HAUNTED

DAY ONE

CHAPTER 1

Fact 1: The most prevalent violent crimes in Kenya are violent robberies and carjackings. The most prevalent crimes against children in Kenya are: sexual violence and defilement; child labor and child exploitation. 

Francis looked at the spreadsheets before him for the hundredth time in a span of half an hour since he sat down at his desk. Every time he tried to concentrate on the financial statements before him, his mind always returned to the envelope and its contents all of which were still on his breakfast. He looked at the leather black briefcase and recoiled as if it contained radioactive material. He concentrated his gaze on the worn corners of the case and reprimanded himself for not replacing it. He had promised his wife to buy a new one but hadn’t gotten around to do it. That was a month ago. Now his wife just looks at it like piece of trash- and she usually called it trash- and never said anything about it. Just a steel look that could melt ice. His wife….

He looked again at the time on the digital display of his phone. Half past ten. And no missed calls. He released breath he didn’t know he was holding. The same envelope hadn’t been delivered to his wife. If it had? Well things would be very different. He knew Mary. She would march here, waving the envelope, like a general leading his army to a battlefield and cause a scene one will never forget.

“Francis, how is it going?”

Francis jerked on hearing his name. He hadn’t heard his boss enter. He looked up at his boss; a man of forty five with a vast experience in finance and management hired to transition the company in the midst of a merger.

“I knocked, you didn’t answer,” said Dickson in his trademark loud commanding voice. That would be a first. It is well known around the office that Dickson ran the company Gestapo-style: always dropping in unannounced or being called to his office for a tongue-whipping. He was wearing his trademark suit: grey Italian suit, cuffed white shirt, a red clipped tie and black Italian shoes.

“I am fine boss,” Francis said rather defensively. “Just concluding the report for the meeting.” He hadn’t even started writing it.

“Good.” said Dickson as he scanned around the office. Though Francis is the Chief Finance Officer, his office was small and sparsely furnished. He had been told it was temporary but that had turned into a permanent case. The company with its cost-cutting measures couldn’t afford more office space or another secretary for that matter. “Dazzle our visitors with your concise and brief analysis when we meet at one,” Dicky announced halfway to the door.

One? What was he talking about? The meeting is supposed to at three. He logged onto his company email and sure as heaven, there was a memo indicating change of meeting and venue. What the hell! This is why he had lobbied to have a secretary.

            Francis leaned back on his seat. The seat had a broken groove or something and so couldn’t slide but the only thing good was the cushion. He looked at the other workers on the other room, he could see them but they couldn’t see him. Of particular interest was the lady in his direct line of sight; sitting in front of her computer pecking at the keyboard. Everyday he would sit here, watch her- it gave him a great sense of power to see but not be seen- and conjure all kinds of fantasies. Today she was wearing a black skirt, white blouse and black boots. Her hair was permed and she looked… well, quite a model.

            He shook his head and returned to his office- and reality. The reality was someone out there knew his secret. This someone had opted to send him pictures. Nothing else. No demands. No threats. Nothing. What did he want? He stood up, got his briefcase from the small table by the window and returned to his seat. Slowly he opened the case, drew the envelope, still on top and close the case.

            He wasn’t going to be intimidated. He knew intimidation all too well. And the worst mistake one could do was to show fear. Smell fear and the hunter would pounce and finish you off. He been a hunter all his life. And that wasn’t going to change today. He is going to shred all the pictures, return to his work and prepare a report that will dazzled all those fat cats attending the meeting, and then go home to his wife.

He locked the door and threw the pictures onto the table.

“Do you know who I am?” barked Jackson. He was pacing, or rather walked, around the spacious but empty office throwing his hands in the air.

“Of course I know who you are,” answered the other man. He was sitting on the other chair in the room. The other one which Jackson was supposed to be sitting on was on the other end; separated by a low glass table. This table was also empty.

“Don’t be sarcastic Paul,” said Jackson, eyes glowing with anger. He returned to his seat.

“And I need to know what I am doing here?” said the man called Paul. He had a protruding tummy, short and wore cheap suits probably from the flea market. Jackson wondered where his money went. Probably to prostitutes. He threw a small envelope to Paul who caught it midair.

“I found that taped to my driver’s window of my car.” Paul opened the envelope and took out a thumb drive.

“What is in this?” asked Paul.

