here on business. I reckon you got something bloody big that you can't handle on your own. You need my bloody help."

"Okay, okay, so I came for both. Bloody, bloody, bloody. Do you have to be such an asshole?" She asked. There was a pause then he turned around, smiled and they both burst out laughing.

"Same old Paula Connors, always a step ahead." He said.

He lived in an exquisite split-level bungalow, reminiscent of those in California, in Westlands, a suburb of Nairobi exclusively for the upper class. She loved it right away. It had a huge garden with a myriad of shrubs and flowers of every imaginable color. If paradise had a picture, it would look like this. The house had large, spacious rooms with plenty of glass to experience the view outside.

After taking a refreshing bath and nap, they had dinner.

"So, are you going to tell me what brought you here or are you going to let me slowly die of curiosity?" Geoffrey asked as they ate.

"I'm gonna let you die slowly and painfully," she said, giggling. "No. Seriously, I have an assignment. Top secret. I have to get rid of somebody in a very high place." She mechanically chewed on her steak.

"That is it?" He asked, astonished. "Why don't you shoot the bloody guy or make him sick?"

"You know I don't do that shit. We want to make it totally unbelievable. Like I said, it's somebody in a high place. We want something that will leave no tracks. Think you can get somebody to operate from here?"

Preston placed his knife and fork down and smiled.

"Africa is the birthplace of witchcraft. Salem, Massachusetts, Haiti; those are just the tip of the iceberg. Here is where the bloody body lies. Here is where anything can happen. Of course I can get somebody. I know this man, Ssebastian who resides in western Kenya. He can do almost anything."

"Can we go see him tomorrow?" Paula asked, anxious.

"Why not?" He was still smiling. "We leave first thing in the morning."

Later that evening, they went to Bomas Of Kenya, an African theater where they watched natives dressed in traditional attire sing and dance to the intricate drum rhythms. Quite exotic and entertaining.

"You need rest," he told her after they came back. "Tomorrow will be a tough day. It is a long drive. The guest room is all set for you."

"I don't want a guest room, you fool. I want your room -- with you in it," she stared into his eyes. He stared into hers; big, blue and always dreamy. She was as gorgeous as ever.

"Whatever you wish," he said, kissing her and suddenly feeling a rush of passion run through his body. He half-dragged her into the bedroom where they made violent love as only witches and sorcerers can.

Paula Connors was born in Salem, Massachusetts, the presumed home of witches. It was believed that some of her ancestors were witches. At the tender age of five, Paula discovered she could hypnotize people and suggest things to them without their knowledge. This proved to be a good asset for getting out of fixes such as trouble with tough schoolmates or not eating her vegetables. Of course, as she grew up, Paula became more inventive. As a teenager, she went out with the best boys in school.

She began exploring witchcraft in college after she met Geoffrey Preston at Boston College. Her family had moved to Lynn when she was ten so she had to go back to Salem to learn more about her birthplace's history of witches. Witchcraft fascinated her as it did Geoffrey, an English fellow who was born and resided in Kenya, East Africa. They were young people in love with a lust for adventure. They were amateur cons out to exploit that vast wasteland known as the naive public. America was full of rich, gullible people who would believe in anything. Witchcraft was now acceptable as the norm. It was not a tool for evil but rather a craft for bettering mankind. But one had to be careful. A woman was burned at the stake in the small town of Gaffa, Massachusetts, not far from Salem, in the fifties.

So they studied astrology; the stars, charts, tarot cards and pentagrams. What really worked for them, of course, was that Paula had this gift. They did not use the term, witchcraft; instead they opted for, psychic advisor. They began in school by helping communication students gain confidence in themselves. It worked marvelously, prompting other students to seek help. Geoffrey was in charge of advertising, acquiring clients and managing the funds. Paula took care of the hypnosis and suggestions.

Geoffrey had only come to attend school so after three years at BC, he graduated and returned to Kenya where his family had lived since colonial days. Paula opened up an office and went nationwide. She advertised in tabloids and other publications, made television appearances and used direct mail advertising to gather clients.

