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THE EXCERT. IN THE SHADOWS OF FEAR. BY LUNANI DANIEL. CHAPTER ONE. It was a good-looking Friday evening. Time: 7 pm. The streets of Ngara were lively as usual, different kinds of people. The conductors were upheaval at the top of their voices trying to outdo each other in the clamour for passengers. People hastening in differing ways. Many were corporately dressed trying to catch the next available bus to their final termini, after a hard time’s work. Ngara Bus Terminal arguably swanked of one of the highest numbers of people that lived in Ngara. A market woman screamed at a man who was half running to catch a bus that had just one more seat left, and in the process, scattered some of her fresh peppers on the ground. “Weewe!!!” she screamed obscenities at the man at the top of her lungs. The culprit was already on the bus. If he heard the curses spat on him, he did not show it. I smiled wryly, resolved and started helping the woman pick the pepper disseminated on the floor. I washed my hands with the water she provided and continued on my way home. I was feeling chiefly happy though. I had just experienced a wonderful time in the arms of my heartthrob. I called in sick from work and had spent the past five hours with her. She was going to be away for quite a while, studying for her Masters in Canada. I had a quick flashback in my cognizance. The smile grew wider. I crossed to the other side of the road. I needed to take a “boda-boda” to the entrance of my street. I still had a little bit of distance to cover so I increased my pace. I wondered why there were so many people in this part of Nairobi. It is the fringes of the commercial centre of the city and yet it was a host to a lot of new tenants every day. I dreamt of one-day owning plots of land in Parklands, having proper-ties on Park Rd or even a big Hotel in Westlands. Not this dumpster I had to hide in because of my past. “Oya, shukisha,” I said to the driver as I got to my bus stop. I paid him, collected my change and watched as he zoomed off. I waited patiently at the bus stop for the road to clear so I could cross and enter my street. I was still waiting there when all of a sudden, a black tinted Toyota Crown screeched to a stop in front of me. The back door yanked open and a huge man, dark glasses, wearing a mafia suit came out of the car, gave me a blinding slap and then shoved me inside the car. The car sped off. All happened in seconds. My head was ringing; I felt blood on my lips. I touched my lower lip. There was a little cut and it was a bit swollen. It took a while for my eyes to readjust to the darkness in-side the car. I was sandwiched between two huge men. The one who hit me was on my right. I could tell because he still had his glasses on. I studied my environment trying to make out any detail that would help me. The dimly lit car did not help matters. Two guys. I guessed they were thugs. The other guy wore a body-hugging t-shirt, silver necklace and had a huge moustache. He was smoking and did not seem to care about me. The driver wore a face cap. Met his eyes about once or twice from the rear-view mirror. There was no other passenger in front. I could feel the eyes of my captor on me. I wanted to speak but was afraid to. I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. I was still in a state of shock. I quickly said a prayer for God to forgive me of my sins. I was too young to die. Different thought crossed my mind. These guys looked a little bit sophisticated. I did not owe anyone money. I did not do any bad deals. Had my old life finally caught up with me? I managed to catch a glimpse of the macho’s wristwatch. It was pure gold. Welders. Were they ritual killers? I shuddered at the thought. So, this was how I was going to die? We were driving at high speeds, skirting the small roads and sticking to the freeway. My eyes were accustomed to the dimly lit vehicle. I decided if I was going to die, I should at least know what was happening. As I made to open my mouth, Macho man’s phone rang. “Hello, ma’am. Yes, ma’am, we got the package. Okay ma’am” The other guy finished his cigarette and lit another one. Package? Am I the package? A woman was calling the shots? I decided to be brave. “Good evening sir. Please sir what I have I done? Where are you taking me? I beg you in the name…” I began to say, facing Macho man. The smoking thug gave me a powerful backhand slap to the side of my face. I passed out. The room was spacious and wide. Exotic furniture neat-ly arranged at the corners of the huge sitting room. The blinds were slightly drawn allowing an ooze of early morning sun into the room. There was a huge plasma on the wall and a bar to its left. The walls were painted white with an accent of blood-red here and there in the room. The blinds were red, the couch, the reclining chair, the little table and even the bar was painted red. Every other thing was in pure white as well as the