“It is a computer thumb drive. And it has every financial transaction, bank account and statements on our arrangement,” said Jackson in a grave voice. “It contains all of my business portfolio”

“What has this got to do with me,” wondered Paul as he examined the drive as if in new light.

“Don’t insult my intelligence Paul. We may have a mutually beneficial arrangement but that gives you no right to snoop into my affairs. I pay you handsomely to keep off my business.”

“So you think I sent this?” he held the thumb into the air and a throaty laughter erupted deep from his gut. Jackson watched as this disgusting man emitted scary sound that could categorized as screams. He was also annoyed at himself for not thinking this through. Paul may be a corrupt, spineless and disgusting bureaucrat but he couldn’t imagine that potbelly tiptoeing at night and taping thumb drives onto his car. That wasn’t his style. Coming with a police and KRA goons to inspect his business was his style.

The laughter-scream subsided.

“I never this sent this,” said Paul amidst bursts of laughter, “I don’t even know how to operate a computer.”

Jackson stood up and paced before his seat for a while.

“Okay Paul. We are done here.” He escorted Paul to the door and returned to his seat. To think.

            Someone out there was playing with fire. What was a thumb drive containing all of his business dealing gotta do, eh? Scare him? Maybe fold up his business and ran away? That person had grossly misread him. In any case this person had crossed a line. And he was going to repay in kind. He took out his cell phone and dialed a number. It rang for three times.

“Pick up the phone old devil,” he said to himself as he listened the phone on the other end ring. “I don’t have all the day.”

“David my man, how nice of you to finally take my call. How is it coming?”

“Good Jack. Now what do you want?” the person on the other side asked.

“Can’t I call to say hello? It has been a long time after all.”

“You always call when I you want something Jack. Spit it out.”

“While still on that topic, I need a favor.” Jack told his private investigator friend all relevant details and hang up.

This was just a small complication. His business was booming. And nothing will avoid his rise to riches. Jackson went to the window and gazed at downtown Nairobi. From here he could see all major buildings in Nairobi including the one which Paul worked- Times towers. He remembered how he started his company Vitali investments as a young man of twenty six. He used to import small electronic items such as transistor radios and watches. With years his company grew marginally and now he had two car dealership; one in Nairobi and one in Mombasa. He also had one of the largest import-export business of consumer items such as TV and Fridges. His annual turnover was a billion shillings from all his businesses.

            Then one day he was approached by a group of investors. This group was unique since it required his unique expertise in areas such as tax evasion and evading custom inspections; two areas he had perfected by bribing and colluding with customs and port officials. The investors injected cash into his business to expand and in return they will use his avenue to conduct businesses. Right away he know these group of investors were criminals and drug traffickers edging to use his platform to do all manners of illegal business. Jackson, being an entrepreneur who never lets an opportunity pass him, took the deal. And from that day and for the past ten years his business had grown exponentially. And from the look of things his investors were a happy lot. Although the deal was that he shouldn’t worry what goods the criminals were importing; Jackson knew drugs accounted for ninety percent. Almost several tonnes of drugs in a year; with a five percent cut. In order to guarantee smooth flow of his business, Jackson knew the right person to guarantee it. He had dealt with Paul before- an angry and greedy civil servant in KRA customs department- and he knew he couldn’t resist a ten million shillings cheque per year.

            Jackson returned to his seat. This was his office from where he met business partners and investors and deals were negotiated and concluded. It occupied a whole floor and had a good view of the city and the park to the distance. His phone buzzed.

“Yeah?” he listened for a while then said, “Tell him to wait. I am on my way.”

And with that the problems that started the day were forgotten. He was certain this was going to be resolved soon. He didn’t even know what this was. He keyed in security code and alarm was armed and door closed.

For the first time in his life, Jackson made a big miscalculation.

CHAPTER 2

Francis looked at the girl on the photo. She was a looker. He tried to remember her name but couldn’t. Nicole? Linet?  The name would come close to remembering but it never firmed up. He gave up. The girls liked exotic names. He decided to look her up later. She had great body figure and innocent-looking. He liked the innocent-looking. The ringing of the phone made him almost jump from his skin. He cursed whoever it was. He put the photo- the last one on the shredder and went for the phone. It was reception.

“Two detectives are on the way to have a word with you.” His heart skipped several beats and his breathing caught.

“Detectives?”

“Yes,” answered the receptionist annoyed that a mind like his didn’t know who a detective was, “Police officers from CID.”

“What do they want?”

“How the hell would I know? They weren’t in a very talkative mode,” and she hang up.

