THE SECOND SIGHT EPISODE 45
Nasty, nasty thoughts, Yaw boy … just watch it right there!
The blue-clad maid entered again and wordlessly wheeled the table and its contents away.
Jo got to her feet and walked toward the window, a cellular phone pressed to her ear. I swung my feet off the bed and settled them down gingerly on the floor.
The ground did a little jig, and the tired drummers in my head slammed a few more beats into my skull and then settled into a dull rhythmic ache that was a lot more tolerable than the pounding I had earlier experienced.
She tucked her phone away, and now she turned and leaned against the wall.
They are on their way.
It was evident that was all the information she was prepared to give, and so I didn’t press her.
The door opened presently and then Chief Inspector Frost entered, followed by two elderly men in black suits, and one was holding my pressed clothes gingerly.
Behind them was a tall lean man in a grey suit.
His iron-grey hair, lean aristocratic face and the gold-rimmed spectacles fitting so well with his face rang a bell somewhere; he was very familiar, one of the distinguished politicians whose face was always on television.
A famous and respected Minister, maybe, but I had always hated politics, and his face had just been the occasional glimpse and nothing more as far as I was concerned.
The man holding my clothes approached me and put them on the bed.
Think you can get dressed, Mr. Boat?
His voice was surprisingly feminine for a man his size. He was short and broad across the shoulders, making it appear as if he were wearing a coat broad enough to house two men.
His thinning black hair was spiked with a lot of grey.
His eyes were black and deep-set, and regarding me with cool casualness.
I had the distinct impression that he was making an assessment somewhat, and that whatever brain was in that head was clicking away like mad, filing away vital information.
He didn’t wait for me to reply but pointed to a little door I had previously not seen because it had been at the head of the bed.
In there is the bathroom. I think you can conveniently get dressed there.
The other men had ignored me, and were pulling up the high-backed chairs and making themselves comfortable. I got to my feet and picked up the clothes. I hesitated, wobbling a bit, and Jo glided to my side quickly.
Are you okay?
Her voice was cool but I sensed the concern underlying it, and I looked at her.
Our eyes locked, and silently we both acknowledged the fact that under different circumstances, we could have been engaged in a little bit more than just casual talk.
I’m fine. A little weak but fine. I’ll be out in a while.
Dressing was much tougher than I had expected.
I still felt a little wobbly each time I bent, but by the time I finally tied up my shoelaces I was okay somewhat.
My brain was working overtime as I tried to find out how deeply I was in trouble. I had caused some harm, I knew, and if they decided to press me I could find myself in a real tight spot.
When I emerged from the room they were all seated in a crude semi-circle, the distinguished politician in the middle – the obvious leader. There was an empty chair facing them.
I assume this is for me?
I indicated the chair.
That is so, Mr. Boat.
His voice was soft and cultured.
He was obviously a man of means – good family, good money, good schools, distinguished career, never a false step in his golden life so far. Pampered, favoured and yet a right in his own way, independent and strong.
I sat down and faced them.
My eyes were on the politician because he seemed to be running the show. His cool eyes appraised me. His compatriots looked a little uncomfortable on the high-backed chairs, but he sat easily, leaning slightly sideways, legs crossed.
This meeting shouldn’t take long. Names wouldn’t be needed here, I presume, for reasons I’ll rather not go into. All I can say is that the man on my left is the police chief in Portville.
He meant the squat gorilla that had brought me my clothes.
I nodded, because that seemed to be all I could do for the moment.
The man on my right is a director of a section of the BNI. Chief Inspector Frost you already know. You’ve been out for roughly six hours, and within that time I flew down here immediately our BNI friend called and told me what was going on. Within that time I’ve tried to familiarize myself with the facts of the complex cases I was presented with. Afterwards we had a long chat with your friend, the Reverend Charles Bonner, who explained some of the crazier aspects to me, and only managed to confuse me more because I found it impossible to believe that kind of – let’s say faith – that he told me about. I’ll never understand it. However he did enough to convince us that our only chance of dealing with whatever evil is plaguing this town is you.
He paused, and I could feel all their eyes on me. I sighed and leaned forward.
Pastor Paul Anderson. How’s he?
CHIEF INSPECTOR FROST
On admission at the Portville Hospital. Critical condition. The doctors say his backbone was hurt pretty badly, and he’s in some sort of a coma. Hundred percent recovery is not expected. The truth is that he could end up in a wheelchair, and the only part of his body that would have mobility and function well would be from his neck up.
It hit me bad.
I dropped my face into my shaking hands and shuddered.
