CHAPTER THIRTEEN - Nairobi Cocktail, The Sleaze

A shrill of an unfamiliar phone ring had interupted Boss' and Naliaka's lazy breakfast. He had quickly walked to the bedroom to pick the call, leaving a pertubed Naliaka behind. When he came out, he was no longer in shorts but a pair of jeans, a tee shirt under a jacket. 
His exit had been abrupt, without so much as a see you later, leaving Naliaka to her own devices. It was the first time he had ever left her alone in his house. She spent most of the time being fidgety because the temptation to snoop around was making her feel edgy, but she fought it. She fought it because, as much as she did not know nearly enough about Boss, she knew enough to know there was a high probably that pinhole cameras were peeping at her from every wall. She had watched enough spy movies to believe it was possible. From her favourite sofa, she let her eyes scan the walls, looking for clues of cameras. She did not see any, but that did not mean there were none. The other possibility was there was nothing to find. What she was sure about was he would not be stupid enough to leave incriminating documents lying around, unless they were locked away in a safe.

So she watched more spy movies. And slept on the sofa. And ate two biscuits and a glass of milk. And thought about stuff. She even thought about going for a walk, quickly ditching the idea when she remembered she did not have a set of his house keys. There was no balcony and for a little while, she felt claustrophobia.

He returned at four PM, having been gone for most of morning and afternoon. He shut the door behind him, leaned on it with a heavy sigh before giving her a smile that neither reached his teeth nor his eyes.

 “Are you alright?” She asked, sitting up. “You look like you are in pain.” He did. He was cringing, and when he started walking towards her, he did so while dragging his feet. For a scary moment, she thought he was injured. She stood up, ready to help him, but he waved her off and she sat down.

“I am fine… I am just really tired. It’s very hot out there.”

“Sorry. Why are you so tired? Didn’t you use a car?”

He slummed himself on the sofa, right beside her. “Oh, the ‘this and that’ I needed to do needed a lot of walking.”

“Alright…sorry about whatever…”

“Have you eaten?”

“Mh..h. Are you hungry?” She should have been hungry, but she was not.

He shook his head. “I could do with a beer though. But first, I need to freshen up. The sun out there could roast an egg.” He walked halfway towards the bedroom then paused, looking back at her. “Please don’t go home today…”

“I will not.” She said without a second thought.

When he returned twenty minutes later, Naliaka was still on the sofa, but the stool in front of it had an unopened can of beer and a glass of wine. With a measure of amusement, he paused to look at the wine then at Naliaka.

“What? You look like you need company.” She said with a shrug, taking the wine and taking the smallest sip in wine history.

He laughed, taking the beer, popping it loudly, taking a huge gulp before sitting next to her. “This,” he said, taking another gulp. “This is how you take a gulp of alcohol.”

“I am learning…”

“What are you watching?”

“A movie.”

“Is it interesting?”

She shrugged. “So-so. Same old storyline I guess…”

“So you don’t mind if we turn it off? I …I would like to talk.”

She studied him for a while before taking the remote control and turning off the TV. “Okay. What do you want to talk about?”

He took another gulp of the beer, placed it back on the stool before sitting back on the sofa. “I am not even sure. There is so much going on in my head right now. I – I just need to talk, you know, to get some stuff off my chest. I cannot think of anyone more suited to listen.”

She took a sharp breath. “That’s almost scary, considering I do not know you that much.”

He laughed, not a happy laugh. “That’s actually part of my point. Nobody knows me well enough. If I dropped dead right now, there would be a mighty confusion.” He paused and took another sip. “I trust you.”

“Thank you.” She whispered.

“I trust you, and that is not necessarily a good thing because I cannot stand it when someone breaks my trust, and there is always a chance the person you trust most will betray you…”

“What…’

He put up his hand to quieten her. “Let me do this before I change my mind.” She nodded. “I have been betrayed too many times. It goes with the territory so it’s no biggie. It also goes with the territory that snitches suffer. Everybody who has betrayed me has either ended up dead, or close to death.” He turned to look at her with dilated eyes. She did not look back at him, but he saw her swallow hard. “I…that I love you makes it all scarier. If you betrayed me…”

“Erm…”

His hand went up again. “It’s alright. You don’t have to say anything, but just know you have done more for my psyche than anyone I have ever known.”

She wanted to say something, to ask him why he was sounding the way he was sounding, but she did not. She nodded and took a bigger sip of the wine, more than she had intended to, and tried to keep a straight face.

“What am I saying? I am saying I love you, and I would like to swear to you here and now that I would never, ever do anything to hurt you. That I would happily chop off the head of anyone who hurt you, but I am afraid what would happen if you betrayed me…”

“I will not.” She said quickly. He didn’t stop her this time. “I cannot imagine what would make me betray you…”

He shrugged. “A lot of stuff could. Money. A moment of weakness. Torture, especially. I am good at torture, my enemies are as good. But no woman has ever been tortured because of me. Then you came into my life…”

 “I am glad I did.”

He shook his head sadly. “Perhaps you shouldn’t be. When I recruited you, I did it because it is what I do, besides the fact that I thought you were, still are, one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen.” She blushed and hunched her shoulders shyly. “I have other girls working for me, the same way you do. I have never invited any of them here.  I don’t even talk to them unless it is absolutely necessary. The only people who have ever come to this house is Kamau, Oti, my bodyguards, another man you may or not meet at some point,” he did not think she was ready to learn he had an impersonator. “And you. You being this close to me puts your life in danger.”

“It cannot be that bad…”

“It is, and then worse. I hold a position that is desired by many. I have protection from the rogue law enforcement, something every criminal wants. We have had gang wars, wars I have emerged the victor, but not without many dead bodies. The dead ones knew what they signing up for, like every soldier does. You did not sign up for it. I don’t know what I would do if you were caught in crossfire.”

She took a deep breath. “Why are you telling me this? Why now?”