She made it big. So big that the vice president of the United States of America called onto her for help in acquiring charisma and a winner's attitude. She was quite flattered. He paid her well and got what he wanted. After that, he would call on her whenever he was home in Massachusetts. There was nothing strange about a vice president consulting a psychic. Why, one former president was believed not to have made any major decisions without first reading his stars.

It was no secret that they had their meetings - and the vice president probably wanted it that way. When he called her from a phone booth in Boston demanding to see her as soon as possible, Paula knew there was trouble abound.

Well disguised, he met her at Gina's, a small Italian restaurant that Paula and Geoffrey had frequented during their college days.

"What brings you out here?" She asked as they ate.

"I have to eradicate somebody," he whispered, leaning across the table. She stared at him unbelievably for a moment.

"Why are you telling me this? Can't you get a hit man or something?" She asked.

"This is not just anybody," he glanced around nervously. "I'm talking about the president."

Paula laughed lightly for two reasons; one, she was scared, and two, she did not want anybody finding out what they were discussing.

"He's your best friend," she finally spoke after recovering her composure. "Besides, it would be too risky. You're talking major assassination here," she lost her appetite.

"He's not my best friend. He's my rival. I put him where he is and can't replace him because we work together so well the way we are. I worked hard for many years to get him to the top and now he enjoys the fruits of my labor. I'll always be his junior. The fact is, he's much younger than I and in great physical shape while I have an ailing heart. I hate the man, I really do. Somehow I gotta get rid of him. We're gonna win the next election, you know. I'd have to wait six years before I can get a crack at that post," he said as he gulped down a beer. "Do you realize that right now I'm the strongest candidate for the presidency? Anything can happen in six years to weaken my candidacy. Not to mention a heart attack. The time is now."

"What do you want me to do?" Paula asked sipping her drink. "I'm a psychic advisor not an assassin."

"I know that but I'm sure you have some connections somewhere. Someone who can do something totally unbelievable, like abracadabra and he vanishes." He was nervously rubbing his hands together as he spoke.

"Come on, don't be silly," she laughed again as though they were discussing a love affair. "There's nothing like that and you know it."

"Please, find somebody. Do anything. There's a ten million tag on this." "

T... T... Ten million dollars?" Don't drool, Paula, she thought, her hands trembling. Don't drool.

"You heard me right," he said and winked at her.

"Well," Paula's mind was in overdrive. Geoffrey had told her about Africans and how they could perform amazing feats of witchcraft. Surely he could do something. "I don't know if it's possible. I've just heard rumors. I'll need help. I probably have to leave the country. If it's possible, there will be others involved," she said.

"Do whatever you need to do as long as it's all done in absolute secrecy. You know how it is," he spoke in an anxious tone.

"I understand perfectly, sir. When I'm ready, I'll contact you. Can you make it here in two weeks?" Paula asked.

"I think that can be arranged."

"Umm, I do have some knowledge of these things and since we want to minimize further contact, I can tell you now what will probably be needed so you can try to get it before we meet next," Paula explained. She was excited. She could not believe she was discussing such matters. And ten million dollars.

The vice president took out a pen and small notepad.

"Fire away," he said.

"Okay. The main thing is blood. You gotta get at least a drop of it. You do not need to isolate it. It could be on a blotter or piece of cloth. Get some hair or nail clippings and some clothing he's recently worn. Any problem getting all that?"

"In two weeks? No problem. Remember, not a word of this to anyone."

"Nobody has to know who it is they are working on. I'm not gonna tell them," a sly smile washed across her face. At times like these she turned him on, made him want to be twenty years younger and care-free. Paula Connors was some sexy lady.

"Here’s something small for your travel expenses," he said as he took out his billfold and handed her ten one-thousand dollar bills. "Is that enough?"

"It sure is." Paula beamed. The vacation I always needed, she thought. And a chance to visit old Jeff.

