HAUNTED
DAY TWO
Fact 2: There are at least 3,000 cases of reported cyber-crimes cases in Kenya every year.
As I grew up, in a lower middle income household, I never dreamt of excelling in life. I had poor social skills, personality and self-esteem issues. My obesity didn’t help the matter and fellow kids saw a kid to pick on. But what I lacked in social and communication skills I compensated in my academics. I excelled in the most difficult subjects, understood the most abstract notions the curriculum could offer and even went out of my way to read further complicated materials. Eventually I would come to realize that this material was for graduate students; although at that time I always thought it would be the course on the next level. It is because of this I was able to draw sketches of a pilotless plane I had vowed to build- to attack my bullies stealthily of course. Yes, understanding the laws of thermodynamics and Bernoulli’s effects at a young age could do that to you.
As you would expect, it wasn’t easy to get that kind of books in those times. And since I wasn’t an ideal candidate for the class’ football or athletics team, I made the computer lab my safe haven; those times the computer lab had only four computers- huge, cranky and very slow. And that marked my first encounter with a computer, which would become my friend for the rest of my life. I hacked for the first time when I was in Form One. I remember because I wanted to prove my biology teacher had erred in class. In hindsight, I can say that was the best and worst thing I did in my life. It was the best since for the first time I felt powerful; to infiltrate and control something. It was the worst thing since the biology teacher didn’t take it lightly being corrected by a ‘mono’, he hated me and in return I hated biology for the rest of the high school.
You are wondering why I am telling you this but believe me you need to know my motivations in life. While the rest of my kids were in the playfield, kicking haphazardly the torn-and-patched up football, I would be at home reading the latest issue of comic magazine to know what my favorite superhero was fighting injustices in his city. Whether it was superman or batman, I wanted to know their heroic acts and their latest gadget in the arsenal. This, in addition to my experiences as the obese, crying, clumsy and introverted kid who the bullies had a field day with, has shaped my idea of justice greatly.
The only person who has shaped my life is my big sister. She was the most understanding, patient and caring person I have ever met in my life. She was also the most beautiful woman I have ever set my eyes on. While other people were quick to judge, reprimand or scream at me, Laura just sat down opposite you and with a motherly look she would listen as I tried to explain the situation. And weren’t for her, the bullying experience would have been worse. She also taught me many things that I have found quite useful in my life.
So, it isn’t a surprise when as I watched her life drain away slowly, feeling helpless all the way that I was devastated and the subsequent depression. It would take years to recover from her death and up to this day I feel an empty hole in my heart and still missed her. In my lowest moment times when the parents are screaming at each other, blaming the other for her death and the separation in the air, I would wreak havoc to computer systems. My revenge to the unjust world. It all started on her last day of high school. It took a long time to piece together the events of that and its participants but I was able to get a picture of that night.
As I sit in front of the four monitors in my secret lair, watching the two people go about their business, oblivious to what is about to happen, I get reminded that justice has a cost. But it is a cost that I, James, am willing to pay to get justice for my big sister. Her anniversary is coming and she will eventually rest peacefully knowing her killers have been punished.
My name is James and my internet online handle is Pionus.
Recently it has been Opertis.
He watched through the window as his daughter ran, pigtails flowing in the morning breeze laughing, her mother hot on her tail. It was a game she played every morning by refusing to enter the car until either of them catch her. Eventually she would become exhausted, enter the car ready for school and would remain calm all the way. Jackson had hit a wall. From what he could gather their tormentor could be dead. Some sixteen years ago, to be exact. Although he said he was verifying the information, Francis knew they were screwed. Their tormentor was a ghost. His phone rang. He quickly snatched it. Anything to lighten the morning.
“Hello.” Outside Lily was running around in small circles. All her mother had to do was stretch her hand and catch her. But the excess morning energy had to be exhausted.
“Francis,” said a scrambled voice. Francis woke up completely, perked up and breath caught. The Voice-on-the-Phone was back. “I hope your morning is good.”
“Ah yes, unemployment is an insignificant thing to spoil one’s morning,” Francis said sarcastically, “Thank you by the way for making me fired.”
Mary caught Lily with her tip of left hand and feigning out of breath she slipped away again. She quivered from the laughter.
“I gave you a choice. The life as you had known earlier was all yours for the taking.” disappointment oozed from the voice, “But you decided to go behind my back and look for me. You defied me Francis and, as I promised, there will be dire consequences.”
Lily was slowing down. Her small body quaked from the excitement. Francis felt proud. She was going places. She was athletic- she was on top of her class in academics and athletics. Already she was on the school’s swimming team and as she grew up she would become an athletic beautiful young woman. He couldn’t fathom the idea of her growing up in his presence.
“Lies and more lies. You know as well as I do if I admit the events of that night I would spend the rest of my life in jail.”
“You don’t know that,” said the Voice-on-the-Phone, “In any case that is not what I wanted to warn you about.”
Mary took lily’s hand to the car. He was furious at himself for not appreciating his family enough. Was it because there was a possibility he may lose them that felt he could anything for them?
“Warn me about what?”
Lily was the first to enter the gray Toyota Camry which had earned him a week-long silence treatment from his wife terming it a ridiculous purchase. There were cheaper cars on the market and he had to go for a two-million car? Hasn’t he forgotten about the mortgage? Mary finished buckling Lily’s seat belt.
“Don’t use your car today.”
Francis shot up from his seat. Now he felt fear like one he had never experienced.
“What?” he was running to the door, stumbling on tables and seats shouting to his wife while listening the Voice-on-the-Phone. He saw her enter the car and close the door. “Why?”
“I may have set a bomb in it.”
The Voice-on-the-Phone hang up. Francis kicked the door, remembered it opened inside, and then ran out shouting. The engine car fired.
Francis ran all the while waiting for the car to turn into a fiery ball.
*************************************************************
“Ten minutes ago, an anonymous caller called the bomb squad directly saying that there was a bomb in a car and a family was trapped inside,” said Mark. He was leaning on Coleen’s desk. He wondered why his desk was farther away in the bullpen. It beat the idea of the bullpen arrangement which encouraged teamwork and cooperation. The Serious Crimes Unit’s other teams had well designed squad rooms. Coleen didn’t look up from what she was doing on the desktop.
“Okay, do they need Serious Crimes to detonate the bomb?”
“Probably not. But you need to see this,” he handed her a piece of paper, “This is the address where the alleged bomb is.”
She looked it once and stood up.
“Oh hell, they need us after all.”
“The bomb squad rolled five minutes ago,” said Mark as the headed out.
Opertis, muttered Coleen under her breath.
“What is going on Francis?” she asked few inches from her husband outside. Behind Lily was playing with her toys.
“Get out of the car. Now! No time to explain,” he replied out of breath.
“I can’t,” she said.
“What do you mean you can’t? This is no time for argument. Trust me on this you need to get out of the car.” Why was she being stubborn?
“The car isn’t responding,” Mary was explaining, “The car started on its own, it is not moving anywhere, I can’t unlock the doors or roll down the windows.” Although she tried hard not sound worried, her voice was starting to crack up. “And….”
“And what?”
“The dashboard clock counting downward.”
A time bomb.
“What does it say?”
“Four-thirty-two, thirty-one….”
Francis’ mind was spinning. What did he know about bombs? Nothing. All he knew about them was from one or two movies he had watched. He wasn’t the movie-type. He wanted to break the window. But the Voice-on-the-Phone could have anticipated that and set a trip. Another incoming call. He hung from Mary to take it. He knew immediately who it was.
“What now?” he barked on the phone.
“Do as I say and maybe just maybe this thing will be resolved without bloodshed,” the Voice-on-the-Phone commanded. From distance, he could hear sirens approaching. Police were coming for him.
Perfect timing.
******************************************************************
Coleen’s knowledge about bombs wasn’t as expansive as she wished now. The only thing she knew about them were the protocols in place when handling bombs; whether unexploded bombs or bomb components. She had only participated in only one investigation- a joint investigation with the bomb disposal unit. And apart from the fact that bomb guys were touchy and sensitive to their toys, she knew bomb disposal was a dangerous exercise considering that they have trip wires, unstable or secondary wiring which made defusing them a tricky business.
She drove slowly through the clear street, whether from the saga going on a distance away or by being early she couldn’t tell. The houses were homogeneous; tiled brown roofs, one-story and painted blue. They all sat in an eighth of an acre, had a small yard. Beside her, Mark was quiet unlike himself. He maybe her junior but that didn’t stop him from saying whatever was on his mind. They came to the scene. Utter chaos reigned. Protocols dictated they evacuate the surrounding area probably within a radius of hundred meters and the chaos showed people weren’t happy the quietness and tranquility of their neighborhood was disturbed. They had paid through their noses for it. She parked the car and they got out.
“We have been waiting for you,” was the first thing she heard. “I am with Bomb squad,” the man continued without even introducing himself. “We arrived five minutes ago, and assessed the situation.”
“And?”
“We don’t know what kind of a bomb we are dealing with. The husband just came to me and said he wanted to confess to murder, he insisted to be cuffed and wait for you. Mother and daughter are trapped inside. The car is unresponsive and we were about to break in.”
“So why were you waiting for me?”
“The husband said a caller had warned him about doing anything to the car or it would go off. The caller also said when you go here to give you the phone.” He handed her the phone. It rang on cue.
“You have now graduated to being a bomber, congratulations. But really you had to bring wife and the kid into this?” it was the first time she was talking to this mysterious person who seems to have a thing for her team. Coleen was convinced they were being stalked. “That is very low even for you.”
“I am doing the job that you people should have done?”
“And what the job is that? Setting bombs on cars to blow up women and kids? You are criminal and I will catch you.”
“That is where you are wrong detective. You will never catch me.”
“Where have I heard that before? Ah yes, every criminal says that. And most of them are in jail.”
“Francis has decided to cooperate with the investigations.”
“Thanks. But I am sure we could have managed without you.”
The Voice-on-the-Phone severed the connection.
“Hey,” she called the lead bomb squad officer, “Get the wife and the daughter from the car.”
“And the bomb?”
“There is no bomb. He maybe a criminal but bombs are not his type. There was never a bomb.”
Coleen hated to be a pawn in someone else game. And she hated this hacker-stalker.
*************************************************************
Jackson was watching news coverage of the bomb threat to his high school buddy’s family. He looked around the dingy little room which served as his temporary hiding place after yesterday’s unsuccessful attempt to locate his tormentor; the Voice-on-the-Phone. He had friends in high places but that would be the first place the police or the syndicate would look first. Yes, he knew the syndicate would start looking for him soon if it hasn’t already. Not to extend some help but silence him. He had become a liability and a threat to their operations. They couldn’t take a chance he will reveal their business operations. They didn’t negotiate nor showed any mercy. The only problem was now to get out of the country undetected. He had enough money in offshore accounts and could go anywhere he wanted. Probably in a beach somewhere in Caribbean. Or anywhere far from Africa. The syndicate had a long hand in these parts of the world.
He was staying at a friend’s house who he could say wasn’t well off. This friend wasn’t in his social class and therefore it would take time for any of the two gangs looking for him to find him. By that time his papers would be ready. He was paying through the nose for those papers and it better be on time. On TV, it became clear that there was no bomb after all. The Voice-on-the-Phone could be very persuading. He knew by now Francis was somewhere laying bare details of that night. More reason to get out of dodge. Murder, drug trafficking, tax evasion and corruption weren’t good for his freedom.
Jackson was angry for being reduced to this. A fugitive and soon-to-be an international wanted criminal. But he knew when to give up. He couldn’t fight an invisible enemy. You couldn’t look for weaknesses and vulnerabilities in invisible enemies. Better give up when you can.
Good thing this enemy didn’t know about his various offshore accounts under aliases. He opened them just for rainy days like this.
*******************************************************************
The mansion is located in Nyali Mombasa overlooking the expansive blue Indian Ocean. It is one of its kind but was being dwarfed by other mansions coming up in the area. But the owner didn’t mind. He had a few other properties around the world including in Miami USA and Paris France. But it is shame since he liked this more than the others. He liked to sit on the patio, look at the blueness stretching beyond, the docking ships and various canoes in the ocean. It is the most beautiful place on earth. Right now, the man was sitting under a canopy sipping a fifteen-thousand-dollar wine wore light clothes and Nike shoes. He was in his early fifties and his hair had started to recede and turn gray. His face had etched smooth lines. Morning breeze made the heat bearable.
“Sir,” said a young man from nowhere, one of his new aides he had hired. He probably had been standing there harnessing courage to speak. He was standing attention like a soldier waiting orders. “Something has come up.”
“What did I tell you young man, eh? Just spit it out and save us a lot of time,” his voice was a growl.
“Mr. Jackson has run into troubles with the law. He is being sought by police,” the young man said as gently as possible. He didn’t want the boss to construe this mess as his making. It is rumored that the man could go from zero to sixty when it came to anger. Of course, no one could confirm that since nobody lived to tell the tale if it happened.
“What kind of troubles?”
