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Title: Content: At exactly 18:00, Flight 4Z 461 surged down the runway at Kamuzu International, engines howling as the city fell away beneath its wings. Two and a half hours�that was the window. By 20:30, the wheels would kiss the tarmac at OR Tambo. Another thirty minutes�maybe less if the roads were kind�and he would be standing at 93 Abel Street. Nine o�clock give or take a breath. This was James�s second and final airport run for the day. First had been the Boss of Bosses, and now it was Lesley Black himself. Fortune had played its part�traffic had been merciful. At precisely 20:50, the BMW eased up to the wrought-iron gates of 93 Abel Street. A press of the remote, a muted click, and the metal parted like obedient soldiers, swallowing the car whole. Lesley stepped out with the quiet confidence of a man returning to his own domain. There was no need for subtlety here. This was his fortress, his name woven into its foundations. He could walk these halls at any hour, as often as he pleased, and no one�no guard, no neighbour, no whisper in the dark�would dare question why. He moved toward the elevator with unhurried ease, the soft thud of his shoes swallowed by the hush of the lobby. Inside, as the doors slid shut, he exhaled�a long, measured breath that tasted of triumph and pressure all at once. Carlos was here - In this building, On African soil. The weight of that truth settled on him like a crown and a yoke combined. This was no accident, no stroke of fortune�it was design, his design. He had planted the seed, nurtured it through shadow and subterfuge, and now it bore fruit so rich, so undeniable, that the Boss of Bosses had crossed oceans to witness it himself. Lesley allowed himself a thin smile. This was validation. This was history. But even as pride coiled warm in his chest, another truth pressed cold against his spine: when a man like Carlos came to see the roots of an empire, he didn�t come just to admire them�he came to test their strength. Then came the gnawing thought�the missing gadgets. Would Carlos bring it up? Would he press until the truth bled out, or wave it aside as a triviality, letting Lesley keep his footing? Or worse�would he make it a crucible, a quiet test of loyalty and resolve? Questions swarmed without answers, and the clock offered none. In minutes, he would know: One way or another. Page Number: Update Page