"Mrs. Bronstein! Mrs. Bronstein!" A woman of about thirty years kept yelling until she was called upon by the diminutive, preadolescent teacher."Plea...e tell us your name and how old you were before asking your question, dear." Yes, Ma'am.!" My name is Billy Jackson and I'm eight years old. My mom said I should make sure you teach us about birth control before my Daddy gets back home. He called to tell us he was all right and was trying to get home as soon as they found a pilot who could fly. But I don’t care!” “Oh god. What do you want?” Her face brightened. “I want a nice, friendly colleague who does what she’s told at work and never protests when she’s assigned work.” She tilted her head. “One who makes sure my coffee is ready when I arrive at work, who fetches me lunch and is generally doing her best to make my job easier.” “You want a slave?” “Now, there’s quite a difference still between a dedicated co-worker and a slave. Let me offer you a deal.” She waved her hand, and when. While they ate dinner, Niccolo had engaged in small talk with several people but did not reveal much about himself.Jennifer turned and looked at Niccolo. The light coming from the streetlights was just enough to highlight Niccolo’s jawline. She could tell he was smiling at her. There is no denying the man is handsome, she thought to herself. Jennifer decided she did not want to be alone quite yet and nodded her head. Certainly, there would be no harm in talking for a bit. She wanted to know. They were trying to divide Nigeria, Chad and Mali by the use of terrorism, wanting to join it with Niger and North Sudan that they were gaining control of.The goal was to begin a new Caliphate now that ISIS was finally finished in the Middle East. It was a place for the disillusioned fighters to go and start over. It would give them control all of central Africa, if they could make it work.It would be millions of square miles protected on the north by the Muslim controlled counties of Libya,.