Soul's Survivor

by Navi' Robins

  “I’m his brother,” the stranger replied with a confidence that momentarily startled the guard because it was clear by the stranger’s pale complexion and European accent that he and the African warlord were of no relation. Giving the stranger a look of disbelief, he looked down at the sign-in sheet to see what name this liar signed in under.

  “John Smith? Really? That’s your real name?”

  “Sure is,” he replied, handing the guard his identification card.

  “John Smith?”

  “Isn’t that what the identification card says?”

  “Appears so.”

  “Well, there you have it. John Smith it is.”

  “Okay, so your name is John Smith, but the prisoner’s surname isn’t Smith. Nothing close to it, and I’m supposed to believe a white ‘Scot’ is the brother of an African? Try me when I’m drunk, chappy.”

  “Shouldn’t you check the prisoner’s approved visitor’s list before you make that assumption?”

  The guard wasn’t in the mood to get up and go to the large wall of file cabinets behind him, but he knew the only way he could get rid of the prankster was to prove him false. So, he pushed back on his chair, allowing the wheels and the momentum to propel him backward toward the cabinets. John watched attentively as the guard searched through several file drawers until he found what he was looking for. He quickly glanced over the sheet and exhaled deeply while lowering his head. He turned his head slightly toward Mr. Smith to see if he was watching him. John was now smiling so widely, his mouth was agape, and he was gesturing with his hand for him to return to the window with the sheet.

  God, I hate that guy, the guard thought. He knew the pretty asshole would rub it in further. However, he had a job to do, and regardless of how much he loathed people like John Smith, he had no choice but to allow him entry into the facility to see Kronte. After processing the remaining paperwork, he handed John a visitor’s pass and reached under his desk to buzz him in.

  “Thank you, kind sir. I see this job suits you perfectly. It fills me with so much joy to see someone right where they are supposed to be,” John said slyly while walking through the door.

  The guard jumped out of his chair, having had enough of John’s taunts and was planning on giving him some choice yet unprofessional words but then changed his mind when his superior suddenly came out to greet John Smith at the entry door.

  Cheeky bastard, the guard thought while watching Mr. Smith move farther into the facility.

  He led John to a small room enclosed in glass that was no more than eight feet by ten feet. The large and intimidating man known as Kronte sat at a white table in the middle of the room. He was unshackled, and from the expression on his deeply scarred and dark, coffee-colored face, he wasn’t too delighted to be in the room. Kronte glared at Mr. Smith through bloodshot eyes that seemed to burn with a senseless hatred that made most uncomfortable. John was all too amused, and he smiled back at Kronte like a used car salesman on the verge of selling a lemon with a Ferrari price tag.

  From the annoyed look on Kronte’s face, John was no stranger to him, and he braced himself for bad . . . or insulting news.

  “Father sends his greetings,” John said, still smiling.

  “How is Father doing?” Kronte asked, unamused with John’s attitude.

  “He’s not doing well, brother. He’s grown ill from all the bad news coming out of Juba over the past few months.”

  “If Father took better care of his children, he wouldn’t grow ill.”

  “Father isn’t that nurturing. You, of all his children, should know that. You should also know he doesn’t take too kindly to his wishes not being fulfilled as he instructed. He specifically instructed you to stay home and not go on the farm to harvest because things were out of season, but you didn’t listen, and now the crops are ruined. The family has lost a lot because of your insolence.”

  “The family has lost a lot? What about what I’ve lost? Over the years, I’ve brought a hefty harvest to Father. That should count for something, shouldn’t it?”

  “Was that a serious question?” John asked, staring at Kronte as if he’d lost his mind. “Listen, brother, Father instructed me to tell you that you have been disowned and cut off from the family inheritance. All your assets will be liquidated to cover the loss the family incurred from your disobedience. He can’t overlook or forgive the fact that we lost a sixty-bushel annual initiative because of your actions. If, by some miracle, you beat this case, he wishes you the best on your journey in life, but Father has instructed that you refrain from continuing the family business on any level. In addition, this will be the last time you hear from Father directly or indirectly. Father’s terms are final and nonnegotiable.”

