Unfurling the large bundle of topographic maps, Malcolm placed a couple of rocks on the corners to keep the bundle from blowing away. The wind swept into the tent, blowing in sand and grit. He sighed and just brushed off the table as he stooped to take in the details of the maps. There was no getting away from sand when you decided to set up camp in the desert. There was something about being here in Africa that was liberating. He glanced up at his life long friend, Victor Snow, who was concentrating on a particular passage between them and their goal.