“We don’t know.” It came out slowly and the man was expecting to see a gun whipped out of nowhere and be shot. The boss was quiet for a minute as he contemplated this news. He took a sip of the wine.
“Okay. Call our friends in Nairobi and tell them to take care of it.” Take care of it was self-explanatory. The young man didn’t want any clarification or else he would get a bullet in the head for his troubles.
“Yes sir.” The young man relaxed and turned to go.
“And young man,” said the man, “Tell them to make sure the body is never found.”
It is a shame really. Jackson’s platform generated revenue in the ranges of a hundred million shillings a year. But the day to terminate the arrangement has come.
After all there were many people out there who were willing to do business with him.
“He is a hacker going by the name Sparrow. He uses the handle Opertis to contact us,” said Coleen. She looked at her boss DCI O. John. He was calm as ever, never revealed anything through his impervious face. She couldn’t tell if he was angry for not being informed earlier about this. On the other hand, DSI Ali was angry and his face was mottled. His forehead had worry lines that gave him a grimacing look. He wore like a banker; an expensive suit, clipped tie and shiny Italian shoes.
“Do we know who he is?” DSI Ali asked.
“No.”
“What do we know?” DCI John asked.
“Nothing much.” Said Mark. “We do know he is good in computer and hiding his identity. We tried tracing his IP address but his communications are routed through servers all over the world.”
“That is not going to cut it. You have been conducting this illegal investigation and you have nothing to show for it?” There was silence around the table as the DSI looked at each of them. They were all standing around the conference table next to Serious Crimes squad rooms.
“What is the connection between Sparrow and Opertis?” asked DCI John.
Mark handed around sheets of papers.
“These are the screenshots of Sparrow’s signature. On the left is signature left from known Sparrow’s work and on the right, is signature left from messages sent to us by Opertis. They are a match.”
“What is his endgame?” DSI Ali asked. In spite of his short temper, he is a legend in the department and an experienced investigator.
“We don’t know.” Answered Coleen.
“What do we know?” asked DCI John.
Coleen handed out two folders to her superiors.
“First one is Francis Muindi- CFO of a medium sized consulting company in the city-and the other one is Jackson Ndegwa- a businessman with interests in import-export business,” Coleen was explaining. “We got a tip that Francis has a thing for minors. So, we got a search warrant for his home and interviewed him. The next day we got another tip. This one implied Jackson is involved corrupt deals with custom officials and is involved in drug trafficking. We questioned the aforementioned custom official. He confessed to everything.” She handed Paul’s file to the senior detectives. They were perusing the files as they listened her.
“I see there is a connection between the two.”
“The two attended the same high school in the city. They were also questioned in the disappearance of another classmate. There wasn’t any evidence to connect them to the disappearance.” Mark said.
“And the connection to this hacker?”
“We have found none. All we know is that he is blackmailing them to confess to something that happened on the last night of their high school. It seems this classmate never disappeared at all. He is dead.”
“Then logic dictates that this classmates’- what is his name?” asked DSI Ali.
“Nicolas.” Answered Mark.
“That a close sibling or friend of Nicolas is avenging him. One of them could be this hacker.”
“We are trying to locate the family.”
“Where are we on apprehending Jackson?” asked DCI John.
“We have put out a broadcast with his picture to all police officers and enhanced surveillance at ports of entry. We will find him soon.”
“We need to catch this hacker guy soon. Otherwise next time he will plant real bombs,” observed Ali.
“That isn’t going to be easy, I am afraid.” A new voice announced from the door. Everyone turned to look at the tall dark man standing there. He wore a white t-shirt, dark blue jeans and Nike shoes.
“Hello James,” said Ali extending hand to greet him. It was his idea that James become their consultant for cyber-crimes unit. His vast resources and knowledge in computers was vital to their investigations. He greeted each at the table. His hand lingered a bit longer on Coleen’s. He wanted to pull her towards him but restrained himself.
“We had to start without you James.” Ali had been transformed to another being. So, the rumor was true after all. He did help him get into an exclusive membership club. No one knew which.
“No worries. I had a board meeting that ran late. But I am here now.”
“Do you know anything we don’t?” Coleen asked.
“Yes,” he looked her in the eye but broke the contact a moment later. Her skin lightened a bit. “This is no simple criminal you are talking about. He is intelligent, has no ideology, motivated by money without much thoughts on repercussions and a force to reckon with in the dark net.” James paused to compose his thoughts.
“Four years ago, he hacked the Central Bank, wreaked havoc to its systems bringing business there to a standstill for six hours. This information was never released to the public. Until this day no one knows what information he stole. Then six months later he hacked the Stock Exchange.”
“I do remember about that one. Many people incurred huge losses.” Said Coleen.
“What people don’t know is that a shell company made millions as a result. We think he was hired by this shell company. Owners are yet to be identified. There are other attacks Military’s Cyber Warfare Center can link to him. Like hacking the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and compromised trade negations, hacking the intelligence service and downloading all intelligence they had on a particular organization called the Syndicate.”
“Well, he has been busy,” said Ali, “Any closer to identifying him?”
“No,” answered James. “He is the most wanted man threat to the national security.”
*****************************************************
Yes, I left out several things about me. Despite what you may believe about, what you have concluded about me or what you will think about before I am through; I consider myself one of the good guys. I consult for various government law enforcement agencies and use my considerable resources in my company to help resolved cyber threats in the country. Whatever happens today or any other day, I know I will forever be repaying the debt.
It is unfortunate that a mother and her six-year-old daughter had to wake up expecting a bright sunny day, instead they were trapped in a car believing it was their last day on earth. The six-year-old may not have understood what was going on but the fear and helplessness of her mother would haunt her for days to come. It would destroy the belief that parents could do everything. Children need to belief that their parents could do anything. Otherwise where would they turn to when they were scared of monsters at night? It is a belief vital to the development of a child and whatever the case, I have no excuse to destroy that.
In my defense, I will say this: that Francis set in motion the events of today eighteen years ago. Then came his perverted behavior of molesting children. Sooner or later law would have caught up with him and the family would have to go through a more humiliating and traumatic process. It would be more bearable for a child to think her father killed a man eighteen years ago; when still a teenager than to go through the circus of a court trial for molesting children her age. Daughters needed their fathers. Contrary to what you believe I don’t know what happened that night. The night my sister Laura was raped. All I know is what my sister, in her moments of lucidity, would tell me. Mostly it would be the same thing over and over again. I, like the rest of the community, believed Nicholas went away after high without telling anybody.
His family did report him missing. The police interviewed everyone at that end-of-school party. Nicholas was seen for several hours at the start of the party but wasn’t seen again. He had also alluded that he may go to the coast to enjoy his newly gotten freedom. The police couldn’t interview his girlfriend, Laura, since at that time she was unconscious at hospital. The police dropped the matter. Later I would read police reports and many things weren’t sitting well with me. For example, the following day three girls reported they had been sexually assaulted. Also, there were drops of blood on the pavements. The police explained these two things. But the explanation given wasn’t justifiable. Yes, you couldn’t difference consensual sex and rape when all the parties had been gobbling alcohol all night and few drops of blood in a testosterone-filled party weren’t that unusual. The police decided not to pursue the matter.
There are many things that happened on the last night of my sister’s last high night that are never talked about. Whether from fear of intimidation, repercussions, or stigma; that night is full of mystery. Rumors abounded around the school community about everything. For example, the end-of-school party started at the school’s multi-purpose hall and then to a bar three kilometers away as the night progressed. Outsiders crashed the party, bought the drinks for the teenagers and had sex with them. Rumors has it that the owner of the bar, and a prominent person in the area, enticed the youngsters to the bar. And to reward his loyal customers, the person invited them for a night of promiscuity and debauchery with young teenage girls. To me this rumor holds water since he was capable of bribing the police to drop the investigations.
But my sister wasn’t lucky to get that far. Her demise and that of Nicholas had been sealed earlier in the night. Eventually, Laura would be discovered the following morning, unconscious, freezing and almost dead. She never recovered. She was admitted to a psychiatrist hospital with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder that progressed to whole other mental disorders that I don’t want to get into. She spent the rest of her life here, heavily medicated and under a suicide watch. She wasn’t the lively, loving smiling woman; the sister I had known. She became a shadow of former herself. Eventually she committed suicide by cutting her wrists.
Now sitting in this room, looking at this group of people I have come to like, I ask myself if I am doing the right thing. If I asked her to look into the case she would have done so without asking questions. And the beauty of it is that she would have solved the case, however cold it was. I wake up at night and think about her. What would she do if she knew who I really am? Would she look at me the same way she does now? But however, much I try to tell her, a reason pops to mind why I shouldn’t. The events of that night have become a part of me. I admit I have become obsessed with them. And the soon I deal with the real issues the better I will win her over. Yes, as you already guessed I love her. I have never felt this way to another woman in my life. She is beautiful, intelligent, enthralling to watch as she talked or walked. Everything with her is enthralling. She is also no-nonsense person, principled, loyal and understanding. It was a package a man in his right mind would fall for.
And I James have fallen for her.
James was gazing at the blank screen of the laptop. For the twentieth time, he framed a sentence that would start the conversation only for him to do away with it. It wasn’t good enough. He really wanted to pull up his work and finish coding the work he had been postponing for the past two weeks. God knew his business partner would eat him for supper if he didn’t deliver it today. Anything to dispel the awkwardness in the room.
“You look good, Coleen,” James said after gathering enough courage. He knew she didn’t like being told trivial things like how she looked, or how beautiful she is. To her, those were things you told sixteen-year-old who would blush for the rest of the week.
“You too, Jim,” she responded.
Then silence. This is going too far, she thought. If saying it would make it rain nails, then to hell with it.
“So….” they said in unison. They looked at smiled. Awkwardness retreated from the room.
“You go first,” she said.
“I have been expecting to hear from you after you stood me up,” James said fixing his gaze at a blurry image on the far war. “I called you few times.”
“I know,” she replied. She had hoped the subject wouldn’t come up. Anything to stall the talk. She didn’t want to have the talk. But alas, it wasn’t her lucky day. “I have been meaning to call. We need to talk. You know? About us.”
“I agree,” said James heart beating erratically. Us? “We have been avoiding it for some time now.”
She was silent for a minute. What is she supposed to say? She had been trying to imagine what this conversation would go and every time it never went past this. She didn’t know what to say.
“I have been thinking that we should….” James started saying.
Her phone made both of them jump. Damn phone! Where does it think, I will get another dose of courage to start again? She placed it on her hear and listened. She put it down after several seconds. She stood up.
“I have to go and interrogate Francis before the lawyers know what to charge him with,” said Coleen as she gathered the file before her. “Let us talk about this later. Call me.”
“Sure,” answered James who too had stood up. “And I, have a fugitive to hunt.” A moment of awkwardness returned. Nobody knew what to do next. Hug? Kiss? Or even shake hands?
Eventually she went passed him and onto the corridor.
She was shaking.
Francis looked the red blinking dot accusingly as if it was the one that had brought him here. He felt tired, hungry and thirsty. Food in here was terrible and the heat made one gobble liters of scarce water. He was certain he wouldn’t survive prison life. Several times, he wanted to renegade on the deal with the maniac on the phone but the pictures of his terrified wife and crying daughter haunted him.
“You are here to confess to offences that happened eighteen years ago?” asked Coleen. Francis opened his mouth to speak but no word came out. His mouth was dry and throat was on fire. He took the glass of water on the table with his cuffed hands and had to lower his head to reach the tip of the glass.
“Yes,” he answered in a husky voice.
“Start from the beginning.”
He took time to tell the story. A story he had repressed. He had to strain to reach the memories, looking in the past in order to remember some details. But he told it all. At some point, he started crying as the details of the night became gore. He talked about the girl called Laura whom everyone in the class liked and every boy in the school fantasized about. A girl not so gifted with academic prowess but excelled in sports. She was the girl every girl in the school wanted to be with. A queen bee, he called her. He talked about how they planned the end of school party. The administration wanted a supervised end-of-school party held in school’s Multi-Purpose hall but they went ahead to organize another one in a local club. He talked about how they started drinking as early as six in the evening. And by nine in the night, when people were sneaking away from the school’s party to go outside, he and Jackson chanced upon Laura with his best male friend Nicholas. At that time, everything to them was up for grabs. They intended to enjoy their newly gotten freedom every way possible. At that time the idea of Laura appealed to them. He talked about how Jackson came up with the idea of teaching the ‘bitch’; as Jackson, had christened her a lesson.
From there, things went from one thing to another and they found themselves looking at unconscious figure on the ground. Their trousers were lowered and the girl’s clothes had been torn, was naked from waist down, she was bleeding and on waist up she only had a bra. At that point panic set in. Nicholas who had been bumped in the head with a building rock and out as his friend was being assaulted, came to.