He shrugged. “Because I want to give you the choice of walking away from me before it is too late. Because, as much as I would miss you, I want you to walk away from it, for your own sake…”

“Don’t be silly. It cannot be that bad…’

He grabbed her arms, a little too roughly, and turned her towards him. “Naliaka, this is not a game. It is deep shit. Do not be deceived by how I treat you. Do not. I am a nasty man. I am ruthless. I have tortured people, the kind of torture you see in espionage movies – plucking off nails, one by one, without anaesthesia.” Naliaka cringed. He was hurting her and she was too scared to tell him. “And that’s the nice stuff. I made countless women widows, mothers son-less.” He rubbed his nose noisily, eyes shut, for a moment looking tormented. “This,” he circled his face with his index finger. “This persona is reserved just for you, trust me. I am not a nice man.” He released her. She rubbed her arms.

She swallowed hard. 

“My rivals are as nasty, if not worse. If they decided to get me through you, you would end up with guys who look scarier than Oti, and they do not treat women well…”

She felt herself shiver. “Like, rape?”

He nodded. “Gang rape. It has happened. Not to any of my girls, but it has happened.”

She shivered again.

“I am also telling you this because there is something happening…something that has been building up for a while, and it may peak anytime. You need to stop coming here. You need to stop being seen with me. I am hoping they don’t already know about you, but chances are they do.”

Naliaka was shaking, and she was crying. She was crying because she was scared, and she was crying because she did not want to not be able to see him.

“Your friend, Queen…”

“What about her?”

“Can you stay with her, just for a little while, until I know what is going on?”

“Can I not stay in my house?”

He shook his head. “You could, but only when I am sure you are safe. I like where Queen’s house is, it is easy to secure…”

“What the hell are you talking about, secure it?”

“I am going to provide you with security. Bodyguards…”

“What? What will you tell Queen?”

He shook his head. “She doesn’t have to know. My people know how to be invisible…”

“It’s really bad, isn’t it?”

He nodded.

“When do I leave?”

“Tomorrow. Tomorrow when the town wakes up, one of my other guys will drive take you to Queen’s. I cannot risk them seeing you with my bodyguards. I will have someone follow you, just to make sure you are not being followed…”

“I am so confused.”

“I know. I am so sorry I got you mixed up in all this…”

She let him hug her, she let her tears flow,  and she let her body shake with fright.

“Remember I said I trust you?” She nodded. “I need to ask for a couple of huge favours. But you are free to say no  if it makes you uncomfortable..."
She nodded. Her mouth felt too dry for words.
"I need you to go and see my parents.”

She was still struggling with a dry mouth, so she just shook her head.

“Naliaka, I may not come out of this alive…”

She stood up so fast that she knocked off the stool that had both their drinks. She looked at him, like he was already a ghost, then retreated from him in reverse. Only when she reached the window did she break down. And she cried loudly. She heaved so hard, like one having a seizure. Her knees gave way, she sunk slowly against the wall, to the floor, and hugged her kneees. Boss went to her and  assumed her pose, held her until she calmed down, which was over half an hour later.

“I am sorry…”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“I am sorry, but you are the only person I can turn to. I am so sorry. If I could go back in time, I wouldn’t let myself get close to you.”

“This is so confusing…”

“But if it makes you feel better, we are safe right now. My people are also watching this house…”

“Your people?”

“Surely you do not expect me not to have people watching over my shoulder for me?”

“The bodyguards?”

“Those too, but they too have body guards, who also have bodyguards…”

She stood up and put her hands up in frustration. “I am not even going to ask what that means.” She walked back to the sofa, folding her hands on her chest and staring at the carpet where she had poured the drinks. Luckily, the glass had fallen on the thick carpet and had not broken.

Boss picked up the empty can and glass, walking to the kitchen and returned with another glass of wine and another can of beer. She accepted it, taking a big gulp of it.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Like I said earlier, I need you to hide, until I tell you otherwise. If I die, someone will let you know. Naturally, I will give you an allowance for being out of work. Secondly, I want you to go and see my parents, I will explain how you can get there. If I die, you need to tell my parents yourself…”

“You are not going to die…”

“We all die eventually.” He said dismissively. “I have made peace with that. I have even made peace with the possibility of dying a violent death…” She gasped. “Would you do that for me, please…go see my parents, I mean?”

She nodded.

“Thank you.” He kissed her forehead. “Give me a minute, I will be back.”

When he returned, he was carrying a huge briefcase. She looked at it suspiciously, butterflies flipping over and over in her stomach. He pulled the coffee table and placed the briefcase on it. He entered a combination but before he opened it, he turned to look at her. “Are you ready?” She shook her head, then nodded.

“Ready or not…”

She gasped and covered her mouth with both her palms. Her eyes felt like they were a centimetre from popping out. She pinched herself quickly, just to make sure she was not dreaming, quickly returning her palm to help the other palm cover her mouth.

“This here…this money here, I keep it for my emergency escape.” He said, studying notes upon notes of dollars packed neatly in the briefcase. “I want you to keep it for me.” Naliaka whimpered and shook her head. He didn’t acknowledge her discomfort. “I am not sure how much is here, but it is a lot.”

“I can’t…” she protested, then realised she had not voiced her protest and repeated. “I cannot take that money.”

“Of course you can, and you will.” His voice, she noticed, had gone flat, business like, like someone else was speaking his words. “If you do not take it, and they get me, they will take it. You will take this money, because you cannot let the people who may kill me to take it. My soul would never rest. Do you understand what I am telling you?” Even his eyes had changed with his voice. She didn’t like what they looked like, or how flat and emotionless he sounded. What she did not know was he was struggling to ignore the ion taste in his mouth. It had been long since he tasted it, he had hoped it was gone forever. The taste always preceded doom.

She nodded.

