Xandra

by Kiru Taye

  FIFTEEN

  THE RENDEZVOUS in Lori Osa went as planned, and Xandra handed a still unconscious Ebuka over to the contact Osagie had given her. She paid for him to be kept in a secure location for a few weeks until she came back to get him. Although his movements would be restricted, he would have food and shelter. Most importantly, he would be out of reach to any assassins.

  She followed the news of the explosion at Njoku farms. The initial reports said Ebuka Njoku and one of his workers had been killed.

  DNA would show otherwise, so she hacked into the State Medical Examiner’s laboratory system and doctored the results. She hoped the lab technicians were sloppy and wouldn’t notice. It worked. The final report identified the burnt bodies as Ebuka Njoku and Allie Momodu.

  This bought her some time to deal with Nweke. At a rest stop on the drive to Jokogi, she logged the kill and half an hour later got confirmation of payment of the balance into the account of a dummy business corporation she used.

  Her phone beeped a few minutes later.

  “Come see Papa when you get into town,” Zoe said when she picked the call.

  Something niggled at the back of Xandra’s mind. Zoe usually congratulated her on a job well done after an assignment, but she hadn’t mentioned it.

  “Okay,” Xan said. “Are you alright?”

  “Sure,” she replied in what seemed an overly bright voice. “When are you back?”

  Something was off with her. To be on the safe side, Xandra lied, “Tomorrow. I’ll visit your father in the evening.”

  She would be in the city later tonight, but she needed some time to plan before seeing the Himbas.

  Four hours later, she drove into the garage of her house. Each time she went away, getting back and going through the security routine helped to relax and compartmentalize her last kill.

  This time as she went through the checks, she didn’t feel the same sense of peace when she completed them.

  For one, Ebuka was on her mind. He was safe. But she needed to work to get him back on the ranch doing his thing. This meant getting rid of Nweke.

  Secondly, as a skilled, efficient killer, she had always completed jobs before. She was dedicated to what she did. Loyal to the crime family that gave her a sense of belonging. It defined her.

  Now all of that was up in the air. She was walking in a different direction.

  She wasn’t foolish enough to think she could take on the entire Himba family singlehandedly and survive. But she could get rid of Nweke permanently and give Ebuka and Ginika the chance to live their lives without having to look over their shoulders.

  Even if it meant Xandra wouldn’t be part of their lives.

  The next day as she went out to do her usual chores. The hair on her nape stood erect like she was being watched.

  At the supermarket, she watched the mirrored surfaces but didn’t notice anyone. If she was being followed, then whoever it was superb. At the dry-cleaning shop, she watched the reflections of the people walking the street in the shop windows across the road.

  It was then she saw the man sitting at a table outside a tea shop. She had seen him in the supermarket car park.

  She went into the dry-cleaning shop and dropped off the clothes. When she came out, she strode casually to her car parked outside, took out her gun and a newspaper she’d bought from the supermarket to cover it. She walked across the street to the tea shop and made a show of going in before sitting at the table opposite the man.

  His eyes widened, and he made to stand.

  “Don’t move.” She lifted the newspaper so he could see the muzzle of the gun pointed at his chest. “Keep your hands on the table where I can see them.”

  He did as she said and licked his lips, looking up from the weapon to her face. He appeared calm for a man with a gun pointed at him. “Ms Gowon, I don’t mean you any harm.”

  “Who the fuck are you and why the fuck are you following me?” she asked in a low voice.

  “My name is David and Mr Peters sent me.”

  Osagie?

  “Why?”

  “Don’t know. My instructions are to keep an eye on you and report to him.”

  Why would Osagie send someone to follow her?

  Gun still trained on him, she withdrew her phone and pressed the button for Osagie.

  A few seconds later, it connected.

  “Yes,” he said in his usual deep, accented voice. They rarely ever spoke to each other on the phone because it wasn’t secure.

  “Why do you have someone following me?” She didn’t bother with pleasantries.

  “Oh, you found David. I knew you were good.” He sounded like he was smiling.

  She tried not to roll her eyes. “You know I’m better than good. You haven’t answered my question.”

  “He’s just keeping an eye on you. When you contacted me, asking for help, you raised my curiosity.”

  This was why she rarely got other people involved in her life. “You know better than to interfere in my business. Curiosity killed the cat.”

  “I’m a Bini tiger, and you know better than to threaten me.”

  Osagie wasn’t someone she wanted to piss off no matter how irritated she was that he was having her followed. She had to remember Ebuka was in one of his safe houses.

  Exhaling a sigh, she conceded. “That’s not what I meant. I just don’t want a babysitter.”

  “Then think of David as your guardian angel. We all need them, occasionally. You can thank me later.” He hung up.

  Ignoring David, Xandra stood and walked across the road to her car.

  One thought kept swirling in her mind as she headed out to Zoe’s. Did Osagie know something she didn’t know?

  The time she’d spent with Ebuka had made her understand Osagie better. She could see similarities between them—the power they exuded, the loyalty they inspired, and the fierce need to protect their own.

  Osagie believed she was his responsibility. Had always thought so from the first time she allowed him to take the cane to her back. To mark her with his stripes.