Francis was left looking at the phone as if accusing it of doing a magic trick on him. Police? What do they want? This was no trick. He looked across the small office- a cubicle is what it was at the shredder. The last of the photos was gone.  His mind whirled in a supersonic speed. He hadn’t committed anything illegal, that he knew of at least. He calmed himself down and wondered why he was so jumpy. They have nothing on him. And as such the conversation will be a short one.

His desktop computer chimed. A new email. He decided to read it before the detectives arrived. Just to keep him busy and calm. The first thing he noticed was that it was addressed to his personal email account. The second that that caught his eyes was that, the message was a two-line line of big bold red letters. The third thing was the message itself.

All blood drained from his face.

“I am Detective Inspector Coleen and this is my colleague Detective Constable Mark,” the woman was saying but Francis couldn’t concentrate on the rest. His mind returned to the message he has just read.

“Mr.Francis are you okay? You look pale.” The sound of his name returned him to present. It was the man who had asked the question.

“Yes, yes,” he replied with a smile that couldn’t reach his eyes. “I am fine officers, I am preparing for a meeting later today. So what can I do for you?” he took his briefcase and put it down on the carpeted floor. He cleared some clutter on the table. He felt two pairs of eyes on him. He put his metallic face and decided to return the glares.

“We are from the cyber crimes unit and we have a few questions,” said the woman who hadn’t sat down yet. She wore a black trouser, long-sleeve white shirt and a black jacket. Her shiny black boots made small thuds on the thin carpet. She was standing on the window looking at the city below, tall and athletic and hair tied on the back. As she turned to face him Francis saw her hip holster. The man had already sat to his right and obviously was waiting for his boss to take over.

“Cyber crimes unit? Like computers and phones and those stuff?” this could be another thing altogether, thought Francis. What the hell did the message imply?

“Yes,” replied the junior detective. “We deal with among others, crimes committed using and through the internet.”

“Okay,” he didn’t know what to say next and hence a silence ensued. The senior detective took her time to sit and take out a notebook from a jacket pocket. All this time Francis had the feeling that he was being studied and evaluated. Like a predator that studies its prey; to know its behavior, its fears, its strengths and weaknesses before pouncing on it.

“Does my attorney need to be present?” he asked when the silence stretched long.

“Have you done anything illegal?” Coleen asked.

“No,” he fired back. “Don’t even have a criminal record.”

“We know,” and from another pocket she produced a photo and laid it on the table facing Francis. “Do you know this woman?”

Francis hesitated. He was about to just say no without looking but thought better of it. He took the photo casually scanned it for a second and put it back. His heart was gaining speed.

“No,” he answered in what he believed was his most normal voice. His looked at the desktop. He visualized the message.

Truth will set you free,

Lies will have dire consequences. 

“Her name is Nicole,” said Mark. “She is fifteen years old and her parents reported that she was lured through internet by a man who had sex with her.”

“What has that got to do with anything?” asked Francis. He could feel himself starting to sweat. Why the hell wasn’t the air conditioner working?

“Well that is the thing,” said Coleen who hadn't written a thing down, “We talked to her and she tells a different story. The chat history backs her up.”

Francis emitted a laugh as if he had heard a pretty funny joke. His two visitors didn’t even crack a smile.

“That is ridiculous,” said Francis. He was starting to calm down. Only one girl? This wasn’t that serious. If they had any evidence he would be in cuffs or a clingy little room in a police station answering questions instead of his office. They were throwing darts in the dark. They will probably drop it afterwards. “I am a very busy person as it is as CFO of this company. I don’t have time to chase down high school girls. Furthermore, I am a married man with a daughter.”

The senior detective nodded as if she had expected to hear nothing less.

“We took the liberty of obtaining a search warrant for all your computers and mobile devices and right now our cyber forensics are going through your home computer history right now,” said Coleen. “I talked to my colleague who is familiar with these things- a forensic psychologist- and she told me that preying on young girls is an obsessive behavior. Most men who exhibit this behavior tend to repeat it time after time. Some of them feel guilty afterwards, seeing a naked girl young enough to be your daughter beside you in a car or in a lodging bed brings parental instincts and with them comes guilt. And at that time you can promise on your mothers name that you will never do such a despicable act again. But after a week or so or after an argument with your wife, the urge returns and you go back to ether to prowl and search for your next target. And the cycle repeats itself.” She paused and looked at Francis who was trying to keep a straight face, was opening mouth to say something only to close it again until he gave up. He wanted the floor to cave in, swallow him and escape this cruelty. Nobody had ever laid bare his life’s most guarded secret. It was as if she could see deep into his heart. Her eyes shone with intensity he couldn’t define.

