Twisted Times: Son of Man (Twisted Times Trilogy Book 1) (13 page)

“What do you mean?” the boss asked. “You are such a disgrace, a disappointment.”

“I know that, but how was I to know that somebody didn’t see me. There’re always loose ends in everything.”

“Loose ends are tied, Ken.”

Ken was taken aback if not flabbergasted. He knew what that meant. Kennedy aka Son of Man, as he sometimes called himself, trembled. He almost showed it, but he did not allow himself to show the trepidation. He had to be strong.

“No. Not all loose ends should be tied. Not this one, Urbanas.”

“It’s your mistake, and you know that mistakes are not allowed. Not when they can compromise everybody.”

“I told you. She’s my girlfriend.”

“She’d be a sacrifice. That’s why the tincture of sacrifice, blood, is adored everywhere – it grants the living bountiful harvests, peaceful and happy lives.”

“Unfortunately I don’t buy to that preposterous idea…”

“You don’t have to buy into anything.”

“I don’t believe this is happening. You can’t just kill her. She is more than you think.”

“I told you – no emotions. Emotions are a bummer; they come in the way of clear thinking.”

“What would you do if it were you in my situation?”

Urbanas said nothing for a moment, then “I have nothing to tell you, SOM. I just want you to tie your loose ends, and remember, your means should not compromise us, and me especially. Furthermore, we can’t afford an investigation.”

SOM was lost for words. He had thought he would get a solution from the boss, but it seemed that none was forthcoming. To kill the woman he had loved, and still loved? Nay! Urbanas had said that it was up to him to do what he had to without compromising the others. He had a decision to make.

At the back of his mind Ken heard the heavily accentuated passionate words of Kate –
Please Ken; I beg you, stop what you are up to…

As Ken shut the door behind him as he got out of Urbanas’ Madonna Hostels room he heard him say, “Be careful in what you are planning to do. Think, Ken.”

It was the second time Urbanas had called him by name – he never did.

I told Urbanas of what Kate had told me. He wanted Kate dead – he called it tying the loose end. That’s what they did to William Gicheru whom I replaced. His fiancée was in her last trimester when she met her demise. It was a clean accident, and though William Gicheru claimed that he was sure that it was not an accident and that he knew who had killed her he did not push further. He did not even disclose the members of the gang he had left. He just gave a newspaper account of what they used to do – crimes they perpetrated, tactics used, how they evaded the police, their targets and why he quit – things written down on newspapers but not exactly what the gang did.

I couldn’t just go and kill Kate. No. I did not hate and resent her that much. Urbanas had given me the go ahead to do what it took to tie the loose end without compromising Mavis. I had a tough decision to make. It was either Kate or me; something had to be done.

I decided to give myself time to think; some time alone. From the very beginning I was not feeling right about the whole business. I should have followed my instincts from the beginning, but I didn’t. I was badly in need of money. Now I was in dilemma. I still wanted easy money, but I couldn’t just kill the woman I had loved and held so dearly and probably still loved, for the sake of the gang.

Days that week passed as though they were running from something chasing them. It was Saturday without even knowing it and we had a job once again. I could do this; it involved no taking of life. The only thing that disturbed me was the fact that we’re going to desecrate my uncle’s grave. I had told no one that he was my uncle the moment I knew where we were headed, but they could tell that I was not to myself.

“Is it about your girl, SOM? I told you to have no feelings. You can’t afford to be behind those malodorous cells for years by not smothering your emotions,” Urbanas said.

“It’s not that, believe me. I’m fine.”

“I know that ‘I’m fine’ comment, Ken. There’s something wrong with you.”

“I don’t know… maybe, but I think am fine.”

“You are not here to think, Ken. You’re here to do what you are supposed to do.”

“Then leave the fuck alone with me. I am going to do what is exactly expected of me to do.”

He said nothing, but I knew the look I saw on his face. He was beginning to doubt me.