When he saw what they were doing he started yelling. He ran towards Laura but never got to her. Jackson took a block of wood and hit him three times with it. Nicholas went down. Now they had two unconscious bodies on their hands. Memories of how they decided to dispose of Nicholas when they felt he had no pulse assaulted him. A new block of classrooms was being built and they saw a perfect place to dispose the body. He talked about how they rolled the body in a sheet of polythene paper, placed it on still wet foundation and started pouring concrete. Before they could do the same with that of the girl, they heard people coming and had to run. He talked how on the days that followed he stayed in his room waiting for police to come. They never did. And as the years went by he repressed the whole night from his mind.
Jackson- a fugitive from justice- had gone underground the day before. He hadn’t been to his house, hadn’t been to any of his familiar places, hadn’t used his cellphone, hadn’t used his credit cards, and hadn’t withdrawn money from his accounts. Any attempts to withdraw from any of his accounts would have alerted them, since the accounts had already been frozen. He seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth; which in reality he would do if they didn’t apprehend him within the next twenty-four hours. He had resources that would make him disappear for the rest of his life.
“This is the last place the camera picked him,” said Coleen. Now she drove slowly in the afternoon traffic looking for a spot to park. Two hundred meters they got a spot on an empty parking spot used by staff of an office plaza. Tough break. “I hope you have your vest and weapon ready DC Mark. Things may get ugly.”
“Of course, I have them,” said Mark as he surveyed the people on the streets and the near buildings. What was a black-marketeer and trafficker doing here? There were line of clubs lining the other side of the street. Well known night-out hotspots for the young party goers. The clubs were known for the party it hosted. The other side had office plaza with the tallest one being eight-story office building hosting several bank branches, a clothing store and an insurance firm. “Why wouldn’t I carry them?”
“Some people get overexcited by the thrill of the hunt. They forget the tools for the hunt,” said Coleen. She took out her short-sleeved navy blue blouse and Mark felt the urge to avert his eyes. She didn’t even give an indication of his presence. She had a black lace bra. And for the first time and as if he had woken up he saw she had what his pal called killer bodies. He was skeptical no man was interested in her although he had seen something going on with the computer- consultant guy. Rumor has it that they have become very close; with an emphasis on very close; since the time they started working together two years earlier. The banter over the radio, the constant looks between them and posture one took in the presence of the other said it all. He had experienced it firsthand.
Coleen put her light green bulletproof vest over her blouse.
“I am not overexcited. It isn’t even my first manhunt.” Said Mark as he followed the suit.
Coleen’s thoughts returned James as they had been doing lately these days. She was going thirty and the most aspirations and the fears of women her age had not touched her yet. Was she abnormal? She was not interested in marriage; she loved kids but had to make a decision yet to go the conventional way or to adopt. The last boyfriend she had when she was twenty-two and these days when she mentioned being a copper every man went scampering away.
Male inferiority and chauvinism at its peak.
“Okay guys, I think I have found your man,” said a voice in their ears. Strapped on their belts were radios connected to an earpiece and mouthpiece. It was James technology and idea to make the team ‘special’. She liked it since it freed both her hands and concentrate on criminals.
“Go ahead,” said Coleen as she exited the car. Outside the heat was un-bearable especially with a vest strapped on their chest. The sun bored on them from high above the clear sky.
“He entered club Victor like five minutes ago. He has not gotten out through the front or rear exit. Coleen looked at the three-story stone building that housed the club.
“Okay Jim. Keep an eye out.”
“You know I always do. I have every footage of the camera in the area with the latest face recognition that also singles out every one with near match to Jackson’s body profile. I can assure you dear. He isn’t going anywhere.”
“Where is the backup?”
“Ten minutes out.”
“We are going in. Put a broadcast out: two plainclothes officers on the scene approach carefully and assume the suspect is armed and dangerous.”
The room they entered was a bar packed with patrons. Some people took alcohol for lunch and she wondered what they took for supper. Arranged in the horseshoe shape, the room was large, blared music that could awake the dead, reeked of alcohol and stuffy with smoke-everyone was smoking- and hot despite the various ac units placed strategically in the room. Some patrons tried to match music rhythm. Coleen did not even look at the waiter but crossed the room to the farthest door.
On the radio, Jim was saying something.
“What did you say? I can’t hear you,” said Coleen as she blocked both her ears.
“I have control of the security system in the building. The door you are approaching require biometric to access but don’t worry I have everything under control.”
Coleen and Mark entered a narrow, blue-carpeted corridor. Well-lit, white walls and dead-ended on another door. Overhead camera followed their movements. From various reports, she had seen Victor had a reputation of supplying the party goers with hard drugs. The management of course denied this claim. She wondered if the authorities had underestimated the amount of illegal activities going on here. No normal club employed this amount of security.
“I don’t have eyes on the room you are about to enter. So, you will be going in blind.” Said James. Just then, the door opened and none other than Jackson came out. He froze. Coleen drew her gun; a Glock 9 mm.
“Police. Don’t move!” However, Jackson could taste freedom in his mouth. He dived back into the room and left the door ajar. Coleen and Mark stood on both sides of the door guns drawn. The newbie did indeed pay attention in class. Cautiously and in firing stance, gun eye level the two officers entered the room. They scanned the room for any hostiles, moving away from the doorway each taking side of the room. The room was large, brightly lit and at the center, a spiral staircase led to the above rooms. All round there were carton atop carton of alcoholic drinks. However, what caught their attention was what was going at the far end wall. Three young women, wearing gloves were in the middle of opening the carton taking the contents out and repackaging them again. The large table they were operating on had two large heaps of white substance. Coleen did not need a degree in chemistry to know this was cocaine. The three women froze when they saw them.
“Down! Now!” shouted Coleen. “And let me see all your hands. Wrong move and I will shoot.” The women didn’t need another warning they went down fast and put hands behind their hands. From somewhere in the room a door banged.
“Cuff them together. I am going after Jackson.”
*************************************************************
His job description was a security consultant. He didn’t have an address or an office for that matter. His office was wherever the job came was. Moreover, as you would expect he didn’t advertise his services. His clients came as a way of referral by word of mouth. His clients base came from those who were on a collision course with the law; those who didn’t want law catching up with them. Whatever the client wanted, he gave them. Clients who paid handsomely were the king. That is why he was standing outside the club.
He was waiting for the man to come out. He didn’t personally know the man but he had heard much about him. Not that knowing him would have change what he was about to do. A shame really. The man had created an empire for himself. He wondered what he had done to incur the wrath of the Syndicate. But really, he didn’t care about the reasons. He would do the job, get his payment, go home and have a goodnight sleep. No regrets. No guilt. And no mistakes. After all he had established himself as a person who did his job efficiently, swiftly, promptly and reliably. His reputation had earned him a place as the Syndicate’s most trusted fixer.
His orders were explicit. Make sure that Jackson is dead and if possible his body never to be recovered. But he had to make a few adjustments. He wasn’t dealing with an amateur. Hesitate and he would lose him forever. His connections and resources as he was witnessing now were unlimited. The man didn’t want to incur the wrath of the Syndicate. He had tracked Jackson to this place where he knew that his contact would be meeting him to give him his fake papers from there who knows where he would go. Though he hated it, today’s job would be complicated since it required to eliminate a target in broad daylight, in a street filled with people and possibly police. He would have liked dark, isolated area, probably in a forest and job would have been perfect.
Now another problem on top of it. Police. He had watched them as the two of them entered the club. That complicated the matters. But foregoing the operation wasn’t an option. Or he too would become their next target. His orders were explicit. Jackson to be dead by the day’s end by any means necessary.
That meant even the cops weren’t off the table.
“Put that weapon down right now Jackson. You have nowhere to go.”
His response was another shot that missed her by inches. The bullets hit the wall behind spraying concrete that hit her like small arrows. He was dragging himself and edging closer and closer to the street. People who heard the shots on both the streets were staring on either end. Stupid people.
“You either put that weapon down or I will shoot you. Either way you are coming with me. Whether in a body bag or in cuffs is your choice. You have ten seconds to decide.” Coleen shouted.
Another barrage of shots hit the wall behind her until she heard the click of an empty magazine. She approached him as he continued to pull the trigger of the already empty magazine.
“Throw the gun towards me, lie on the ground with your hands interlocked behind your back. And you better do it slowly because if I don’t like any move you make I will put two in your chest.” Jackson felt cornered. Never in his life had he ever felt powerless and humiliated. The adrenaline flowing through his body numbed the pain in his left thigh and gave him time to process and strategize. If he was caught he would be as good as dead. The Syndicate would get him in prison. Fear was clouding his thoughts and he couldn’t come up with a coherent plan out of this mess. He couldn’t believe how his luck has changed. Yesterday morning he was looking forward to meeting the Syndicate and discuss how to expand the business. Twenty-four hours later he is a fugitive being shot at by cops and a bounty on his head from the Syndicate.
Mark came running, his gun ready.
“Are you okay?” he asked Coleen who was pointing her gun at the immobilized Jackson.
“Yeah. Cover me as I cuff this bastard.”
She holstered her gun, took out the cuffs and started approaching the black-marketeer who it seemed had become hypnotized. Slowly and without resistance she handcuffed Jackson and pulled him up. She looked at the gunshot wound. It was bleeding but wasn’t fatal.
“I am arresting you for… where do I start? Well, murder will be a good start. Let’s go.”
*********************************************************
The man heard the gunshot and felt relieved. Maybe the cops would do the job for him. No need for him to get involved. He moved with the crowd as it gathered on the street. But to his disappointment his target was still alive. Well, alive was an exaggeration. He seemed hypnotized or frozen in time. The man wanted to take his gun and shoot his target and disappear into the crowd but saw the officers had comms in their ears and were talking to someone. Backup hadn’t yet to arrive and he didn’t want to be around when it did. He decided to re-evaluate the situation.
*****************************************************************
“How long is the backup Jim?” Coleen asked James. She was guiding the suspect through the clear pedestrian walkway. Everyone seemed to have disappeared. Even the noise from the club was subdued.
“Five minutes out.”
Their car was on the other side of the street fifty meters away. Coleen decided to take the suspect to the car and return to the drug hub that was the Victor.
*****************************************************************
The man watched them as they walked on the other side of the street. Clear line of sight. He fired the motorcycle, put on the helmet, touched the jacket pocket and felt the compactness of the machine-gun. It was time to finish his mission. A shame the two officers will have to die. But that wasn’t a thing that would keep him awake at night. He didn’t have the weakness that some people called a conscience. No guilt. After all this was his job and no one felt guilt over his job.
But on the bright side the two officers will be heroes.
He slowly edged the motorcycle from where he had parked between two lorries to the clear road. What stood between him and half a million was only twenty meters.
***************************************************
James looked at the three monitors that displayed footage from any cameras in the one-hundred meters’ radius. Around him the serious crimes squad room was quiet except clacking of computer keyboard and ringing of phones. It had taken him quarter of an hour to find Jackson thanks to a new program that was fast in face recognition he had developed. Right now, he was looking at the peculiar behavior of the rider on a motorcycle. He had seen him earlier but dismissed him as like any another in the city. But it seemed he wasn’t like any other motorcycle rider in the city. Just like the few people who were stupid enough to run to the sound of the gun fire, the man wasn’t interested in the officers rather than the man on the ground. The man wore a baggy jacket, stood unperturbed by the whole thing before returning to the motorcycle where he had been idle for the last fifteen minutes. Now he seemed very interested at the trio on the opposite side of the street.
That is why he had caught a grab of his face and was running him through face recognition. On the center monitor, the rider slowly rode towards the two officers and the suspect. He reached towards his jacket for something. On the screen in front the computer spat out a name.
“Oh no.”
The man used his left hand to steer the bike while his right reached for the gun under the jacket. Everything around him was going in a slowing motion. His sight was on the three people on his right. He pulled the trigger.
**************************************************
Coleen heard it and saw it at the same time. On the radio, James was shouting about a possible shooter. Through the glass on an electrical appliances store’s window she saw the bike slow down, the rider reached for something bulging on his black shiny jacket and pulled a black menacing gun and pointing directly at them. Acting solely on instinct she threw herself on the other two and they all went down just as the glass exploded into million pieces that showered on them. She rolled and came to rest beside a white Toyota corolla. She drew her gun. Beside her, Mark was dragging the zombie-like Jackson away from the open to the next car. The Toyota soon became riddled with bullets holes and soon there won’t safety in its shadows. Her mind was spinning in supersonic speed; developing strategies, evaluating merits and demerits and discarding them. They didn’t have much of a room to return fire, not with a submachine firing streams of bullets at them. They couldn’t stay any longer here either, the car wouldn’t protect them for long.
Everywhere she looked there were chaos, scampering, tires screeching to a halt as the vehicles came face to face with a maniac wielding a submachine gun. Others were screaming, running and falling down, while others they met head-on with oncoming motorists. The street had become a war zone.
“Where the hell is back up?” she shouted to the radio.
“They have been held up by traffic. It won’t be there for another five minutes,” answered James.
Five minutes! Coleen wasn’t sure if they had another minute. She looked at Mark. The kid was holding up his own although she could see behind the façade of manly determination, he was scared as hell. He was gesturing at her.
“What?”