 “When, and I stress when, we find that you have been luring minors to abuse them, you will be in a lot of trouble,” continued Coleen, “Sex with a minor is statutory rape and carries a maximum sentence of thirty years. This is in addition to other offences.”

“I don’t know what you need me to do,” continued Francis, “As I said I don’t know anything about girls.”

The detectives stood up simultaneously.

“Okay then. You have nothing to worry about if you are innocent,” said Coleen, “But crime scene specialists will be here shortly to collect you DNA, computer and cell phone. In the meantime, don’t leave town. ”

“And find a good criminal attorney.”

“What do you think?” asked Constable Mark.

“That he is guilty as hell,” replied Inspector Coleen as they waited for the elevator.

“How many girls do you think he has lured?”

“Hard to say,” the elevator came. “But I know there will be many of them. His behavior may have started long ago even before he got married or soon after marriage.”

The twenty-eight years old detective has only one cause in life, to speak on behalf of the victims. She had a degree in criminology and graduated from detective course six years earlier where she was posted to the Serious Crime where she specializes in cyber crimes. Now she was part of proactive team that spends hours on the internet searching for potential criminals, pedophiles and stalkers.

Outside, the sun was bright, skies were clear and despite puddles of water on the street there were no other signs of the heavy rain that had pounded the city night before. They had parked fifty meters down the street and the two detectives mingles with the heavy human traffic on the street.

“So how was your honeymoon?” Coleen asked Mark. He was a recent addition to the team that was very understaffed and underfunded. He married the week after graduating from the academy and this was his first day on the job. He was short, wore a black suit and white shirt. He looked the newbie part, thought Coleen.

“I didn’t go for a honeymoon,” he replied.

“What the hell were you doing for three weeks?”

“There were many things I had to change, plan, discard, acquire and familiarize with.”

“Yeah? I wouldn’t know anything about that,” said Coleen as she navigated through the traffic of downtown Nairobi,

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Anyone special?”

“Yeah,” she said as she gunned the Toyota Honda, “Lady Justice, blindfolded and weighing the scales. She catches up with you eventually. She is very special to me.”

CHAPTER 3

As the interrogation became to an end, another meeting one floor above commenced. Two people were in attendance. The two men were silent, each lost in his thought, their faces grim and trying hard to exude an air of confidence. Each saw before their eyes their hard work and eventual payday disappear, only to remain a distant dream soon to be forgotten. They were in panic mode.

The crisis meeting had been called by the managing director Dickson and chief legal officer of the company Mr. Robert. Dickson was sitting in his upholstered swivel executive chair, doing his classic swing motion characterized by deep in thought and Robert sat on the visitors’ chair separated by a gleaming table between. Fresh hydrangeas flowers were placed on both sides of the table and in between there were files on top of files neatly arranged, a telephone on the right side next to a desktop computer. Behind him was a file cabinet. On the walls were his various achievements. The one that always caught his eye was the handshake with the president. He was on top of his game. The rest of the office was luxurily furnished with expensive furniture, had exquisite interior decor and quite spacious. It was twice his office, thought Robert. This was the principal’s office where staff came to be reprimnded or be given a piece of their boss’ mind. But Robert wasn’t awed by any of this or intimdated. In fact he rarely felt intimidated.

“Are you sure?”Dickson asked. But he already knew the answer. Robert was a person who dealt with facts; checked and verified. Probably twice. A stickler to details with his comical saying that the devil is always in detail. He had made his mission to find this devil. He read the fine writings of business contracts, employment contracts or any other legal documents and flush out anything not in the interest of the company.

“Yes,” replied Roberts as he uncrossed his legs and crossed them again. “I asked several contacts of mine and the gist of it is that a full investigation is underway and should expect arrests to be made soon.”

“My CFO is a child molester and pedophile?” he signed, “This couldn’t have come at bad time.”

“This is bad press once it leaks out to the press. Our strategic investors wouldn’t stand bad publicity and will have to halt negotiations. We need to nip this situation in the bud. And soon before it blossoms.”

“What can we do, legally? I don’t want us to be sued.”

Robert didn’t respond immediately although Dickson knew he had thought about this and had an answer. The question will be whether he will like it.

