On the riverside of promise by Vasileios Kalampakas

Author:Vasileios Kalampakas [Kalampakas, Vasileios]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-08-11T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

The small river barge was dominated by a rather large stack of barrels and crates. Some had been spray painted with numbers and letters in the same pattern, while others were completely devoid of any markings. Most seemed battered and frayed, while few seemed brand new. As the last light of the day fell around them, it cast a blurred, murky reflection of the uneven heap on the water rolling lazily past the flimsy, almost flat hull.

“You see,” said the Swede scratching his reddened beard as if deeply ponderous, “You have to have a… How do you say that?”

“Perspective?”, asked Ethan and drew on his cigarette. The sound of crickets and buzzing mosquitoes were drowned by the monotonous ‘put-put’ of the two-stroke motor that somehow managed to barely propel the barge.

The Swede replied with a smile that took a moment or two to form on his sun-burnt face. He then added as he peeked behind Ethan at the helmsman, a boy in his teens:

“Perspective. See, Muembe there lacks perspective. He just wants to feed his family. Never asks a thing.”

“I don’t think he’d been working for you if he did.”

“Well, of course not. If anyone did, I’d be out of business,” he said turning back to face Ethan with a thin, gentle smile on his face. Ethan nodded and said nothing. His gaze wondered for a moment before it fell on the cargo. He then asked the Swede:

“And you just run up and down the river like that? No questions asked by anyone?”

“Sometimes, some do. But I can be very persuasive. Plus, the Nigerian Navy is more or less, a common joke around these parts,” he said and shook his head wildly.

Ethan drew on his cigarette slowly and asked:

“You’re saying this is easy? Is that why you don’t even bother with a canvas or some camouflage?”

“A canvas would draw even more attention. If I do meet a boat on the river, then they’ll probably think I’m just running a shipment for the Army. The river is so plentiful, see? Fishermen fish, and I haul,” the Swede replied, waving his arms about.

“How much does this pay then?” asked Ethan with a frown on his brow.

“Are you looking to get into the business? Because I’d hate the competition,” replied the burly man, laughing heartily to himself.

“Not really, no. I’m kind of into the business myself, but I’m not a middleman.”

“Ah. Mercenary then?” he asked with a smile.

“Slightly different. Though I can’t be sure there’s a real difference,” replied Ethan with a somewhat weary look.

“Royal Marine!” the Swede exclaimed, pointing wildly with a finger.

“For God’s sake, is it that bloody obvious?” asked Ethan slightly irritated. The swede leaned toward him and said, nodding with his head once so often:

“The knife. You seem calm but your body is tense. You keep an eye all the time. One hand on the cigarette, one near the knife. Edgy but cool. Not regular British Army. I can tell. They are-”

Nicole then appeared from the small galley below and said in a flat, tired voice, “He’s full of shit.

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