She was driving
her new Rav4 up the street in the slight jam, her glasses on.
There was always a jam in the lunch hour and she cursed herself
for not having left the office slightly earlier. It was a hot
day and despite the car’s cooler being on she lowered
the windows slightly to let some air in. As she moved up the
street she saw a figure with an unmistakable walk coming up
the street.
“Can’t be him,’’ she said loudly to
her herself as he came nearer on the crowded pavement. “Surely
not him,’’ she said again as he got nearer and nearer.
She lowered the window even lower to make sure as he came just
astride her car. She lowered her spectacles just as he passed
by and he’d looked straight into her eyes. Their eyes
had met for no more than a fraction of a second and they’d
recognized each. She’d slammed the brakes of her car and
tried to get out. But her safety belt was on. She quickly took
it off and opened the door. The car behind her began hooting
and not because she was wearing a mini-skirt which revealed
her great figure. She ran around looking for him but he’d
disappeared. She’d made the jam worse and there was more
hooting and now shouting. The pedestrians had stopped and were
staring at her not so much that she’d caused a jam as
that she was wearing a daring mini-skirt. She got back into
the car, shaken. “It’s him!” she thought.
She moved the car up the jam. “I better go home,’’
she said to herself.
“What’s it?” Her elder sister Lorraine had
asked as walked into the house. She could see that she was clearly
distressed.
“I saw him,’’ she said.
“Saw who Daisy?” Lorraine asked.
“Stanley!” she said, her voice almost breaking.
“Stanley Obbo?’’
“Yes!”
“Here in the city?”
“Yes!”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!”
“Oh my God!” Lorraine exclaimed holding her head
in her hands. “We must call Valentine immediately.’’
“Must we?” Daisy asked, afraid.
“Yes Daisy, we must. Obbo is a very dangerous man.’’
Lorraine went to the phone in the reception and called the number
she knew off head. She spoke quickly and put the phone down.
“He’s on his way.”
Thirty minutes later Valentine Kuji had come. Daisy’s
boyfriend Charles Rionji accompanied him. And so did a whole
contingent from the secret service. Valentine Kuji was the head
of the secret service in the capital city and this made him
a very powerful man. Charles Rionji was a son to one of the
country’s influence peddlers.
“Valentine called me as soon as he received Lorraine’s
phone call,’’ Charles said. Daisy had run into his
arms and she held him tightly.
“I also called your father,’’ Valentine said.
“He told me his on his way. I’ve also brought a
bit more security. You’ll need it until we get Obbo.’’
“Thank you,’’ Lorraine said.
“I’ll need to talk to Daisy privately,’’
Valentine said.
“You could go to Daddy’s study,’’ Lorraine
said.
“How about the veranda?” Valentine suggested.
“That would be fine,’’ Lorraine said.
“Daisy,’’ Valentine said gesturing towards
the garden seats on the veranda.
“It’s all right darling,’’ Charles said.
She followed Valentine onto the veranda and he shut the glass
door behind them.
“Please sit,’’ Valentine said. He understood
that it was always a risk to interrogate a daughter to one of
the most powerful minister’s in the government but this
had to be done. “Daisy this is a very serious situation.
Obbo is a very dangerous man. We want him. You have never told
me before that you knew him. Apparently you’d told Charles
that you once had an affair with him. Charles, against his better
judgement, failed to inform me. This can mean a lot of trouble
for everybody involved. Already all the security forces in the
city are on high alert. We intend to find him and when we do
we will eliminate him. It’s very important to me, your
father and everybody involved that you tell me everything, and
I mean everything, you know about Obbo.”
Valentine had just finished what he was saying when he saw Daisy’s
father walk into the parlor. He immediately got up from his
seat. The minister saw them on the veranda and walked straight
toward them followed by his bodyguard.
“Kuji, you are turning my house into one of your interrogation
cells,’’ the Minister growled.
“Not at all sir, I felt that it was in the interest of
everyone involved that we attract as little attention in such
a grave situation,’’ Valentine said.
“Let’s go talk in my study,’’ the minister
said. Kuji was supposed to be one of his allies but he understood
that in politics everything was fickle. Everybody had his ambitions
and everybody had to protect his back. His bodyguard had remained
at the door of the study as they walked in. “How bad is
it?”
“Very bad. Obbo is the number two man in our enemies secret
service and his in the city,” Valentine said.
“I’ve never heard of him,’’ the minister
said.
“In the secret service that is the way things should be.
And it would have remained that way but for Daisy.’’
“It unfortunate what one’s children can get themselves
into,’’ the minister said his mind not on his daughter
but on his messed up sons. “Who knows about this?”
“I informed my superior,’’ Valentine said.
The minister cursed within. Valentine had covered his own back.
This could mean trouble for him. Not much trouble, he could
handle it, but it was always dangerous to be questioned at any
one time.
“I’ll inform the President myself,’’
the minister said.
“I think one of my superiors would have done that by now,’’
Valentine said.
“I’ll talk to him anyway,’’ the Minister
said. “Do you have to talk to Daisy?”
“Yes!”
“Then do it here, in my study.’’
“I’d rather do it on the veranda. I don’t
want her to feel that she’s done anything wrong.’’
“Very well,’’ the minister acceded. But they
both knew she’d done wrong. Giving involved with the enemy
at any time, especially in war, was always trouble for all concerned.
As they walked down the stairs they heard Charles comforting
Daisy and telling her:
“Don’t worry, they’ll get him, dead or alive.”
