He hated the commute to work, especially the vehicle exhaust, the grubby seats, the ugly streets, uglier people, slower vehicles and loud noises. He also hated the headlines on the stack of papers beside him on the hand-stitched leather seat of his government-issued Range Rover. He had one in his hand, the Daily Nation, a piece of garbage that belonged in the gutter as far as he was concerned. The headlines on all the dailies were bold and poorly put together-he could write better headlines; The Daily Nation; BUDGET STALLED IN COMMITTEE. The Standard; MP STANDS AGAINST WASTEFUL SPENDING, the People Daily; RENEGADE MP RISKS ALL. The pesky MP was plastered on most of the papers as he scurried out of parliament his battered briefcase in hand, eager to dodge journalists and whips alike.
The truth was, he actually mattered, he was the last vote in an almost fifty-fifty committee seating.
He read about the bastard, he was a two term MP, once he was the shit, now he was just a rubber stamp for government policy, at least until yesterday when the man suddenly grew a pair and poked a bunch of bears and wolves in the eye. Was the bastard suicidal? He looked outside his tinted window, malls, three lane traffic, parks, skyscrapers and even a damn Lamborghini flew past-what had the city come to? It was only decades ago when he could walk the whole city, fuck all the whores in it in a fortnight and eat lunch in the same corner restaurant, minus the lead in the air of course. Damn them for crapping all over his city. Now it was just another soulless metropolis, quickly chewing and spitting out wannabes and city veterans alike, grinding and crushing honest workers and crooks alike, taking virginity and killing virgins in equal numbers, it was a scary place, a eat or be eaten hell hole like no other in Africa.
He read up some more on the MP, he really had let himself go in the last few years, especially after an accident involving his car and a truck. He had been injured lightly but had never been the same after that. The idiot had gained weight, lost his chairmanship and was cut off from the feeding trough of the ruling party. He was now making due on his salary and bursary kickbacks like all small time losers in parliament. He tossed the paper away, he had seen enough, he was going to skin him alive then watch as he came begging, they always did, politicians in his experience were cowards and could sell their own children for one positive news article.
He was arrested as he drove up Parliament road, just a minute before parking and starting a new day in the hallowed halls of the August house. A small unit of uniformed cops stopped him, caressed his Alfa Romeo then arrested him. Charges were corruption and money laundering. He had a right to a lawyer, blah, blah, blah, then he was tossed into the back of the police Land Cruiser, destination; Nairobi central police station. An extra cop drove his beloved vehicle away, probably to an unknown location. Paul Sunkuli could smell the sweat of the police constables that had sandwiched him in one of the two rear benches, the seat was coarse and the whole space stank of new paint and grease.
The vehicle roared to life and he was driven up parliament road onto Haile Selassie and finally along Uhuru avenue then the vehicle pulled into the largest police station in the land.
The whole thing was surreal to Paul because as soon as he was gently helped off the cruiser, his hands cuffed before him, a mob of journalists and cameramen descended on him;
"Sir are you a hypocrite….sir?"
"Does this have to do with the budget sir?"
"Sir the citizens have a right to know."
The inspector who rode shotgun held him protectively, like the press would grab his prey. He waved them off but just before getting into the station he turned round with a smile. The chicken shuffled to an uneasy calm, waiting for the grains to be tossed.
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. I have very little for you considering this is an active investigation but as of now I can confirm Paul Sunkuli here, MP for Kajiado north is accused and will be charged with siphoning bursary funds for the unfortunate in his constituency to line up his own pockets."
"Is this punishment for his no vote on the government's budget?" Someone shouted.
The Inspector smiled, a thin shark smile then led Paul into the station, two constables tried to herd the press away but they somehow broke in and camped in the reception, watching every step of a man's booking. Being Friday, even without a case to answer the MP would spend the weekend behind bars. It was about humiliation and threats of what could follow.
At around seven p.m, when the cell he was in had started to fall into a lull after the initial excitement of an MP joining them, the other remanded malcontents settled down for evening tea, graciously provided by the sergeant on duty, a friendly toothless man of about fifty. Those who could cough up bribes were brought their wallets and phones, after an agreed price many kept their phones, some bought snacks-a constable was dispatched to the canteen and came back with a bag full of all kinds of snacks. Paul Sunkuli sat in his corner on the cold cement floor, shoeless, beltless and coat-less as all around him his fellow remandees were handed theirs, even blankets! They ignored him, he was suddenly the evil man refusing to partake in the village celebration.