  Kronte immediately became enraged and nearly leaped out of his chair to attack John, but then something inside gave him pause, and he changed his mind, flopping back into his chair. John seemed amused by Kronte’s anger and appeared disappointed that he didn’t go through with his thoughts on physically attacking him.

  “Well, if I’m no longer Father’s son, then you tell Father that unless he wants all the family’s secrets revealed, he better find a way to grant me full forgiveness.”

  “Brother, you know that’s impossible. Even if Father wanted to, you are in a secure position that’s completely out of Father’s reach and influence.”

  “Well, brother, you are his favorite son, and you’ve been known to make the impossible possible,” Kronte responded sarcastically. “So, unless Father wants the farmer’s union to come set fire to his crops, he better grant me full forgiveness and reinstate my inheritance. This is nonnegotiable.”

  John looked at Kronte, shaking his head as if he were a fool. Looking at the warlord a few seconds further, John decided the conversation was over, and he stood up to leave.

  “All this trouble for a woman? She must be a rare breed. By the way, aren’t you still legally married to Ms. Burundi?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Just wondering,” John responded, before quickly leaving Kronte sitting in the glass room alone.

  Kronte’s entire body felt cold as he watched John leave. He’s known Mr. Smith for years, and one thing he learned quickly was John never asks questions for no reason. He didn’t care if John decided to kill Ayana. He’s wanted her dead for years. What Kronte didn’t want was to be charged with her murder without having the pleasure of ending her life himself. That would surely seal his fate. Suddenly, he began to regret the things he’d just said to Mr. Smith.

  A few minutes later, John Smith was speeding down the highway in his black Aston Martin, placing a call to “Father.”

  “Is this line secure?” a deep masculine voice inquired on the other end.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Report.”

  “Kronte has responded with betrayal, sir. He’s threatened to expose his benefactors if he isn’t freed from prison, the case against him dropped by the UN, and no war crime charges are brought against him again . . . ever.”

  “That smug bastard! Does he understand that he cost us over sixty billion dollars annually with that fiasco he pulled? We told him to lie low and allow us to influence the outcome, but he decided to go it on his own. We had that entire country’s oil resources within our reach. All he had to do was wait a few more weeks. Now, we’re going to have to subtract that animal from the equation.”

  “I agree, sir. We must move quickly to get him out of UN’s custody because there’s no other way we can get close enough to terminate his contract.”

  “Do you have any ideas on how to get that done?”

  “Actually, sir, yes, I do. I’ll start on it now and keep you updated once the process is underway.”

  “Good, man.”

  John quickly disconnected the call and without even looking on either side of his speeding vehicle, spun his vehicle around, burning asphalt and rubber, heading back toward the UN Detention Facility to give Kronte the “good news” . . .


  Chapter 28

  24 Hours

  Forty-eight hours later.

  The University of Chicago Hospital.

  Chicago, Illinois

  Daniel smiled while watching Meagan play with li’l Timothy in her arms, making silly faces to amuse him. It was a beautiful day outside, and the sun enveloped the hospital room in warmth and light. Ayana’s still sleeping body seemed to glow in the sun’s radiance. Daniel felt that the warmth and illumination could awaken her any moment, and it was that thought that lifted his mood. He was preparing to step out to get something to eat when a foreign voice came from the doorway.

  “Wow, even while in a coma, she’s absolutely stunning. I get it. After seeing her in person, I really get it now.”

  Daniel abruptly turned toward the sound of the voice, and the man standing in the doorway immediately walked toward the doctor, extending his hand.

  “John Smith,” he said, while firmly shaking Daniel’s hand.

  “Do I know you?” Daniel asked, looking him over suspiciously.

  “No, but Ms. Quinn knows me very well. How are you, by the way, Meagan?”

