In reply to The Corporation (msg # 10):
Cameron takes a sip of the beer and says 'A pleasure to meet you gentlemen and thank you for the beer.  I'm curious what exactly is the job you are hiring for?'  He glances quickly around the table to see what if any reaction the guests and his potential team mates have to the question.

In reply to Cameron Salizar (msg # 14):

I mutter something to myself, it's not loud enough for Cameron to hear, but he sees that I'm giving him a dark look...
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 10:48, Sun 30 July 2017.

In reply to Cameron Salizar (msg # 14):

Janco makes no reply but rather waits to learn what is expected of him.

Paddy Curran takes the seat nearest the door to the private room. From under the table he produces a battered briefcase, from which he withdraws a slim manila folder for each of the four soldiers of fortune.

"More papers to sign, lads," Curran says. He starts a pen around the table. "Privacy agreement that nothing we discuss goes past this lot." He nods to the far end of the table, where Piet Coetzee sits. "This is Mr Coetzee, our employer."

"Trans-Hudsonia's director of operations for southern Africa," Coetzee adds.

"Trans-Hudsonia is Canadian," Curran resumes, "oil and mining in North America, North Sea. Africa's a new venture, yeah?"

Coetzee nods. "Ja, beginning two years ago." His eyes flit about the room, his face tense. "We have an exploratory mining camp in North-West Botswana and we are concerned about site security." From his pocket he pulls out a pack of Rembrandts, lights one with a steel lighter. After a long draw from the cigarette, he continues.

"The camp is remote, about fifty kilometers from the nearest settlement, close to the border with Southwest Africa, ja? About six weeks ago two of our employees were on their way to pick up supplies at an airstrip, and their Rover took fire from what they believed were terrs. The driver managed to get away and no one was hurt badly, but our insurers got wind of the attack and insisted we increase security."

Curran leans in. "SWAPO operates across the border in Namibia, and the ANC has camps in the Caprivi Strip, north and east of the camp. Botswana police and air force patrol the border - they're tight about their borders - " Coetzee nods at this " - but there's too much bush, not enough men, yeah?"

"We've added a fence to the camp," Cotezee resumes, "and a radio with enough range to reach the border post at Mohembo. And we contracted with Mr Curran - " the executive nods at Paddy - " - for security."

"There are sixteen workers at the camp," Paddy adds, "with lorries, Rovers, medical supplies, a generator, fuel. Quite a target, yeah?" He sips his own beer, nods to the papers in front of the mercenaries, and holds out his hand. There's a pause in the conversation as he collects the folders.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:12, Wed 02 Aug 2017.

In reply to The Corporation (msg # 17):

"So you want us to protect the camp and workers, huh? How long for? And will this be a purely defensive operation, or will you want us to take any offensive action against the terrs?"

Piet Coetzee shakes his head sharply. "You're being paid to protect our interests, not hunt fokken terrs," he says, his eyes flashing.

"Botswana bloody hates mercenaries," Paddy Curran explains, "so this is a low-profile op - wear civvies, keep arms out of sight, yeah?" He nods to Coetzee, puts the completed forms back in his briefcase. "The contract is through September."

"Before the rainy season starts," Coetzee interjects, stubbing out his cigarette forcefully, "and we have to move the camp."

"We need to discuss logistics, Piet," Curran continues, and Coetzee rises. "Gentlemen," the executive says to the assembled mercenaries, then steps to the doorway with Curran. "We can't have a blerrie international incident, Curran," Coetzee says softly, leaning in close as he shakes the Irishman's hand. "Keep them in line." Curran nods and smiles, and Coetzee leaves the room while Curran takes his seat once again.

In reply to The Corporation (msg # 19):

“'Paid to protect our interests,' he says. Huh!" Lights cigarette. "He left without actually mentioning how much we’re getting paid, never mind showing us the colour of his money!" Drinks some more Castle. "Perhaps you'll be more forthcoming, Paddy lad, now ole Piet has pissed off. Just how much are we getting for the privilege of protecting his precious camp?”

Steve thinks that this is a perfectly reasonable, if brashly-put, question, and keeps quiet awaiting Curran's answer.

"Easy, boyo," replies Paddy evenly. "It was Coetzee's idea to hire you lot, not some bloody grey-suited corporate security tossers. His neck is stuck out a mile, yeah?" From the briefcase comes another sheaf of papers for you to sign. "Base compensation is $250.00 you-ess, plus bonuses to be determined, with expenses paid, including travel home on completion of the mission." Once again he sends his pen around the table for each of the men to sign.