"Anything else?" He asked.

"I think we've just about covered all we can at this moment," she gulped down the rest of her drink because she needed it.

"Remember you're sworn to secrecy," he sounded nervous.

"You're insulting my intelligence by repeating that, sir," she cupped his chin in her palms. "Everything will be fine. Cheer up, will you." She gave him a quick kiss on the lips as she got up to leave.

He sat there frozen for an instant feeling warmth generate in his groin. Then he left the tab and walked out.

Breakfast was served at eight the next morning.

"This is some huge breakfast, Jeff," Paula complained as the cook returned to the kitchen. "What do you want to do, make me fat?"

"You could never be fat, Paula." He grinned at her. "Not with bloody workouts like the one you gave last night."

"How could you ever abandon a hot bitch such as I? British broads are just too uptight to have fun," she said munching on a slice of fresh mango.

"That may be true, but don't tell them."

"Accept the facts, babes. I'm the best fucking thing that ever happened to ya." She kissed him full on the lips with food in her mouth.

"Gosh, you're so bloody modest, Paula," Geoffrey said wiping his mouth with the back of his hand then wiping the hand with a napkin.

"Hey, I tell it like it is, Jeff." She laughed out loud. "I mean, there's no reason to hide my feelings from you. I feel like I've known you all my life even though we only spent three years together. And your sporadic visits."

They left for Ssebastian's immediately after breakfast.

"This is the best vehicle for these roads," Geoffrey told her as they pulled out of Nairobi in his Range Rover. "In place of snow, we get mud over here. I can't tell which is worse."

"Exactly where does this Sebastian li..."

"Ssebastian with two S's."

"Who gives a shit about how many S's, Jeff. Just where does he live?"

"He lives about four hundred miles northwest of here near a town called, Kitale."

"Four hundred miles? Couldn't we have flown?"

"Yes we could but then we'd miss all this pretty view. Who wants to fly in a country like this? Furthermore I can make it in six hours flat." He announced proudly.

"I'm sure you can. You drive like a maniac," she nudged him in the ribs making him sway the vehicle.

"Look at that," he pointed at an escarpment. "They call it the Rift Valley. Miles upon miles of flatland pushed beneath the surface."

"Beautiful," Paula marveled. "And all the time I thought it was a jungle out here."

"Lots of people do. On the contrary, it's such a wonderful country. I love it here."

"Tell me, Jeff." Paula changed the subject. "Just what can uh, Ssebastian do?"

"He's extraordinary," Geoffrey stated then stared ahead in silence.

"Well?" Paula inquired after a pause. "I figured that much, Jeff. I'm not a dummy, you know. What can he do?"

"Practically anything," he made himself comfortable in the seat.

"Africans believe in witchcraft as though it were a religion. To some, it is a religion. Something greatly revered and feared. To others, it is simply the most horrifying function. Those who know Ssebastian fear him intensely - me included."

"You're kidding me," Paula remarked reaching in the cooler behind her. She took out two bottles of spring water, opened them and handed him one. "Are you telling me that you are afraid of this man?"

"Absolutely," he was serious. "And you bloody well will also when you meet him."

"Yeah, sure. You still haven't told me what he can do."

"There are two instances both involving lightening that I personally witnessed. Well, I witnessed the aftermath. Absolutely spectacular feats of supernatural phenomena," he fell silent again. Apparently he wanted to annoy Ms. Connors.

"What! What! What! What?!" Paula was dying of curiosity. She almost spilt her water.

Geoffrey gulped down half his water and burped softly.

"Pardon me," he excused himself. "The first one was a house that was hit by lightening. Normally when lightening hits a house, a few tiles fly off or the corrugated iron roofing gets singed. In extreme cases, part of the house may rip apart and a fire is started. This was a bloody brick house and brick particles were found as far as half a mile away. Also bone particles and teeth. It was like an atomic bomb had gone off and the house was ground zero."

