"Boss," Mitchell said. He was a big man, almost as tall as Max and broader in the chest, and probably wasn't afraid. Jimmy wasn't sure whether this was because he genuinely felt he was in no danger, or because he had no imagination. It certainly wasn't because he was dumb. He was sharp as a needle, and with a family background in Namibia was the one man on the payroll able to blend in unnoticeably in Angola.
Mitchell prowled across the carpet, the subdued lighting picking up blueish highlights from his black skin, and he nodded as Jimmy pulled out a chair for him. Once he was seated he said, "I followed the money. That Brit is shitting himself - very quietly. His contact was arrested trying to cross the border into the Congo. Has been charged with misappropriation of funds but, here's the thing - all the accounts are cleared out and he's not saying where he sent the money."