Are you with us, Mr. Boat?
I lifted my head and glared harshly at him.
Cut to the chase and tell me what you want from me!
I practically spat at him.
The others recoiled; even Frost winced, but the politician didn’t miss a stride.
Instead his eyes became colder, and his jaw tightened perceptively.
There was crude steel underneath all that charm, I realized suddenly, and told myself that this was a man that I should be wary of.
You messed things up, mister. Aside from the extensive damage you caused to government property we could hold you for other physical charges. You could even be hit with a murder charge if we want. However, this is an election year, and it isn’t going to be any ordinary election either. The attention of the world is focused on this land. It will be a very bad time to hit town with this bizarre story about innocent men and women changing into horned beasts and killing people indiscriminately. It is something we’ve never faced before, and even Mr. Frost admits it is crazy. After speaking to Charles Bonner we came to a single conclusion. Charges against you would be suspended if – and only if – you’re able to get rid of this thing within twenty-four hours. If you fail we will drag you in, and charge you with so many offences that you would never get out of prison again.
I smiled at him; it wasn’t one of my best smiles, and for a very brief moment I saw the flash of anger on his face.
Bulls***. You can’t make anything stick. You forgot that a lot has happened already, and the press would be preparing their crucifixion stakes by now.
What has happened? Oh, I think you mean the unfortunate incident with the late Mrs. Okai who fell in love with a younger man. Sadly the greedy younger man did enough – and we do have evidence about this – to turn the noble woman’s head. Obviously he convinced her to get rid of her husband and son whilst he killed her security men and his lover’s maid. He even gave her the murder weapons. He convinced her to commit heinous crimes and then he made away with a lot of money and precious jewels, leaving her behind. It made the poor woman insane when she discovered her lover’s betrayal, and she went over the edge by killing a policeman and two other men. You remember the men she was making love to at the
Kitty-Pussi Club ? They died, unfortunately. She was shot to death by policemen in self-defence after she attacked them.
I gaped at him.
Of course he was a politician.
Lying was a part of his game!
I looked at him bitterly and with great anger.
And of course you’re going to frame me, claiming I’m that heartless young lover.
Are you? The choice, Mr. Boat, is entirely yours. I’m aware, of course, that you command a great deal of wealth, having inherited your father’s Estate. But believe me, we can make your life uncomfortable if we choose to.
I licked my lips, and in that instant I hated him extremely.
I knew that indeed they had me in a tight spot, and could indeed make life complicated for me.
I didn’t need complications.
Not when the Legion was still rampaging around.
And Kweku Abbiw? What happened at the Mission House is bound to draw attention. Eye witness accounts, you forget. A lot of cops present, and a lot of people present at the Mission Manse.
We have a total black out on that news. But first, no one from the Manse saw what really happened when Pastor Anderson and the beast came out of the house. Also we picked up some rather interesting things that could easily be used to link the heartless lover of Mrs. Okai to the death of Abbiw. Gruesome deaths have occurred, and answers will be demanded. I hate decisions like these, but believe me, there are times when scapegoats – of any kind and in any form – are necessary to avert an otherwise disturbing situation. The Reverend Bonner assures us you could put this to rest, so do it, otherwise the consequences would be deeply regrettable. I hope we understand each other.
I sighed and leaned back.
I was beaten.
We all knew it, and all indications pointed to the fact that I had to track down that vile thing again even though my own confidence had dwindled to next to nothing, and I had no faith whatsoever of being even remotely able to deal with the Legion to a final conclusion.
Alright. Twenty-four hours.
His eyes were intense orbs of steel as he looked at me.
Mr. Boat, I’m doing this not because of the crazy stuff Bonner told me, or of the insane things you did that impressed Chief Inspector Frost so much, or the fantastic eye-witness reports of the cops on the scene. I’m doing this only because I spoke to Sergeant Asomani, the man who knocked you out, and he confirmed that he hit you hard enough to kill you, because at that particular moment he was so enraged and he hated you. The doctor who examined you confirmed that judging by the bruised nature of your brain cells and other organs, that blow should’ve caved your head in. He noticed something else too. He instructed a scan to be carried out as soon as you were brought in, and less than an hour later he noticed the remarkable way your body recovered from the trauma it had been through. A second scan showed that all inflammations to your brain, which should’ve taken at least forty eight hours to begin showing signs of healing, were back to normal. You were bleeding profusely when you were brought in, and your clothes bore ample proof of that. It would’ve taken a minor surgery to sew up the gash in your skull, but by the time they parted your hair in the hospital the blood had stopped, and the wound had closed over. Had it not been the fact that you were still somewhat unconscious, no one would’ve believed the story. Well, all that says a lot, doesn’t it? That is the only reason I’m doing this, and believe me there are not going to be any second chances. After twenty-four hours we rope you in. Have I made myself clear?