"You mean to tell me that Ssebastian harnessed lightning and turned it into some super thermal explosive?" Paula asked.

"There is a crater where that house once stood. People would like to believe it was the wrath of God but they know better. They bloody well know better," he placed the water bottle down as he turned a sharp curve on the escarpment. The view, an endless run of green flat plains dotted with shrubs lightly covered in quickly disappearing morning mist was breathtaking.

"What about the other incident?" Paula was totally hooked.

"This also could not have been a natural phenomenon. Lightening struck fifteen cattle. In its natural state, lightning strikes in a single place destroying an object or objects in that place. In this particular incident, it struck each of these animals creating bloody holes from their asses to their heads. Birds walked through the gaping holes. Fifteen animals not particularly huddled together stricken at the same instant and left with holes in their bodies. This man has power," he banged his fist on the steering wheel to emphasize that last sentence.

"Holy shit!" Paula shuddered. "That's eerie. You sure he did it?"

"I have studied this man for several years now. I know what he's done. Let me put it simply. You know how voodoo dolls are supposed to work; stick a pin into its arm and the victim feels pain in their arm? Well, when Ssebastian sticks a pin into a doll's arm, you feel a pin sticking into your arm, and you bleed. It's bloody direct."

"I have a feeling this is gonna work, Jeff," Paula said, rubbing his thigh. "If he can do it, we got it made, babes."

"I have no doubt he can do it," Geoffrey was confident.

At noon they stopped at Nakuru for lunch. They ate hoagies on the terrace taking in the view and perhaps trying to bring back those Boston College memories. Geoffrey truly enjoyed those days and had fallen in love with Paula.

"I know you're gonna make a bundle out of this," he spoke dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. "What are your plans afterwards?"

"You know, Jeff, I was just thinking that I'm almost thirty and, well, this witch and psychic stuff was just a hobby, sort of an experiment out of curiosity. I don't find it cool anymore," she paused to take a sip at her drink. "What I'm trying to say is that I wanna settle down and get married, have a couple of kids," she bit into the sandwich.

"Really?" Geoffrey felt jealousy creep into him. "And who's the lucky bloke?" He asked, his voice cracking.

"Oh, someone close. Very close," she reached over and kissed him.

"I'm beginning to like this country. I'll try a few years here and see how it works out," she kissed him again then smiled sweetly.

"You got me off guards, for pete's sake, Paula," the Englishman blushed. "This is wonderful. Do you really mean what you're saying?"

"Why should I say it if I didn't? Do you remember BC?" Her eyes searched for a twinkle in his and found it. "At times I thought I couldn't make it through the day without you. You know, all this time we've been apart, I haven't really dated anybody. Lately I've been thinking of those college days and wondering if we could make the same magic we made back then. I now know we can."

"We were lovebirds then," Geoffrey smiled at the memories. "It was a time when I needed someone to share my feelings with. I, too, miss those days like hell. You were, and still are, the most fabulous woman I've ever known."

"Why, thank you. You ain't half-bad yourself."

"Not at all."

"We had fun in those days. Remember the nights out for pizza or cheeseburgers?" she asked gazing at him.

"Yes. You always had a strawberry shake. What's the name of that place?"

"Gina's. I was there not long ago."

"Gina is a nice lady," he paused then said. "Paula, promise me that you'll be back really soon cause I don't think I want to be without you anymore."

"I promise," she said in a raspy whisper.

He bought her flowers before they left. They arrived at Kitale just before two and reserved a room at Kitale Hotel before proceeding to Ssebastian's, about twenty miles from town. The roads were dusty and bumpy.

Ssebastian lived in an old colonial that was built, and originally owned, by an English biologist. The house was built on a two thousand acre piece of land, half of which was a game reserve with all kinds of tame, wild and exotic creatures. Most of the other half was habitat to plants of every nature. Witchcraft is the coming together of Man, beast and the earth. Numerous creatures and plants are used in the craft. Ssebastian did not need to go out searching for anything. He had it all here.