It was at about eleven o’clock at night when we arrived at my uncle’s Makongeni home in Thika. Except for the lights that were still on in the living house everything else looked just dead and buried like him. It was long after midnight when we started to work on the fresh grave.

The congenital human apprehension for graves got the better of me this time, something that had long been gone. I had this feeling that it was against all rules of morality to be in such a place, especially when I knew who the victim here was. What disrespect to the dead?

Everything went on smoothly as usual, but all hell on earth burst loose on our way back to our finishing room – that’s what we called our rented room meant for sharing the loot and keeping caskets before selling them to our contacts – at Kileleshwa.

We ran into the police on patrol. Or rather the police were waiting for us. The mistake was that we’re in another gang’s territory.

The police had a welcome party for us.

“What’s wrong with you big bro?”

“Do I seem as though I have a problem?”

“That doesn’t sound good, bro. I am just afraid for you.”

“What the heck should a ghost give a damn for? Remember you are just ectoplasm.”

“I do not approve of what you are doing, Ken, but as your brother I defend to death your right to do it.”

“For how long am I going to tell you that I am your elder brother and you’ve got no right to question my stand on certain issues? And in case you have forgotten, you are already dead.”

“You mortals are so proud, and that pride is your downfall. Why do you despise your little brethren as naïve? You should learn to listen.”

“You are not my teacher, not in the least.”

“I do not want you to meet an untimely death, Ken. I love you; you know I did love you.”

“But we were always fighting and I always won. I doubt whether you ever liked me. You always wished me harm.”

“That was then when I was like you, but this is now when I’m better than you – mature.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“You can’t run away from reality.”

“I’m not running, and if I was running I stopped running a long time ago. No more masquerades behind me.”

“That’s what you think. I’m always watching over you, wanting to warn you not to rush in where even the angels fear to tread.”

“What do you think you are? Guardian angel?”

“On the contrary, I am more than that. The guardian angel does not talk to you to tell you where you are going wrong, but I am doing so, Ken.”

“You are just a dream, nothing more.”

“You know you are one hell of a sneaky son of a bitch.”

“And that bitch was your mother, remember…”

“That’s not what I meant. You are so fucked up. Do you think Uncle Job is happy?”

“I don’t like him… I never did, but what does he care. He’s just like you – ectoplasm.”

“What you are doing isn’t good, brother. I see Lucifer himself in people like you.”

“Now you are crossing the borders. If you ever cross that line…”

“What? I must tell you.”

“I have got nothing to hear, Danny. Just go.”

“I do not want to go. I want to be with you.”

Silence.

“You know, Ken, you are very lucky you have friends who care about you. Why do you want to kill Kate? For God’s sake, she loves you. Don’t you see that?”

“Enough of this bullshit. Get the hell out of my sight.”

“Your wish would be granted, but think about what she told you.” And with that he walked away.

Something hard was hurting me. Pain. Excruciating pain. Hurting.

I remembered where I was. I was lying on a very hard floor, ribs aching. I had slept on the floor, and the whole night I had dreamt of my brother.
God, how the hell did I get here?
I wondered.

As though it was a lucid dream everything came back – the last night’s labour, grave images, the speeding car, police sirens, hailstones of bullets and then… darkness.  I was in a police cell.

For the first time in my life I
had
been arrested and in police custody.

But where were the others?

It was in the news. The public woke to the breaking news of the accidental shooting of a university student who found himself in the middle of a fire exchange between police and gangsters.

Reporters, journalists, and photojournalists rushed to the scene of the incidence to have from the horse’s mouth live news feed for their stations.

Dickson Waweru Kangu, a University of Nashville third year student of accounts, was from visiting his girlfriend who hailed from Thika when he found himself a target of a stray bullet in a fire exchange between the police and armed robbers. The robbers were ambushed by police who had been tipped off of them and were lying in wait for them.

The ambush was almost successful. The police arrested one of the suspects while the other two escaped on foot. A manhunt had been mounted for the two who escaped. The one who was arrested was helping the police with investigations.