“Good. Obviously, you cannot carry the money in this briefcase. Too obvious, and you are too beautiful for a briefcase.” His attempt to joke did not work with her, her face remained stoic. He shrugged and continued. “You will carry it in a backpack.” He picked a brown envelope from the same briefcase. “This,” he said, opening it. “These are my bank cards. There are several of them, pin numbers are in the envelopes. If I die,” she whimpered again. “If I die, you will make sure my parents are taken care of.” He shut the briefcase with a snap. She jumped.

He continued. “Someone else I would like you to share the wealth with. One of my high school teachers, he had faith in me at a very confusing time of my time in high school. He fed me, gave me shelter and offered me friendship.” He sighed and looked away. “I could never repay him enough.” Five years ago when Boss finally gathered the guts to visit Mr Choka, he had carried money in the same briefcase and told a confused Mr Choka to do whatever he wanted with it. The teacher had bought land, got married and retired to become a large scale farmer.  “If I die,” Naliaka winced every time he referred to his possible death. “I would like you to visit him. Give him some money – I don’t care how much you decide to give him, but I know I can trust your judgment. His phone number is inside this envelope.” At this point, Naliaka had run out of whimpers. She had also released her mouth from her palms. She resigned herself to looking at Boss, in shock, in disbelief, still hoped she was dreaming, that she would wake up in her little house in Buru Buru.

“Another important group of people – this one may shock you...”

“As if I am not shocked enough…” She managed to grumble.

“They are street children.” He said. “I was a street boy. An honourable man who took care of me, of tens of other street boys, died. He left me responsibility of taking care of the younger ones. I did. I still do, but they also take care of me…if I die, I hope you would find it in your heart to take care of them.”

“How?” She asked incredulously.

“I do not expect you to directly deal with them, but there are ways. You see my bodyguards?” She nodded. “And their bodyguards? And their bodyguards’ bodyguards? They all know you.” She shook her head, dying to ask the specifics of his statement but too afraid to know how much about her life was known to random street boys. “What I am trying to tell you is, I have a network, and my network, except for a few of them here and there, these street people are my family, my grassroot network, my security, the reason I can sleep in peace.”

“How?” she dared to ask.
He took a deep breath. "The young ones...they collect information on the ground. They are street children, but they are not on drugs, although you will find them with glue bottles. They don's sniff it. All of them must attend school, two hours a day. Basic reading and writing is important. Unfortunately, most of them do not have families, or will not talk about their families so when they are old enough for national identity card, I have to fake the documents. They all have driving licences, for obvious reasons. Some work in my car yards, others do the heavy duty work you help in. Some have chosen to walk away, I let them do that, but I keep an eye on them, again, for obvious reasons."
"Have...has any of them tried to betray you?"
He humphed. "Not just tried. They have."
"And...?"
"You do not want to know the gory details. About ninety percent of them end up working for me."

“Like Kamau?”

He shook his head. “No. Kamau is an import. I have a few like him. Oti is an import too. My boys and girls do not have enough education so their use is limited. I use Kamau for official businesses, and a few others like him.”

Naliaka shook her head again. She could feel a headache creeping in on her slowly.

“So yeah. They become the thieves, the bodyguards, the trailers…the eyes on the streets…”

“This is too much…where do I come in?”

“I am not asking you to take over my dirty job, I am asking you, if you can, to start some sort of foundation that will see them off the streets. Perhaps offer them a life out of crime. I am a criminal, and I gave them what I know. You are not…”

“This is too much…” She declared, taking the wine and downing half of it. “I want to get drunk…”

He shrugged. “You do what you want, but we started this, we are finishing it. I want you, when you make the choice, to make an informed one.”

She put down the glass. He continued. “If they kill me, someone will get in touch with you. He is my lawyer. For your own good, you do not need to know his identity, but if I die, he will know how to find you.”

“Okay.”

“There is another thing…”

“What now?”

“Don’t, and I repeat don’t, try to cheat me. Please. Do not use any money unless I ask you to. If I die, you can do whatever you want with it. Do not try and sell me out for the sake of that money because I will know, and then…”

“Shut up…I am so insulted!” And she was.

“I am just telling you Naliaka.” He retorted without regret. “I am telling you, because I would not want you to betray my trust…”

“Whatever, man. Are we done with this? I don’t think I can take it any longer. It’s too heavy.”

“Do you want to sleep on this decision?”

She shook her head emphatically. “No. I will do it.” She was not sure whether it was the alcohol making her bold, or along the way, she had decided she was already in it, that she may as well dive in with all her clothes, but as she accepted his proposal, she felt a hundred percent sure that it was the right thing to do. “I will do it, but please, could you try and avoid getting yourself killed?”

“I will give it my best shot.” He picked the envelopes. “Take this. Keep them safe. My real name is Kanja, but you will not find it on those documents but should the need arise to see my parents and my teacher, that is the name you will use. Long ago I lost my documents. I didn’t need them on the streets for the longest time and by the time I did, I knew where to get fake ones. The accounts are however genuine.”

She nodded, accepting the envelope.

He sighed and smiled. He pulled her towards him and gave her the longest kiss in history, or so he thought.

***

Boss felt relief so great, he was literally light-headed. The dumper was the fear because it felt as much as the relief. 

Two AM, over five hours after he had one of the most difficult conversations of his life found him staring at his bedroom ceiling, even with the lights off. He could have patted himself on the back for baring all to Naliaka, but he could not ignore the reason he had had to do that. Telling all his secrets to a woman he had known for less than a year was his last option. For the first time he had thought about who would inherit what he had been stashing away in the event of his death. Naliaka had been the natural choice.

That he had trusted a woman, he, the very man who castigated his boys who trusted women with their secrets, the same women who turned out to be the fall of those men. A criminal worth his salt should never trust a woman, that had always been his mantra, but that was before he met Naliaka. He wondered what his boys would think if they found out what he had done. Laugh? He sure wanted to laugh at himself, and not with amusement.