  “That’s Ms. Quinn to you, Mr. Smith,” she snapped while slowly retreating to the far side of the hospital room, holding the baby tightly in her arms. Daniel noticed Meagan’s sudden reaction toward John Smith and concluded he wasn’t a friend of the family. Daniel didn’t want to put anyone in danger, so he decided to remain calm and try to diffuse any confrontations.

  “How can I help you, Mr. Smith?”

  “John, call me John.”

  “Okay, John, how can I help you?”

  “Well, I’m not here for you to help me. I’m here for you to help yourselves.”

  “How so? I don’t recall needing assistance from anyone.”

  “Oh, I’m sure, but you see, there’s been a new development concerning your dear friend Mrs. Burundi.”

  “That’s Ms. Burundi,” Daniel responded, almost jumping out of his chair and wrapping his hands around John’s throat.

  “Well, according to legal documents, it’s Mrs. Burundi. She is still very much married to a mutual acquaintance of yours,” John responded while handing Daniel a yellow manila folder containing several legal documents. Daniel examined them and came across a document that caused the rage he felt back in Juba to return when he saw what Satu had done to Ayana to reemerge. He immediately began to sweat and grind his teeth as he gripped either side of the document so aggressively, he almost ripped it in half. He couldn’t believe his eyes as he reread the title repeatedly—Request for Withdrawal of Life-Sustaining Treatment—with Kronte’s signature as Ayana’s last remaining living relative, right above Ayana’s doctor’s signature of approval.

  “Well, from your reaction, I can assume you fully understand the dynamics of your situation, correct?”

  Daniel closed his eyes while trying to regain control of his anger, something he wasn’t able to accomplish the more John’s Scottish accent filled his ears.

  “If not, let me spell it out for you. Either drop the case against Kronte, or he’ll be forced to remove his wife from life support. You know how these northern Africans are. They’re like pharaohs. They want to take everything and everyone with them to the afterlife.”

  Having lost all self-control now, Daniel jumped up and faced John down, breathing heavily directly in his face. John didn’t move an inch as he smiled, looking directly in Daniel’s eyes, instigating him to strike him. Suddenly, Daniel felt Meagan tug on his arm, pulling him away from John before things went too far. Looking down at the floor, appearing disappointed, John smiled while pulling on the bottom of his grey suit jacket.

  “I like you, Dr. Bennett. You are a resilient man. Almost indestructible, with a resolve very few men possess in my line of work, but you have an anger management issue that you need to repair. When this is over, I can send you a referral to one of the best therapists in the world.”

  “I think you’ve made your point, Mr. Smith. Now, please leave,” demanded Meagan.

  “Very well, you have twenty-four hours starting . . . from . . . now,” John responded while toying with his expensive designer watch. “If you decide to continue with this charade, Mrs. Burundi will be removed from life support immediately. However, if you drop this case, despite our mutual friend’s request, I would be willing to lose this document permanently. So decide what’s more important: justice or love. You now have twenty-three hours and fifty-eight minutes.”

  “Fuck you,” Daniel growled back at him.

  Nodding, John turned and strolled out of the hospital room with an arrogance that made watching him leave hurt more than the decision they would have to make. Once Meagan was sure John was out of Daniel’s reach, she let him go, and he fell to his knees next to Ayana’s bed, overcome with anger and defeat.

  “Who is he?” Daniel asked, refusing to look away from Ayana.

  “John Smith is a male Olivia Pope with Secret Service and counterterrorism training. Basically, the most dangerous man on earth. He represents some of the most ruthless and powerful people in the world. Some of these people are so powerful that their influence can make or break economies and presidencies. If they send Mr. Smith, they mean business, and crossing him can be a deadly mistake. Our backs are up against the wall on this one, Danny. Either we drop this case, or Ayana dies. And knowing his reputation, he may not stop with her until we give them what they want.”

