Angola, 4pm, Sasha and Ted.
Cell phone signals were patchy so Ted got the hotel to put a call through for him then went to wait in the air conditioned bar looking out of the window at what he knew had once been called 'miles and miles of bloody Africa' and reflecting that things outside hadn't changed much, though where he was was surprisingly comfortable.
A waiter in a white jacket brought him the phone - wireless, all mod cons - on a silver tray and he took it, and listened to the US operator promising to connect him.
She did too. The phone rang sweetly and he sighed and took a sip of gin and tonic.