Mauritius. Camp Folkvangr.From a distance it looked like a normal corn farm, inside it was specialising in farming of a very different kind. Oleson walked down the rows of beds without batting an eyelid. This was his brainchild, one of his nerve centres, key to the overall success of his major operation.
“That i***t Stellenbosch tells me the yield is well down.”
“The process is still unstable,” replied Benson, trying to keep up with Oleson’s fast pace. “It’s bloody incompetence we cannot afford to fail, the yield must be improved.”
“Then we need more expertise.”
"I know that,” snapped Oleson looking at the rows of Africans laid in front of him. They had been brought over from the poorer regions of South Africa and also from the island itself. “So Stellenbosch, you and your bloody Boer