“I think I have a solution.”

Francis was left trembling. He saw himself in those striped prisoner clothes and he almost fainted. He stood up but didn’t know where to go. Other employees would stare at him and he would feel exposed as if they could read his thoughts. He instead paced around the small office. He loosened his tie which was constricting his throat making it hard to breathe.

His phone rang.

“What?” he snapped.

“Mr. Francis,” said a scrambled metallic voice, “First let me register my disappointment with you for not following my instructions. Whatever comes next will all be on your hands.”

Francis sat down and gripped his cell phone hard. He realized his hands were sweaty.

“You are a dead man waking,” he shouted on the phone.

“Second, I must say child molestation and abuse are serious crimes and you need to think about your wife and daughter.”

“What are you implying?” he asked slowly.

“I am giving you another chance.”

“What do you want?” he felt like crying.

“A trade-off. A secret you have been keeping for a long time with your freedom. Just tell the detective who interrogated you the secret. ”

“What secret?”

But the line went dead. Francis was left shaking his head.

“We got another message,” Mark said a he stood hovering behind Coleen’s desk. On the desktop, she was checking Francis’ background.

“From who?” she asked without looking up.

“lawabidingcitizen@anonymous.com.” that got her attention.

“Have you been able to trace the IP address?” she asked Mark.

“No,” he said, “And it is going to be difficult. He is using a dynamic IP address.”

Mark leaned forward and opened the latest message from this anonymous but well-informed person. This person seemed to have a lot of information within his or her reach. She couldn’t even tell whether it is a he or she. He or she seemed to know way around computers and internet. It wasn’t the first time he was sending them information that was crucial to their investigations. He also seemed to know what the team was doing and they had to check IT systems for possible compromise. Nothing was found. He also seemed to single out her team. All messages were sent to a member of the team which led her to believe they have a stalker. A cunning, brilliant, manipulative and well-informed stalker, with tons of information at click of his button and expertise in computer systems. It made her skin crawl.

The email message contained attachments and jpeg files. The attachments were financial statements, bank account balances, financial transactions and mobile money transactions. It took time to adjust to the complex format of the spreadsheet.

“Financial statements for one Chele Paul,” Coleen typed the name and the identity number into citizens database and immediately got a hit. “Oh it seems he is a government employee. A senior official with KRA.”

“What does he want us to do with financial information of a government employee? Is he related to Francis?”

Coleen continued to scroll down the spreadsheet and then opened jpeg files.

“It seems Mr. Paul is corrupt. From what I can figure out he has several bank accounts under pseudonyms and several shell companies. This is the destination of his dirty money received from various sources of which the largest share comes from Vitali investments- an export import business owned by Jackson Ndegwa.” It was the man in the photos attached in the email.

“This isn’t our jurisdiction. We don’t investigate corrupt government officials,” said Mark.

“No this is a lead on a hunt for a hacker stalking us. We pursue it.”

Mark was silent for a minute.

“I want a backgroung check on both of them and look for possible overlap with Francis,” ordered Coleen.

“I will get right on it.” Mark returned to his desk.

CHAPTER 4

Jackson watched as steam curled out of the cup, rose in the air in a spiral shape and then disappeared. As if it never was there. But the smoke never gave up. It continued to curl and rise. The room was filling with people out for their lunch breaks. He looked at his watch again. It was half past one. He had been waiting for half an hour. Though he table had been reserved for an hour, he felt odd sitting alone, drinking cup of tea after cup of tea. His business partners, the criminals as he thought of them, wanted assurances that everything was smooth. They alluded they were expecting a huge and precious consignment that can make or break their business. Other patrons came in groups of atleast two and they would start having animated conversations followed with laughter. He looked around again. The table faced away from the entrance, something he didn’t like. If he had made the reservations, he would have made it at a pricier and quiet restaurant at a strategic table.

His phone rang. It was David.

“What have you got David?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” Said David, obvious frustration in his voice.

“What do you mean nothing?” Jackson said in a low menacing voice. He wanted to shout. “Someone entered my house at night, while I was asleep, taped a thumb drive on my car’s window with all of my information.”

“Are you sure it was taped at your garage,” asked David. He had dreaded this conversation and he was eager to get it over with.

“Yes I am sure,” hissed Jackson quite annoyed. “Otherwise I would have seen it when driving home.”

David was silent. He was at a loss.

“What did you find?”