“You are bleeding,” he shouted back.
Coleen realized her left hand was becoming numb and she couldn’t flex it. She didn’t feel any pain thanks to the adrenaline pumping in her system but once she calmed down it was going to hurt. That is if she made out of this mess alive. The crank of an empty magazine sounded like music to her ears.
Coleen turned and saw the helmeted rider revving the cycle. She raised her Glock pistol, aimed and fired. The first pricks of pain shot through her and she had to grit her teeth to stifle a scream.
******************************************************
In all his professional life, The Vulture had never messed up like this. Hell, this wasn’t even a mess. This is a tragedy. Never had an occasion rose for him to flee like a common criminal. It is an insult to him and the profession. He was no purse-snatcher or a bank robber. Those crooks didn’t have loyalty and respect. But his profession demanded respect and loyalty otherwise no one was going to entrust you with a delicate job. You can’t hire a drug-using snitching drunkard who spent his evening impressing women on his exploits just to get a one-night stand to kill your rival who is scheming to bring you down. No. this profession requires a certain finesse and touch. And that is why people like him were hard to come by. He had built his name in the underground like a brand; boasting of being successful in every job he took; efficient in executing it without attracting attention. Hell, he even diverted the attention away from his clients as a bonus.
Now he was finished. He has blundered everything. He was running away from a job he knows he hasn’t finished. A bad career move is what it is. And his client? Well that is another matter. He revved the engine and sped away leaving a crowd of dark smoke and smell of burning tires. He increased speed to eighty in a road of fifty, maneuvering his bike in and out of traffic with hand dexterity of an experienced rider. Were it another time, now he would be enjoying the ride; the wind whipping against him, the smooth feeling of the bike as its tires bit the ground below, the silence of the powerful engine one could mistake it was powered with air. It was a feeling he never get used to. Being on top of the world. But now what he was feeling was anger. The Vulture was angry at himself for underestimating the two police officers. Especially the petite chocolate woman. She was quick on her feet. And had an unrivaled intuition. And a good shot.
The Vulture felt the blood drench his shirt and trouser. The bitch shot him. The pain didn’t bother him. Pain was part of the package of his professional life. He welcomed it. He needed a reminder of his failure. He wanted something to hold onto as he debated what to do with her. Another thing that came with his type of life was the possibility that he may die a violent death but never had it ever crossed his mind that he would die at the hand of a woman. In his version of events he saw himself go down with a couple of police officers. Never in his life was he going to be locked in a cage like an animal. That part of his life he didn’t want to experience again. It was a part of life he wanted expunged from his mind. But today another version of events besieged his mind; being fell down by a woman copper.
As the Vulture left Forest Road onto Chiromo road, he became aware of another bike pursuing him. He gritted his teeth and much to his wounded pride he increased to a hundred. There were few cars on the road and he took advantage to put distance with whoever the hell was pursuing him. In his mind, he already knew who it was.
“I thought she is shot,” James was saying.
“Apparently, that is an enough motivation of getting the shooter.”
Coleen reached with his uncooperative left hand to her ear and pulled off the earpiece. She had bandaged her hand with a torn cloth that had stemmed the flow of blood. The wound was shallow, no major blood vessels had been hit and Coleen from her scant knowledge of medicine knew that it wasn’t serious to kill her. But in the end, she had to go to hospital for the wound to be dressed and avoid any infection. She gunned the engine of the Honda bike to its limit and it responded easily. She pulled the helmet to cover her head fully. No need to take unnecessary risks. Nobody shoots at me and walks away. That is unacceptable to her.
The shooter was gaining distance on her but Coleen wasn’t worried. She increased to a hundred and ten. She left wide-eyed motorists in her awake and she moved in and out of the traffic that was building near Westlands roundabout. She slowed down to fifty to avoid hitting any crossing pedestrians, navigated the roundabout and joined Waiyaki Way. The shooter was disappearing on a bend ahead. She gunned down her bike and averaged a hundred and twenty. Soon she was gaining ground on the shooter. The outbound traffic on the highway was scant. She marshaled enough strength on her left hand to steer the bike as she reached for her gun. She raised it and aimed. Then out of nowhere a range rover from a side road joined the road without waiting for the road to be clear. Coleen had to drop the gun onto the instruments panel and it came to rest on the seat, and tried to take control of the bike to avoid the collision. She slowed to eighty to take full control of the bike which was wobbling. Ahead the shooter was gaining speed and distance.
Coleen revved up the engine, and accelerated again and started to reduce the distance. They were coming to another bend ahead. For a few seconds, she lost view of the black bike. Soon the bike returned to her view. Traffic on the inbound traffic was heavier and she didn’t want to make a mistake of missing her target only to shoot a civilian. She took a deep breath, steadied the bike and marshalled strength on her left hand. With her numb weak left hand steering the bike, she raised her gun with her right hand and aimed. The shooter was less than fifty meters away. She didn’t know what she expected but she knew she was tired of chasing this crook. Hitting a moving target fifty meters away with a pistol is nearly impossible but she had to try anyway. She aimed and watched the motion of the bike. She fired.
****************************************************
The man was feeling dizzy. The blood loss was taking its toll on him. There is only so much that a body can take without it giving up. But the Vulture wasn’t about to give up. Never in his life had he ever given up. Only weak and wimp gave up. He pinched the wound and the pain released adrenaline that subdued the dizziness until his focus returned. Behind him he could hear the red bike gaining on him. And in spite of everything he had to give it to her that she was good. the maneuver she did back there to void a collision with the range rover was for experienced. Too bad the gun had to go.
The man was busy watching out for the other drivers who it seemed were standing on the road. Some were driving erratically and a small mistake would send him sprawling all over the highway. That is why he didn’t see his pursuer raise the gun and aim. But he did hear the crack of a gun firing. The time it took to place the crack as a gun firing and time to react, the bullet had already hit the rim of the bike. He felt the jerk of the bike as it veered of the road, wobble and zigzag on the highway. Car screeched to a halt to avoid running over him. He tried to steady the bike but in the end, he lost the battle.
**************************************************************
The recoil of the gun coupled with her weak left hand made her lose the control of the bike. The pain dulled her reaction which came late. She saw stars in front of her eyes and more pains racked her nerves. That is when she realized she was going down. It didn’t matter what she did. The bike hit the bump on the shoulder of the road. She was thrown from the bike onto the oncoming traffic lane. In the air, she had time to adjust and land on her right side. But that didn’t help as a sharp pain shot through her knocking almost unconscious. She didn’t know how long she had been lying there but she was aware of a vehicle coming towards her. Either the driver was blind or he didn’t have time to brake. She rolled her protesting body the side road seconds before the vehicle blew past her few inches away.
Slowly she stood up. Her gunshot wound had opened up and started to bleed again. The bike came to rest after another twenty meters. Another fifty meters ahead the shooter was also standing up. Now she could see it was a man of forty years, well-built, tall, set jaws, dark with menacing eyes. They seemed to be small bright pods in a dark sea. And he was reaching his submachine. Coleen didn’t want to wait to find out if it had been reloaded. She looked around for hers’. It was ten meters behind her. A small snarl up was in the offing as every road user slowed down to watch the spectacle. Others were recording it on their phones. Today she is going to be the news.
Coleen unclipped the magazine. Four bullets. One was enough. The shooter was crawling away from the ditch he had landed in while loading his gun. Her body felt like she had been through a grinder and every part of her body screamed in protest. Every step she took was like running a marathon.
“I think that is enough,” she shouted while still ten meters away. “I want you to slide that gun towards me slowly. Hooks your hands behind your head and lie still.”
“Or what?”
“I am going to blow your head off you moron,” she said through her teeth. The motorists were avoiding the inner lane. Probably because she looked like a crazy bitch. She looked at herself. Torn blouse, dirty trouser and furled hair and all bloody. Yea, she looked crazy. The shooter hesitated for a moment. Then with a speed she didn’t it was possible raised the black menacing gun.
Coleen may have been shot and bleeding, groggy, in pain and tired but she was also on edge. She hadn’t lost her edge. She was a good shooter even in the most precarious moments. She had won sharpshooting competition for the departments’ team at the police rifle championship twice.
So, when she fires, she never misses.
*************************************************************
Francis Muindi was charged with one count of murder and two counts of statutory rape. Before the trial could begin he suffered a mental breakdown and a pre-trial psychiatrist assessment concluded that he was no fit to stand trial. He is committed to Mathari hospital under suicide watch.
Jackson Ndegwa was charged with one count of murder and, with others not before the court, one charge of corruption and economic crimes and drug trafficking. He pleaded guilty to all counts and made plea agreement with the prosecutors for a ten-year non-custodial sentence. In exchange, he turned state evidence against the syndicate. Now he is under the Witness Protection Program as he assists the authorities dismantle the Syndicate.
The Serious Crimes Unit is still pursuing the hacker known as the Sparrow but have hit a dead end. They designated him as the most wanted criminal.
***************************************************************
My psychologist diagnosed me with stress disorder and obsession compulsive disorder. What that means is that I should never put myself in positions that will bring mental anguish or distress. Those circumstances can lead to full blown stress. But my situation is complicated by my compulsion. Once an idea gets attached in my mind it becomes hard to let it go. If it is a problem I must solve it otherwise I will accomplish nothing else. If it is a design flow in a gadget or software hitches I can go days without food or sleep and eventually stress will set and distress follows. But this is not something I like broadcasting around.
My obsession with Laura’s death and the circumstances that led to it have been plaguing me for the last couple of years. With the help of my therapist I had been able to handle it. But in the end I couldn’t resist pursuing the case. Though in the end the perpetrators of the crimes of that night had been arrested and arraigned in court, nothing has made me feel any good. Everywhere I looked everything seemed dull and accusing. Even the brightness of my laptop screen assaulted my eyes with vengeance. I didn’t want to switch on the light for fear of what I would around. I don’t want that dullness. The darkness was a welcome. Everything was equal and the same in the dark. Just deep blackness. A ding from my laptop interrupted my moment of reflection.
Sparrow: I must say congratulations for avenging your sister.
About time.
Pionus: Took your time to find me. Are you losing your edge?
Sparrow: You may have succeeded in dragging my name into your petty mess but this isn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.
Pionus: You are next. Soon I will know your name and who you are and when I do, I will make sure you spend the rest of life in solitary confinement of a two by four cell.
Sparrow: Does your girlfriend still think you are an orphan? I wonder what she would say if she knew you are the one behind the anonymous calls.
Pionus: Now, now. Don’t threaten me. I have some evidence here that would destroy you in the underground and the dark net. You know how your clients wouldn’t be if they found out you shared their information with several intelligence services.
Sparrow: While you run around looking for me; you remember this I will be there when she finds out who you really are. Her face will be something out of a classical painting. And hey, must welcome you to the dark side. You have sold your soul to the devil. Congratulations.
As I looked at the blinking cursor gathering ideas of what to reply, I couldn’t help feel lost. What am I supposed to do next? It was a question that will have to wait. In the meantime, I have a date waiting.
It is, as they say, un-gentleman to keep your date waiting.
Fact 2: There are at least 3,000 cases of reported cyber-crimes cases in Kenya every year.
CHAPTER 6
I like watching birds fly in the air. How they would glide in the air balanced on their wings, rise high up in the air, circle a little and then glide down. Sometimes I think it is their way of exercising their freedom. Or they could be having fun. I wonder how it would feel doing that. I imagine what it would feel skydiving: jumping from a plane, free falling, feel wind whip you around, the excitement of seeing the ground loom towards you, the fear of being several miles up in the air, forgetting all your earthly problems, the weight of deploying the chute and the slow falling as you watch the earth with its beautiful scenery and its problems coming towards you. That is what I dream doing, when I do overcome my fear of heights. I don’t know when but I am hopeful, as I am hopeful of many things in my life.As I grew up, in a lower middle income household, I never dreamt of excelling in life. I had poor social skills, personality and self-esteem issues. My obesity didn’t help the matter and fellow kids saw a kid to pick on. But what I lacked in social and communication skills I compensated in my academics. I excelled in the most difficult subjects, understood the most abstract notions the curriculum could offer and even went out of my way to read further complicated materials. Eventually I would come to realize that this material was for graduate students; although at that time I always thought it would be the course on the next level. It is because of this I was able to draw sketches of a pilotless plane I had vowed to build- to attack my bullies stealthily of course. Yes, understanding the laws of thermodynamics and Bernoulli’s effects at a young age could do that to you.
As you would expect, it wasn’t easy to get that kind of books in those times. And since I wasn’t an ideal candidate for the class’ football or athletics team, I made the computer lab my safe haven; those times the computer lab had only four computers- huge, cranky and very slow. And that marked my first encounter with a computer, which would become my friend for the rest of my life. I hacked for the first time when I was in Form One. I remember because I wanted to prove my biology teacher had erred in class. In hindsight, I can say that was the best and worst thing I did in my life. It was the best since for the first time I felt powerful; to infiltrate and control something. It was the worst thing since the biology teacher didn’t take it lightly being corrected by a ‘mono’, he hated me and in return I hated biology for the rest of the high school.