Once again the other people in the room winced.
I’m not scared of you. I’ll do what I have to do. I have a score to settle with that thing, and I’ll go after it. I appreciate you cutting me some rope, though, but you must know that there could be other bodies, more casualties.
What I’m going after is a vicious group of demons who don’t hesitate to take a life. I’m just warning you that there could be other grisly deaths ahead of me when I catch up with that thing.
The politician nodded.
We thought about all that, and that’s why we’ve assigned one of our best agents to work with you. Miss Mintah will be with you, and would clean up after you. Take care of whatever the hell that thing is, and she would take care of the rest.
I looked at the woman.
I couldn’t trust myself with her.
I’ll do this alone, if you don’t mind. She would be in danger. You better find other ways of dealing with any deaths.
The Politician stood up, and his hard eyes never left my face.
Not negotiable, Mr. Boat. She goes with you, and you have twenty-four hours starting now. Good luck.
I didn’t get up.
All of them left except Frost and the woman.
The policeman lighted one of his proverbial cigarettes and puffed out a gentle cloud of smoke. He looked at me with his dark sad eyes and then he nodded.
CHIEF INSPECTOR FROST
Good luck, Boat. It is out of my hands now. The BNI has taken over, but please if you could, I’d prefer not to have any more deaths on my streets. You can call me if you need any assistance.
I got to my feet slowly.
I need your assistance now. The cop who hit me … I need his address.
He was about to pull on his cigarette, but he paused and regarded me with his cold eyes.
CHIEF INSPECTOR FROST
You really think you’ve time for vengeance trips?
I held his gaze.
No. He is a sick man. I think the demons took over his body.
He walked to the desk where the computers were and rummaged through a transparent tray. He found a blunt pencil and then pulled out a white A4 sheet from the printer. He wrote quickly on it, folded it, and brought the paper to me.
CHIEF INSPECTOR FROST
Sergeant Jules Asomani is a real son-of-a-b****. Cocaine has been disappearing from our pounds and finding their way back to the streets. We think he’s behind it, he is under investigation, though he doesn’t know it yet. And rumours has it that he has other little seedy businesses going on. Nobody likes him, but nobody can touch him without iron-cast evidence because he happens to have the balls of some top brass in his palms which he squeezes as he sees fit, and that’s his insurance. I don’t think anybody will miss him much.
He turned on his heels and marched toward the door, blowing a cloud of smoke across his head.
Jo turned to me when the door closed behind the back of the enigmatic cop.
I guess I’m stuck with you.
I said tiredly and rubbed my eyes.
She came close to me, looking intently into my eyes.
I guess you are. I must admit that I find you extremely attractive, Yaw Boat, and I know you find me attractive too, but I promise you I won’t let it come between us. We have to clear this up first, and then afterwards…perhaps.
I smiled wanly and touched her chin gently.
No perhaps. First off I’m already in love with another woman, and secondly I have selected a life that excludes such intimacy.
Undeterred, she moved even closer to me.
A woman who obviously does not make you happy. I can see the hurt in your eyes, and the unhappiness. As for the other life – obviously a Christian one – well, we’ll see about that, won’t we?
And then her arms were around my neck, and she was pressing that close.
Maybe it was because I was too tired, and that my nerves had been really frayed with my encounter with the Legion. Maybe it was because my heart was still filled with fear and panic after the evil I had encountered.
Maybe it was because the great guilt I felt over Anderson had made me lose confident in myself … and maybe it was because she was all-woman, beautiful, soft, sweet and willing.
Whatever it was I met her kiss, and my arms went around her in a sudden explosion of passion I had never felt in a long time. This was not the clean love I felt for Nicole, the one that was so much blissful and complete, the one that I wished would never end.
This was just an expression of the physical, the primal animal urge for expending pent-up lust, the unstoppable urge to satiate a need, and although I knew that I would probably hate her afterward, I could not stop.
Her tongue was a hot delight that teased inside my mouth, and as I gripped her right breast I could feel the taut nipple, and I realized in my stupor that she was not wearing a bra.
Dimly I was in agony, wondering how we had crossed the boundaries so easily … so willingly…so quickly!
Oh Lord, help me!
To be continued…
© – Agyeman
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