Hell is hot, death is cold.
Changa took one deep pull and breathed out. The grey smoke streamed out and mixed with the golden rays that filtered through the semi closed curtains.
He turned and looked down. A pitiful site. He looked up and placed the cigarette between his tight lips.
They always talk.
After all the bravado they always talk.
Even if they are going to die. A far cry from the patriot, they yelp like little puppies. All they need is a little convincing that's all.
Changa heaved himself of the chair and his frame towered up and stood hovering over the couched body below.
Changa smiled. he had done a nice job. He brooded over the last four hours and it felt good. First the toes, one by one but the agent wouldn't squeal. Then it was the needles hammered into his feet and legs. Still he would squeal. Changa had to go the whole nine yards. It wasn't until he showed him all the his limbs in a pile before him and the putrid smell of burning flesh that he finally broke down. Changa had to admit, he was pretty bummed kept him alive with tourniquets wasn't easy....but it was worth every last second
Changa then heaved a deep sign.
He talked, phloem coming out his mouth, mucus and tears streaming down his face, he talked.
They always talk.
Ngozi walked into the dimly lit room. His eyes coldly scanned the four corners. His narrow black eyes fixed on the right corner.
"How do you do that, I swear I did not not even breathe the whole time," a figure walked out of silhouette. It was Mika, she stood shoulder high to Ngozi. She wore a smile, a warm smile.
Ngozi always thought that people where fake but it was different with this girl. She seemed to really mean to smile. That was different.
"If you are not like that you won't live long," Ngozi replied. Mika nodded indicating she understood.
"Are you prepared?"
"yes I have finished and Duke is making the final touches up there." She said pointing up.
Ngozi, turned to one side and said
"Suka." It was a Japanese word and Mika understood it. it meant "I see". Ngozi turned and looked at Mika in the eye.
Not a word said.
Ngozi could see it in her eyes but his cold narrow eyes revealed nothing. He turned and walked towards the door.
'I will be going now." and he walked on.
"You have been a good to me and I want to thank you"
Ngozi stopped in mid stride. An uncomfortable silence ensued. His face looked constricted, he turned his head back only slightly over his shoulder. He breathed and walked off.
Mika knew what kind of man he was, she knew that's how he showed it.
Michel stepped out of the phone booth. He had just finished talking to his contact. A man called Changa, he had not met him before but neither had he not met any of his other contacts before. He walked at a determined pace. In his crisp Italian suit, briefcase and kid leather gloves he looked like the successful officeman, a lawyer, an junior executive. He looked the part.
He walked into the bus station and and proceeded towards an information board. Michel studied the board for a few minutes they went on to buy a ticket.
The lady behind the counter smiled.
"Ticket to Greendale please."
"Return or single, sir'
He handed her the money and she produced the ticket
"Have a good day."
Michel gave a shy smile and walked off.
He stood outside the stop. 3 minutes later the Greendale bus came and he got on. He sat four rows from the front, briefcase on lap.
The driver was listening to the radio and one of the passengers stood up and asked him to turn it up so everyone could hear.
The atmosphere was tense and yet surprisingly calm.
"Yesterday night a daring attack on two miliatry bases was carried out and the Chirin border post was attacked also. Minister of Defence Mun Arg said that a unit of commandos have been deployed to quell the rebellious attacks. There are currently no confirmed reports about the situation at the border and military bases but the Minister assures the public that they have no reason to fear. Director Erm Saun of the central intelligence invites all who have information about the rebellious plot to come forward to ensure these barbarous lot is brought to instant justice."
The radio then turned to the weather and very soon was repeating the same message. The passengers on the bus looked at each other. Each one wanting to look the least suspicious.
Michel calmly sat on his seat and looked out window as traffic passed by and the people walking on the side walk. Oblivious of mechanisations that were turning to change their lives forever.
Ignorance is bliss
Ten minutes later Michel stood up and got off at his stop. He looked both ways along the long road. A row of middle class houses lined the street. He turned and started walking uphill. He passed a white van parked on the side of the road, eventually he came up to number 37 and he turned into the driveway. He walked up the steps and rang the doorbell.
Michel looked down and saw a pile of mail. Dr G Brenner most of them read. Michel looked at his watch. It was 0913
A woman came up to answer and drew the curtain on the side of the door, she looked exactly like in the picture. She opened the door slightly to peek out.
"Hallo, Maam. How are you. I am not selling anything but I would like to offer you a free house evaluation. Our company evaluates post colonial brick houses like yours."
"Honey, who is it'' a man's voice came from above and Michel could hear someone coming down the stairs
"Its one of those darned salespeople George!"
The man reached the door and swung it open and his face looked flushed, he was ready to spill a torrent of abuse.
But he didn't.
One second later he was lying next to the lifeless body of his wife.
Michel caught a reflection of himself in the foyer mirror. His face was almost that of a boy smooth and his short straightened hair enhanced his look. A placid, benevolent and pacified face. When he thought of his inner-self he felt a sudden urge to shut the door.
He made his way up to the study. He ripped the laptop from the desk into his briefcase. He looked frantically around then he saw the safe. The backups. Michel went n his knees and fumbled with the door. It had an 8 digit code. He went back downstairs and stood over the couple.
His mind raced. he looked to the walls the he saw the pictures. It was the same person in all of them. This couple idolised their son. The foyer, the stairs, the hallway, the study. He rushed into the bedrooms. It was all the same. All pictures of the son. It was like a revolving realisation.
One flick through his envelope he had it. The son was born 12.07.1989.
He dashed to the safe and punched in the digits. The safe opened with a release of pressure.
It was done.
he was in and out within sixty seconds. He turned as he left reached out his hand to shake the gave a cursory bow. Michel walked down the driveway, he looked at his watch.
Michel continued walking until he disappeared into the maze of streets.
Changa jumped of the ledge and his boots landed on the soft and drenched grass. A double flash of light lit his morbid face and just as soon as it had appeared morphed back in the darkness. A loud clap of thunder followed.
Changa gave a groan and he started walking towards the mansion.
Dunga looked back at the blazing buildings behind him. Presently an infantry radio man rushed up to him holding out the receiver.
He grabbed hold and listened to the voice on the other end.
What he heard lifted his very being. It was going as planned. He turned from the radio man and gave the order to fall back from the border post and advance inside.
The soldiers filled the trucks, the commando's weren't coming. The unit could advance a little further before resistance came.
Now was the time.