You are wondering why I am telling you this but believe me you need to know my motivations in life. While the rest of my kids were in the playfield, kicking haphazardly the torn-and-patched up football, I would be at home reading the latest issue of comic magazine to know what my favorite superhero was fighting injustices in his city. Whether it was superman or batman, I wanted to know their heroic acts and their latest gadget in the arsenal. This, in addition to my experiences as the obese, crying, clumsy and introverted kid who the bullies had a field day with, has shaped my idea of justice greatly.
The only person who has shaped my life is my big sister. She was the most understanding, patient and caring person I have ever met in my life. She was also the most beautiful woman I have ever set my eyes on. While other people were quick to judge, reprimand or scream at me, Laura just sat down opposite you and with a motherly look she would listen as I tried to explain the situation. And weren’t for her, the bullying experience would have been worse. She also taught me many things that I have found quite useful in my life.
So, it isn’t a surprise when as I watched her life drain away slowly, feeling helpless all the way that I was devastated and the subsequent depression. It would take years to recover from her death and up to this day I feel an empty hole in my heart and still missed her. In my lowest moment times when the parents are screaming at each other, blaming the other for her death and the separation in the air, I would wreak havoc to computer systems. My revenge to the unjust world. It all started on her last day of high school. It took a long time to piece together the events of that and its participants but I was able to get a picture of that night.
As I sit in front of the four monitors in my secret lair, watching the two people go about their business, oblivious to what is about to happen, I get reminded that justice has a cost. But it is a cost that I, James, am willing to pay to get justice for my big sister. Her anniversary is coming and she will eventually rest peacefully knowing her killers have been punished.
My name is James and my internet online handle is Pionus.
Recently it has been Opertis.
CHAPTER 7
Francis felt like he was tied down. Like those zero-grazed cows that revolved around one place even after grass is exhausted. He moved from one room to the next, not knowing what he was looking for, or where things were kept. The rooms felt constricting and closing in on him. He had woken up as usual- at six in the morning and by sheer habit started his morning chores; going for a run and then bath followed by scanning the paper’s headlines especially the business section. He couldn’t even watch the TV; he wasn’t the TV type and after all what was on the television these days was crap except maybe sport. Now it was seven and he was already bored out of his mind. How would he survived in jail? A six by eight room wasn’t built for him. He was a man of action, getting in the middle of action. The call from Jackson didn’t help the matter.He watched through the window as his daughter ran, pigtails flowing in the morning breeze laughing, her mother hot on her tail. It was a game she played every morning by refusing to enter the car until either of them catch her. Eventually she would become exhausted, enter the car ready for school and would remain calm all the way. Jackson had hit a wall. From what he could gather their tormentor could be dead. Some sixteen years ago, to be exact. Although he said he was verifying the information, Francis knew they were screwed. Their tormentor was a ghost. His phone rang. He quickly snatched it. Anything to lighten the morning.
“Hello.” Outside Lily was running around in small circles. All her mother had to do was stretch her hand and catch her. But the excess morning energy had to be exhausted.
“Francis,” said a scrambled voice. Francis woke up completely, perked up and breath caught. The Voice-on-the-Phone was back. “I hope your morning is good.”
“Ah yes, unemployment is an insignificant thing to spoil one’s morning,” Francis said sarcastically, “Thank you by the way for making me fired.”
Mary caught Lily with her tip of left hand and feigning out of breath she slipped away again. She quivered from the laughter.
“I gave you a choice. The life as you had known earlier was all yours for the taking.” disappointment oozed from the voice, “But you decided to go behind my back and look for me. You defied me Francis and, as I promised, there will be dire consequences.”
Lily was slowing down. Her small body quaked from the excitement. Francis felt proud. She was going places. She was athletic- she was on top of her class in academics and athletics. Already she was on the school’s swimming team and as she grew up she would become an athletic beautiful young woman. He couldn’t fathom the idea of her growing up in his presence.
“Lies and more lies. You know as well as I do if I admit the events of that night I would spend the rest of my life in jail.”
“You don’t know that,” said the Voice-on-the-Phone, “In any case that is not what I wanted to warn you about.”
Mary took lily’s hand to the car. He was furious at himself for not appreciating his family enough. Was it because there was a possibility he may lose them that felt he could anything for them?
“Warn me about what?”
Lily was the first to enter the gray Toyota Camry which had earned him a week-long silence treatment from his wife terming it a ridiculous purchase. There were cheaper cars on the market and he had to go for a two-million car? Hasn’t he forgotten about the mortgage? Mary finished buckling Lily’s seat belt.
“Don’t use your car today.”
Francis shot up from his seat. Now he felt fear like one he had never experienced.
“What?” he was running to the door, stumbling on tables and seats shouting to his wife while listening the Voice-on-the-Phone. He saw her enter the car and close the door. “Why?”
“I may have set a bomb in it.”
The Voice-on-the-Phone hang up. Francis kicked the door, remembered it opened inside, and then ran out shouting. The engine car fired.
Francis ran all the while waiting for the car to turn into a fiery ball.
*************************************************************
“Ten minutes ago, an anonymous caller called the bomb squad directly saying that there was a bomb in a car and a family was trapped inside,” said Mark. He was leaning on Coleen’s desk. He wondered why his desk was farther away in the bullpen. It beat the idea of the bullpen arrangement which encouraged teamwork and cooperation. The Serious Crimes Unit’s other teams had well designed squad rooms. Coleen didn’t look up from what she was doing on the desktop.
“Okay, do they need Serious Crimes to detonate the bomb?”
“Probably not. But you need to see this,” he handed her a piece of paper, “This is the address where the alleged bomb is.”
She looked it once and stood up.
“Oh hell, they need us after all.”
“The bomb squad rolled five minutes ago,” said Mark as the headed out.
Opertis, muttered Coleen under her breath.
CHAPTER 8
He was signaling her to roll down the window. In return she was signaling something back. In his confusion and fear Francis couldn’t understand her. And any minute this car can explode. She saw fear in his eyes and it must have dawned on her something was wrong. She took her phone and called him.“What is going on Francis?” she asked few inches from her husband outside. Behind Lily was playing with her toys.
“Get out of the car. Now! No time to explain,” he replied out of breath.
“I can’t,” she said.
“What do you mean you can’t? This is no time for argument. Trust me on this you need to get out of the car.” Why was she being stubborn?
“The car isn’t responding,” Mary was explaining, “The car started on its own, it is not moving anywhere, I can’t unlock the doors or roll down the windows.” Although she tried hard not sound worried, her voice was starting to crack up. “And….”
“And what?”
“The dashboard clock counting downward.”
A time bomb.
“What does it say?”
“Four-thirty-two, thirty-one….”
Francis’ mind was spinning. What did he know about bombs? Nothing. All he knew about them was from one or two movies he had watched. He wasn’t the movie-type. He wanted to break the window. But the Voice-on-the-Phone could have anticipated that and set a trip. Another incoming call. He hung from Mary to take it. He knew immediately who it was.
“What now?” he barked on the phone.
“Do as I say and maybe just maybe this thing will be resolved without bloodshed,” the Voice-on-the-Phone commanded. From distance, he could hear sirens approaching. Police were coming for him.
Perfect timing.
******************************************************************
Coleen’s knowledge about bombs wasn’t as expansive as she wished now. The only thing she knew about them were the protocols in place when handling bombs; whether unexploded bombs or bomb components. She had only participated in only one investigation- a joint investigation with the bomb disposal unit. And apart from the fact that bomb guys were touchy and sensitive to their toys, she knew bomb disposal was a dangerous exercise considering that they have trip wires, unstable or secondary wiring which made defusing them a tricky business.
She drove slowly through the clear street, whether from the saga going on a distance away or by being early she couldn’t tell. The houses were homogeneous; tiled brown roofs, one-story and painted blue. They all sat in an eighth of an acre, had a small yard. Beside her, Mark was quiet unlike himself. He maybe her junior but that didn’t stop him from saying whatever was on his mind. They came to the scene. Utter chaos reigned. Protocols dictated they evacuate the surrounding area probably within a radius of hundred meters and the chaos showed people weren’t happy the quietness and tranquility of their neighborhood was disturbed. They had paid through their noses for it. She parked the car and they got out.
“We have been waiting for you,” was the first thing she heard. “I am with Bomb squad,” the man continued without even introducing himself. “We arrived five minutes ago, and assessed the situation.”
“And?”
“We don’t know what kind of a bomb we are dealing with. The husband just came to me and said he wanted to confess to murder, he insisted to be cuffed and wait for you. Mother and daughter are trapped inside. The car is unresponsive and we were about to break in.”
“So why were you waiting for me?”
“The husband said a caller had warned him about doing anything to the car or it would go off. The caller also said when you go here to give you the phone.” He handed her the phone. It rang on cue.
“You have now graduated to being a bomber, congratulations. But really you had to bring wife and the kid into this?” it was the first time she was talking to this mysterious person who seems to have a thing for her team. Coleen was convinced they were being stalked. “That is very low even for you.”
“I am doing the job that you people should have done?”
“And what the job is that? Setting bombs on cars to blow up women and kids? You are criminal and I will catch you.”
“That is where you are wrong detective. You will never catch me.”
“Where have I heard that before? Ah yes, every criminal says that. And most of them are in jail.”
“Francis has decided to cooperate with the investigations.”
“Thanks. But I am sure we could have managed without you.”
The Voice-on-the-Phone severed the connection.
“Hey,” she called the lead bomb squad officer, “Get the wife and the daughter from the car.”
“And the bomb?”
“There is no bomb. He maybe a criminal but bombs are not his type. There was never a bomb.”
Coleen hated to be a pawn in someone else game. And she hated this hacker-stalker.
*************************************************************
Jackson was watching news coverage of the bomb threat to his high school buddy’s family. He looked around the dingy little room which served as his temporary hiding place after yesterday’s unsuccessful attempt to locate his tormentor; the Voice-on-the-Phone. He had friends in high places but that would be the first place the police or the syndicate would look first. Yes, he knew the syndicate would start looking for him soon if it hasn’t already. Not to extend some help but silence him. He had become a liability and a threat to their operations. They couldn’t take a chance he will reveal their business operations. They didn’t negotiate nor showed any mercy. The only problem was now to get out of the country undetected. He had enough money in offshore accounts and could go anywhere he wanted. Probably in a beach somewhere in Caribbean. Or anywhere far from Africa. The syndicate had a long hand in these parts of the world.
He was staying at a friend’s house who he could say wasn’t well off. This friend wasn’t in his social class and therefore it would take time for any of the two gangs looking for him to find him. By that time his papers would be ready. He was paying through the nose for those papers and it better be on time. On TV, it became clear that there was no bomb after all. The Voice-on-the-Phone could be very persuading. He knew by now Francis was somewhere laying bare details of that night. More reason to get out of dodge. Murder, drug trafficking, tax evasion and corruption weren’t good for his freedom.
Jackson was angry for being reduced to this. A fugitive and soon-to-be an international wanted criminal. But he knew when to give up. He couldn’t fight an invisible enemy. You couldn’t look for weaknesses and vulnerabilities in invisible enemies. Better give up when you can.
Good thing this enemy didn’t know about his various offshore accounts under aliases. He opened them just for rainy days like this.
*******************************************************************
The mansion is located in Nyali Mombasa overlooking the expansive blue Indian Ocean. It is one of its kind but was being dwarfed by other mansions coming up in the area. But the owner didn’t mind. He had a few other properties around the world including in Miami USA and Paris France. But it is shame since he liked this more than the others. He liked to sit on the patio, look at the blueness stretching beyond, the docking ships and various canoes in the ocean. It is the most beautiful place on earth. Right now, the man was sitting under a canopy sipping a fifteen-thousand-dollar wine wore light clothes and Nike shoes. He was in his early fifties and his hair had started to recede and turn gray. His face had etched smooth lines. Morning breeze made the heat bearable.
“Sir,” said a young man from nowhere, one of his new aides he had hired. He probably had been standing there harnessing courage to speak. He was standing attention like a soldier waiting orders. “Something has come up.”
“What did I tell you young man, eh? Just spit it out and save us a lot of time,” his voice was a growl.
“Mr. Jackson has run into troubles with the law. He is being sought by police,” the young man said as gently as possible. He didn’t want the boss to construe this mess as his making. It is rumored that the man could go from zero to sixty when it came to anger. Of course, no one could confirm that since nobody lived to tell the tale if it happened.
“What kind of troubles?”
“We don’t know.” It came out slowly and the man was expecting to see a gun whipped out of nowhere and be shot. The boss was quiet for a minute as he contemplated this news. He took a sip of the wine.
“Okay. Call our friends in Nairobi and tell them to take care of it.” Take care of it was self-explanatory. The young man didn’t want any clarification or else he would get a bullet in the head for his troubles.
“Yes sir.” The young man relaxed and turned to go.
“And young man,” said the man, “Tell them to make sure the body is never found.”
