Prodigal

AARON ANSAH-AGYEMAN

PRODIGAL

A ChrisEffe Bliss

 

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The sleek, black, luxurious Audi A8 was parked in the underground garage of the Kingdom of Eden International Airport.

It was a Level Two garage, and below it was the Level One garage which was reserved for the Royal Family. The security cameras were many here, covering every possible angle, capturing even the blind areas and making the garages impossible to attack without leaving video footage evidence. These cameras, linked to monitors were located in a security terminal within the airport manned by SPF staff constantly; they were always on and always sending surveillance images whilst storing live video feeds.  

 

Four SPF Field Agents in black suits, white shirts and black ties were standing stiffly and fully alert around the Audi. There were two other cars in the terminal reserved for emergencies; all the cars were bullet-proofed and highly customized with security gadgets.

The four men were standing on each side of the car. The garage was brightly-lit with bulbs recessed in the concrete ceiling and the temperature cooled by a central air-conditioning system.

The agents waited grimly with their hands on the butts of their guns hanging from shoulder holsters.  

***

The Director of Field Operations of SPF, Stanley Adu, who was returning from an international conference in Sweden, was met by two experienced SPF agents, Kiki Somia and Peter Asirifi when he was cleared through the VIP section of the airport.

He was a huge powerfully-built man in his late fifties. Dressed in a blue-black suit and a long overcoat, he was an imposing figure as he emerged and saw the agents moving across the terminal to flank as soon as he was ushered into the luxurious inner lounge. This told him immediately that the situation was a Code Black, a serious emergency, and the security protocols had been tightened up.

 

Normally, they would have waited for him to visit the washroom or be served with a drink or snack of his choice inside the reserved VIP lounge before escorting him to a waiting car outside. He paused and took off his gold-rimmed spectacles as he raised his eyebrows at the two agents.

“Good afternoon, sir,” Kiki said sharply as his eyes expertly scanned the lounge area.

“Peter, Kiki, what’s the situation?” Stanley Adu asked coldly with a slight scowl. “I wanted to wait here a while. They’re going to serve me with my favourite Mexican dish. You better have a good reason for disrupting my arrival plans, gentlemen.”

“We’re extremely sorry, sir. The food would be delivered to you at the palace, if you so wish. But we’re going through the U-Garage today, sir,” Peter, the senior agent, said curtly. “SPF President’s orders, sir.”

 

Stanley Adu did not move; his huge face was beginning to close over with anger.

“I bloody asked you what the situation was, didn’t I?” he asked coldly. “That’s not the bloody answer you gave me. Why the hell am I going through the underground garage? What’s going on here?”

“Sorry, sir,” Kiki said quickly. “Prodigal escaped jail yesterday morning. He’s still on the loose.”

Stanley Adu’s body gave an involuntary tremble, and he gasped audibly. The anger evaporated from his face immediately and his eyes suddenly looked around the lounge with palpable concern that bordered on fear.

 

“Jesus Hebrew Christ!” he whispered, and try as he could, he was not able to stop the alarm from making his face sag and causing his voice to tremble. “Why the hell wasn’t I informed before I landed?”

“Sir Lancelot didn’t want to trouble you, sir,” Peter said quickly. “And that’s why we’re here, to take you straight to the palace for a briefing.”

“We cleared your bags already, sir,” Kiki said quickly. “An agent is sending them to the car right now. We have to move now, sir. There’s going to be a briefing on Prodigal at the Palace. Sir Lancelot wants you there.”

 

Stanley Adu shoved his hands into his pockets because he was aware his hands were trembling badly, and that was not a good sign for the men to see. His throat was suddenly parched and he craved a drink badly. There was a dull ache in the back of his head, a clear indication that his blood temperature was rising, triggered by the most unsavoury news he would ever hear.

Prodigal escaped? Dear Lord, how could that be possible?

“We need to move, sir,” Peter said quickly. “We are using the emergency elevators.”

“How many men are here to protect me?” Stanley asked hoarsely and began to walk rapidly towards the elevator as his eyes cast furtive glances around him.

 

His increasing terror was apparent now, and he made no attempt to hide it.  

“Seven, sir,” Kiki said calmly. “Four with the car in the garage, one taking your luggage down, and the two of us.”

Stanley stared at them with sudden fury through his horror, and a vein beat thickly at the side of his neck. If he could, he would have scratched their eyes out of their sockets.

“Are you insane? Seven? Just seven agents?” he whispered furiously. “Prodigal is bloody on the loose and you are only seven, you bloody idiots? Who ordered the fucking detail?”

“Mr. Paul Blankson, sir,” Kiki said with his pugnacious jaw thrust out as he fought for control and not to give in to the anger blasting through his heart at the verbal insults of the Director and their implied professional slurs. “We’re on top of this, sir. We can handle Prodigal.”