  The more Meagan spelled out their options, the more Daniel was overcome with grief. Tears of anger and hopelessness poured out of his eyes. He began clenching his fists, shaking violently, trying to contain the hurricane of emotions bombarding his soul. After all the death and tragedy Kronte has caused, they would have to allow him to go free. What was the point of it all? Ayana was in a coma that she may not ever awaken from, Victoria was dead, and many UN soldiers lost their lives—all in the name of justice. Daniel secretly wished his father was here so that he could challenge him and his beliefs that “God is in control.” From his perspective, God was anything but in control, and if he were, Daniel felt he was far from concerned about justice on this godforsaken planet.

  The more he looked at Ayana, the more it burned him to know she would never receive the satisfaction of knowing Kronte paid for his crimes against them both, and for taking Victoria from them.

  I failed her. I failed Victoria and Timothy. But most of all, I failed myself.

  “Danny, listen. I have to go and inform my superiors of this new development immediately. Trust me, I will do everything I can, but you may have to start accepting that Kronte won’t see the inside of a courtroom ever again. I’m sorry,” she said while handing Daniel his son. Meagan was overcome with shame, and she refused to look him in the eyes. After placing a soft kiss on Ayana’s forehead, she quickly left the room, the loud clicking sounds of her heels echoing through the hall like firecrackers.

  Exactly twenty-four hours after his appearance in the doorway of Ayana’s hospital room, John stood in the middle of the room, wearing the same rage-inducing smile he wore the day before.

  “Have we come to a decision?”

  “Mr. Smith, let’s not play games. You already know what our decision is, but I can tell you want to hear it. We have agreed to drop all charges against Kronte and won’t file any charges in the future.”

  “Good choice,” he replied, looking over at Dr. Bennett, who stared at him as if he wanted to do some serious damage to Smith’s body. “You shouldn’t look at this as a defeat but as a victory. You get to keep another man’s wife, and that man gets to keep his freedom. I think that’s an even trade, seeing how outlandishly attractive Sleeping Beauty is.”

  “You have your answer, now leave,” demanded Meagan. “I can’t take any more of your gloating, Mr. Smith.”

  “Right, good day then. Oh, one more thing, a warning really. If you decide to lose your mind and go back on our verbal agreement . . . the next time you see me . . . you won’t see me.”

&nb
sp; There was an unpleasant look in his eyes as his smile disappeared, exposing the face of a cold-blooded killer. It was at that moment Daniel fully realized exactly who and what John Smith was, and it sent an arctic chill up his spine. John stood there, looking at Meagan and Daniel for a few seconds longer before turning and leaving the room. After he was gone, Daniel exhaled deeply and walked over to the door, closing and locking it.

  Several days later, Daniel and Meagan decided to have Ayana moved from Chicago to New York so that she could get round-the-clock UN security. It was a hard decision for Daniel, but he knew she would be much safer in New York.

  Months passed with very little change in Ayana’s condition, and Daniel had to adjust his expectations. With his family’s support in helping care for li’l Timothy, he was able to return to work. It wasn’t long before the hospital promoted him to chief of medicine, and Dr. Kohlman was relieved of his position. He didn’t take his firing very well. He ranted on for half an hour in the meeting with the staff about how they would regret allowing a “minority” to run the hospital. Daniel could’ve blown a fuse, but knowing this would be the last time he would hear Kohlman’s ignorant mouth, he grinned and allowed him to make a bigger fool of himself, adding validity to his termination.

  Chapter 29

  A Miracle, Judgment And a Most Exhilarating Thank You

  The Christmas season was back again with the city of Chicago under siege by another unforgiving string of winter storms. It was Christmas Eve, and Daniel and all his siblings gathered at their parents’ home for yet another Christmas holiday. The family had gone through many changes over the year, namely trying to figure out why li’l Timothy wasn’t communicating like other children his age. Daniel feared that during Satu’s attack on Ayana, li’l Timothy was traumatized while in the womb, and that was affecting his mental progression. After taking him to several specialists, doctors determined that not only was li’l Timothy’s brain functioning properly, it was functioning well beyond normal capacity. However, Daniel was still deeply concerned about the child’s mental growth and his lack of speech during a stage in his life when he should be communicating more.