"Right then, shall we continue?"

OOC: This is an 'overt' mission, despite the low profile, per MERC's rules, which means the mission is worth 1,000 points to be split between the four of you. I'm comfortable guessing that you will add to that total by the time we're done. Compensation works out to about US$270 a month in 2017, plus room, board, and travel - not great, but hey, this is your first op, and everyone's gotta start somewhere.

In reply to The Corporation (msg # 22):

"$250 a month!" Andy laughs. “Come now, Mr Curran, is that the best you can come up with? A guy I know was getting $154 a week for patrolling the border and that was 4 years ago.”



OOC: That’s a genuine figure.
 Admittedly, they might not have all got paid, but the guys who went to Angola in 76 were on £150 a week (about $305).
 I know experience point rules cover the amount of payment, but in attempt to role-play realistically I've gotta have Andy push for more than the base $250 a month!

Curran leans in - there's a look in his eyes that somehow manages to be both playful and dangerous, like a cat with a mouse. "Oh, so now you're bloody Mike Hoare, are ya, boyo?" he opines, his brogue a little thicker, if that's even possible. "Sure and your guy-you-know was patrolling in an active combat zone, yeah? Now if you don't want your pretty pink arse left in a Botswana police cell, stop acting the maggot, boyo, and listen to ol' Paddy."
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:02, Thu 03 Aug 2017.

Janco nods agreement to the terms. Not as good as a war, but better than sitting around doing nothing. Privacy agreements...so corporate, so unnecessary between men. "Hou jou bek!" was a lesson learned during Janco's first hitch as a merc. Shut your mouth and keep eyes and ears open.

"Where do I sign?"

In reply to The Corporation (msg # 24):

Andy calmly finishes his drink, and puts down his glass. His eyes narrow as he looks at Curran. "Well, Paddy lad, there better be lots of bonuses, and the accommodation better be a darn sight better than a jail cell!"

In reply to The Corporation (msg # 24):

Cam has a little more of his drink and considers the proposition while Andy makes an ass of himself.  'He's right the pay is low but the risk seems low enough and it beats trying to make a living behind some desk in the States' he rationalizes.  'Ok I'm game. We're do you need signatures?' he asks.

Steve isn't really there so much for the pay--money's nice, but it's not the type of thrill he's after. The offer seems fair to him. "Where do I sign?" he asks.

Paddy helpfully points out the line on the contract for the mercenaries signatures, then collects the completed forms.

"Good lads," says Paddy as he snaps the briefcase shut. "Infil is Thursday, on Air Botswana, to Gaberone via Salisbury. From Gaberone it's another commercial flight on Friday to Maun, and then a private charter to Nokaneng with supplies. You'll be met at Nokaneng by a Trans-Hudsonia employee from the camp. You're entering as tourists so none of you need visas."

The Irishman swigs his beer, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a well-practiced motion, and continues. "There will be two crates labeled machine parts in the supplies you'll meet at Nokaneng, yeah?" His voice lowers as he glances at the open doorway. "The crates have false bottoms - there are four MP-5s and four Walther PPs, each with four magazines, plus an extra two hundred rounds for each weapon." Another swig. "The camp also has a scoped Enfield at the camp, for use as defence against wild game. Over the past few weeks I sent in additional rounds for the rifle."
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:43, Fri 04 Aug 2017.

OOC: Is it a Monday? If so, we have until Thursday... ;)

"What kind of trouble can we get into in Joburg until then?"
This message was last edited by the player at 10:27, Fri 11 Aug 2017.

In reply to Steve Heron (msg # 30):

"I'll show you around. Wouldn't do to have you shanghaied before the fun starts."

In reply to Janco van Apeldoorn (msg # 31):

"That sounds cool. The rest of you guys in?"

"Sounds good to me.  I'd like to get some quality maps of the area while we're out unless you guys already have some I can borrow."

In reply to Cameron Salizar (msg # 33):

"We could see if the Department of Rural Development and Land Reform has anything if our employee doesn't."

"Andy, you in?"

"We're supposed to be here as tourists; so, yeah, we oughta act like tourists."

"Alright! Janco, if you'd be so kind as to lead the way."

In reply to Steve Heron (msg # 37):

"Get in the jeep."

It's an unwashed, paint-peeling, older  model slightly-modified Jeep CJ dirtied by dried mud on the bumpers and wheel wells, with no roof or windows and a bug-splattered windshield. And away we go.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:06, Sun 13 Aug 2017.