Home > Author > Jacques Reynart
1 " That’s happened before, hasn’t it?” Andre asked. “With so many weapons manufactured here, in an industry that employs thousands of people – and with so many buyers all round the world, it seems almost inevitable.”“You are correct, ” replied Colonel Hoffman. “What has never happened before is that nuclear armaments become involved.”“Nuclear?” asked Nicci. “I thought South Africa gave up its program to manufacture nuclear bombs long ago?” She was wearing a cream linen suit, which emphasised the rich brown tone of her skin. Andre had certainly noticed and he thought she looked magnificent, but Hoffman seemed strangely unaffected. Idly, Andre wondered if Hoffman was gay.The Colonel nodded. “This,” he said “is something slightly different. "
― Jacques Reynart , Taking the Bahari
2 " Andre stood and walked across the large map of Africa that hung on the office wall.“May I ask what you are thinking?” questioned Colonel Hoffman.“I’m thinking Khartoum” Andre responded quietly, tapping the map in the northern half of Sudan and both Hoffman and Nicci nodded in agreement. “If the cargo aboard the ship was artillery systems and if the trucks that met the ship head for Juba, then we should expect – at the very least - a resumption of the civil war in Sudan.” Hoffman nodded again and then spoke himself.“And if the buyers in Juba have also accessed nuclear ammunition, then the government of Sudan is going to change soon. Anyone with weapons like that could easily consolidate control of all those oilfields. That means that the balance of power in the Horn of Africa is going to be very different from what it is now.”“What’s the population of Khartoum?” asked Nicci. Hoffman consulted his desktop computer.“The city itself, around two and a half million. The conurbation of greater Khartoum is more than ten million.”“Five minutes?” Nicci queried and Hoffman nodded.Nicci looked stunned. They all sat for a moment and considered the awesome destruction that would be unleashed. "
3 " I had my eye on the street when an SUV pulled up outside. With a flash of long, tanned thighs, a brunette in a black cocktail dress slid out. The major-domo held the door for her and I heard him promise to have the vehicle safely parked in the basement. It seemed she had driven in alone. That was unusual for anyone of any means in Luanda. The woman came inside. She was tall and slim, hardly more than thirty years old. Her long hair was tied back in a chignon. She tossed her head and smiled at the doorman. The look softened the strong lines of her oval face. He snapped his fingers at a hostess who stepped forward with a clipboard. “Madame?”“Fabienne de Valence”, I heard the woman say with a noticeable accent. The hostess checked the guest list, nodded and gestured towards the lifts. I decided it was time to join the reception. There weren’t that many seriously attractive women in Luanda. "
― Jacques Reynart , Cabinda Livre!
