Against All Odds

by R. A. Lang

  I was booked on the early morning flight the very next day. I didn’t have much time to pack, so I didn’t bother and left all my things behind. I only took my laptop, passport and wallet. My stress level was on an all-time high as I wondered whether I’d be disturbed again. I was worried that Antonina would find out I was leaving the country and block my exit or whether the KGB would pick me up. I couldn’t get any sleep, even though the night before was so horrifying, but kept thinking that soon my nightmare would be over. I went to the hotel reception and settled all outstanding bills, including the cost for a new bedroom door, so I wouldn’t have any issues when I checked out.

  I joined a group of other colleagues in the lobby at 4.30am that were also taking the same flight. Our bus arrived on time, and just half an hour later I was at the airport with my one-way ticket out of Kazakhstan.

  To ensure some support getting through the airport border police, most of whom were Antonina’s friends, I arranged for a representative from my Kazakh agent to meet me at the entrance of the airport. My agency was also my sponsor and visa holder, so it was in their own interests to escort me through the airport and ensure I got away. I also asked the representative to wait until I had successfully passed through the border police before leaving.

  It was probably the most nerve-racking time of my entire life because Antonina’s uncle was the chief of the border control police for the entire country, and I didn’t know what she had told him.

  Luckily for me, my friend Andy Taylor was also on the same flight. I asked him to pass through the security and border police just after me in case I was detained.

  That way, if the KGB had been informed and waiting for me, Andy would be there as a witness and could alert my company that I had been taken and hadn’t succeeded to leave the country.

  If Antonina knew about my escape plans, she would most certainly have instructed the border police, the Kazakh KGB and also her uncle to prevent me from leaving the damn country. If they had picked me up, she’d have me held behind the scenes until she could arrange for her KGB friends to take care of me - permanently!

  I think the speed with which I left Kazakhstan was what spared my life, as Antonina didn’t have the chance to make any arrangements.

  I kept a very low profile as I neared the border control police. I didn’t want the head of the police recognising me, as he was a friend of Antonina and also her brother who used to work with him. When it eventually came to my turn, I sheepishly walked up to the kiosk to have my passport processed. I kept my head down and hoped that my collar would help to hide my face as I went to the police.

  Once I was successfully through the border control, I walked as far into the departure gate as possible so I would not be clearly visible. Andy, who was following close behind me, deliberately stood between the border police and me for additional cover.

  It had been snowing hard and I was worried in case they would cancel, postpone or delay the flight. After the longest nerve-racking hour of my entire life, it was finally announced that we should proceed through the gate. A battered, old Russian bus was waiting outside the door to take us to the aircraft. It was at minus forty-eight degrees centigrade so everyone else was wrapped up in much the same way I was, but for a different reason.

  Still needing to carefully conceal the deep wound to the side of my head, I followed all the other passengers and approached the doors with the freezing cold wind howling past outside. The police sergeant, Antonina’s friend and ex-colleague of Antonina’s KGB brother, spotted me just as I was passing through the doors.

  I thought, this is it, this is the end of me; they’ve got me, and there is nowhere for me to run. He had a startled look on his face because he had seen me entering the country only a few days before with Antonina.

  While keeping an eye on me he immediately took out his mobile phone and started looking for a number to call. Surely, he was calling Antonina to ask why I was leaving so soon after arriving, I thought. I can only imagine that he couldn’t get a dial tone or an answer from her phone, so he had no other choice other than to let me proceed to board the aircraft.

  Once I was safely seated on the aircraft, my heart continued pounding heavily due to my continuing worry about being taken off the aircraft. I was sure the policeman would still be trying to call Antonina for instructions. Due to the runway being covered in snow and ice, the aircraft needed to make one slow pass down it so its engines could clear it away while controlling its speed with its brakes on.

  The entire aircraft was shaking with the powerful thrust from its engines while it cleared the snow. This made my escape to freedom even more intense. The aircraft could have been ordered to return at any second, if the policeman had succeeded to make contact with Antonina.

  After what had felt like hours, the aircraft finally left the ground and I could, at last, begin to relax for the very first time after so many months of hell. I finally started to believe that my nightmare was over and began to wipe the memories of Antonina and Kazakhstan from my mind for good.

  As far as I was aware at the time, the only cloud left on the horizon was the fact that Haitian and Ronnie would be waiting at my house when I arrived home. I began wondering how they would react after seeing me so soon after all the hell they had caused for me under my own roof. I wondered which excuse they would use to try to lessen the bad atmosphere. I wondered what they would try without the support from a crazed Kazakh psychopath.

  I didn’t have the time to call my house sitters to announce my sudden return to the island. That was fine with me because I didn’t intend to give them any warning in any case. As far as they were concerned, they finally had my house to themselves and would never see me again. They would claim it as their own, as planned if Antonina had succeeded in murdering me, per the local island law.

  I arrived in Amsterdam airport after sleeping for most of the flight. I was totally exhausted from the lack of sleep from the recent events, and I had lost a lot of blood. I spent the night recuperating in my usual hotel across from the central railway station in Amsterdam before continuing to the Caribbean the next day.