It is a shame really. Jackson’s platform generated revenue in the ranges of a hundred million shillings a year. But the day to terminate the arrangement has come.
After all there were many people out there who were willing to do business with him.
CHAPTER 9
“Okay let us hear it,” said the Superintendent of Police and head of investigations Hassan Ali.“He is a hacker going by the name Sparrow. He uses the handle Opertis to contact us,” said Coleen. She looked at her boss DCI O. John. He was calm as ever, never revealed anything through his impervious face. She couldn’t tell if he was angry for not being informed earlier about this. On the other hand, DSI Ali was angry and his face was mottled. His forehead had worry lines that gave him a grimacing look. He wore like a banker; an expensive suit, clipped tie and shiny Italian shoes.
“Do we know who he is?” DSI Ali asked.
“No.”
“What do we know?” DCI John asked.
“Nothing much.” Said Mark. “We do know he is good in computer and hiding his identity. We tried tracing his IP address but his communications are routed through servers all over the world.”
“That is not going to cut it. You have been conducting this illegal investigation and you have nothing to show for it?” There was silence around the table as the DSI looked at each of them. They were all standing around the conference table next to Serious Crimes squad rooms.
“What is the connection between Sparrow and Opertis?” asked DCI John.
Mark handed around sheets of papers.
“These are the screenshots of Sparrow’s signature. On the left is signature left from known Sparrow’s work and on the right, is signature left from messages sent to us by Opertis. They are a match.”
“What is his endgame?” DSI Ali asked. In spite of his short temper, he is a legend in the department and an experienced investigator.
“We don’t know.” Answered Coleen.
“What do we know?” asked DCI John.
Coleen handed out two folders to her superiors.
“First one is Francis Muindi- CFO of a medium sized consulting company in the city-and the other one is Jackson Ndegwa- a businessman with interests in import-export business,” Coleen was explaining. “We got a tip that Francis has a thing for minors. So, we got a search warrant for his home and interviewed him. The next day we got another tip. This one implied Jackson is involved corrupt deals with custom officials and is involved in drug trafficking. We questioned the aforementioned custom official. He confessed to everything.” She handed Paul’s file to the senior detectives. They were perusing the files as they listened her.
“I see there is a connection between the two.”
“The two attended the same high school in the city. They were also questioned in the disappearance of another classmate. There wasn’t any evidence to connect them to the disappearance.” Mark said.
“And the connection to this hacker?”
“We have found none. All we know is that he is blackmailing them to confess to something that happened on the last night of their high school. It seems this classmate never disappeared at all. He is dead.”
“Then logic dictates that this classmates’- what is his name?” asked DSI Ali.
“Nicolas.” Answered Mark.
“That a close sibling or friend of Nicolas is avenging him. One of them could be this hacker.”
“We are trying to locate the family.”
“Where are we on apprehending Jackson?” asked DCI John.
“We have put out a broadcast with his picture to all police officers and enhanced surveillance at ports of entry. We will find him soon.”
“We need to catch this hacker guy soon. Otherwise next time he will plant real bombs,” observed Ali.
“That isn’t going to be easy, I am afraid.” A new voice announced from the door. Everyone turned to look at the tall dark man standing there. He wore a white t-shirt, dark blue jeans and Nike shoes.
“Hello James,” said Ali extending hand to greet him. It was his idea that James become their consultant for cyber-crimes unit. His vast resources and knowledge in computers was vital to their investigations. He greeted each at the table. His hand lingered a bit longer on Coleen’s. He wanted to pull her towards him but restrained himself.
“We had to start without you James.” Ali had been transformed to another being. So, the rumor was true after all. He did help him get into an exclusive membership club. No one knew which.
“No worries. I had a board meeting that ran late. But I am here now.”
“Do you know anything we don’t?” Coleen asked.
“Yes,” he looked her in the eye but broke the contact a moment later. Her skin lightened a bit. “This is no simple criminal you are talking about. He is intelligent, has no ideology, motivated by money without much thoughts on repercussions and a force to reckon with in the dark net.” James paused to compose his thoughts.
“Four years ago, he hacked the Central Bank, wreaked havoc to its systems bringing business there to a standstill for six hours. This information was never released to the public. Until this day no one knows what information he stole. Then six months later he hacked the Stock Exchange.”
“I do remember about that one. Many people incurred huge losses.” Said Coleen.
“What people don’t know is that a shell company made millions as a result. We think he was hired by this shell company. Owners are yet to be identified. There are other attacks Military’s Cyber Warfare Center can link to him. Like hacking the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and compromised trade negations, hacking the intelligence service and downloading all intelligence they had on a particular organization called the Syndicate.”
“Well, he has been busy,” said Ali, “Any closer to identifying him?”
“No,” answered James. “He is the most wanted man threat to the national security.”
*****************************************************
Yes, I left out several things about me. Despite what you may believe about, what you have concluded about me or what you will think about before I am through; I consider myself one of the good guys. I consult for various government law enforcement agencies and use my considerable resources in my company to help resolved cyber threats in the country. Whatever happens today or any other day, I know I will forever be repaying the debt.
It is unfortunate that a mother and her six-year-old daughter had to wake up expecting a bright sunny day, instead they were trapped in a car believing it was their last day on earth. The six-year-old may not have understood what was going on but the fear and helplessness of her mother would haunt her for days to come. It would destroy the belief that parents could do everything. Children need to belief that their parents could do anything. Otherwise where would they turn to when they were scared of monsters at night? It is a belief vital to the development of a child and whatever the case, I have no excuse to destroy that.
In my defense, I will say this: that Francis set in motion the events of today eighteen years ago. Then came his perverted behavior of molesting children. Sooner or later law would have caught up with him and the family would have to go through a more humiliating and traumatic process. It would be more bearable for a child to think her father killed a man eighteen years ago; when still a teenager than to go through the circus of a court trial for molesting children her age. Daughters needed their fathers. Contrary to what you believe I don’t know what happened that night. The night my sister Laura was raped. All I know is what my sister, in her moments of lucidity, would tell me. Mostly it would be the same thing over and over again. I, like the rest of the community, believed Nicholas went away after high without telling anybody.
His family did report him missing. The police interviewed everyone at that end-of-school party. Nicholas was seen for several hours at the start of the party but wasn’t seen again. He had also alluded that he may go to the coast to enjoy his newly gotten freedom. The police couldn’t interview his girlfriend, Laura, since at that time she was unconscious at hospital. The police dropped the matter. Later I would read police reports and many things weren’t sitting well with me. For example, the following day three girls reported they had been sexually assaulted. Also, there were drops of blood on the pavements. The police explained these two things. But the explanation given wasn’t justifiable. Yes, you couldn’t difference consensual sex and rape when all the parties had been gobbling alcohol all night and few drops of blood in a testosterone-filled party weren’t that unusual. The police decided not to pursue the matter.
There are many things that happened on the last night of my sister’s last high night that are never talked about. Whether from fear of intimidation, repercussions, or stigma; that night is full of mystery. Rumors abounded around the school community about everything. For example, the end-of-school party started at the school’s multi-purpose hall and then to a bar three kilometers away as the night progressed. Outsiders crashed the party, bought the drinks for the teenagers and had sex with them. Rumors has it that the owner of the bar, and a prominent person in the area, enticed the youngsters to the bar. And to reward his loyal customers, the person invited them for a night of promiscuity and debauchery with young teenage girls. To me this rumor holds water since he was capable of bribing the police to drop the investigations.
But my sister wasn’t lucky to get that far. Her demise and that of Nicholas had been sealed earlier in the night. Eventually, Laura would be discovered the following morning, unconscious, freezing and almost dead. She never recovered. She was admitted to a psychiatrist hospital with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder that progressed to whole other mental disorders that I don’t want to get into. She spent the rest of her life here, heavily medicated and under a suicide watch. She wasn’t the lively, loving smiling woman; the sister I had known. She became a shadow of former herself. Eventually she committed suicide by cutting her wrists.
Now sitting in this room, looking at this group of people I have come to like, I ask myself if I am doing the right thing. If I asked her to look into the case she would have done so without asking questions. And the beauty of it is that she would have solved the case, however cold it was. I wake up at night and think about her. What would she do if she knew who I really am? Would she look at me the same way she does now? But however, much I try to tell her, a reason pops to mind why I shouldn’t. The events of that night have become a part of me. I admit I have become obsessed with them. And the soon I deal with the real issues the better I will win her over. Yes, as you already guessed I love her. I have never felt this way to another woman in my life. She is beautiful, intelligent, enthralling to watch as she talked or walked. Everything with her is enthralling. She is also no-nonsense person, principled, loyal and understanding. It was a package a man in his right mind would fall for.
And I James have fallen for her.
CHAPTER 10
They were alone in the room. The rest of them had returned to their work. The room had smooth walls and the white coating was peeling off. The walls had charts of Kenya subdivided into jurisdictions. The map of Kenya was divided into divisions and regional field offices of the CID marked in red. Other charts showed crime prevalence by each region. Coleen didn’t see these. She was busy looking at the cover of the file in front of her, tracing the logo of the department on it. Few times in her life had she ran out of words or things to say. But this was no ordinary moment. She wanted to just stand up and ran out of here as fast as she can. But she couldn’t do that. There were things that had to be said.James was gazing at the blank screen of the laptop. For the twentieth time, he framed a sentence that would start the conversation only for him to do away with it. It wasn’t good enough. He really wanted to pull up his work and finish coding the work he had been postponing for the past two weeks. God knew his business partner would eat him for supper if he didn’t deliver it today. Anything to dispel the awkwardness in the room.
“You look good, Coleen,” James said after gathering enough courage. He knew she didn’t like being told trivial things like how she looked, or how beautiful she is. To her, those were things you told sixteen-year-old who would blush for the rest of the week.
“You too, Jim,” she responded.
Then silence. This is going too far, she thought. If saying it would make it rain nails, then to hell with it.
“So….” they said in unison. They looked at smiled. Awkwardness retreated from the room.
“You go first,” she said.
“I have been expecting to hear from you after you stood me up,” James said fixing his gaze at a blurry image on the far war. “I called you few times.”
“I know,” she replied. She had hoped the subject wouldn’t come up. Anything to stall the talk. She didn’t want to have the talk. But alas, it wasn’t her lucky day. “I have been meaning to call. We need to talk. You know? About us.”
“I agree,” said James heart beating erratically. Us? “We have been avoiding it for some time now.”
She was silent for a minute. What is she supposed to say? She had been trying to imagine what this conversation would go and every time it never went past this. She didn’t know what to say.
“I have been thinking that we should….” James started saying.
Her phone made both of them jump. Damn phone! Where does it think, I will get another dose of courage to start again? She placed it on her hear and listened. She put it down after several seconds. She stood up.
“I have to go and interrogate Francis before the lawyers know what to charge him with,” said Coleen as she gathered the file before her. “Let us talk about this later. Call me.”
“Sure,” answered James who too had stood up. “And I, have a fugitive to hunt.” A moment of awkwardness returned. Nobody knew what to do next. Hug? Kiss? Or even shake hands?
Eventually she went passed him and onto the corridor.
She was shaking.
CHAPTER 11
“Interrogation of Muindi Francis,” said Coleen as the camera recording the interrogation started rolling. She stated the time, date, place and the people present. “The suspect has waived his right to counsel.” She finished.Francis looked the red blinking dot accusingly as if it was the one that had brought him here. He felt tired, hungry and thirsty. Food in here was terrible and the heat made one gobble liters of scarce water. He was certain he wouldn’t survive prison life. Several times, he wanted to renegade on the deal with the maniac on the phone but the pictures of his terrified wife and crying daughter haunted him.
“You are here to confess to offences that happened eighteen years ago?” asked Coleen. Francis opened his mouth to speak but no word came out. His mouth was dry and throat was on fire. He took the glass of water on the table with his cuffed hands and had to lower his head to reach the tip of the glass.
“Yes,” he answered in a husky voice.
“Start from the beginning.”
He took time to tell the story. A story he had repressed. He had to strain to reach the memories, looking in the past in order to remember some details. But he told it all. At some point, he started crying as the details of the night became gore. He talked about the girl called Laura whom everyone in the class liked and every boy in the school fantasized about. A girl not so gifted with academic prowess but excelled in sports. She was the girl every girl in the school wanted to be with. A queen bee, he called her. He talked about how they planned the end of school party. The administration wanted a supervised end-of-school party held in school’s Multi-Purpose hall but they went ahead to organize another one in a local club. He talked about how they started drinking as early as six in the evening. And by nine in the night, when people were sneaking away from the school’s party to go outside, he and Jackson chanced upon Laura with his best male friend Nicholas. At that time, everything to them was up for grabs. They intended to enjoy their newly gotten freedom every way possible. At that time the idea of Laura appealed to them. He talked about how Jackson came up with the idea of teaching the ‘bitch’; as Jackson, had christened her a lesson.
