The Hangman's Replacement: Sprout of Disruption (BOOK 1)

by Taona Dumisani Chiveneko

  “Do you have any idea why your clients asked this Asher to carry out such an eye exam on you?”

  “I think they wanted to know whether they could trust me with the shipment. Asher must have a special talent for reading people through their eyes. The whole thing was strange because I have been entrusted with more sensitive deliveries than a gallows. Clients have trusted me to deliver their families. Others have even trusted me with shipments they valued much more. Many of those assignments were for the same clients who made me submit to the examination of the man I hate the most.”

  “A man who cannot step on Zimbabwean soil or breathe its air,” whispered Vaida.

  “The same man who may have found a reason to strangle you if The Carpenter had not given you those black contact lenses.”

  “Are you saying that Asher wanted to kill me?”

  “That’s his profession. He has been doing it for some time now. He used to work in the Special Exceptions Division at Consolidated. Internally, the division is commonly referred to as ‘SEDITION.’ It’s the unit for recruits with ordinary intellects, but with other extraordinary talents. I was once acquainted with a woman who worked in that unit. She had a photographic memory. After looking at a wall-sized map of Africa for just three minutes, she could tell you the coordinates of a village in Mauritania with less than a thousand people. The woman was of average intelligence but her eyes were high-resolution cameras. She simply didn’t forget anything she saw. I don’t know what sort of talent got Asher into SEDITION, but I am sure it had something to do with looking into people’s eyes.”

  Vaida felt a shiver down her spine. Anala continued.

  “I also learned that Asher was not passionate about the talent that got him into SEDITION. He always claimed that data mining was his true calling.”

  “What do you mean by ‘data mining’?”

  “Torture.”

  “I see.”

  “Asher asked his superiors at Consolidated to work part time in the ‘Data Mining and General Discipline’ section, also known as ‘DAMAGED’. His eye-reading talent was so valuable that they did not want to lose him by stifling his job satisfaction. They granted him permission to work in DAMAGED for two days a week. Asher quickly distinguished himself. However, after a disturbing incident, he was suspended for a month.”

  “Suspended for what?” asked Vaida.

  “The gruesome torture of a colleague.”

  “Really? I thought that sort of thing got you a medal at a place like Consolidated.”

  “Not when the victim was the only person in the organization who could sniff out buried bodies in unmarked graves. The trauma of torture destroyed the victim’s precious talent. He took an extended leave of absence. He was never the same. When he came back to Consolidated, he couldn’t even find a body in a graveyard. Asher was deeply repentant. ‘The whole episode was nothing personal,’ he said. He had been struck by a sudden inspiration, and could not resist trying out a new technique. Sadly, no other suitable candidate was available at the time.”

  “I cannot believe that such a happy man could be so sick,” said Vaida. “Then again, he had to be a psychopath. No normal person can be that happy all the time.”

  “Asher was even happier when he was causing pain,” added Anala. “He invented the now infamous ‘P.I.P.’ system.”

  “What is that?”

  “The ‘Pain Implementation Plan’. It is a system in which the data miner designs a personalized regime of torture for a victim. The regime is designed around the specific sensitivities of each person’s nervous system. But Asher was not interested in torture for extracting information from people. Finding new ways to cause pain was its own reward.

  “From what I learned through Gondo, Asher was eventually exiled to Angola last year.”

  “For torturing another colleague?”

  “No. He messed up an eye-reading assignment. The incident happened many years ago, but the failure was only discovered recently. Do you know when that initial assignment happened?”

  “The day he came to my basement ...”

  “The coincidence is unnerving. It’s possible he had more than one assignment that day. I doubt it, though.”

  “Mr. Crab— Percival saved my life?”

  “There is no other explanation, Vaida. Those black contact lenses must have hidden something that Asher was looking for in your eyes. If he had found it, you would have been dead.”

  “I wonder how Percival knew about Asher’s mission. Either way, I am grateful.”

  “You should be. There is something more to this Percival than meets the eye. After all the fuss with the gallows shipment, I can only assume the man who made them is special in his own way.”

  “Well, if he was here, I would tie him down and spend hours sharing my fantasies of implementing P.I.P.s on left-wing British politicians. His sunken eyes would protrude as far as the tip of his nose.”

  “Now that’s what I call gratitude.”

  Vaida frowned.

  “But Asher was sent to me by Tongai. Why would Tongai send a client to kill me?”

  “How do you know he was sent by Mr. Gejo?”

  “I guess …. Well, Percival knew he was coming. And Percival was sent by Mr. Gejo ...”

  Anala looked blankly at Vaida.

  “I see what you mean, Anala. The man never mentioned Tongai at all. Neither did Tongai ever mention him. Percival is the only person the two men have in common.”

  “Exactly, Vaida. That does not prove that Asher knew either man personally, or that Mr. Gejo sent him.”

  “Yes. Even if Tongai knew the man, we don’t know if he was aware of his intentions. Tongai sends clients to me all the time. Many are visitors who he feels would benefit from some entertainment while they are in town.”

  “That’s possible. Still, can you really trust that moustachioed ox?”