Armed with the information she had, if Naliaka wanted to, she could finish him within hours. Him and his family. He sighed and pulled her closer to him, for she was lying next to him, naked, out like a light because she had taken too much alcohol on an empty stomach.

It had been a difficult two weeks, worse in the last one week. He had tried to act normal to Naliaka but something had happened earlier in the day that had resulted in his snap decision to talk to her. There were plans by his enemies, and the only thing his enemies would want from his was his head. His watchers were sure the enemies had not seen Naliaka, but one could never be too sure.

He pulled her closer to him. She moved against him, took a deep breath and continued sleeping. He would miss these moments. He would miss her laugher, the level of normalcy she provided him. He would miss giving her orgasms. He would miss her in totality, but he also knew letting her go, for now, was the best decision at the moment

It was a risk, high stakes risk. He had thrown his last card.

***

Earlier.

At nine AM, Boss received a call that unceremoniously saw him leave Naliaka alone in his house, then walking all the way from Kirinyaga Road to Uhuru Park, his bodyguards and their bodyguards and so on, in tow.

The call had come through his cheap phone, the one with no internet because it would be harder to trace were he on the run. Whenever that phone rang, he tensed up because only his contacts, and not the ones necessarily on his side, called it. This particular one was from a contact to his invisible bosses. “Uhuru Park in half an hour. Let’s meet at the cash counter, we need a boat ride.” It was nothing new, taking a boat ride in Uhuru Park. It was the one place they were sure walls could not listen. When they took the boat rides, they discreetly searched each other for phones. Phones were not allowed on their boat rides because they could record.

Mr Faceless, like he was known among Boss’ circles, was there before Boss. They had met so many times, Boss did not need to see his face to recognise him. He knew his lanky figure. He knew his twitchy stance. He knew he would be the guy with a baseball hat pulled down, sunglasses to boot. He would be the guy wearing a long coat, whatever the weather.

What Mr Faceless did not know was that Boss knew him. He knew where he lived, who he was married to, where his two children went to school, and he knew his two mistresses. It had not been easy to unearth him. The man had given Boss trailers trouble because after every meeting, the trailers would follow him, on foot, to town. But he would pick random buildings and never seem to come out. Only later did they realise that he did come out, but dressed differently. “Keep following him. He is bound to get careless at some point.” Boss had ordered. Months of fruitless trailing, and their patience paid. 

It was a cold day and either Mr Faceless had been in a hurry, or he had let his confidence get to his head. Or he had underestimated Boss. Instead of walking to a building, he had entered a vehicle parked on the streets. Excitement among Boss and his people had followed. Two riders followed the man as he drove out of town.

Within twenty four hours, Boss had a fat dossier on Mr Faceless. Within a week, he had a dossier on ten other people Mr Faceless met.  His database had grown impressively.

Now, in utter silence, the two got into a boat, cycling it in the same silence to the centre of the artificial lake at Uhuru Park and stopped, allowing the boat to tread on its own.

“There may be trouble.” Mr Faceless finally said, pulling down his hat farther down his forehead. 

“We are always in trouble. Be specific.”

Boss felt the nameless man turn to him. He did not turn to look at him.

“It’s the new station boss. He, unlike the previous one, is not satisfied with his cut, and he wants more involvement.”

“He is stupid. Does he know what happened to the last one who tried that nonsense?”

No answer, but Boss, from the corner of his eye, thought he saw a shrug. The last one who had tried a takeover had ended up dying in a car accident, only it had not been an accident.Boss' 'mechanics' had interferred with his car.

“So what happens?”

“There is no decision yet, but if he carries out his threat to start a rival group…”

That got Boss turning to face Mr Faceless. “He wouldn’t dare…” But even as he said that, he knew the man had already dared. It explained the activity on Kirinyaga Road, his territory. He had seen it coming and it had felt like waiting for a volcano that may or may not erupt. His watchers had reported newbies on the streets, people who should not have been there, and they were watching his building. On top of that, there have been a couple of carjacking that were not in his name.

“You cannot say that. He is the new station boss, he can do whatever he wants…”

“…or so he thinks.” Boss muttered.

“Don’t do anything stupid. Wait for instructions…”

What he would have wanted to say was he had no intention of doing nothing. If his life was in danger, if his territory was threatened, he would defend it, with or without instructions. No need to agitate the situation further, everyone, including him, was on edge, so he held his tongue.  “So what happens?” He asked instead.

“The most likely thing is a vicious battle. May the best man win.”

Boss shifted on the boat’s plastic seat, “So, is this my fight, or are your people going to get involved?”

“You know the answer to that. The conditions of allowing you to run the city have not changed. If there is a fight, you fight it. We don’t help.”

He sighed. “I just needed to be sure, to know I can conduct this my way.”

“Like I said, do not do anything yet, until I get in touch again.”

Boss shrugged, unwilling to make any commitment but as unwilling to argue with the contact. “As usual, I am happy to do battle, but I have a condition this time round.”

“You have no bloody right to make demands.”

“I do actually. I am risking my own life as the lot of you have warm dinners in your warm beds in your posh estates with your beautiful wives. I am not the only one who benefits from this arrangement. I am not the only one who would lose if shit hit the fan. You lot have a lot more to lose than I do. Now, like I said, I have a condition.”

“What do you want?”

“I want out…”

“What the…”

“I want out after this battle is over. I am tired. Really tired. I want to retire.”

“You cannot just walk away.”

“I know, but I am not just walking away. I am asking you to let me walk away.”

 “And if we don’t”

Boss shrugged. “Then we all lose.”

|”What the hell do you mean by that?”

“Nothing really, but perhaps you should know you haven’t been as careful as you think you have been in keeping your identity, identities of everyone else. All of you. I, for instance, know all your names…”

“You don’t…”

Boss laughed. “How about Corporal James…”

“Shut up!” It was a growl. A growl full of shock, anger and disbelief. “Don’t you dare…”

“You dared me.”