*
Stanley Obbo sat in front of the television watching the evening
news. Already his picture had been flashed on the screen several
times. A curfew had been declared from dusk to dawn. He was
staying in the house of one of their informers, by name Trevor
Tonge, and he could see that the poor fellow was worried. Sporadic
shooting could be heard in the poorer parts of the city. Obbo
knew that he was safe where he was. All that mattered was for
the informer to hold his nerve. He housed many others of the
rebel movement before and Obbo wondered why he was so afraid.
“She wants me dead,’’ he thought to himself.
“Why this?” Tonge asked.
“Should I tell him or should I just shut up?” he
thought.
“Maybe somebody saw you.’’ Tonge said.
“Good deduction,’’ Obbo thought, keep thinking.
He picked up his gun that was on the coffee table and began
to wipe it for the umpteenth time.
“Must you do that?” Tonge asked.
“It’s always nice to have one’s pistol in
top notch condition,’’ Obbo said.
“The number of times you’ve wiped it I’m quite
sure it’s in a pretty good condition.’’
“One can never be too sure.’’
“That’s you!” Tonge suddenly screamed. A picture
of Obbo’s had appeared on the television screen. There
was an alert out on him and a cash reward was promised. The
presenter did not say what he was wanted for, only that he was
a dangerous man. Tonge was now a total wreck.
“You better leave town for a few days,’’ Obbo
said. “I’ll lie low while you enjoy yourself at
the coast. In a week or so it be safe enough for me to slip
out, okay?’’
“Yes,’’ Tonge said, very relieved. This was
one order he was most willing to obey. He knew that there was
little chance of Obbo being caught here. But one could never
be sure.
“She wants me dead,’’ Obbo thought
.
*
The tension in the city was unpalatable. The soldiers were on
the streets and door to door searches were being done in the
poorer estates and in the slums. People were being stopped on
the streets and some were even being shot. But no one approached
the upper class estates. In fact there were sealed off from
intruders. Obbo was safe here.
I just have to lie low and then slip out, he thought. He knew
how important he was to the rebels and his capture would be
a major blow to the movement. But he wasn’t going to let
the enemy have that satisfaction. He wouldn’t let them
take him alive if it came to that. And yet even his capture
dead would be a blow and great propaganda for the enemy. He
had to get out alive. She wants me dead!
*
Daisy sat in her room looking out of the window overlooking
the garden. She saw a soldier down in the garden with his machine
gun lazily hanging off his shoulder. Valentine had sent thirty
soldiers there. She felt it was a gross exaggeration.
“Obbo wouldn’t do me any harm,’’ she
thought. Her thoughts drifted back to the time she first saw
him.
*
Daisy had always know that she was a beautiful girl, especially
when she’d gotten her weight under control while in secondary
school. After that even full-grown men had trembled in her presence.
And as a young lady in college in Europe she had many suitors,
especially from her nationals who knew that she was a daughter
to a minister back home. It was then to her total surprise when
at one of the parties held by one of the nationals abroad that
the handsome dark gentleman had shown absolutely no interest
in her. Despite the fact that she was the heart of the party
he sat at the other side of the room, without as much as a glance
at her.
“Who’s that fellow?” she’d asked her
host. Like her he was the son of a powerful functionary back
home.
“Obbo?” he’d asked. “An exile!”
“My God,’’ she exclaimed. It was shocking
to her that Peter, the son of a power broker back home, could
cosset with the enemy.
“Come on Daisy,’’ he laughed. “This
isn’t home. A good number of the people here are exiles.
No reason why we should fight one another in a foreign land.”
“Does your father know about this?” she asked.
“Of course not, but I’m a big boy who can take care
of himself.”
“What does he do?”
“He’s doing his masters. And don’t ask me
why he’s an exile, I don’t know and I didn’t
care to ask.”
By this time the exile had moved to the balcony with a friend.
The friend had said something and the exile had laughed heartily.
The friend had then withdrawn and left the exile alone. She’d
thought he’d come in but he’d remained on the balcony
alone leaning on the rails and staring into the city’s
night-lights. She’d gone to the balcony and stood a foot
away from him. He’d turned and glanced at her and then
back into the night.
“It’s quite hot isn’t it?” she’d
began. He looked at her and half nodded and stared back into
the night.
“My name’s Daisy,’’ she said.
“I know,’’ he said and turned and walked away.
He’d always had a fear of beautiful women.
She felt humiliated. How the hell could an exile treat her like
a nobody? She watched him walk into the room whisper something
to their host and leave the room. She didn’t stay long
alone as another of the revelers joined her. Later they’d
moved back into the room and though she appeared to be enjoying
the party her mind kept back roving to the exile. But he was
nowhere to be seen. She’d been dancing with Peter when
she asked: “What happened to the exile?’’
“Which exile?” Peter asked.
“Obbo!”
“Told me that he had to leave, just after he’d left
you on the balcony.’’
“Oh!” she exclaimed.
“You like him don’t you,’’ Peter said.
He knew her as a party girl and thought that maybe she was looking
for a fling.
“The fact that I asked about him doesn’t mean that
I want him,’’ she said defensively.
“He’s good looking,’’ Peter said.
“So are you,’’ she teased.
She hadn’t seen Obbo for quite a while after that. And
one day she’d gone to Peter and asked him how Obbo was
doing.
“You do want him,’’ Peter said teasingly.
“Let’s say I wouldn’t mind an introduction,’’
She said.
“I don’t think that an exile like Obbo would like
to know a minister’s daughter like yourself,’’
Peter said.
“I just want the introduction,’’ Daisy had
said unbelieving that she was actually chasing a man for the
first time in her life.
“I’ll talk to him,’’ Peter promised.
He’d called her a day later to inform her that Obbo didn’t
want anything to do with her.
