West Africa, outside Sangar Town, temporary camp.
Mamadou sat in an ill‑fitting leather swivel chair hauled out of the mayor's house, the chair creaking under him.
A rough hand‑drawn map was spread out in front of him, covering a radius of about a hundred kilometers with Sangar Town at the center. Several minor bosses clustered around, their eyes a mix of excitement, greed, and a faint, hard‑to‑spot fear.
The air was thick with the smells of tobacco, sweat, and the acrid stench of burning trash in the distance.
"Kalu Village to the north has thirty men who can carry guns, the leader's my cousin."
A scar‑faced boss spoke in the local dialect. "They're willing to join, but they want five new guns and a monthly 'allowance.'"
"The checkpoint on the road to the east, a platoon of Government Forces ran off and left two busted trucks behind."
Another boss reported, "We can take it over and charge tolls. There are a dozen or so trucks a day heading to the mines."