 “Are you blackmailing us?”

“Absolutely not. I am just telling you I have insurance, a ticket to walk away, alive. If I die unnaturally, heads will roll…”

“You son of a…”

“Oh, please. Did you expect me to just sit and take orders…”

“I could just kill you right here, and throw your body in this very shallow lake…”

“I do not doubt that, but right now, we are being watched by …what, perhaps ten people? And they are recording evidence. Perhaps, perhaps I am recording this conversation…”

“You do not have your phone. I searched you…”

“Don’t be daft. You are a cop and you should know better. For all I know, you are recording me as well.”

“You fu…”

“Save it. I do not want to use any of the evidence. It is in my interest not to, but if you force me, I will. Trust me.”

He sighed. “What exactly do you want?”

“I already told you. I want out. I will fight this time round, and if I win, I walk. I go away, out of town, and forget this city forever…”

“I will pass your message.”

“Thank you. That’s all I am asking for, for now.”

And they started rowing back. When they got off the boat, each of them going to different directions. The rogue cop kept looking over his shoulders, but even with his trained eye, he could not pick out who was following him, yet he knew he was being followed.

If he had looked lower than his level of height, he would have seen the high number of street boys hovering around. He saw the men with cameras, but he could not tell the difference between the regular Uhuru Park photographers and Boss’ photographers.

Now, as Boss looked at Naliaka next to him, he wondered if he would die before ever having experienced an orgasm.

***

A violent twist of fate brought Onyango and Samuel together, creating a mismatch of friendship that would last a lifetime.

They met in an estate bar, the sort that claimed no genre for clientele. The undesirables and the part time elite met in this pub, all brought together and equalised by their love for Rhumba music. Both Samuel and Onyango are lovers of Rhumba.

It was a typical Saturday night. The pub, an open hall with plastic tables and chairs and a thatched roof to boot, was buzzing with alcohol fuelled activity. Most tables were empty, but only because most of the patrons, hanging on to their drinks, were dancing. The few still seated were watching the dancing ones, nodding their heads or moving their bodies to the music from the comfort of their seats.

Samuel and Onyango sat two tables apart, Samuel on his own, wondering what to do with his empty life after Rhumba was over. Onyango was in the company of a woman. It was hard to ignore the two who were constantly canoodling. ‘They are married, and not to one another.’ Samuel muttered to himself and rolled his eyes.

They sat at the far end of the pub, facing the dance floor that was next to the main entrance. The position made it easy for Samuel to spot four men. They entered the pub, stopped at the entrance to scan the crowd. They scanned the dance floor and when they did not find what or who they were looking for, started searching the rest of the pub hall. “Thugs…” Samuel thought, immediately going for his gun, cursing himself for leaving it in the car.

On alert, he continued watching them. On second thought, he decided they were not there to rob anyone, they were looking for someone and whoever the ‘someone’ was, was in trouble. Onyango and his woman were still canoodling and kissing. One of the men pointed towards Samuel’s direction and started walking fast and deliberately towards him. The other three quickly followed, their wrists set in ready punch-mode.

“Now what have I done?” Samuel wondered to himself, holding his bottle of beer, ready to land it on the forehead of the first person who dared to hit him. By the time they were a few metres away from him, he knew he could take them all. He was a fighter, he had fought bigger and stronger and trained men. He had scars to show, he had survived. He could tell these were nothing like he had ever fought, they were street fighters. He however, knew better than underestimate street fighters – they were wildcards. 

Simultaneously, like a group of choreography dancers, they stopped at Onyango’s table and started punching him from all corners. The woman screamed and shrunk to the corner. Onyango managed to throw a punch, one that turned out to be a weak attempt to stamp some authority. It hit none. His bent position, and that they were behind him and by his side, did not allow him to show his punching prowess. When Samuel joined the ruckus, he meant to separate the one-sided fight, but one of the men punched him on his shoulders, so he punched him on the face, sending him hurling blind to a table nearby before hitting the floor. Samuel heard him groan. He turned to the others, knowing the fallen one would take some time to get up and he did, he would struggle with his eyesight. The punch had landed on his eye.

The woman finally found her legs and voice. She screamed before jumping over a seat, running to the entrance. She was a big woman and in the midst of the chaos, Samuel quipped to himself how it should have been scientifically impossible for someone her size to jump over a seat and run so fast. Adrenaline. He felt his own pumping straight from the source, his heart. He felt it flow through every vain, to every corner of his body, like his body was being taken over by an alien thing.

When he grabbed a second man from behind, dislodging him off Onyango, Samuel was on turbo charge. He punched him squarely on the face, like the first one. The first rule of battle engagement, especially when faced with an enemy who could win not by strength or prowess but by sheer numbers, was to hit the core. If they could not see him, they would not attack him. So he blinded the second one and kicked his groin, throwing him towards the first victim who was still groaning and rubbing his eyes. The two, piled on top of one another, groaned together.

 The two remaining attackers were still punching Onyango who had put his head under the table, a clever tactic that protected his head and groin. Samuel grabbed one of them but unlike the first two, he was not so lucky with his punch. It missed the man’s face. He punched Samuel on the stomach and on the face. It was by sheer luck he was not blinded. He cursed himself for underestimating him. Samuel caught the third punch halfway, twisting the man’s hand. He screamed. 

Someone else screamed. And another. Then another one. Within seconds, it was a scramble for the door by all patrons. The two downed men were crawling towards it. The one whose hand Samuel had twisted was begging to be let off. Onyango, with less adversaries, was out of his hole. Samuel did not see how it happened, but when he turned towards him, Onyango was holding a gun against the fourth attacker’s forehead, his other hand grabbing him by the shirt.

“Don’t shoot me!” The attacker cried in terror.

“He’s got a gun!” Someone else shouted, and the scramble to the door intensified.

