DAR, 1982
Cold sweat seeped over Nailah’s face. A smile on her face tried to conceal the trepidation in her heart.
“I have an imperative meeting tonight.” Nailah said, “If you’re worried about my safety, I’ll be safe with him.”
Christos chuckled. “You take Latricia or Saleem.”
Rayhan’s felt pins nipping his skin.
“Why?” Nailah said.
“I have an imperative work to do with Rayhan tonight.”
Nailah was out of words. She couldn’t flout anymore. Rayhan had to agree with Christos about the work.
When the sun disappeared leaving the seat to the stars, Rayhan went to Christos’s house. 2030hrs, Rayhan peeped at his watch after waiting for thirty minutes. After twenty more minutes, Christos walked out of his office, Zander at the rear.
“Let’s go!” Christos said, a briefcase dangling on his left hand.
Rayhan dithered. After a moment, he followed the two quietly.
They entered into Christos’s CJ5 Jeep. Zander drove away. Christos had never left his house, especially during nights without three to five bodyguards. The situation bothered Rayhan.
“Where are we going?” Rayhan said after one hour ride.
Christos smiled. “Worry often gives a small thing a big shadow.”
“It’s worry which helps us survive long.”
Christos laughed. “When I look back on all these worries, I remember the story of the old man who said on his deathbed that he had had a lot of trouble in his life, most of which had never happened.”
The Jeep stopped in a wooded area, few kilometers out of Dar-es-salaam. The three walked out. Rayhan’s hands were playing around his back where his gun was.
There was a black marquee in front of them. Five muscular men wearing keffiyeh, AK-47’s on their hands guarded the marquee. Christos walked to the marquee. Zander and Rayhan followed.
A man of about fifty-five years old, keffiyeh on his head walked out of the marquee. His long, rough beard reminded Rayhan of Osama bin laden. Christos smiled as he hugged the man. They spoke in the Arabic language. Rayhan didn’t understand. The man seemed to know Zander too. He greeted Zander in Arabic and the two laughed.
The man turned to Rayhan. “kayfa haalak?”
“Ana bekhair, shukran!” Rayhan mimicked zander’s reply.
Christos followed the man to the marquee. He asked Zander and Rayhan to wait outside.
After five minutes, four men carrying a wooden box entered the marquee.
“What the hell are we doing here?” Rayhan said, looking at Zander.
“keep—”
A gunshot was heard from the marquee.