  I stayed in the hotel which happened to be the same place where Antonina created so many problems for me just three weeks before. The second time around felt like heaven, which I had just avoided visiting earlier than planned! I felt like I had won against all the odds, like I had survived the impossible and that I was still alive to tell the tale, which inspired what you’re now reading.

  I went to visit some friends of mine near the hotel, as I knew I could always find them at my favourite Irish bar. Sure enough, they were all there. They were surprised to see me again so soon, and they were delighted to see me without the strange Kazakh woman who had blatantly refused to be introduced to them just three weeks before, which had been very embarrassing at the time.

  I showed them the gash to the side of my head, which was still weeping blood because I hadn’t had any stitches. They were all horrified after I explained how I got the wound. I didn’t feel like explaining all the latest events because I was so desperate to put everything behind me, and permanently.

  On the way back to the hotel I bought a large box of tissue paper and covered a part of the hotel pillow to protect the starched white cotton case from my blood and went to bed very early. I was still quite weak from all the stress and lack of sleep, and I needed a relaxing start to the next day’s long haul flight back to the island. I was quietly excited that the next day would be the renaissance of a new kind of life. A life I had always dreamed of having.

  It was no surprise that I fell asleep the moment my head touched the pillow. I didn’t wake up until eight o’clock the following morning, and I felt better than I had felt for several months.

  I arrived at the check-in desk in Schiphol airport with three hours to waste. I enjoyed walking around the airport with the thought that I didn’t have to buy anything for anyone.

  The duty-free area felt so different and relaxing. I casually
made my way in the direction of the business class lounge, and I realised that I was standing right outside the Rolex shop where I had bought my watch back in 2006.

  I looked at the watches on display and wondered whether I would ever dare to replace my beloved watch in the future. I already knew the answer, which was yes, if only to reinforce my private defiance for those who had taken my last one and caused me to meet Antonina.

  I arrived at my departure gate in good time, and I couldn’t help thinking about what had passed through my mind when I proceeded towards the departure gate the day before. The second approach did feel like a renaissance. I walked slowly and reminisced about the horror I had just been through, all the while trying to conceal the big smile that was trying to spread across my face.

  I sat down in the very same seat number that I had sat in just three weeks before. And much to my surprise, the seat next to me, where Antonina had sat before, remained empty for the entire flight.

  Reality set in and I began to believe that I really had survived. Shortly afterwards, I was served a complimentary glass of champagne, and I made myself comfortable for the ten hour flight ahead.

  Soon, I was airborne and wondering when I would next touch down on European soil. Then I started thinking about what reaction my troublesome house sitters would have when I returned unexpectedly, and very much alive!

  I decided not to start thinking about what lay ahead until the time came. Instead, I tried concentrating on relaxing and enjoying the view from the upper deck of the Boeing 747-400.

  The skies were clear and blue as I passed over the United Kingdom. We were at cruising altitude by the time we passed over Wales, so I couldn’t see the place where my mother lived. She’s probably worrying herself half to death, I thought. I had called her from Amsterdam to let her know I had slipped through the Kazakh authorities and avoided the KGB so at least she knew I had survived the murder attempts.

  The flight felt completely different for some reason. Maybe it was because of all that had recently happened to me, or the thought that I had left Kazakhstan for good, and was free to look for my next overseas location to work.

  During the flight, I began to think about ways to evict Haitian and Ronnie so I’d have my house to myself again. I figured that I’d have to pay them to leave, but that didn’t work when I offered them a few nights in a hotel on my last visit. I began to consider selling my property, as that would certainly solve the problem, as the law couldn’t stop me selling, which would succeed in getting Haitian and Ronnie out of my house.

  Chapter 23

  Back to the Caribbean

  My flight touched down half an hour early on the island, and for the very first time, I wasn’t really happy about it.

  I had my usual window seat during my flight back from Amsterdam, so it wasn’t difficult to keep the wound to the left side of my head out of sight from the flight attendant and other passengers.

  I was the first to pass through the island’s customs control. Due to the Caribbean heat, I carried my jacket over my arm, not thinking about my wound. As I handed over my passport at the immigration desk, I was given a strange look and asked if I was okay. I realised what the policewoman had noticed and said I was fine and would get checked later in the day at the hospital. I passed through all the people waiting at arrivals, and fortunately, I wasn’t recognised by anyone for once.

  I passed through the gate and out into the heat and sunshine. There, I lit my first cigarette since the business class lounge in Amsterdam. I could see the long queue of taxis a few yards away, and I began to imagine my reception when I got back to my house just a twenty minute drive away.

  Reality brought me back to earth firmly when I walked over to the line of taxis and jumped into the one in the front of the queue. The driver, Tristan, was a friend of mine, and I hadn’t seen him on my previous visit. He wouldn’t have had any idea what had been going on the last time I was there or what had been done to me.

  When Tristan noticed the deep wound to the side of my head he was shocked to say the least and asked what the hell was going on with me. I began to explain why I needed to return so soon, which fascinated him. He was totally dumbfounded and suggested we go for a beer before he took me back to my house. He explained that I would be better prepared that way.