Paula was surprised when a man, probably in his late forties and dressed in a business suit, turned out to be Ssebastian. She had expected some ancient, withered man in skins or something.

"Jambo, bwana Ssebastian," Geoffrey greeted the well-dressed African.

"Habari yako, bwana Preston?" How are you?

"Njema, hasante." Fine, thank you, Geoffrey replied. Though Ssebastian spoke English, he preferred to converse in Swahili, a language Geoffrey spoke fluently.

The interior of the house was magnificent with great African paintings and wood and stone carvings all around. It looked like a museum. All this was different to Paula, so distant, like being on a different planet. She looked around as the men discussed business.

"Memsahab ana mbwa?" Does the lady own a dog? Ssebastian asked. Of course she did. In fact she owned several. Was she willing to lose one? For what she was getting paid, she would be willing to lose all of them.

"Do you have hair or anything from one of your dogs?" Geoffrey asked.

"My poodle, Kiki, sheds a lot. I wouldn't be surprised if I had her hair on my clothing." She checked on the clothes in the car and sure enough found Kiki's hair on her coat.

The men talked some more.

"He would like you to pick a day and time when you want to see the demonstration."

"Demonstration?" she asked.

"Yes, dear. He's gonna demonstrate on the bloody dog," Geoffrey wore a sly smile. He surely was enjoying this.

"Okay, how about next Thursday at ten in the morning," she figured she would be home by then.

The men figured out when that would be in Kenyan time then shook hands.

"That is it. We wait for Thursday then we come back with some personal item from the victim, if I may call him so. You pay Ssebastian and it's done," Geoffrey stated.

"That... that easy?" Paula said, flabbergasted.

"Yes."

As they drove back to the hotel, Paula could not believe that Ssebastian was capable of performing any supernatural act.

"Is he really gonna hurt Kiki? I mean, what can he do with a strand of hair?"

"I didn't select him for nothing. Expect something bloody awful. If I were you, I'd forget about calling the dog by its name."

They were back in Kitale at five. Before retiring to the hotel, they went about town so Paula could do some shopping. She bought curios; clothing and a necklace made of metacarpal bones and teeth -- Faux human skeletons.

Later on, they dined in the restaurant of the hotel before retiring to their room.

"You know, last night I was kinda tired with jet lag and all but tonight I'm ready for a whole lotta loving," Paula announced slipping into the bathroom.

"So am I," Geoffrey mumbled, thinking, she was tired last night? But he was getting aroused thinking of the sexual marathons they had at BC.

She came out in the hotel gown.

"Not exactly sexually exciting, Paula," he snickered.

"Just don't take long in the bathroom, buster. I'll be waiting. And you know how I hate waiting," she flickered her tongue in a way that once drove him crazy - and apparently still did. He was in the bathroom in a jiffy. He came out in his gown.

"Wow, that is so sexy!" She chided. He wiggled a bit and peeled his left lapel to reveal his hairy chest.

"More," she cheered him on. "Take it all off, beefcake." He dropped the gown and stood stark naked before her.

"So much for stripping," she frowned.

"Give me a bloody break. Strut your stuff."

She was under the sheets. Slowly, she curled up at the head of the bed then crawled out from under the covers. She had on a tiny, flimsy red nightie. On her hands and knees, she slowly ambled towards him.

"Remember the first time we spent the night at my parents' house?" She asked in a girlish voice as she crawled forth. "I sneaked into your bedroom and you were terrified my parents would find out," she sensuously licked her lips teasingly.

"The bed squeaked a lot." Geoffrey's heart was pounding so hard he could barely speak.

"We were quick, weren't we? Huh?" Paula fell flat on the bed, her legs slightly apart. His eyes were on those long legs and the bottom that was only half-covered by the little nightie. She had nothing on underneath. She rolled over and spread her legs invitingly. "Welcome," she beckoned. He was hard as a rock.

