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… from the shadowland

L

usaka | “There aren’t any green traffic lights in the Copperbelt.  They’ve all been sold to tourists.” He sneered in the half-light of the noisy Indian restaurant and his eyes rolled. They were slits, scrunched together from years of too much sun and too much bile. He’d focus them for a moment and then rip them away, always moving, always backing off from engagement.

John Campbell is a geologist for a Chinese mining company. He’s a short man with a Scottish growl. Twelve years of directing his native exploration crew far from the weak controls of labour laws and even weaker bumps of civilized restraint have shaped him into a coiled spring.