  Of course, Ebuka didn’t know her as Xandra. Didn’t see or understand the woman who needed the punishment to clear her conscience and find inner peace.

  At the restaurant, the two men sitting outside playing a board game nodded their greetings as she strode in. Instead of Zoe meeting her as usual, Norbert ‘Little Devil’ Gemade, another of the capos, sat at the bar. His nickname said it all. What he lacked in height, he made up for in deadliness.

  He wasn’t usually here when she came to see Don Himba. He didn’t get involved with the kill contracts, which were Zoe’s area. But he was also the person likely to be promoted to be next underboss and possibly Don, one day. And he was the Himba enforcer.

  The prickling she’d felt in her scalp earlier returned.

  “Xandra, how’re you doing?” Norbert waved at her.

  Hiding her surprise at seeing him, she strode over. “I’m doing great. It’s been a while.”

  “Yes, it has.” He tilted his head and pursed his lips. “Have a drink with me.”

  He leaned over the bar just as Zoe entered the restaurant.

  “Xan, you’re back.” She came over and gave the customary hug and kiss before walking around the counter.

  “I think I should see the don first. If you’re still here when I come down, we can have the drink.” Xandra nodded towards the stairs as she settled on a stool.

  “Papa isn’t here yet. So, you can relax.” Zoe smiled as she picked two more glasses from under the counter and poured another two shots of whiskey.

  She took a glass. Norbert lifted the one he’d been drinking from, and Xandra picked the third.

  “Here’s to another success.” She tossed back the drink in one gulp.

  Xandra emptied the glass in her mouth and swallowed, feeling the burn down her throat. Five seconds later, a sweet aftertaste hit her palate just as the floor shifted. She stared from Norbert to Zoe, whose images seemed to double as
the space expanded and contracted.

  Xandra tried to step down from the stool and stumbled, gripping the counter. Her senses were scrambled, the world full of white noise and yet muted.

  “What did you give me?” Her words came out slurred.

  They had drugged her. She glanced at Zoe, who just stared at her blankly. Zoe had drugged her.

  Xandra had trusted the woman. Foolishly. She was a Himba, after all.

  Feeling a presence behind her, Xandra reached for the gun inside her jacket. Too slow.

  Too late. Something hit the back of her head. She fell forward into the darkness.

  The world was still swaying when she woke, tied to a metal post bolted to the floor and ceiling of an empty warehouse. Her numb hands and feet were bound tightly behind her.

  This wasn’t good. Had they discovered Ebuka? If so, how? She needed to get out of here. She tried to wiggle her fingers to see if she could work them. Perhaps her brain wasn’t sending the signal, or her fingers weren’t receiving them because she couldn’t move them.

  The drug was still in her system.

  Footsteps echoed off the concrete walls.

  “Good, you’re awake,” Norbert said, standing in front of her. He smacked a metal pipe against his right hand continuously.

  “Where is Zoe? Why the fuck am I tied up?”

  “You were seen at Club Arufin,” he said in a strained, cold voice.

  “This is about Arufin? About what I do in my personal time?”

  “This is about you going to a sex club and being a perverted freak,” Norbert spat out.

  Relief washed over her that they hadn’t found Ebuka and she started laughing uncontrollably.

  “You think this is funny, freak?” He sneered at her.

  “You said that one already.”

  “We don’t want your kind in the Himba family.”

  “What? Because I didn’t kneel for you? Because I didn’t let you fuck me? Sorry, I’m not interested in little pricks like you.”

  She probably shouldn’t taunt him. But what right did he or anyone else have to tell her how to live? Laughable that even gangsters could be puritanical and judgemental.

  “You don’t deserve to live.” He swung the pipe like a baseball bat, and it smashed into her ribs.

  Blistering pain flashed through her as he swung it again and again, hitting her thighs, arms, stomach until she couldn’t feel her body. She was white-hot pain all over.

  She stopped fighting the agony, welcomed it, let it consume her, lifting her into a heady space where she floated above it all.

  Then there was a flash, and she could smell fabric burning. A different hurt consumed her, taking her to Hell for all her sins. She burned. And then she was in darkness.

  She woke to the sounds of beeping machines. Her body throbbed, ached. Only one eye worked, the other had a covering. She tried to lift her arms, but they were heavy and bound in bandages.

  “Don’t move,” a soft female voice said.

  She turned her head to find Zoe sitting on a chair. She opened her mouth to talk, but her throat hurt.

  “Don’t try to speak. There’s a tube in your throat to help you breathe. You have second and third-degree burns on your legs and hip. One of the bones in your arm is broken.”

  Her eyes became watery, and she lowered her head. “I’m so sorry, Xan. It was never meant to get this far. Papa told Norbert to teach you a lesson. Just a little beating to make you think again about going to Arufin. But he took it too far.”

  Her head was bowed as she held Xandra’s hand.

  Did she honestly think a ‘little beating’ was going to cure Xandra’s deeply rooted deviancy?

  She wanted to rage at Zoe for not warning her about what was coming. For drugging her. For proving why no one was a friend in the cartel world.