When the plane touched down at Logan International Airport in Boston, Paula was so tired she had to drag herself out. She took a cab to Lynn and went straight to bed after picking up the dogs from the Pet Hotel. It was three in the afternoon, Wednesday. She woke up at eight that evening thinking that she was still in Kenya. When she realized that she was home, she was scared she might have overslept and missed Kiki's fate, whatever it was.

She washed up, fed the dogs, ate, then watched television. After the evening news, she read her mail. Most of it was from her clients who requested aid for such diverse problems as impotence, fertility, beauty, and knowledge. Ms. Connors had advised many on these and other matters. Now she was sure she did not want to do it anymore. She wanted a marriage and kids. No more hocus-pocus. She now knew that this would be her last job. She was getting more than enough money for retirement. Imagine that. Retirement before thirty. What a wonderful dream come true.

The following day was the worst Paula had ever lived through. She woke up at six, fed the dogs, cleaned the house and had breakfast. The cleaning lady usually came in Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays so Thursday was pretty much a safe day for privacy.

At nine-thirty, she took Kiki down to the basement. She locked her in a small storage compartment about six feet by six. There was a small hole in the door through which Paula looked. Kiki did not like the small, empty room she was in. She scratched at the door and moaned softly, her eyes pleading. For a moment Paula felt so guilty she almost removed her from the compartment. But ten million dollars is a huge price for a dog. Instead she rushed upstairs and got some tape and clothing. She taped the dog's mouth and tied the cloth over it's head. Just like an execution. She pushed it back into the tiny room. Now Kiki could neither see nor cry out.

When it happened, it was so sudden Paula let out a short scream. She had been building this mental defense that Ssebastian could not do a thing.

Kiki was dragged, by an invisible force, into the center of the room. The hairs on the dog's back stood on ends. There was danger in the air. Paula could feel it too, kind of electric. A scary thought invaded her mind; lightening. What if he set lightening on the house. She recalled what Geoffrey had told her about lightening. An entire house had been blown to smithereens!

The dog's hind leg was chopped off. Paula winced as the dog whined painfully. Blood splattered from the wound. Kiki tried to scamper away but something held her in place. She was flipped on her back. Paula watched in disbelief as a thin, clean cut ran from the dog's chest down it's abdomen. The skin was then ripped away from the meat, with a tearing sound.

He was skinning the dog alive. From four thousand miles away. There was no visible weapon. Paula felt her stomach heave so she could not look anymore. She heard chops and the breaking of bones. It was a sickening sound. With a glance into the room, she ran up to the bathroom where she emptied her entire breakfast. She was shaking like a leaf when she walked out of there.

Kiki had been hacked to pieces that were carefully placed in her hide.

Paula had done things for people but that was all psychological. An impotent person is so because of his feelings. If he can be convinced otherwise, he can control his biological self mentally and turn potent. All she did was boost their confidence. Kiki did not believe she was going to be cut to pieces. Kiki was a dog. Who was this Ssebastian?

Much, much later, Paula buried Kiki's remains in the garden. She was ill for days. No meat on her diet whatsoever.

On Tuesday, she met the vice president at Gina's. He looked pleased so she assumed he had acquired everything she had requested.

"I got everything you need," he said after sitting down.

"Good. Everything's perfect on my side too. It can be done. I can handle it so well you'll be amazed."

"All right. What's next?" He was excited.

"Well, you give me the stuff and payment in full - and that's it."

"Okay." He handed her a bag. She unzipped it, revealing a small sack with the stuff and a bigger one filled with diamonds.

"Trust me, they're real and worth more than ten million," he told her.

"I thought it would be easier with gems than cash."

"You're a smart man, you know that?" She complimented him.

"I only want the job done well. That is all I ask," he smiled lightly.

"Don't worry. It'll be something you never imagined." She meant it too.

"I guess this is good-bye," he said.

"Oh, I forgot one important thing. When do you want it done?"

"Yes. Well, he'll be on vacation in two weeks," he took out a calendar and checked dates. "Hey, how about Friday the 13th?"

