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Carlos Eduardo Bombe’s Angolan Army has joined with forces from the Democratic Republic of Congo, DRC, in a counter-attack. The conflict has also interrupted another critical regional export: diamonds. As a result, world diamond sales have fallen in half to $20 billion annually.
    The next day, Maran gave his team a final briefing at a private retreat outside Swakopmund, Namibia, or “Swak.” He stood in front of a white screen dressed in combat fatigues. Briefings like this never ceased to remind him of the countless training sessions in the Army’s clipped PowerPoint presentation style that had been drilled into his head as a cadet at West Point just after graduating from South Boston High School.
    This pep talk was the culmination of two months’ training Lt. Col. Maran had put his team through, ex-soldiers from a variety of warring sub-Saharan African armies and insurgencies. They had been organized off-book by Long Bow, a private military company run from his unit headquarters at Fort Bragg.
    Maran realized his profound responsibility. Even though they were mercenaries, they were his mercenaries. He was committed to bringing them back. “Victoriae!” dictated that.
    For the previous two years he had won the officer’s combat proficiency and physical fitness award as best of his unit. At six-foot-four, 230 pounds, lean as rope, he looked the part. He paused briefly and lifted his arms. His muscled right arm showed the bottom half of a blue-and-green tattoo. It stood out against his mocha skin, visible under the rolled up sleeves of his multicam combat shirt, part of the Army’s BDUs, battle dress uniforms, replacing the Vietnam-era fatigues. He recocked the maroon beret, tilting it over his right eyebrow according to regulation. A flash insignia centered on the crown peak of the beret displayed the silver oak leaf of his rank over a gold shield with a red-white-blue diagonal banner crossing left to right. It was the standard beret flash of the U.S. Special Operations Command, SOCOM. He wanted his men to know they were backed by the best. If his physical air didn’t convince them, they would know, from the SOCOM flash, the worth the U.S. Army ascribed to them. Not that they knew anything about the mission. All they did know was that they carried a lot of artillery and they kicked off at first light.
    Maran pointed with a hand-held laser stick at a laptop projection, a diagram of the target area. The dot danced over the screen, clearly visible even in the stark light cast by rows of overhead fluorescent lights.
    The resort’s private conference room was large enough to hold his entire team. It was ultra-modern with beige fabrics covering the walls. Bright blue ergonomic swivel chairs surrounded a slate conference table with a laptop at each place. Diffused fluorescent lighting fixtures evenly lit the room. The windows were covered by solar-blocking, sound-absorbing drapes, adding to the room’s privacy. No one in the room could see outside and vice versa. In one corner stood a white marble statue of a couple embracing lovingly. The design team had equipped it with allowance for him to choose between an audio conference or a video teleconference, an option he decidedly declined. There would be no video teleconferencing at this briefing.
    Outside, a gardener sprinkled rows of lilies, ferns, and hostas. Palms with spiky trunks towered above.
    Maran controlled the presentation with a touch panel specially programmed to meet his requirements. With one touch of the panel the “In-Room Presentation” option allowed him to dim the lights, close the shades, turn on the projector, lower the projection screen, and display the contents of his laptop screen onto the projection screen. The room had twin 72-inch wall-mounted flat plasma screens that projected high-resolution satellite images.
    “Gentlemen. From heah on in you ahh Tahsk Force 9909,” Maran said in his Boston dialect. “The code-name of our operation is Taxi