  “Yes, Anala. But not because he is a good man. I trust him because I understand his brand of wickedness. Hiring Asher to kill me is not his style. If he ever wanted me dead, he would not hire an assassin. He would take care of things with his own hands. Tongai Gejo is proud of his hands.”

  “I don’t understand how you can jump into bed with such a massive man and emerge without any injuries ... physical or emotional.”

  “I’m strong in body and mind, Anala. Besides, Tongai and I get along quite well on a personal level. I don’t mind a man with a bit of muscle.”

  “A bit? Are we talking about the same man? The one who could stuff a small hippo into his biceps? The man with a garden broom for a moustache?”

  “That’s him.”

  “How would Abel Muranda feel if he knew of your relationship with Mr. Gejo?”

  “Nothing. I would never tell him. It’s none of his business, anyway.”

  “But you want it to be his business, don’t you? To make him jealous?”

  “No.”

  “Liar. He probably figured it out already. That does not help your cause.”

  “It does not have to hurt it either. There is a difference between figuring something out in your head and hearing it confirmed out loud. Anyway, I never make the mistake of falling asleep without weaving Tongai’s fingers with mine. People’s hands can tell you a lot about their intentions. Especially Tongai’s. If he was planning to wrap them around my neck at night, I would know.”

  Anala shook her head.

  “Mr. Gejo is powerful enough to do so without waiting for you to fall asleep. Be careful, Vaida. I know you are smart and have unrivalled instincts. But never take anyone who works at Consolidated for granted. Remember, the last girl who was attacked in your house was blinded by one of those bastards. And what happened to him? He received a twenty-day prison sentence.”

  “That he never finished serving because Tongai followed him into the prison and dealt with him. That took courage. The man had powerful relatives.”

  “Your Tongai may have a general sense of justice, but we are not dealing with everyday
issues here. Remember, ignore logic. The same man who protects you and your girls may not hesitate to kill you under the right circumstances.”

  “I always try to be careful, Anala.”

  “Try harder. Now, there is something else I want to tell you about the gallows. A few days before my team and I left for Bulawayo to pick up the shipment, my main contact with the clients called. He asked me whether I had received ‘the’ parcel. I told him I did not know what parcel he was talking about. I heard him release a sigh of relief. He told me that if I had not received it, then I had nothing to worry about. He hung up without explaining. The conversation made no sense until a few weeks later when he called with a different assignment. As you know, MSG ‘also moves things’. But, we are also good at liberating things before moving them where they need to go.”

  “Liberating?”

  “Yes, Vaida. Liberating. Some things do not like being imprisoned. This includes animals that have been arrested by the police.”

  “The police don’t arrest animals.”

  “Well, if animals are herded into a facility that is as secure as Mazambuko, we can safely conclude that they were arrested.”

  “Your client wanted you to break animals out of an animal prison?”

  “Yes. Cows mostly. I believe there was also a goat among them.”

  “Why would anyone hire MSG to rescue livestock?”

  “The client did not say. We never ask unless it is necessary for the task. You don’t build credibility in this business by interrogating the people who write your cheques. I have my suspicions though. Several months before, I had seen an article in Zuva Redu about ‘organ herders’. Two men had been arrested for trying to smuggle livestock into Zimbabwe from Mozambique. The police received a tip-off. The animals had human organs grafted into their bodies. A criminal organization figured out a way of extending the shelf life of the organs by transplanting them into animals. This new method makes the transportation process easier, cheaper, and less urgent. All these things translate into good business for the illegal organ trade.”

  “That’s appalling.”

  “And profitable,” added Anala helpfully. “I later learned from my own sources that the herd had disappeared shortly after it was seized. No one knew where the animals were being kept. And that was that. I only found out when the client approached me and asked me to rescue ‘a certain herd of livestock’. The payment he promised was far too generous for a few thousand kilos of beef.”

  “And a few dozen kilos of goat.”

  “Right. The relevant part of this story begins the night before the planned rescue. As I was supervising the preparations, one of my employees asked me to follow him to our fleet of refrigerated trucks. His name is Mr. Chuma. I was annoyed by the interruption because we were behind schedule for our rescue mission. He refused to tell me why he wanted me to follow him. Mr. Chuma is a quiet and respectful man so when he insisted, I knew something serious was wrong. He was shaken by something he had seen.”

  * * *

  The Plant That Fed on Frozen Meat

  “When we reached the cold storage vehicles, Mr. Chuma pointed to a trailer parked near the southern fence of the compound. ‘It’s inside,’ he said. He refused to explain or move any closer. Instead, he gave me a flashlight, planted his feet into the ground, and folded his arms.

  “Edith had followed us. She wanted to make sure I was not walking into an unexpected snafu. She stood guard at the truck doors as I shone the flashlight into the truck. I had to make sure there was no one inside. There was nothing but stacks of boxes. All contained the highest grade of Lupane round-eye steaks.”

  “The expensive warthog cuts?” asked Vaida.

  “Yes, those ones. I am too cheap to buy them myself. The shipment belonged to a client. He gave me one of the crates to share with my staff. They are amazing. I prefer to marinate them in a mild Chiredzi herb sauce for two days. I then sear each side on the grill for no longer than a minute. I tell you, Vaida, a single bite can force a confession out of a criminal faster than any P.I.P. Asher could ever come up with.”