  Then again, she couldn’t blame her. Would she have done any better if she had been in her shoes? What was the point of rage? She was alive and grateful.

  Xandra squeezed Zoe’s hand, bestowing forgiveness.

  “There’s a man outside. Says he’s your guardian angel,” Zoe said after a while. “They attacked the warehouse and rescued you. Norbert is injured. He wants revenge, but I convinced Papa to let it be, considering what’s happened.”

  Xandra smiled internally. Osagie was still watching out for her. After Zoe left, she drifted in and out of consciousness.

  Healing was agonizingly slow—surgery, medication and physical therapy. Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months.

  With each painful breath, each tormenting step, each excruciating moment, she lived through it all with one person in mind—Ebuka Njoku—and the day she would see him again.

  PART TWO

  SIXTEEN

  Six months later

  HE WAS close by. Xandra knew it. Sensed it deep in her tightening gut. The man she wanted. The reason she had broken her months-long seclusion.

  Stepping out of the underground car park, she stood and gazed at the bright lights around her.

  Once upon a time, she had been a significant part of vibrant city life. Carefree, only concerned about fixing her boss’s problems. Now, she was nothing more than a ghost, non- existent to many.

  Cars honked jumbled with people’s conversations. The world carried on without her input.

  A few months of isolation had skewed her view on life.

  She had never been a big fan of Lori Osa. A city full of pretentious people all vying to outdo each other with their unrefined attitudes. It is said, ‘money can’t buy good taste,’ and the statement stood steadfast for many of its residents.

  Still, this was the one place where she could acquire what she needed. Anything could be bought, even if it wasn’t for sale.

  At the foyer of her destination—Madaki auction house—the retinal scanner beeped before the glass screen allowed her through the security archway.

  The doorman tipped his head in respect. “Welcome, Ms Gowon. Weapons and electronics, please.”

  Smile curling her lips, she pulled out the FN Five-SeveN from the shoulder strap under her jacket and the phone from her pocket, placing both on the counter.

  The rules of the auction house stated no weapons allowed as part of their terms and conditions. There were other ways of killing, not always as efficient, yet effective.

  He placed both items in a metal box in a vault behind the counter and locked it before handing her an electronic key card. Pocketing it, she ascended the stairs to a short corridor.

  Madaki was an exclusive and discreet auction house, and clients came from far and wide.

  In the foyer of shiny dark surfaces and diffused lighting, an usher led her to the seat. A VIP box with a one-way glass screen, designed to ensure that she could see the stage and the merchandise being auctioned. Still, no one outside the room could see in.

  The raised platform stage was lit with low lights while the rest of the auction room lay in almost eerie darkness. No other bidders were visible, probably sitting behind screens too.

  The usher offered refreshments as she relaxed into the seat. No alcohol on offer.

  She settled for the sparkling mineral water. Taking a sip, she reached for the tablet device on the table and read the message.

  Welcome. Place your card on the screen to begin.

  Following the instructions, soon she browsed the electronic brochure. Not a regular at these events, this was her first time. But she had something specific, albeit unusual, in mind. It had taken weeks to track this item, and she had it on good authority that it would be on the blocks today.

  She scrolled through until the merchandise appeared on the screen. Her breath caught in her throat at the fierce beauty on display.

  The lights on the stage pulsed as if in warning that the auctions were about to begin. The background music faded and silence reigned as the first item was brought to the platform.

  How many potential rivals did she have bidding for this? She didn’t know, but she would acquire it t
oday, even if it cost her life… and it probably would.

  SEVENTEEN

  A BRIGHT beam of light nearly blinded Ebuka as he shuffled onto the stage, the clinking sound of metal a dismal musical ensemble, the platform cold beneath his bare feet.

  “Raise your hands,” one of the guards said, a short-haired burly, Hausa man who probably spent his leisure time lifting weights.

  Gyms were not places Ebuka visited. He had worked the land, one way or the other. After months of captivity with restricted rations, the sinews of tight muscles showed in his reflection off the mirrored walls as he obeyed the instructions without resistance.

  They bound his outstretched hands and widened legs to a pulley system of ropes and chains that made him look as if he was nailed to a cross.

  Assume a submissive posture. The words drilled into him. He bowed his head, while his mind rebelled, his gaze fixed at the grey metal beneath his feet.

  For months, he’d fought against his captors’ attempt to break him. Why had he been taken from his home, away from the people he loved? No answers came.

  It didn’t help that there were gaps in his memory. He woke up one day in a strange house with no recollection of how he got there. He had sustained head and body injuries. But the strangers in the house couldn’t tell him how it had happened. Only that they were instructed to keep him locked in the place. They had fed him, cleaned and changed his bandages and given him new clothes.

  After he tried to escape and failed, they started locking him in a barricaded room and only bringing food when he promised to behave.

  Then one day, several weeks later, everything changed. They moved him to a different location which looked like a prison with cells. When he resisted, he received beatings, starvation, and degradation. The excruciating pain eclipsed all else. Madaki, the owner of this perverted establishment, had given him a choice— submit to the upcoming auction or suffer a slow, torturous death.

  Ebuka had nearly laughed in the man’s face.