“No evidence the alarm was triggered, nor were the motion sensors. The surveillance cameras showed no intruder.” He paused to collect his thoughts. “I checked with the alarm company who have no record of any system malfunction.”

“That’s impossible.”

He looked at the empty table around him and an idea hit him with a force enough to knock air out of him. What if the person who taped the drive on his car also send the same information to his investors? They wouldn’t take it lightly that their operations had been compromised. Maybe right now they were planning how to eliminate him. Fear made him to start to sweat. He hang up the phone. He stood up, paid the bill and like a bullet exited the room.

Jackson was to his car when the phone rang again. He wanted to ignore it fearing further bad news. Caller ID indicated unknown caller. He entered his car and settled in. He took it on the fourth ring.

“Hello,” he said cautiously.

“Mr. Jackson, I hope your afternoon is going well.” It was a mechanically deep scramblrd voice that evoked terror.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked softly. He hoped it was a plank.

“Oh, where are my manners. Let me introduce myself,” the mechanical voice paused. It was flat, had no emotions and no hint of either being male or female. “My name is Opertis.”

“What kind of a name is that?”

“Latin for blindfold. Historically the symbol for justice.”

“When I catch you, you will know what justice is.”

“Talk Mr. Jackson. Just talk. Wherever I go I leave no trail. Just as your PI has told you.”

“What do you want?”

“Not so fast Mr. Jackson. First of all, let me apologize for breaking into your house last night and taping a thum drive to your car.” The voice paused. “I had numerous methods that I could have used to bring it to your attention but I have a flare for threatrics.” A mechanical laugh follwed.

“When I catch you, you are dead man. You hear me?” Jackson shouted into the phone.

“No need for threats Mr.Jackson. I am sure we can work out something that will be mutually beneficial. I can assure you if you do as I tell you, the same information I sent you won’t be sent to your friends; plus some additional info.”

“What additional info?”

“Well, I don’t know. I have so much information at my fingertips. But I guess the fact that your partner Paul is being interrogated right now. And as you know the prick would throw you under the bus to save his own skin. Your business partners will find that very interesting.”

Jackson couldn’t believe his ears. Everything he had built was about to collapse; crumble down to dust. All his hardwork, tiring negotiations, sleepless nights of how to expand his business about to go down the drain.

“How much money do you want?”

Another metallic laugh.

“Don’t insult me Mr. Jackson. If I wanted your money I could have taken it without your permission. I know where you hide your money and how much money you have in the bank.” Just to emphasize the point the voice continued, “I have transferred twenty million shillings to Kenya Red Cross as an incentive to listen to me carefully.”

Jackson felt dizzy.

“So what do you want?”

“All I want is you to tell the world your most guarded secret.”

Secret? What kind of game was this? The demand caught him unaware and made him lose his edge. He had expected to hear something about percentage of his business or a cut. But a secret?

“I don’t have any secrets, sorry. I guess you didn’t do your homework well as you imply,” he fired back.

“Or maybe I should click this button and your business partners who are caught up in a traffic jam will deal with you.”

“Okay okay,” he replied swiftly.

“A secret you have guarded for a long time. Never told anyone. Remember the days you would wake up screaming at night. I am sure those dreams are long gone but the secret is still there. All you have to do is tell the world. Failure to do that and there will be consequences.”

“How should I do that?”

“Call this number,” the voice rattled a phone number.

The line went dead.

A secret he had guarded half of his life? Memories of those days came rushing back like flood water and swept him to the past. The nightmares had gone away but he still remembers the events of that night vividly. It was a night that shaped his life.

And quite suddenly, Jackson saw an opportunity. He knew who the sender and caller was.

Time to deal with this thing decisively.

CHAPTER 5

Francis looked through the glass window onto the street. He was sitting by the window- the table he always took during lunch breaks- and drank the fifth cup of tea. The restaurant was full and noisy but he wasn’t feeling like standing up and searching a quiet place. So he hust tuned out the noises and gazed outside. He concentrated his gaze on the hand motion of a seller directly across from him. It left him with enough space in his mind to think things through. But the hard he tried to concentrate on his problems, he would revert to the seller outside or the continous fluid motion mass of people made. It was as if a great unseen power controlled them. This scenes gave him something to think and left him clam. But his problems couldn’t let him off.