From there, things went from one thing to another and they found themselves looking at unconscious figure on the ground. Their trousers were lowered and the girl’s clothes had been torn, was naked from waist down, she was bleeding and on waist up she only had a bra. At that point panic set in. Nicholas who had been bumped in the head with a building rock and out as his friend was being assaulted, came to.
When he saw what they were doing he started yelling. He ran towards Laura but never got to her. Jackson took a block of wood and hit him three times with it. Nicholas went down. Now they had two unconscious bodies on their hands. Memories of how they decided to dispose of Nicholas when they felt he had no pulse assaulted him. A new block of classrooms was being built and they saw a perfect place to dispose the body. He talked about how they rolled the body in a sheet of polythene paper, placed it on still wet foundation and started pouring concrete. Before they could do the same with that of the girl, they heard people coming and had to run. He talked how on the days that followed he stayed in his room waiting for police to come. They never did. And as the years went by he repressed the whole night from his mind.
CHAPTER 12
They were driving slowly through the narrow, congested streets of Nairobi. On the wheel, Coleen expertly and with an experienced hand navigated from the hell that was driving in Nairobi city: unruly drivers who didn’t have time for traffic rules, haphazard parking of vehicles, motorcycle riders who didn’t give a damn about other road users and pedestrians who crossed roads at undesignated areas. Beside her, Mark held his breath expecting anytime to ram into other cars. She drove like a madwoman but he held his tongue hoping she knew what she was doing. Well, if not he would join thousands of other Kenyans who die annually due to roads accidents. But what thrilled him was the prospect of him apprehending a fugitive.Jackson- a fugitive from justice- had gone underground the day before. He hadn’t been to his house, hadn’t been to any of his familiar places, hadn’t used his cellphone, hadn’t used his credit cards, and hadn’t withdrawn money from his accounts. Any attempts to withdraw from any of his accounts would have alerted them, since the accounts had already been frozen. He seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth; which in reality he would do if they didn’t apprehend him within the next twenty-four hours. He had resources that would make him disappear for the rest of his life.
“This is the last place the camera picked him,” said Coleen. Now she drove slowly in the afternoon traffic looking for a spot to park. Two hundred meters they got a spot on an empty parking spot used by staff of an office plaza. Tough break. “I hope you have your vest and weapon ready DC Mark. Things may get ugly.”
“Of course, I have them,” said Mark as he surveyed the people on the streets and the near buildings. What was a black-marketeer and trafficker doing here? There were line of clubs lining the other side of the street. Well known night-out hotspots for the young party goers. The clubs were known for the party it hosted. The other side had office plaza with the tallest one being eight-story office building hosting several bank branches, a clothing store and an insurance firm. “Why wouldn’t I carry them?”
“Some people get overexcited by the thrill of the hunt. They forget the tools for the hunt,” said Coleen. She took out her short-sleeved navy blue blouse and Mark felt the urge to avert his eyes. She didn’t even give an indication of his presence. She had a black lace bra. And for the first time and as if he had woken up he saw she had what his pal called killer bodies. He was skeptical no man was interested in her although he had seen something going on with the computer- consultant guy. Rumor has it that they have become very close; with an emphasis on very close; since the time they started working together two years earlier. The banter over the radio, the constant looks between them and posture one took in the presence of the other said it all. He had experienced it firsthand.
Coleen put her light green bulletproof vest over her blouse.
“I am not overexcited. It isn’t even my first manhunt.” Said Mark as he followed the suit.
Coleen’s thoughts returned James as they had been doing lately these days. She was going thirty and the most aspirations and the fears of women her age had not touched her yet. Was she abnormal? She was not interested in marriage; she loved kids but had to make a decision yet to go the conventional way or to adopt. The last boyfriend she had when she was twenty-two and these days when she mentioned being a copper every man went scampering away.
Male inferiority and chauvinism at its peak.
“Okay guys, I think I have found your man,” said a voice in their ears. Strapped on their belts were radios connected to an earpiece and mouthpiece. It was James technology and idea to make the team ‘special’. She liked it since it freed both her hands and concentrate on criminals.
“Go ahead,” said Coleen as she exited the car. Outside the heat was un-bearable especially with a vest strapped on their chest. The sun bored on them from high above the clear sky.
“He entered club Victor like five minutes ago. He has not gotten out through the front or rear exit. Coleen looked at the three-story stone building that housed the club.
“Okay Jim. Keep an eye out.”
“You know I always do. I have every footage of the camera in the area with the latest face recognition that also singles out every one with near match to Jackson’s body profile. I can assure you dear. He isn’t going anywhere.”
“Where is the backup?”
“Ten minutes out.”
“We are going in. Put a broadcast out: two plainclothes officers on the scene approach carefully and assume the suspect is armed and dangerous.”
The room they entered was a bar packed with patrons. Some people took alcohol for lunch and she wondered what they took for supper. Arranged in the horseshoe shape, the room was large, blared music that could awake the dead, reeked of alcohol and stuffy with smoke-everyone was smoking- and hot despite the various ac units placed strategically in the room. Some patrons tried to match music rhythm. Coleen did not even look at the waiter but crossed the room to the farthest door.
On the radio, Jim was saying something.
“What did you say? I can’t hear you,” said Coleen as she blocked both her ears.
“I have control of the security system in the building. The door you are approaching require biometric to access but don’t worry I have everything under control.”
Coleen and Mark entered a narrow, blue-carpeted corridor. Well-lit, white walls and dead-ended on another door. Overhead camera followed their movements. From various reports, she had seen Victor had a reputation of supplying the party goers with hard drugs. The management of course denied this claim. She wondered if the authorities had underestimated the amount of illegal activities going on here. No normal club employed this amount of security.
“I don’t have eyes on the room you are about to enter. So, you will be going in blind.” Said James. Just then, the door opened and none other than Jackson came out. He froze. Coleen drew her gun; a Glock 9 mm.
“Police. Don’t move!” However, Jackson could taste freedom in his mouth. He dived back into the room and left the door ajar. Coleen and Mark stood on both sides of the door guns drawn. The newbie did indeed pay attention in class. Cautiously and in firing stance, gun eye level the two officers entered the room. They scanned the room for any hostiles, moving away from the doorway each taking side of the room. The room was large, brightly lit and at the center, a spiral staircase led to the above rooms. All round there were carton atop carton of alcoholic drinks. However, what caught their attention was what was going at the far end wall. Three young women, wearing gloves were in the middle of opening the carton taking the contents out and repackaging them again. The large table they were operating on had two large heaps of white substance. Coleen did not need a degree in chemistry to know this was cocaine. The three women froze when they saw them.
“Down! Now!” shouted Coleen. “And let me see all your hands. Wrong move and I will shoot.” The women didn’t need another warning they went down fast and put hands behind their hands. From somewhere in the room a door banged.
“Cuff them together. I am going after Jackson.”
*************************************************************
His job description was a security consultant. He didn’t have an address or an office for that matter. His office was wherever the job came was. Moreover, as you would expect he didn’t advertise his services. His clients came as a way of referral by word of mouth. His clients base came from those who were on a collision course with the law; those who didn’t want law catching up with them. Whatever the client wanted, he gave them. Clients who paid handsomely were the king. That is why he was standing outside the club.
He was waiting for the man to come out. He didn’t personally know the man but he had heard much about him. Not that knowing him would have change what he was about to do. A shame really. The man had created an empire for himself. He wondered what he had done to incur the wrath of the Syndicate. But really, he didn’t care about the reasons. He would do the job, get his payment, go home and have a goodnight sleep. No regrets. No guilt. And no mistakes. After all he had established himself as a person who did his job efficiently, swiftly, promptly and reliably. His reputation had earned him a place as the Syndicate’s most trusted fixer.
His orders were explicit. Make sure that Jackson is dead and if possible his body never to be recovered. But he had to make a few adjustments. He wasn’t dealing with an amateur. Hesitate and he would lose him forever. His connections and resources as he was witnessing now were unlimited. The man didn’t want to incur the wrath of the Syndicate. He had tracked Jackson to this place where he knew that his contact would be meeting him to give him his fake papers from there who knows where he would go. Though he hated it, today’s job would be complicated since it required to eliminate a target in broad daylight, in a street filled with people and possibly police. He would have liked dark, isolated area, probably in a forest and job would have been perfect.
Now another problem on top of it. Police. He had watched them as the two of them entered the club. That complicated the matters. But foregoing the operation wasn’t an option. Or he too would become their next target. His orders were explicit. Jackson to be dead by the day’s end by any means necessary.
That meant even the cops weren’t off the table.
CHAPTER 13
Coleen burst in a narrow and dirty and foul-smelling lane. He saw Jackson running to the street away from the front of the club. Jackson saw her gain on him. He drew his gun; a colt pistol and fired at her. She dived to the ground and rolled to the wall. She returned the fire and a scream told her she had hit jackpot. He saw the big man went down grabbing his left thigh.“Put that weapon down right now Jackson. You have nowhere to go.”
His response was another shot that missed her by inches. The bullets hit the wall behind spraying concrete that hit her like small arrows. He was dragging himself and edging closer and closer to the street. People who heard the shots on both the streets were staring on either end. Stupid people.
“You either put that weapon down or I will shoot you. Either way you are coming with me. Whether in a body bag or in cuffs is your choice. You have ten seconds to decide.” Coleen shouted.
Another barrage of shots hit the wall behind her until she heard the click of an empty magazine. She approached him as he continued to pull the trigger of the already empty magazine.
“Throw the gun towards me, lie on the ground with your hands interlocked behind your back. And you better do it slowly because if I don’t like any move you make I will put two in your chest.” Jackson felt cornered. Never in his life had he ever felt powerless and humiliated. The adrenaline flowing through his body numbed the pain in his left thigh and gave him time to process and strategize. If he was caught he would be as good as dead. The Syndicate would get him in prison. Fear was clouding his thoughts and he couldn’t come up with a coherent plan out of this mess. He couldn’t believe how his luck has changed. Yesterday morning he was looking forward to meeting the Syndicate and discuss how to expand the business. Twenty-four hours later he is a fugitive being shot at by cops and a bounty on his head from the Syndicate.
Mark came running, his gun ready.
“Are you okay?” he asked Coleen who was pointing her gun at the immobilized Jackson.
“Yeah. Cover me as I cuff this bastard.”
She holstered her gun, took out the cuffs and started approaching the black-marketeer who it seemed had become hypnotized. Slowly and without resistance she handcuffed Jackson and pulled him up. She looked at the gunshot wound. It was bleeding but wasn’t fatal.
“I am arresting you for… where do I start? Well, murder will be a good start. Let’s go.”
*********************************************************
The man heard the gunshot and felt relieved. Maybe the cops would do the job for him. No need for him to get involved. He moved with the crowd as it gathered on the street. But to his disappointment his target was still alive. Well, alive was an exaggeration. He seemed hypnotized or frozen in time. The man wanted to take his gun and shoot his target and disappear into the crowd but saw the officers had comms in their ears and were talking to someone. Backup hadn’t yet to arrive and he didn’t want to be around when it did. He decided to re-evaluate the situation.
*****************************************************************
“How long is the backup Jim?” Coleen asked James. She was guiding the suspect through the clear pedestrian walkway. Everyone seemed to have disappeared. Even the noise from the club was subdued.
“Five minutes out.”
Their car was on the other side of the street fifty meters away. Coleen decided to take the suspect to the car and return to the drug hub that was the Victor.
*****************************************************************
The man watched them as they walked on the other side of the street. Clear line of sight. He fired the motorcycle, put on the helmet, touched the jacket pocket and felt the compactness of the machine-gun. It was time to finish his mission. A shame the two officers will have to die. But that wasn’t a thing that would keep him awake at night. He didn’t have the weakness that some people called a conscience. No guilt. After all this was his job and no one felt guilt over his job.
But on the bright side the two officers will be heroes.
He slowly edged the motorcycle from where he had parked between two lorries to the clear road. What stood between him and half a million was only twenty meters.
***************************************************
James looked at the three monitors that displayed footage from any cameras in the one-hundred meters’ radius. Around him the serious crimes squad room was quiet except clacking of computer keyboard and ringing of phones. It had taken him quarter of an hour to find Jackson thanks to a new program that was fast in face recognition he had developed. Right now, he was looking at the peculiar behavior of the rider on a motorcycle. He had seen him earlier but dismissed him as like any another in the city. But it seemed he wasn’t like any other motorcycle rider in the city. Just like the few people who were stupid enough to run to the sound of the gun fire, the man wasn’t interested in the officers rather than the man on the ground. The man wore a baggy jacket, stood unperturbed by the whole thing before returning to the motorcycle where he had been idle for the last fifteen minutes. Now he seemed very interested at the trio on the opposite side of the street.
That is why he had caught a grab of his face and was running him through face recognition. On the center monitor, the rider slowly rode towards the two officers and the suspect. He reached towards his jacket for something. On the screen in front the computer spat out a name.
“Oh no.”
CHAPTER 14
Five meters.The man used his left hand to steer the bike while his right reached for the gun under the jacket. Everything around him was going in a slowing motion. His sight was on the three people on his right. He pulled the trigger.
