"Now, Dr. Kamara, your job is to manage the recovery. I will not accept failure."
"You will boil every drop of water before it touches his lips. If he vomits, you wait ten minutes and feed him again."
Kamara swallowed hard, "Yes, sir. Boiled water. Food. I understand."
"Keep this room entirely quarantined. Use the fireplace if you must," Benjamin ordered, turning his back on the doctor and the patient.
Waiting in the dimly lit hallway outside was Captain Elias.
"Ambassador Sterling's vehicles have vacated the district. But I did what you asked. I sent a discreet courier through the servant tunnels to the address you provided." Elias reported, falling into step beside Benjamin as they walked toward the presidential study.
"And?" Benjamin asked, his eyes focused straight ahead.
"The man is waiting for you in your study, sir..." Elias confirmed. "He arrived through the cellar entrance. But I must protest. Inviting the KGB into the palace the very same morning we kicked the British out... it is incredibly dangerous."
Benjamin reached the doors of his study and pushed them open.
Standing in the center of the room, casually examining a globe, was a tall man with a blond mustache and a gray suit.
This was Nikolai Volkov. On paper, Nikolai was listed as the chief agricultural trade representative for the Soviet Embassy.
In reality, he was the top KGB intelligence officer in West Africa...
When Nikolai heard the doors open, he turned around.
"President Adebayo," Nikolai said, "I must admit, when your courier woke me up, I assumed I would be attending your funeral today. The rumors sweeping the diplomatic quarter say that you used black magic to force Ambassador Sterling to retreat."
Nikolai's smile faltered slightly. "You have no army. Your treasury is empty. What leverage could you possibly have against the British Empire?"
Benjamin unzipped the canvas duffel bag sitting on his desk. He pulled out one of the water-damaged customs ledgers from 1963 and tossed it onto the polished wood.
"That is the original, verified shipping manifest from the final month of the British colonial administration," Benjamin stated, leaning back in his chair.
"It proves that the British Governor embezzled fifty million pounds worth of our raw diamond exports to fund unauthorized black-ops accounts in London. It proves that our current national debt is a total, illegal fabrication."
Nikolai stared at the moldy book.
To the Soviet Union, it was exactly the kind of propaganda the Kremlin needed to humiliate the Western powers in front of the United Nations. It would paint the British as thieves and destabilize their influence across the entire African continent.
"I am not a fool, Nikolai," Benjamin said. "I know that if I hold onto these ledgers forever, the British will eventually send professional assassins to kill me in my sleep. I need these documents duplicated and leaked directly to the French press and the Soviet state media by midnight."
"You want us to do your dirty work..." Nikolai smirked, reaching for the ledger.
Benjamin slammed his hand down on the book, "I am offering you the victory of the decade, Nikolai!"
"But it comes with a price tag. You do not get this for free."
Nikolai retracted his hand, narrowing his eyes. "What are your terms?"
"Zambura needs an economy." Benjamin dictated, "We will have no tractors for our farms, no industrial machinery for our mines, and no fuel for our transports. I want an immediate trade agreement with Moscow. You will supply us with heavy agricultural equipment, industrial infrastructure materials, and a shipment of modern medical supplies. In exchange, I will grant the Soviet Union a five-year exclusive purchasing contract for our national cocoa and rubber exports, at a fixed market rate."
"You want us to subsidize your infrastructure development just so we can buy your fruit and rubber?" Nikolai asked.
"I want you to help me build a nation so that I can keep the British out," Benjamin said smoothly.
"You get to expand your sphere of influence in West Africa without firing a single shot. I get the tractors I need to feed my people. It is a mutually beneficial business transaction. Do we have a deal, or should I call the French Embassy instead?"
If the Soviets didn't take the deal, Benjamin would simply sell the opportunity to their rivals...
Nikolai carefully took the moldy book and placed it inside his briefcase. He offered a nod and quickly exited the study, eager to contact his superiors in Moscow.
Benjamin closed his eyes for just a moment.
Kofi, the aging caretaker, stumbled into the room.
"Mr. President!"
"The Treasury! The underground vault! It has been breached from below! We are ruined!"