            The day had started well. It had been a day he had been waiting for a long time. A day that would define his career and the rest of his life. It was the day he would have awed soon-to-be owners of the company with his wits. The company was in the middle of a merger. And with mergers came job losses. He didn’t want to be a victim of the merger. And although he had been assured that his job was secure, he couldn’t take any chances. He had bid goodbye to his wife and daughter, had promised them goodies when promotion came and left for work.

            There things didn’t turn out what he had hoped. It all started when the mailman handed him the envelope. He didn’t think anything about the A4 size brown envelope. In his enthusiasm to hit the ground running in his office, he opened it on the elevator to find the photos. No return address. Then came interrogation by detectives, email and a call by a maniac calling himself Opertis followed by summon to the boss’ office. Francis repeated the entire conversation on his mind. He had been sspended pending internal investigations by the company. But he knew what was going on. It was just PR in anticipation when news of his behaviuor became public. They couldn’t have an employee under criminal investigation in the middle of a merger. His phone buzzed again. It was his wife calling for the twentieth time. He needed to organize his minds before he talked to her. Everything was crumbling down. What did he do to deserve this? And who the hell is the mysterious caller?

Francis tried to reflect on his life. It had been a good life by any standards. He owned a two-bedroom house in a good neighbourhood. Though he was still paying mortage, it had been a good investment. He didn’t have to hustle around the city looking for apartments in the city. In his whole life he kept to himself and spoken only when spoken to. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t hold his ground. Each situation called for a careful analysis and adjusting appropriately to the needs of the situation. He tried to count people he had wronged but not a name came to mind. The caller said all of this could pass like a dream if he did one thing; tell the world a secret he had kept for a long time. A trade off. A long-held secret or the worlds knows his perverse behaviour.

“Hello friend. How is it going?” a voice from somewhere in front of him jerked him back to reality. A tall square-faced man exquisitely dressed sat opposite him. He couldn’t recognize him and he was about to return his gaze outside when a face; younger and all-smiles came to mind.

“Hello Jack,” said Francis with a strained smile. “What are you doing here?” he wanted to stand up and embrace his old buddy but there was no strength left in his body. His friend from another life didn’t mind.

“Looking for you in fact,” he leaned forward, “We need to talk.”

“I am in the middle of something. Can we do this later, probably over drinks?”

“This can’t wait.” Typical Jackson. Always in a hurry. No small talk and his need for people to abandon their work to follow him. It was refreshing to see he hadn’t cahnged.

“Okay. What is on your mind?”

“Do you anything about the calls that I have been getting?”

“What kind of calls?”

Jackson hesitated. He was certain Francis wasn’t the one behind the calls but he has to make sure.

“Scrambled anonymous call?”

Francis almost jumped. Scrambled anonymous calls? That sounded familiar. Jackson looked at his friend closely and saw the reaction. So the bastard knew about the calls?

“Yes. I know about those kind of calls,” said Francis. “The caller just made me unemployed.”

“Let me guess he wants you to tell the world a secret you have held for a long time, eh” said Jackson.

“Yes. The problem is I don’t have a secret. I think the bastard is using it as an excuse to destroy my life.”

“Of course you have a secret Frank.”

“What secret?”

“Remember that night?”

“What night?”

“The last night of high school.”

 The last night of high school. Drinks, screams and blood.  Of course. Slowly by slowly the events of that night started to seep into his mind and with them a realisation that made him shiver. That night came in bits and pieces like a bad cd player. They had been drunk and the events that followed made him to just want to forget that night. Eventually he had forgotten about that night. A secret he had kept for a long time? It had to be that night. Things happened that night that he had never talked about. Not to anyone; his mother, his father or his brother. Not a single soul knew about that night. Except he and Jackson. And one other person they hoped didn’t know or see anything. The person didn’t say anything the days that followed and they eventually assumed she didn’t see anything.

“Could she be doing this?” asked   Francis. He could see a ray of hope somewhere. He saw himself not going to jail and he being reinstated at his job. If the bitch was hell-bent on destroying his life then she didn’t learn a lesson that night.

“Who knows? But she is the only person who know what went on that night. She maybe out for revenge after eighteen years.”

“What do we do now?”

“We find the bitch before she destroys our lives and teach him a lesson.”

‘How do we find her? It has been eighteen years.”

“I have a couple of ideas,” said Jackson with his smug smile that said I have things under control. He continued,

“You know what this looks like Francis?” said Jackson as he stood up to pay Francis’ bill.

 “Like the good old times,” said Francis adrenaline pumping in his blood.