"Perfect."

"I knew you'd like that."

"What time?"

"Noon is okay."

Paula scribbled the information in her weekly planner.

"I think I have everything, sir," she said.

"Let's get on with it," he looked a bit worried. Paula reached across the table and touched his lips with her finger. A thrilling sensation went through his body.

"Cheer up, sir," she said. "Everything's going to be roses from now on."

He smiled, abruptly stood up and left.

That is the last time she saw him.

She waited a few minutes then picked up the bag and walked out. She expected a tap on the shoulder or a bullet in her back. Nothing happened.

Paula spent the following week packing and shipping her belongings to Kenya. She opened an account in Nairobi, sold the diamonds in New York, opened several accounts there and set up gradual monetary transfers to an account in Nairobi. Her neighbors gladly took the other two dogs. She informed her clients that she would no longer provide them with her services.

It never occurred to her that she was conspiring in the murder of a president. A major assassination. Maybe it was too great an endeavor that it caused partial mental paralysis. Or maybe it was the ten million dollars that flushed any scruples and morals she ever had down the drain. Either way, Paula considered the event a business transaction.

Back at Ssebastian's, Paula and Geoffrey were ushered down to the basement by a young man. The large cellar was filled with artifacts ranging from live snakes and giant tarantulas to smoked genitals of jackals and hyenas to stuffed lions, leopards and cheetahs to a full-length human skeleton that Geoffrey later told Paula belonged to Ssebastian's grandfather.

Paula was careful not to leave anything of hers in the place. She recalled Kiki with a shudder. There was no place to hide from Ssebastian. The witch doctor was in his traditional garb; a collage of colorful coats of numerous animals and a head dress of feathers from over fifty different species of birds. He looked magnificent.

While the men discussed price, Paula looked around. The snakes hissed and writhed in their pits. Insects made noises she had never heard before. It was spooky down there.

Eventually, it was over. Ssebastian wanted an equivalent of ten thousand dollars. Paula gave him twenty. She had plenty, what did she care. She wanted to get out of there on good terms with Ssebastian. That she did. They left, Paula hoping she would never again set foot in that house.

At Kitale Hotel, Geoffrey surprised her with an engagement ring.

"You're getting romantic in your olden days, Jeff," she said, kissing him.

"Who are you calling old?" He retorted. "I'm just getting started. If you thought I was hot stuff before, wait till our bloody honeymoon."

"So when are we getting married?" Paula was anxious to settle into her new life.

"We can have a small, private wedding on Saturday right after the action."

"I'm all for it. Wow! A real wedding. This could be fun."

"Of course it will be fun." Geoffrey kissed her. "We're fun people, aren't we? I think we have too much bloody fun."

"Too much?"

"Just enough."

"Anyway, where are we gonna spend our honeymoon?" She wanted to know.

"Glad you asked. First we'll go down to the beach in Mombasa, then we'll visit a couple of national parks since you haven't really seen any wildlife - not counting Ssebastian's. After all this is the tourist capital of the world."

"You love to brag, don't you?"

"Only the truth, lass. Only the truth."

"Don't call me lass. It sounds like some animal."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Preston."

"Much better." She kissed him.

They saw it on the news at Geoffrey's house in Nairobi. She had never told him who the victim was but he had guessed. Like he said, he was not exactly a stupid bloke. There was some emergency about a situation in the Middle-East so a press conference was held. The entire episode was broadcast live worldwide.

"Did I mention that Ssebastian is a damn bloody show-off?" Geoffrey asked.

"No, but I figured that after Kiki. The man is a lunatic."

"He just wouldn't send a bullet to the head. No, he had to suspend the poor fellow in mid-air, disembowel him and scatter his bloody innards all over the place. That's disgusting."

A little while later, it was confirmed that the vice president had died of a massive heart attack at the scene.

"What a turn of events," Paula said. "We're home free." She switched off the television and climbed on him. "Make hot, passionate love to me, my dear husband."

"You got it, wife."