‘Someone is going to get hurt in that melee…” Samuel thought as he worried about the number of people trying to fit through the entrance at the same time, but he had bigger things to worry about. He released his victim who quickly rushed to join the brouhaha for the exit.

“You don’t want to waste a bullet on a guy you could just slap.” Simon said calmly.

Onyango, bleeding on the lip, turned to look at Samuel, like he was just seeing him for the first time. “Was it you who just helped me?”

“Yeap. Let him go. He ain’t worth your silver…”

Onyango looked at his whimpering prisoner then relaxed. “You are right.” He said. “But I need to know who the hell he is, why they just tried to kill me?” He shook the man violently. “Who the hell are you?”

“Sorry…”

“I asked who you are…” 

The man whimpered more. Samuel cleared his throat and took a careful step towards Onyango and his captive. “Let him go. I could easily tell you why you were attacked…”

“What? You know them?”

Samuel shrugged. “I don’t need to. Let him go, poor guy has already wet his trousers and if you are not careful some will land on your expensive shoes…”

Onyango looked down at the man, made a disgusted face and a rude remark, released him and kicked him for a push. The man fell several times before disappearing out of the door.

“The hell…who are they?” Onyango asked, tucking back his gun.

“The woman you were trying to eat alive belongs to one of them.”

“What?”

Samuel shook his head, trying not to laugh at Onyango’s naivety. It was not wise to laugh at the man with a gun. “You really do not know? It was obvious to me, and I don’t even know either of you. You have a ring, she doesn’t, and the urgency of your canoodling was that of teenagers trying to beat parental curfew. You were obviously both in a hurry to get back to your significant others.”

Onyango allowed himself to be impressed, just for a second. “Who the hell are you?” He asked as he tucked back his gun.

“Guy who just saved your ass.”

Onyango grunted. “Please, I could handle those slapdash kids with my little finger.”

Samuel laughed. “Please. They were gonna kill you. You are bleeding by the way…”

“What?”

Samuel touched his own lip. Onyango did the same. He looked at his fingers and cursed.

“Also, we had better leave the premises right away. By my calculation, we have just about thirty seconds before the police come in with their bigger guns, or the crowds with blunt objects…”

That sobered Onyango quickly. The two men walked out of the now empty pub that still had the music playing. The DJ had run out with everybody else. The immediate outside was empty too, but they could see silhouettes of people lurking from a safe distance.

“We could make a run for it …”

Samuel shook his head. “No. It’s too dangerous. If we walk toward them, and I can assure you by now the story out there is we are robbers, they will get us with stones and sheer numbers. Your Glock-17 has how many bullets left out of the seventeen?”

“What the…how do you know what gun I have?”

“You held it for all to see…”

“But…”

“We don’t have time for this. We need to get out. You can only shoot seventeen people if you are a good shot. The other two hundred will slaughter and drink our blood. We need an alternative route…”

 “Who the hell are you?” Onyango demanded, but even as he asked, as his private investigator instinct knew this man was not just another reveller, he followed him back to the pub, struggling to keep up because he was not as agile.

 “I can answer you as you buy me a drink later. For now, we need to get out.”

Samuel led the way, into the kitchen situated at the back. The kitchen was empty as well, various dishes in various stages of cooking. He led the way out to the back door. “Every kitchen has a back door for fire exit and taking out trash.” Samuel said unnecessarily.

“No back gate, unfortunately.” He announced, scanning the stone wall. “Can you jump over the wall?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Yeah. You can remain here and wait to be murdered…”

“In that case, I can climb a wall. I don’t know how but I suspect you know how.”

“Correct.” Samuel did not have to search far. Close to the wall was an empty drum. He put it upright, helped Onyango on it, waited for him to scale the wall before doing it himself in seconds.

“How do we get down?” Onyango wondered.

For answer, Samuel jumped down. “This way. Come on, jump. We are running out of time.” Onyango did, landing with a thud. He groaned in pain. When he started walking, following Samuel who was already walking away, he did so with a limp.

“I don’t know why you are helping me, but remember I have a gun just in case you want to harm me, and it’s cocked…”

“Please…I am not helping you. I am helping myself. Those people out there do not know we are strangers, but I was seen fighting on your side. I don’t want to die because of some horny dude who can’t keep his hands off people’s wives…”

“Watch your mouth. I still have the gun…”

 “You need to be fitter than you are by the way. You are panting badly. Come on, if we can get behind that building, we can get lost in the crowd…”

And they did, but Onyango’s chest was on fire from the adrenaline and the activity.

“You are right…I need to get fit. Can we find a place to sit, just for a few minutes?”

“We can get into that pub.” He pointed at a pub, a similar one to the one they just escaped from.

“Are you crazy? What if someone recognises us?”

“Nobody will. Anyone who was in that pub is on the way home, probably swearing never to enter another pub. We are safe.”

They took a corner table near an exit where they could watch the main entrance. They ordered for drinks and imbibed in silence for ten minutes.

“I am Onyango. So who the hell are you, and I don’t mean just the name?”

They sat, for hours, trading information about one another. At two AM, when there was nobody else in the pub and they had to leave, Samuel had secured himself a job as a private investigator. Not that he needed one, but he had walked out of the army a few months ago, and he was bored. Bored of staying at home all day staring at the television, even more bored when he went to the office

***

Now. Present.

“From a distance you look like a clever guy. Then I heard your car was stolen and I decided you only look clever from a distance.” Those were Onyango’s first words to Samuel when the latter walked into the former’s office the following day. He was laughing.

“Nice to see you too.” Samuel said, inviting himself opposite his boss and going ahead to drink his tea. “Nice tea. Pour yourself another one, I am taking over this one.” There was a flask, another cup and sugar in a tray on the desk.

Onyango growled, but there was no anger in his growl. “I see they haven’t started teaching you manners on the streets…” He started pouring himself another cup.

“Oh, they are alright. We no longer walk naked…”

They laughed. The banter between the two men was as old as their friendship.