**************************************************
Coleen heard it and saw it at the same time. On the radio, James was shouting about a possible shooter. Through the glass on an electrical appliances store’s window she saw the bike slow down, the rider reached for something bulging on his black shiny jacket and pulled a black menacing gun and pointing directly at them. Acting solely on instinct she threw herself on the other two and they all went down just as the glass exploded into million pieces that showered on them. She rolled and came to rest beside a white Toyota corolla. She drew her gun. Beside her, Mark was dragging the zombie-like Jackson away from the open to the next car. The Toyota soon became riddled with bullets holes and soon there won’t safety in its shadows. Her mind was spinning in supersonic speed; developing strategies, evaluating merits and demerits and discarding them. They didn’t have much of a room to return fire, not with a submachine firing streams of bullets at them. They couldn’t stay any longer here either, the car wouldn’t protect them for long.
Everywhere she looked there were chaos, scampering, tires screeching to a halt as the vehicles came face to face with a maniac wielding a submachine gun. Others were screaming, running and falling down, while others they met head-on with oncoming motorists. The street had become a war zone.
“Where the hell is back up?” she shouted to the radio.
“They have been held up by traffic. It won’t be there for another five minutes,” answered James.
Five minutes! Coleen wasn’t sure if they had another minute. She looked at Mark. The kid was holding up his own although she could see behind the façade of manly determination, he was scared as hell. He was gesturing at her.
“What?”
“You are bleeding,” he shouted back.
Coleen realized her left hand was becoming numb and she couldn’t flex it. She didn’t feel any pain thanks to the adrenaline pumping in her system but once she calmed down it was going to hurt. That is if she made out of this mess alive. The crank of an empty magazine sounded like music to her ears.
Coleen turned and saw the helmeted rider revving the cycle. She raised her Glock pistol, aimed and fired. The first pricks of pain shot through her and she had to grit her teeth to stifle a scream.
******************************************************
In all his professional life, The Vulture had never messed up like this. Hell, this wasn’t even a mess. This is a tragedy. Never had an occasion rose for him to flee like a common criminal. It is an insult to him and the profession. He was no purse-snatcher or a bank robber. Those crooks didn’t have loyalty and respect. But his profession demanded respect and loyalty otherwise no one was going to entrust you with a delicate job. You can’t hire a drug-using snitching drunkard who spent his evening impressing women on his exploits just to get a one-night stand to kill your rival who is scheming to bring you down. No. this profession requires a certain finesse and touch. And that is why people like him were hard to come by. He had built his name in the underground like a brand; boasting of being successful in every job he took; efficient in executing it without attracting attention. Hell, he even diverted the attention away from his clients as a bonus.
Now he was finished. He has blundered everything. He was running away from a job he knows he hasn’t finished. A bad career move is what it is. And his client? Well that is another matter. He revved the engine and sped away leaving a crowd of dark smoke and smell of burning tires. He increased speed to eighty in a road of fifty, maneuvering his bike in and out of traffic with hand dexterity of an experienced rider. Were it another time, now he would be enjoying the ride; the wind whipping against him, the smooth feeling of the bike as its tires bit the ground below, the silence of the powerful engine one could mistake it was powered with air. It was a feeling he never get used to. Being on top of the world. But now what he was feeling was anger. The Vulture was angry at himself for underestimating the two police officers. Especially the petite chocolate woman. She was quick on her feet. And had an unrivaled intuition. And a good shot.
The Vulture felt the blood drench his shirt and trouser. The bitch shot him. The pain didn’t bother him. Pain was part of the package of his professional life. He welcomed it. He needed a reminder of his failure. He wanted something to hold onto as he debated what to do with her. Another thing that came with his type of life was the possibility that he may die a violent death but never had it ever crossed his mind that he would die at the hand of a woman. In his version of events he saw himself go down with a couple of police officers. Never in his life was he going to be locked in a cage like an animal. That part of his life he didn’t want to experience again. It was a part of life he wanted expunged from his mind. But today another version of events besieged his mind; being fell down by a woman copper.
As the Vulture left Forest Road onto Chiromo road, he became aware of another bike pursuing him. He gritted his teeth and much to his wounded pride he increased to a hundred. There were few cars on the road and he took advantage to put distance with whoever the hell was pursuing him. In his mind, he already knew who it was.
CHAPTER 15
“What the hell do you think you are doing?” Asked DCI John. But Coleen wasn’t listening to the radio. “Acknowledge Inspector.”“I thought she is shot,” James was saying.
“Apparently, that is an enough motivation of getting the shooter.”
Coleen reached with his uncooperative left hand to her ear and pulled off the earpiece. She had bandaged her hand with a torn cloth that had stemmed the flow of blood. The wound was shallow, no major blood vessels had been hit and Coleen from her scant knowledge of medicine knew that it wasn’t serious to kill her. But in the end, she had to go to hospital for the wound to be dressed and avoid any infection. She gunned the engine of the Honda bike to its limit and it responded easily. She pulled the helmet to cover her head fully. No need to take unnecessary risks. Nobody shoots at me and walks away. That is unacceptable to her.
The shooter was gaining distance on her but Coleen wasn’t worried. She increased to a hundred and ten. She left wide-eyed motorists in her awake and she moved in and out of the traffic that was building near Westlands roundabout. She slowed down to fifty to avoid hitting any crossing pedestrians, navigated the roundabout and joined Waiyaki Way. The shooter was disappearing on a bend ahead. She gunned down her bike and averaged a hundred and twenty. Soon she was gaining ground on the shooter. The outbound traffic on the highway was scant. She marshaled enough strength on her left hand to steer the bike as she reached for her gun. She raised it and aimed. Then out of nowhere a range rover from a side road joined the road without waiting for the road to be clear. Coleen had to drop the gun onto the instruments panel and it came to rest on the seat, and tried to take control of the bike to avoid the collision. She slowed to eighty to take full control of the bike which was wobbling. Ahead the shooter was gaining speed and distance.
Coleen revved up the engine, and accelerated again and started to reduce the distance. They were coming to another bend ahead. For a few seconds, she lost view of the black bike. Soon the bike returned to her view. Traffic on the inbound traffic was heavier and she didn’t want to make a mistake of missing her target only to shoot a civilian. She took a deep breath, steadied the bike and marshalled strength on her left hand. With her numb weak left hand steering the bike, she raised her gun with her right hand and aimed. The shooter was less than fifty meters away. She didn’t know what she expected but she knew she was tired of chasing this crook. Hitting a moving target fifty meters away with a pistol is nearly impossible but she had to try anyway. She aimed and watched the motion of the bike. She fired.
****************************************************
The man was feeling dizzy. The blood loss was taking its toll on him. There is only so much that a body can take without it giving up. But the Vulture wasn’t about to give up. Never in his life had he ever given up. Only weak and wimp gave up. He pinched the wound and the pain released adrenaline that subdued the dizziness until his focus returned. Behind him he could hear the red bike gaining on him. And in spite of everything he had to give it to her that she was good. the maneuver she did back there to void a collision with the range rover was for experienced. Too bad the gun had to go.
The man was busy watching out for the other drivers who it seemed were standing on the road. Some were driving erratically and a small mistake would send him sprawling all over the highway. That is why he didn’t see his pursuer raise the gun and aim. But he did hear the crack of a gun firing. The time it took to place the crack as a gun firing and time to react, the bullet had already hit the rim of the bike. He felt the jerk of the bike as it veered of the road, wobble and zigzag on the highway. Car screeched to a halt to avoid running over him. He tried to steady the bike but in the end, he lost the battle.
**************************************************************
The recoil of the gun coupled with her weak left hand made her lose the control of the bike. The pain dulled her reaction which came late. She saw stars in front of her eyes and more pains racked her nerves. That is when she realized she was going down. It didn’t matter what she did. The bike hit the bump on the shoulder of the road. She was thrown from the bike onto the oncoming traffic lane. In the air, she had time to adjust and land on her right side. But that didn’t help as a sharp pain shot through her knocking almost unconscious. She didn’t know how long she had been lying there but she was aware of a vehicle coming towards her. Either the driver was blind or he didn’t have time to brake. She rolled her protesting body the side road seconds before the vehicle blew past her few inches away.
Slowly she stood up. Her gunshot wound had opened up and started to bleed again. The bike came to rest after another twenty meters. Another fifty meters ahead the shooter was also standing up. Now she could see it was a man of forty years, well-built, tall, set jaws, dark with menacing eyes. They seemed to be small bright pods in a dark sea. And he was reaching his submachine. Coleen didn’t want to wait to find out if it had been reloaded. She looked around for hers’. It was ten meters behind her. A small snarl up was in the offing as every road user slowed down to watch the spectacle. Others were recording it on their phones. Today she is going to be the news.
Coleen unclipped the magazine. Four bullets. One was enough. The shooter was crawling away from the ditch he had landed in while loading his gun. Her body felt like she had been through a grinder and every part of her body screamed in protest. Every step she took was like running a marathon.
“I think that is enough,” she shouted while still ten meters away. “I want you to slide that gun towards me slowly. Hooks your hands behind your head and lie still.”
“Or what?”
“I am going to blow your head off you moron,” she said through her teeth. The motorists were avoiding the inner lane. Probably because she looked like a crazy bitch. She looked at herself. Torn blouse, dirty trouser and furled hair and all bloody. Yea, she looked crazy. The shooter hesitated for a moment. Then with a speed she didn’t it was possible raised the black menacing gun.
Coleen may have been shot and bleeding, groggy, in pain and tired but she was also on edge. She hadn’t lost her edge. She was a good shooter even in the most precarious moments. She had won sharpshooting competition for the departments’ team at the police rifle championship twice.
So, when she fires, she never misses.
EPILOGUE
The body of Nicolas was found in the floor of new classroom block of his former high school. The body had been well preserved for a corpse of eighteen years. There was evidence of blunt force trauma to the head which caused hematoma but not death. All fingernails of his hands had broken off and fingertips scared. Cement dust was found in his trachea and lungs. A consultant forensic anthropologist determined the cause of death as asphyxiation due to acute lack of air.*************************************************************
Francis Muindi was charged with one count of murder and two counts of statutory rape. Before the trial could begin he suffered a mental breakdown and a pre-trial psychiatrist assessment concluded that he was no fit to stand trial. He is committed to Mathari hospital under suicide watch.
Jackson Ndegwa was charged with one count of murder and, with others not before the court, one charge of corruption and economic crimes and drug trafficking. He pleaded guilty to all counts and made plea agreement with the prosecutors for a ten-year non-custodial sentence. In exchange, he turned state evidence against the syndicate. Now he is under the Witness Protection Program as he assists the authorities dismantle the Syndicate.
The Serious Crimes Unit is still pursuing the hacker known as the Sparrow but have hit a dead end. They designated him as the most wanted criminal.
***************************************************************
My psychologist diagnosed me with stress disorder and obsession compulsive disorder. What that means is that I should never put myself in positions that will bring mental anguish or distress. Those circumstances can lead to full blown stress. But my situation is complicated by my compulsion. Once an idea gets attached in my mind it becomes hard to let it go. If it is a problem I must solve it otherwise I will accomplish nothing else. If it is a design flow in a gadget or software hitches I can go days without food or sleep and eventually stress will set and distress follows. But this is not something I like broadcasting around.
My obsession with Laura’s death and the circumstances that led to it have been plaguing me for the last couple of years. With the help of my therapist I had been able to handle it. But in the end I couldn’t resist pursuing the case. Though in the end the perpetrators of the crimes of that night had been arrested and arraigned in court, nothing has made me feel any good. Everywhere I looked everything seemed dull and accusing. Even the brightness of my laptop screen assaulted my eyes with vengeance. I didn’t want to switch on the light for fear of what I would around. I don’t want that dullness. The darkness was a welcome. Everything was equal and the same in the dark. Just deep blackness. A ding from my laptop interrupted my moment of reflection.
Sparrow: I must say congratulations for avenging your sister.
About time.
Pionus: Took your time to find me. Are you losing your edge?
Sparrow: You may have succeeded in dragging my name into your petty mess but this isn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.
Pionus: You are next. Soon I will know your name and who you are and when I do, I will make sure you spend the rest of life in solitary confinement of a two by four cell.
Sparrow: Does your girlfriend still think you are an orphan? I wonder what she would say if she knew you are the one behind the anonymous calls.
Pionus: Now, now. Don’t threaten me. I have some evidence here that would destroy you in the underground and the dark net. You know how your clients wouldn’t be if they found out you shared their information with several intelligence services.
Sparrow: While you run around looking for me; you remember this I will be there when she finds out who you really are. Her face will be something out of a classical painting. And hey, must welcome you to the dark side. You have sold your soul to the devil. Congratulations.
As I looked at the blinking cursor gathering ideas of what to reply, I couldn’t help feel lost. What am I supposed to do next? It was a question that will have to wait. In the meantime, I have a date waiting.
It is, as they say, un-gentleman to keep your date waiting.
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