The door to the cell was suddenly closed by a genuinely terrified constable. A minute wait then the cell door was rudely opened and three constables dove in and hauled Paul Sunkuli to his feet as an inspector looked on, the one who had brought him in. They roughly pushed him out of the booking area and led him to a flight of stairs, his trousers were barely hanging to his waist while his feet were hurting from the cold on the tiled floor. On top of the stairs a police superintendent waited, muttering to himself. He was in his best uniform and the three stars on each shoulder shone brightly in the glare of a fluorescent above him. He looked the inspector and constables in the eye, they scurried back downstairs. He turned to face Paul.
"Are they treating you well down there?"
"As well as could be expected, " he was a mess and a day old stink of sweat emanated from his armpits. His hair was unkempt, shirt grimy with dirt and trousers hanging awkwardly. The superintendent smiled emphathetically.
"I'm guessing you did not do as told."
He kept quiet.
"Well, I hope for your sake you won't waste your second chance."
He ushered him towards an office with a huge name on the door;
POLICE SUPERINTENDENT
JOSHUA KIPROP.
He guessed someone more important had taken the officer's office for the night. The superintendent turned and marched downstairs, leaving him to his fate. Not a soul was in sight, the other offices had their lights off, he knocked softly.
"Come in!" The voice inside commanded, a slice of panic cut across Paul's chest. He pushed in the door and closed it softly behind him. A man sat on the superintendent's plush leather chair, his back was to him, he could make out a giant head with thick greying hair and the arms of a light blue suit. The chair turned slowly and the most violent eyes on an expressionless face cut through Paul's eyes and skull like lasers. He vaguely recognized the man.
"Who the fuck do you think you are?" He asked softly in staccato, his voice icy cold, devoid of human emotion.
"Sorry?"
"Answer the question."
"I am Paul Sunkuli…MP..errr."
"Stop right there, I will be brief and clear lest you say you were not warned." He adjusted his cufflinks, they were pure silver, the shirt underneath was pristine. "You voted against the budget in committee, not stopping but delaying crucial monies for a lot of people; salaries, projects, kick backs and what-not. No one will starve...I mean unless you are a nurse, teacher, cleaner-the averge government employee, same people you claim to fight for. People who matter will be angry that's all and they might decide to punish you just for kicks. Usually I would let them punish you, squeeze you like a roach and leave you bleeding out on the arena, distasteful I know…..but this time I decided to give you a chance."
"A chance?" Paul croaked, he could barely stand.
"Yes fatso, a chance, a chance to atone, penance you might say."
"What would that look like?"
"You would be released….no harm no foul, an emergency sitting of the committee would be called, the vote would pass, the bill will move to a full house and everyone will be happy, " his face remained impassive but with every point he made he tapped a pen on the table lightly.
"What If I say no?" Paul was taken aback by his voice, It was harsh and full of acid and fear.
"For starters the department of transport will impound your beloved Alfa Romeo.. something about taxes and import fees. Your illegal monies will be traced, I bet we could put you and your wife behind bars for a long time-both for real and made up crimes, It's the Kenyan way. We could do worse of course, but what's the use eh? You'll do what you're told but still we could just as a cherry on top leak damning photos of your wife to the press. Call It a little inconvenience fee."
"What photos?" He stammered.
"Struck a nerve ey?" The man raised a eyebrow and smiled for the first time. "Something tells me I now have your full attention. I mean jail did not seem to scare you but a little mention of your wife's embarrassing photos and your whole body goes tense. So here's a new deal… do this thing and no one in parliarment will find out you are a cuckold."
He was given a three week leave, him and his whole team, they had completed their mission, done their country proud, scared the wits out of the Turks and as a bonus damaged the Turko-Somali budding relations. The kidnap of a mid-ranking Turkish officer made for a deluge of bad press for the new Turkish prime minister, a man who believed in a 'no Turk left behind' doctrine. The potential for the kidnap and torture of Turks by terrorists across the Red Sea was not something his party faithful could stomach. Their 'kidnap' and 'rescue' had gone to plan thanks to new contacts in ISIS led by captain Frank Mwenda, now going by the new title and name of commander Abdullahi Hassan of ISIS. He and malcontents in the army were signing up as sleeper agents for NIA in the new terror outfit to atone for crimes against the flag.
Derrick Masaku thought the plan stupid at best but did not show It when briefed by colonel Bill Rono, he and a select few with high level clearance knew of this. Usually an officer of his rank got no such information but by virtue of his command in the special ops division he got access to stuff even the president did not know and did not want to know. He had made his peace with the things his country was willing to do a long time ago and his only answer was and would remain, sir and yes sir.