“So tell me, how does someone with your credentials get outsmarted by thugs?”

Samuel pulled on the tea noisily and shrugged. “Oh, I just wanted to experience a carjacking. But seriously, how was I to know the woman I had picked was one of Boss…”

Onyango chuckled. “I told you, you need to get married, then you will not have to go picking up strange women in bars…”

“Going by the he-goat tendencies you possess, we can conclude getting married does not cure that sort of thing…”

They laughed.

“Talking of Boss, what’s happening downtown?”

Samuel assumed a serious face by taking a deep breath. He was about to edit some truth to a friend, a boss, and that was nearly as bad as lying. He had debated with himself, on whether or not to divulge information on Naliaka, that he had met her before, how close she was to Boss, how he had known all that when he picked her. Overridden by a desire to protect Naliaka, he had decided he would not tell. Kerubo would be upset with him, but he would deal with her separately.

“There may be something, or not. It’s something I have observed for a week or so. I could be wrong, but there is new presence.”

Onyango shifted on his seat expectantly. “Go on.”

He shrugged. “I know every regular on that street. I know those who are there every day, those who come once a week, those who come once a year.” He took another sip of the tea. Onyango did the same. It was tasty ginger tea, but neither of the two men were currently paying attention to the taste. Tasting the tea was something to do in between listening and talking. “A couple of times, I have seen three new suspicious faces. I noticed them because they are obviously cops. Do you know anything about that?”

Onyango looked away. “Perhaps. But let’s hear what you have.”

“They are never together, but it is obvious to me they are there with one another’s knowledge. I have not seen them do any shopping, or window shopping for that matter. They just sort of hover around, near you-know-who’s building. They are too smart to be idlers, and they suck at staying invisible. I need more time to work it out. Oh, and there is a new shoe-shiner on the streets, and he is not that good at his job.”

Onyango placed his cup on the table noisily, cleared his throat and blew into his palms. “We may not have much time, you may not have much time to find out who they are.”

“What do you mean?” It was a question calmly asked, but his insides had just done a somersault.

Onyango shifted again on the seat. “My person is annoyingly economical with the truth, but from the snippets, I think the new boss is unhappy about his cut…”

“…and he wants to get rid of Boss and put in his own person.”

“I believe that’s the long and short of it. We cannot allow them to kill Boss and I don’t have to tell you we need to be more vigilant. I am going to need to bring somebody else to help you, at least until we know where this is going.”

“You already have someone in mind?”

Onyango nodded. “Cecelia is about to become a vegetable dealer somewhere close to Boss’ house, perhaps near the shoe-shiner.”

“Alright.” Samuel chewed on nothing for a few seconds. “I know I have never asked you why it is so important to keep Boss alive, to protect him, but I think it is only fair that I know why I am risking my life protecting a criminal.”

Onyango looked at Samuel sharply. Samuel looked back in defiance. The eye standoff lasted for over a minute before Onyango sighed. “I guess you have a right.”

“Thank you.”

“I will tell you for free that getting rid of criminals is an age-old pipedream. America, arguably the most advanced democracy in the world, cannot control their criminals. China and her socialist dictatorship still has jails. Countries on Sharia laws, enough of them brutal, have criminals. Who are we to imagine we can live in a world without criminals.” 

“You make a good case. So?”

“Think of the Italian mafia. Criminals by any other name. Many are tolerated by the law enforcement, at least as long as they don’t become cop killers. The mafia have grassroots advantage. As ridiculous as it sounds, they control the masses better than the police. You know why? I will tell you why. Because they help the poor. Because they buy loyalty by feeding the needy, giving them jobs where the government has failed. Because they keep order in their own skewed way…”

“I get that Boss is a Don, but what exactly is your point?” Samuel asked impatiently.

“Boss has managed to do what the police force has failed to do. He has reduced the number of shootings during carjacking, for starters. Word has it that his boys never have bullets in those guns…”

“What? You mean I could have taken them down?”

Onyango laughed. “They may be better fighters than you are…”

“No chance, but go on.”

“That the shootings have reduced allows the law enforcement to record less shootings, and they take credit. Boss is also in charge of almost every parking lot in the city…”

“Isn’t that a city authority prerogative?” 

Onyango nodded. “On paper, of course it is. But city authorities cannot stop your car from losing a side mirror, or a light…”

“Those boys we tip for looking after our cars work for him?”

Onyango nodded. “They do, indeed. At least about ninety percent of them. Have you ever tried not to tip them?”

Samuel shook his head. “No, but I am aware of what often happens to those who do not.”

“Exactly. People can now park their vehicles in peace. By default, and because his reputation precedes him, Boss has made the city safer. Other criminals are hesitant about doing their criminal activities in the city and immediate surroundings. Some have tried, they did not live to tell the story.” Onyango paused again for tea break. “Boss has admirers in the force. Add that to the fact that he keeps some pockets very well lubricated. He is not greedy, and finding a thief who is not greedy is an event that only happens once in a century. A lot of people want Boss to stay because he makes their work easier and he is on their side. Several people have tried to estimate the number of people Boss has directly employed – it could be as many as five hundred.”

“That’s a whole conglomerate…”

“…tell me about it. And he probably pays better than the said companies. He has the toughest, roughest criminals as his subjects, and he is good to them. Boss has the city by the balls…”

“I am almost impressed.”

Onyango nodded thoughtfully. “I am impressed. His is the kind of brain that should be managing our parastatals. Anyway, the new guy wants to call the cards, we cannot let him. It is also in this company’s interest to keep Boss safe…’

“How?” Samuel asked without expecting an answer, the reason he was surprised when he got one.

“Because by keeping Boss safe, we are on the payroll. We get classified as informers. Keeping Boss safe is a huge account. Go figure. So, you, Kerubo and Cecelia have your work cut out for you but please, be careful.”

