I Wish …
Chapter One
In ancient times, my kind was considered the exclusive property of sheikhs, sultans, emirs, and caliphs.
If ever a bottle containing one of my kind came into the possession of a peasant, entire armies would be mobilized to retrieve it.
KINGSTON, JAMAICA
TEN YEARS AGO
David Michael "Faisal" St. Gregory walked along the deserted beach. It was two in the morning, and most of Kingston was asleep.
He was nineteen, tall, wiry in appearance (Grinding poverty having long had taken its toll on him.) His hair was close-cropped, his skin was deep brown. He walked the beach barefoot, dressed only in a T-shirt and cutoff blue jeans.
How ever am I going to repay Charlie? he thought as he walked along the beach. A small-time pot dealer, it went without saying that he owed a lot of money to a LOT of people.
A flash of light appeared in the sand just ahead of Faisal in the moonlight. Faisal raced ahead, only to find a mysterious antique brown bottle half-buried in the sand.
What is this? Faisal wondered as he picked up the bottle. His curiosity piqued, he uncorked the stopper.
All at once, a plume of brown smoke shot out of the bottle. Startled, Faisal dropped the bottle.
The plume of smoke resolved itself into the figure of a short muscular man dressed in white harem pants, a white vest trimmed with cobalt blue silk, and a white turban. His skin was light-to-medium brown.
The being bowed deeply before Faisal. "I am Naseem," he intoned. "Your wish ... is my command."