ceiling. Samantha trod keenly to and fro. She had a bottle of Baileys on one hand and a wine cup in the other. She was restless and worried. Vincent and Marshal were yet to get back to her. This was a simple mission. Get the boy, and bring him to the safe house. She did not trust those fools but they had been highly recommended by the General. Now they were nowhere to be found. Her phone rang again, it was the General. She had this strong desire not to answer the phone. But the General al-ways knew. She answered it on the first ring. “What is the situation on the ground, S?” The General asked. She could see the wrinkles on his forehead. The General always knew. She was sure he already knew what the situation was. He had spies everywhere. That was why he was called the General. Everyone feared him. No one dared him. Very few people have met him. And the General hard-ly calls. When he did, there was trouble. “The situation is under control, sir,” Samantha answered. “I did not ask if the situation was under control. I asked what the situation is. I am going to call you pretty soon. You had better have an answer for me.” He said and hung up. Typical General. Always the last to speak and never failing to seize an opportunity to keep you edgy. She knew that he knew that the fools she had sent to bring in the boy were MIA. This was her first major assignment. She did not want to flop. She originally wanted to take a subtle measure. Lure him in with some girl. But that would take time and there was a chance he would not fall for the bait. Force was the only option. They had been watching Jesse for three months now, twenty-four hours round the clock. They had a different agent on him every six hours. He had been chosen as the ideal candidate. Perfect stature. Perfect age. Perfect face, visage, education and work orientation. All that remained was to determine his lifestyle and how a typical day for Jesse looked like. Samantha spent hours going over each agent’s report about Jesse. She was always with her radio; the agents would phone in to say that Jesse had changed routine or gone somewhere away from their jurisdiction. This was where her leadership came in. She would order them to follow or let him be. She had pulled her strings twice. Jesse had made plans to travel out of the city. He had bought a ticket to fly to Mombasa. This was going to put a huge hole in their plans. He had to be kept in the city at all costs. A call was made to the General. Jesse was held back at work and denied leave to travel. Another time, his office had made plans for his department to travel for a refresher course in South Africa. Samantha was well-versed. The trip was terminated. They had contacts far and wide including the government. When they wanted some-thing, they always got it. They had considered kidnapping his girlfriend. The General did not want the silly police force involved. They would just be crawling everywhere, impeding progress. This was going to be a snatch and grab operation. Very few witnesses, if any. Jesse lived a reckless life. His mother hardly monitored him. She believed he was capable of handling himself. They sometimes went for three weeks without communicating. He had no close friends. His girl-friend was travelling out of the country. She was the only worry. A slight worry that could be easily fixed. So, they had decided to ‘grab’ Jesse. They waited patiently for the opportunity. A black Toyota Prado was parked across the street opposite New Inn, the hotel that Jesse and his girlfriend were in. They waited for five hours, listening in on their conversation and their sex. Jesse had been bugged. As usual. There was a different agent every day and a different agent for this purpose. A handshake, a hug, a collision, whatever brought physical contact. And they were good. The microchip was planted on him. The transmitter was live. Jesse never suspected anything. They most times knew of his plans for the next day. So, they had planned the smash and grab to perfection. They knew he was going home to see his mother that evening. They knew his girlfriend was going out of the country. They knew he would always wait to cross the road when he got down from the “boda-boda”. That was when they would strike. They only hoped that he would not cross the road too soon or decide not to go home. If that happened, they would have to hatch another plan. A Toyota Crown was at the terminal waiting for the signal to know when they would move. The Prado trailed the bus Jesse was in. It was easy. Samantha was listening in the whole time via radio communication. She chipped in orders here and there and monitored the whole operation. The Toyota Crown traced the “boda-boda”, increased speed when Jesse got off and picked him up at the bus stop. It was done. Mission accomplished. She called Marshal to confirm if he had the package. He was positive. The journey would take roughly eight hours. They knew that. All contingency measures had been put in place.