***

Samuel’s meeting with Onyango had gone for hours. They had discussed scenarios, strategies. They had ordered lunch in the office, Cecelia had joined them for briefing. By five PM, he was exhausted but informed and better prepared, at least mentally.

He drove to Ngaara where Kerubo lived. She was waiting for him by the road, carrying a small backpack. As he watched her walking to the car, he marvelled at her. She was a beautiful woman. Totally different from Naliaka, but if someone asked him to pick either of them based on their beauty, he would never be able to.

And she looked distant. Sad. He was beginning to suspect her mood had nothing to do with his relationship with Naliaka. He had known Kerubo for years, and she was not one to entertain gloom for days.

“Hey…” He flashed her a hopeful smile when she took the passenger seat, bending to kiss her. She let him.

“Hey you. Have you any energy left to do me tonight?”

He laughed, louder and longer than the jibe allowed. He laughed because he was happy she still had her humour. “Damn, I have missed you. How are you?” He was already easing onto the road. He needed to leave the city before the rush hour traffic. Already vehicles were starting to build up.

“Dog Tired. I haven’t slept well for two days…”

He looked at her sharply before asking why.

“Well, I can explain yesterday’s insomnia. You see this stupid hairstyle? It is so tight and whenever I put my head on the pillow I feel like I am being stabbed on the scalp with toothpicks.”

 “It’s beautiful…”

“I don’t care. If the pain doesn’t ease of by tomorrow, it’s coming off.”

“Why couldn’t you sleep the night before?”

She shrugged. “I will tell you about it later. Right now, I badly need a drink. Do you have any in the car?”

He always carried a few cans of beer in the boot. So he pulled over, went to the boot and came back with two cans.

“Thank you.” She said as she opened the can loudly, pouring the liquid into her mouth as opposed to sipping on it. She burped. “Oh, that tastes so good. You know, besides some shit happening in my life right now, shit that demands I get drunk, I have figured out the only way to get some sleep tonight is to make sure I don’t stop drinking until I get a blackout.” Samuel laughed. Her character, the very one she was displaying now, the one that did not care to behave like a lady, was one of the many characters he loved her for. When Kerubo wanted to fart, she let it rip. When she needed to burp, she did without apology. When she needed to pee and there was no toilet in sight, she did it, behind the car. ‘Nobody will remember my face.’ She had explained to a horrified Samuel the first time she had done it. ‘Right now they are concentrating on my arse.’

“Nice ride.” She finally said, looking at the car with disapproval.

“Liar. Your face tells the truth better than your mouth.”

Kerubo was more relaxed by the time they arrived in Kitengela. Samuel did not miss her spaced out moments, so short she probably thought he would not notice.

As was their norm, she made the chapati, he made the stew and the greens. They watched a movie as they ate, washed the dishes and discussed everything that did not include what was bothering her, and Samuel’s meeting with Onyango.

Ten PM, they sat on opposite sides of the sofa, feet up and intertwined and sharing the same couch blanket, each with a can of beer. She was on her fourth.

“You are not doing a good job at hiding that something is seriously bothering you. Also, you must never feel the need to hide anything from me, you are my best friend you know…”

Kerubo studied Samuel from the opposite side of the sofa and swallowed hard.

“You are still trying to hide that you want to cry. Come on, spit it out girl…”

Kerubo had earlier on decided she had cried enough. Her eyes were stinging from the salty tears, and they were itchy. She rubbed them and took a deep breath.

“Mrs Kamau is dying …”

Samuel did not react. Not externally. The first thought was shame, that he had thought Kerubo was throwing a tantrum because of his relationship with Naliaka. “Shit, that’s heavy. I am sorry. What’s wrong?”

“Cancer…”

“Oh wow…I am so sorry. When did you find out?”

And she told him, somewhere along the narration losing her struggle with the tears. They flowed, and he hugged her, and wiped them for her. Until there were no more tears to cry.

“I am so tired of crying, Sam. I am tired…” She concluded, pushing him away.

“You mean you are tired of being emotional? You do know you are human, right?”

She side-eyed him and shrugged. “So are you. I have never seen you cry.”

“It doesn’t mean I have never cried. This is the first time I have seen you cry.”

“Still, I am tired. I need something else to think about. How was your meeting with Onyango?”

“You don’t want to talk about that right now.”

“If I didn’t I wouldn’t have asked you.” She snapped.

He put up his hands in surrender and told her. Everything.

“I don’t know what to be more shocked about. Why didn’t you tell him about Kiki?”

“Naliaka…”

“Whatever. Why didn’t you?”

“What value would it have added? It’s not like she told me anything worth reporting.”

“I guess not. Anyway, what’s the plan? I guess we have stayed too long without some serious action, ey?”

“Gosh, you almost sound like you are looking forward to it.”

“What would you rather I do instead?”

He thought for a while. “I don’t know. Just don’t look excited. It’s weird…”

She chuckled. “Anyway, it will be good to see Cecelia again.”

“She’s hot, but too serious…”

“Don’t even think about it. She would rather have me than you…”

“You mean…”

“Sorry, not everyone thinks you are sexy. Anyway, what’s the plan?”

“The plan, my dear, is to stay alive. The plan is to constantly have your gun cocked. The plan is to keep your eyes open. The plan is to be ready to have your cover blown because if shit hits the fan, shit will go down…”

“I understand.”

“You look really tired. We can discuss this in length tomorrow. In the meantime, would you like to have sex?”

She chuckled. Then laughed. It was a laugh he was familiar with.

“I will pass tonight. Let me catch up on my sleep arrears. That should give you time to recover from your Kiki.”

“Naliaka.”

“Whatever. Oh, I told Mrs Kamau I have a boyfriend, and his name is Samuel. What a coincidence...”
"The hell?"
"So anyway, I am about to introduce you to her as my future husband. Can you be ready on Friday?"
"Today is Wednesday!" He protested in panic.
"Oh, good. You have time..."
"Shit..."