He and his men, along with almost forty other soldiers and officers with intermittent leaves were in and around a green Kenya Army bus, most were still packing unyieldy luggage into the bottom trunk of the fifty-five seater bus, smoking and cussing like soldiers the world over. In the distance a few officers were bidding their base bunnies farewell, a distasteful business in Derrick's book-in most countries in the west most officers would have been fired for a host of work place improprieties, chief among them sexual harassment and exploitation. Here it happened openly and shamelessly.
He was alone in front of the bus a sea of buttons and gear shift separating him from the driver. The new Mercedes bus was a gift from the German ministry of defence, as were many other vehicles they used for travel and war. He was sure he had forgotten something and was still racking his brain when he saw two female officers approach on the tarmac from the other side, they were heading straight for him. One was lieutenant Mary Kariuki, her friend was less determined in her walk. Shit!
"Joan, Its Saturday why the long face?"
Mary was chirpy, she caressed everything, bounced around like a ball and kept teasing her whole group. She had a lot to dish about, but was not sure whether to tell or not. They had a clue what It was all about. The heroes of the special ops team had landed days ago and the base bunnies had had their fill of those courageous, handsome and athletic spartans. Mary had had her man by her side for days, the happiest woman in the world. The rest of her posey were hanging on her every word. Now she no longer hung with Joan or Chris, the old gang, she was with beauty-crazed officers from well-to-do and connected families, just like hers-before she hung with Christine and Joan for protection but now felt she did not need them, she was beautiful now and popular.
Once In a while she met them for drinks but only to see If they respected her now, or they still saw through her bullshit. They disappointed her every time and she loathed them even more.
"I'm fine Marie, how goes It?"
She was not fine, she had followed the news days after she saw the Oromo militia flow south. They had killed a dozen or so and fled with several heads of cattle and camels. The predominantly Somali northern clans had sworn retribution and a cross border conflict was brewing. Joan still wept herself to sleep and for some reason could not stop watching the news clips of that unfortunate day. She was both happy and sad Derrick was in the base, even saw him once or twice and was even happier she was getting over him. A new man was slowly inching his way into her heart but It sucked that he did not immediately strike home like Derrick, she just did not believe in forcing love, It had to come naturally. He was a businessman in Mandera town, did business with the army a lot and was a gentleman, that's where It ended, he tried too hard to please.
"I am good darling, how was your date in town the other day?" Mary had made It a habit to check on her dating life, regularly.
"We had fun, It was great."
"Did you?"
"Please stop."
She had in fact and fair was all she could think of.
"Ohhh, you did! I saw the look in your eye, you naughty girl." Mary poked her mischievously, forcing her to smile.
"Well me and Derrick too. It was amazing, he was a stallion, his recovery time was..... out of this world. It was not drug Induced too, unlike what most of them are Into, pure natural beast Jo, oh It was...."
Joan was no longer listening, she was surprised how angry and betrayed she felt, It was selfish but she did not care, how could he? But Joan you've been sleeping around! She heard herself ask but quickly she cursed that part of her and cursed her heart even more. It took every ounce of energy and control to utter the words;
"Congrats girlfriend, wish you two all the best. You deserve It."
"Thank you, " Mary was Mary enough to not notice the lump in her throat as she stammered those words.
They were getting out of the dining hall when their supervisor's secretary rushed towards them, the main bitch of I.T department.
"Mary, come, they are about to leave."
Joan went her own way, she was in her yoga pants and gym bra, she liked to work out alone on Saturday. On the second floor was the gym, Its outer wall was glass and allowed the suffering gym nuts expansive views of the airstrip and the army command center on the other side to ease their pain. A bus was parked on the tarmac section, several greens were dotting the airstrip, she soon saw the dots of Mary and her lapdog like missiles heading for the bus that was slowly loading up. Damn him, she did not need him, she could not believe she had prayed for his safe return, asked about him, even met that snake colonel Bill Rono to ask about him. It would have been better If he had died there, that would make her life much easier. She swore to slap the stuffing out of Mary the next time she updated her on their sick relationship.
She streched a bit then did fifty close grip press ups. Next she loaded two twenty kg. weights on an iron bar and started her ritual of twenty squats, rest, twenty squats then finish. A man she had not noticed on a treadmill in the corner had stopped to stare at her behind. She eyed him and he melted immediately, wait, It was lieutenant Haggai Ongaya. That coward.
She nodded after her work out.
"What's up?" Haggai after an awkward and sweaty minute smiled expectantly.
That's when the glass rattled and the whole building shook, the tarmac outside had rocked violently like a TV screen suddenly shaken, where a bus had been she saw smoke, thick smoke, black as sin and it's bottom an angry orange of ruthless flames, around the bus in a crude semi circle were bodies and smears of red. She fainted before her brain could tell her what it meant.