She Dies - Season 1 - Episode 45

5 years ago

She Dies - Season 1 - Episode 45

“Paul.”

“Paul.” They shouted in turn but didn’t hear a sound.

They called his name repeatedly again
but no one answered. They started ransacking
the building. Alfred entered a room, looked at
the bed and saw something that sent a chill
down his spine. A woman was lying lifeless on
the bed. She had been shot on the head and
was already drowned in her own blood,
“Dennis!” He screeched and Dennis rushed
into the room. He saw the frightful sight and a
wave of nausea wracked him.

“Oh my God, that’s Paul’s wife. What’s
happening?” Dennis’ voice was quavery.

Alfred took out his gun and started moving to
the door, “Let’s find Paul immediately.”
Dennis dug his hands into his jacket pockets
and brought out his two guns. He clutched
tenaciously to the triggers and followed Alfred.

They searched round the compound but there
was no sign of Paul. They came out of the
compound, confused, and started towards the
blazing building at the extreme of the street,
their guns held in place. When they were few
miles to the building, Dennis looked left and
saw a figure he couldn’t tell. He nudged Alfred and pointed to a cashew tree, “Look at that.”

Alfred’s eyes followed his finger and he saw
the figure and they started moving toward it.

They got to the tree and were staring at
another scene that instantly sagged their guts.

Paul’s lifeless body was leaning against the
tree. Alfred went closer and examined it. Paul
had been shot in the brain and on his
forehead was written in blood, Good night.

They stood there for a while, lost for the next
move to make, their hearts hammering loudly
against their ribs. Dennis pulled Alfred’s arm
with a shaky hand, “Let’s move up, the
murderer might still be around the vicinity.”

Alfred nodded and followed closely behind
Dennis, covering him. By the time they got to
Reagan’s apartment, the building was already brought to debris. They looked around for any sign of life but there was none. They turned and hurried back to the car.

Tanzanki drove through the iron gate guarded
by two mean-looking men with AK 47 rifle and
in army uniform. As they slammed the
massive gate shut, Tanzanki looked at them in
the rear-view mirror and smirked. He drove
few kilometers eastward, turned left and
increased speed. After some miles, he made
another sharp turn to the left, reduced the
speed, then one block later, he spat through
the window and made a final turn to the right.

He jammed the brakes in front of the bunker
and the black van skidded to a halt. He
opened the door and stepped out, his face
showing no expression. He leaned to the
passenger’s seat, took out a black briefcase
and closed the door. He was putting on a pair
of brown overalls which he always called his
business attire, with brown leather boots. His
beard was haphazardly shaved, leaving a
wispy beard on his jaw and his head was
completely bald. As he walked toward the
main door, he carried the briefcase with one
hand and put the other hand in his pocket.

When he got to the door, a young man with a
tuft of white hair just above his forehead and
in his early thirties pulled the door open and
he entered. The man bowed, whispered
something into his ears, collected the
briefcase from him and followed him.

They descended series of interlocked marble
staircase before they got to a passage in the
underground.

The bunker was located at the northern part of
Genna and occupied ten acres of land. It was
a secret bunker Tanzanki had built ten years
back when he established base in Genna. The
large building was wired round with burglar
alarm and filled with sophisticated decoders
which he used in communicating with his
bases within Genna and across Africa. The
bunker had an arsenal which contained
various kinds of modern military weapons and
explosives. It also had labyrinth of rooms
where his captives were kept. Tanzanki had
other secret bunkers in most countries of the
world. It was in this particular bunker in
Genna that he planned for operations he
executed across West Africa.

They went through a room and came to a
large hall. The hall had only one seat in it
with cartoons packed properly at one end.

Three men were already waiting for Tanzanki
in the hall when he entered. They wore black
thobe and were in their early twenties. Each of
them was holding and studying a crudely
drawn map. Tanzanki stood still, regarded
them and nodded satisfactory. He moved to
the seat and sat. The man he entered with
dropped the briefcase beside him and stood
aside. Tanzanki raised his eyes to the three
men and smiled. He rose and started walking
up and down the hall. After some minutes, he
stopped and folded his arms. He had his back
to them. In the next second, he unfolded his
arms, ran a palm through his bald head and
turned to face them. He took out a golden
pack of cigarette and a lighter from his pocket
and removed a stick. He lit it, put the
cigarette between his lips but changed his
mind for he removed the stick from his mouth
and folded his arms, “What you’re about to do today will immortalize your names in the
annals of history.” He pulled on his cigarette,
“Your courage shall never be forgotten.” He regarded them one after the other and started walking about, “Your families will heavily be compensated. Half of the money has already been paid into your various accounts and once you’re done with this assignment, the remaining amount will be wired immediately.”

He went and sat down, placed the briefcase on his laps, regarded it and said, “Ahmed.”

The man he had entered with came nearer and Tanzanki said,
“Get the bombs set.”