  We stopped off at a Chinese bar called the ‘Hoi Sing’, which was managed by a Chinese family. I always visited them when I was left to my own devices. The Chinese manager was in bed and sleeping as usual as he worked the evening shift.

  I was glad he wasn’t awake, because I was in no mood for an audience. Tristan had planned to finish work early that day to take a rest, so it suited him to sit and listen to the most amazing story he had ever heard from a friend. I was sure everything I told him would be all over the island by the next day, so I was careful with regard to the details I gave him.

  After a couple of hours, it was time for Tristan to drop me off at my house. He wouldn’t accept any payment because I’d paid our bar bill and entertained him like he’d never been entertained in his life. I knew he couldn’t wait to get home and tell his wife all that had been said.

  The front door to my house wasn’t locked, so I let myself straight in. I was expecting to catch Haitian sitting on my sofa in front of lit candles. I was right, as it happened, and she nearly fell off my sofa when she looked up and saw me standing there. She was busy performing a voodoo ritual for someone she knew, or maybe a ritual to bring more trouble into my life.

  “Oh my precious brother,” she screamed as she rushed towards me to hug me. “I thought I’d never see you again,” she cried. The false and nervous tears were running down her face.

  I said with a serious look on my face, “With no thanks to anyone, I am alive, and back to stay for a while, or at least until my next overseas contract.” She immediately began examining the side of my head, which was still in a rough shape and went to get some antiseptic cream and a dressing.

  She said that death was waiting for me at my hotel room door the night Antonina tried to murder me. Because I avoided going through the door, I had survived. I told her to stop her nonsense and to shut up.

  Strangely, she knew all about the white soup bowl that Antonina had smashed into my skull. She explained that Brave Elohim had been with me to protect me, and that it was Brave who had caused the soup bowl to shatter into pieces so it couldn’t be used again. I told Haitian I didn’t want to see or listen to any more voodoo; I just wanted to relax and return to a normal life.

  Later that night, Ronnie came back from the hotel bar. It was clear he put on a false and forced smile on his face. The disappointment that I was alive was clearly obvious. I couldn’t stand the fake and uncomfortable atmosphere, so I freshened up, put a dressing over my wound to conceal it and took a taxi to the capital. I wanted to get away from them and talk to a few locals I knew while listening to typical Caribbean music played for the tourists.

  The next day, I got up late in the morning. As I walked out of my bedroom, I found Haitian sitting at my dining table. She and Ronnie always chose to eat and talk right outside my bedroom. It was a constant reminder that I didn’t have any privacy in my own home.

  She was using the new laptop I had bought three weeks before. She was listening to music when, suddenly, my bathroom door slammed shut at the other end of the room. It closed with enough force to shatter the opaque glass in it, but miraculously nothing broke.

  All the doors and windows were closed, so I had a good idea what or who had entered my house. I asked Haitian if she was expecting anyone, but she didn’t answer me. Just seconds later, she shrieked and jumped up from her chair, almost turning my heavy dining table over. My new laptop flew across the table and almost landed on the floor.

  I knew exactly what was happening, and then she came over to me with an all too familiar expression on her face. Haitian was no longer Haitian; it was Brave. As impossible as it sounds, there is no mistaking the difference between the two in terms of the
ir expressions, voices or mannerisms.

  Brave approached me with his usual greeting with his arms crossed for a sometimes painful two handed handshake. I had to cross my arms and also join the two handed handshake. Brave’s handshakes were normally a painful experience to say the least, but not this time.

  Brave welcomed me back with a warm expression on his face. He was happy to see me alive after warning me about what would happen on March 15th and he was pleased that I had survived certain death.

  Brave claimed the fame for protecting me that night, and he also declared that he was responsible for ensuring that the soup bowl shattered when Antonina smashed it into my head. He told me to take his advice seriously the next time he gave it. I asked why he couldn’t have stopped the bowl hitting me but he just smiled back and didn’t answer my question.

  Brave didn’t stay long. He examined my wound and left after just ten minutes, and Haitian became her usual, obese self again. Every time Brave used her to communicate with me, she was left lifeless. She always used his visits as an excuse to go back to bed.

  Two nights later, Brave returned as himself at the usual time of one o’clock in the morning. There was no doubting Brave’s presence, he always made it very clear that he was passing by to check out my house. On such nights, I heard noises that eventually woke me up. The sounds became annoying, and I usually walked outside my bedroom and into my living room to see what all the commotion was about.

  The moment I walked out of my bedroom, I instantly felt his presence. After some time, I could locate exactly where in my living room he was. As unreal as it sounds, it was very real for me.

  In the living room, the pair of plastic parrots were singing. They belonged to Haitian, and they had a motion sensor so whenever someone walked past, the damn things would start singing.

  This night, the parrots were continuously singing, so I took the batteries out of them. To my total disbelief, the parrots continued to sing after I had removed their batteries. Consequently, I carried them outside and trashed them.