Don't Let Me Go (A Kenyan Story)

Master of the Game

Mark had made up his mind. He wouldn’t take Cyrus’s threats lightly. He had a ledger of every transaction he had ever made with Cyrus and his crew. That was his insurance against the ruthless man. After confessing everything to Leslie, he had called Cyrus and suggested that they meet up and come to some form of agreement on how he would pay the seventy two million. Unknown to him was that Cyrus had a team surveiling his movements and contacts closely.
That was four days ago. Today, he sat in his car, driving towards the meeting point they had both agreed upon. He was no fool, he had opted for some place public, a high end pub in Westlands. He couldn’t risk meeting Cyrus in a place where he didn’t have the safety of numbers. He knew Cyrus would end his life without remorse and no one would be any wiser.

I’m going to fix this. No matter the cost.

                          ****************************

Leslie had noted the black minivan for some while now. She had thought nothing of it at first but now she had this ugly feeling that something was terribly amiss. She got her phone out of the handbag lying on the shotgun seat of her BMW. The battery was dead.

Just perfect. Now I’m royally fucked.

She took the next turn to see if it would follow her. Sure enough, the minivan entered took the turn too. And then she realized her colossal mistake. She had just trapped herself in a cul-se-sac. The only way out was how she came in. But it was too late. The people in the minivan had already guessed her next move and had promptly blocked it.

As if my day can’t get any worse.

Two burly men in masks got out and walked in an unhurried manner towards her vehicle. She locked herself in the car, closing all the windows. If they were going to get her, she wouldn’t let it be easy. She would put up a fight. Reaching her car, one of them hit the window on her side, breaking it. She covered her face as shards of the glass sprayed all over her. The last thought she had before she was lifted of her seat was of Mark.

                          *****************************

Cyrus was already at the pub. Two of his goons sat with him at a secluded corner. Mark walked towards the table, confident that he would get out of the pub victorious.

“Cyrus,” he said when he got to the table.

“You wanted to discuss how I will get my money. I had given you five days to get me the entire sum. That was four days ago,” he finally spoke, not taking his eyes off the glass of whisky he was sipping.

“I know, can we discuss this matter with a bit of privacy?” he asked him eyeing the two goons.

Cyrus just nodded in acknowledgement, and they got up. “Well, do you have my money?”

“Yes and no. I have it, just not the entire amount.”
He noticed Cyrus’ calm appearance and it unnerved him, more than he would have liked. He did not respond but instead smiled as he drained the last of his whisky. “Do you take me for a fool Mark?” Again, he was unnaturally calm as he asked.

“No, but getting a hold of seventy two million in five days isn’t exactly a piece of cake,” Mark answered.
He waved his hand and one of the two goons walked to him. he whispered in his ear and the goon handed him a phone. “Just to show you that I mean business,” he said as he handed the phone to Mark.

Mark stared at the video playing on the device. Leslie was lay on a table, her body bound tightly to it. She seemed a little bit bruised and bloody. He felt the rage building up in him, threatening to spill over.

“Mess with me and I will deliver her to you piece after bloody piece,” he said with no ounce of emotion.
That was all it took for Mark to snap. He lunged at Cyrus’ face; his fist raised. Before his fist connected to his face, the goon closest to Cyrus delivered an uppercut, sending him sprawling back to his seat, as he toppled over to the floor. He felt the wind get knocked out of him, and he lay there, writhing in pain. Very few people noticed the encounter and those who noticed shrugged it off.

“Are you done with trying to play the hero?” Cyrus asked, his tone turned cold and menacing. “And don’t try threatening me with going to the press. I’m way ahead of you. I know you have records of all our transactions. They are useless even in a court of law. I am untouchable Mark, and you best believe it. In chess, always let the pawns make their move first. They are of no consequence. You are nothing but a pawn Mark, Leslie too. And I can get rid of the both of you like chaff.” With that, he got up and walked out of the pub.

AUTHOR'S NOTE
I haven't really been in a writing mood, well, for this anyway. Hope you enjoy the chapter.
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