That’s when I got the call from a Senegalese contact. The mouride brotherhood was looking for a haven for their peanut growing wealth. News had crossed the Sahara of an opportunity. The word was that the yield from the Argan tree in Morocco was going to be lower than normal. With tourists seemingly willing to pay any price for jasmine scented oil and other such derivates of the crop, knowing how to cultivate it was a guarantee of future prosperity. This knowledge was a closely guarded Berber secret, but getting hold of it was worth any effort or risk.
Another agent had done well. She had learned that somewhere in the High Atlas was a man who had been paid to talk. Who had paid him wasn’t known, but whoever it was had sent their best to find him and learn of his wisdom. It was my job to intercept and find the secret for myself.