Thika District Officer Commanding Police Division (OCPD), commenting on the rising insecurity on Thika road, said that the police had been given an anonymous tip of a planned robbery in Thika and decided to act. The OCPD said that the community policing strategy, introduced a year before by the new police commissioner, was helping in cementing security and development in the country. The community at large was encouraging broad and unlimited participation in setting guard and realistic expectations of the police.

Students of the Nashville University took to the streets demonstrating against the shooting of another of their colleague. They went on rampage damaging public and private property worth millions of shillings. As usual, the ‘
leta fujo huone’
anti-riot police were called. At the end of the day, ringleaders were arrested, others were nursing injuries at Kenyatta National Hospital. And as usual, many supported the students claiming that the police were engaging in well-orchestrated extrajudicial killings of innocent people in the guise of stray bullets.

“Funny, isn’t it, and beats logic how police, trained on how to handle guns, could kill an innocent student,” SANU leader was quoted saying when journalists caught up with the demonstrating students.

“Weren’t the robbers shooting at the police? That stray bullet could have been from the robbers,” retorted the OCPD when he was contacted for comment.

The national security reporter from the IMS’s CTV, the famous Dennis Mwamvubo reported the incidence as though he had covered it live, adding random clips of pick pockets and hijackers who operated from the Nairobi’s Globe Cinema roundabout.

Carol Mwangi of IMS with the
Moonbeam
put it on paper in black and white. The early Sunday morning incident created a sensation across the country with everybody pointing an accusing finger at the police for their lax in handling crime and insecurity cases rocking the country.

Urbanas turned to his friend from the police. “Have you got it done?”

His friend looked up from the phone. “They are working on it. Do not worry. Everything’s under control.”

Urbanas already knew that. He wanted to be told that everything was alright not that it was under control; that his boy in police custody was safe and getting out of the place clean, and that his identity won’t be revealed.

His friend cursed. “But you guys have gone too far this time. Why the hell did you have to go to that place?”

“Let’s not talk about that now,” Urbanas said. “The mission was to pick and go, nothing more. You know me well, Eric. I never break my word.”

“I can’t be doing this all the time. I need to do my job.”

“Yes, you need to do your job, Eric.”

“Why don’t we just leave it to...?”

“To what, hmmm? I want Kennedy out very fast. We can’t afford an investigation, worse still if the case is given to that rookie who left college the other day if what I am hearing is anything to go by.”

“No. I just don’t want to waste – dammit, Urby! This isn’t going to work. I have given you too much...”

“This isn’t the time, Eric. We need to do damage control, our misunderstandings would come later.” He stopped, thinking. The phone rang and Eric picked it up almost pronto. Eric had taken care of everything, making sure that nothing compromised anything or anybody. He had ensured that Ken’s ID was not given to the public, that ‘
the suspect’
was co-operating with the police.

“It didn’t work out,” Eric said when he hung up. He could feel the ire from Urbanas directed to him. “I did the best I could, but you didn’t tell me that this guy is such a goon. He’s giving everybody hell down there.”

“I am not certain myself. Are you sure they have told you the truth?”

“Oh, yes. The OCPD is a friend, a good one.”

“If you’re as good as you say, you would be able to fix this within no time. I do not need to tell you over and over that it’ll never happen again.”

“It may be too late for
never
, my friend. Too late to make amends.”
“What do you call that in your world? A threat?”

“It’s too late. Things are moving so fast out there. So fast. If I push too much I might find myself in a fix. I have a job to do. The media are all over the place.”

“I don’t believe they can smell a rat over whatever is happening. You know very well that that job you have includes me. You think you can do your job, then do it!”

Eric watched the young man rise and walk off in a huff. He’d have to decide, soon, very fast. Urbanas wanted to be covered up, right? He’d do that, but this time round there’d be a lot much more to pay.

And this time he’d object to any blood being spilt.