Robert Kennedy Off the coast of Guinea Koroma lifted the wide-brimmed hat covering his face while he lay down in his cabin, the gentle sway of the ship on the waves and the constant drone of the engines about as peaceful an experience as he could recall having in a long time. The knock was repeated. “Yes?” The door opened and the ship’s captain entered, cigar clamped between his teeth, a thick curly gray beard stained yellow from a habit formed years ago. Koroma had never met the man before today, but Mustapha had arranged passage several days before for a non-trivial amount of money with one condition. No questions asked. Koroma had boarded in Conakry, Guinea, only hours after leaving his village, his travel greased by a diplomatic passport provided when the motorcade had arrived. It had been an uneventful yet stressful journey, this the most difficult part of his plan, it being almost completely out of his control. He just hoped bad news wasn’t about to be delivered. Pushing himself up on his elbows, he swung his legs out of the bed, the captain waving him off before he could stand.