  Anala noticed Vaida’s frown.

  “Yes, Vaida. MSG also moves traditional products. They make up to sixty percent of our business volume. The rest of our cargo is classified under the blank space between our name and our slogan.”

  “‘MSG ... We also move things.’ So was there something wrong with the Lupane steaks?”

  “The steaks were not the problem. I noticed a gnarled object sitting on one of the crates at the far end the truck. When I stepped inside, I felt a sudden chill. The place was freezing, but that was not the reason for the sensation. It was the sort of chill that would still grip you in a desert heat wave. The sort of chill you’ll never feel more than once in your life. It puts you on notice. It foreshadows a menace that is approaching from beyond the frontier of courage you spent your life extending. A menace that will humble the greatest potential you ever aspired to. You don’t feel it in your head, stomach, or chest. The chill pulses up and down your spine in a steady wave.

  “I walked closer to the object. It was a plant, a short vine about half the length of my arm. It was a flowering flame lily. The leafy stalk frayed into a clump of roots at one end. The largest ones were the size of my fingers. The root system had woven itself around a Lupane steak that had been placed on top of the crate. It took all my strength to pry the stubborn tendrils off the chunk of meat. When the ice shattered and dislodged it, I realized that the steak was half its original size. At that moment, a little voice in my head told me I had to cancel the livestock assignment.

  “As I held the vine in my hand, I noticed another smaller chunk was still clinging to the base of the root system. The greenish mass was half the size of my hand. It was frozen solid. I could not tell what it was, but one thing was clear: it had come from a living creature. Whether the creature itself had survived the extraction was unclear.

  “I took the vine outside and dangled it in front of Edith. She lifted her flashlight and focused the beam on the strange mass at the base. A dark cloud passed across her face. We discussed the possible sources of the grisly mass. Maybe it had come from a chicken? Perhaps the steak supplier had packed it with the crates by mistake? After all, the client also produced poultry products, including ostrich meat. Maybe it came from an ostrich?

  “We considered many possibilities but we both knew we were grasping for a reasonable explanation where none existed. Edith and I were still talking when the soft-spoken Mr. Chuma walked up to us. He told us bluntly that the slimy mass was a human gall bladder. It was half its regular size because the plant had eaten the rest. The person who left the grisly package had used the frozen steak as a timer. By giving the plant something else to chew on, he knew the vine would divert some of its attention from the human organ. The distraction slowed the rate of the feast. It ensured that enough of the gall bladder would remain when the gift was discovered. Mr. Chuma folded his hands and retracted his neck into his shoulders.

  “He continued: ‘What sort of plant can bloom in sub-zero temperatures? Even flowering plants in the Arctic tundra wait for the spring. So why is this one thriving in a refrigerated truck? It has been there for at least four days. This freezer truck has not been opened for at least that long. But look at those fiery petals. The frost has not damaged them at all. They are still velvety. Radiant. Just dangling like it’s normal to defy such temperatures. Mark my words, if we had not discovered this plant today, it would have devoured both the steak and that gall bladder. Who know? Maybe it would have started on the other crates.’

  “Edith and I stared at each other in disbelief. Until that night, we had never heard Mr. Chuma say so many words in one go. We even nicknamed him the ‘Dog Whistle’. If he ever expressed an opinion during his years at MSG, it was never at a wavelength the rest of us could hear. And yet there he was, educating us about gall bladders and plant science. I guess I should not be surprised. MSG attracts a peculiar type of employee. But so
metimes, it’s the ones who appear more normal that will surprise you. But fear can be a detergent. It can dissolve the dirt that dulls the vibrant colours of some people’s personalities. The plant we found in the trailer soaked Mr. Chuma in detergent and threw him into a nuclear-powered washing machine.”

  “But, Anala, why would Mr. Chuma be scared of the plant? I accept that it may have troubled him to make such a discovery, but I am sure he has dealt with more disturbing situations during his time at MSG?”

  “He has. But this was different. Remember the chill? The night was warm, but Mr. Chuma was clutching himself as though we were inside the refrigerated trailer. I am sure he thought the plant and gall bladder had been left for him. He did not say so, but it was obvious that’s what he thought.”

  “Fair enough. But if so, why didn’t he just absorb the warning and throw the thing away? Why did this shy man call you to see it and share his monologue?”

  “The only reason Mr. Chuma called me was because he didn’t want to touch the thing himself. He kept a safe distance when I brought it out of the truck. He was not taking any chances.”

  “And yet, you believe that this odd gift was meant for you? That means one of you is mistaken. From what you just told me, he could not have been the target. After all, the plant showed up the night before your mission to rescue the livestock carrying the human organs. There is no way it could have been a coincidence.”

  “That’s the most troubling thing about this situation, Vaida. Mr. Chuma probably had a similar reason to believe that he was the target of the warning. That hideous package had a personal significance for all of us. I was certain that it was left for me. Mr. Chuma was equally convinced it had been left for him. Edith also felt the same way.”