 

“The hell you can, you moron!” Stanley hissed furiously. “Idiots! Chris is a fucking shadow, a ghost, you fool! He will walk through you like a ghost and you wouldn’t even bloody see him! Call for backup now! Tell Paul I want a damn van filled with agents! Call him now!”

“Sir…”

“Call for a bloody backup now!” Stanley shouted, making others nearby to look at him. “I need more agents around me! That bastard will come for me surely, and I know who the hell he is! So, don’t you stand there questioning me, officer! Request for more agents now!”

 

“Yes, sir,” Peter said as he indicated the elevator. “Call it in, Kiki. But let’s move, sir. It is expedient!”

Stanley allowed himself to be ushered towards the lifts as Kiki took out his powerful closed-circuit communicator and requested for back-up.

 

 

SPF Agent Seth Johnson was in the elevator with the Director’s two bags and briefcase as it descended to the underground garage. He was tall and lean, a weathered army veteran who was known for his deadly skills in unarmed combat and knives.

He took out his communicator and called the four agents in the garage.

“Got the luggage,” he said. “Coming down now in Base Elevator.”

“Roger,” one of the agents said. “Sighted any birds, anything unusual?”

“No sign of him,” Seth said. “Normal flow.”

“Good,” the agent at the other side said and cut the call.

 

Seth leaned back against the metallic wall as the elevator moved downwards. It slowed down suddenly and the doors dinged open on Level Three. Seth scowled because that had not been part of the protocol. Level Three was reserved for assistant directors and other senior officials, and as far as Seth was aware, there was no Level Three activity on the agenda.

He quickly drew out his gun and levelled it at the opened doors, but there was nobody standing out there. He sighed with relief, lowered the gun and stepped forward to press the down arrow again.

And that was when the powerful body of Chris Bawa slid from around the wall and moved into the elevator just as the doors began to slide shut again.

 

Seth’s eyes opened with shock and he tried to bring up the gun but Bawa’s fist crashed into his jaw at the same time that he gripped Seth’s gun hand, pulled him forward and delivered a paralyzing blow to his shoulder that caused him to drop the gun.

In the close confines of the elevator, Seth shot his foot forward, aiming a crushing kick at Chris’ knee, but Chris side-stepped the kick and smashed a blow into Seth’s face.

Seth’s nose broke and blood covered his lips and smeared his white shirt, but he was a professional who had been trained to survive. He flexed his left arm and a knife that is strapped to the inside of his arm dropped into his hand. He reversed it expertly and lunged, snapping at Chris’ throat with the sharp tip of the knife.

 

Chris parried the attack with his forearm and Seth quickly spun as he reversed the knife for a ribcage attack to drive it into Chris’ heart, but his eyes opened with horror when he realized Chris had stepped into his guard and the knife found nothing to strike into.

Chris Bawa rammed a vicious blow into Seth’s ribcage and the agent gasped with the excruciating pain, staring with numbed horror as Chris caught his knife hand, twisted the elbow behind him, and ripped the knife from his hand.

“That ribcage thrust was a mistake, soldier,” Chris said quietly. “Enclosed space, limited space for manoeuvrability. You stay in front of your enemy and thrust for face and neck and arteries whilst waiting for avenues for the heart.”

“You bastard!” Seth grated painfully. “Of course, I forgot you know the bloody manual.”

“I wrote the manual, bro,” Chris said calmly and rammed Seth’s face into the side of the elevator, and the agent collapsed to the floor in a thud.

 

Coldly, Chris Bawa pulled a device from the pocket of his leather jacket and looked at the screen. There were three blinking dots on it, and he knew they were in Principal Elevator coming down.

Stanley Adu and two agents.

Perfect.

The elevator he was in arrived at Level Two and the doors dinged open. Chris pulled out two dart guns, held it down in his hand and pushed out the two bags Stanley was carrying with his right hand whilst partially covering himself with the briefcase, crouching slightly to reduce his height and bulk and confuse the agents for a minute.

 

Chris really didn’t need a minute, though. He just needed a split second.  

The four agents around the Audi looked up sharply.

“It’s Seth,” one said with sudden caginess. “Right?”

Two agents moved towards the elevator to help with the luggage.

Chris, now having a clear view of the four agents, straightened to his full height with the dart guns pointed.

The eyes of the two agents coming towards him widened with horror.

“Prodigal!” one screamed.

 

“Shitfuck, it’s Chris!” the other shouted.

The guns in Chris’ hands had perforated silencers fixed to their tips to reduce noise, and they spat four vicious coughs as he fired without pausing, his movements so fast that the agents did not know what hit them. The poisoned darts from his guns hit the four targets almost spot-on before their guns had cleared their holsters.

The two agents closest to him were hit in the foreheads, and the other two near the cars took it in the temple and neck.

They dropped almost instantly but Chris was not even looking. He was headed for the Principal Elevator which was now on Level Three.

“Hoc bellum est,” he said grimly. “Semper fi.”

***

Up in the Monitor Room, two SPF Agents on duty – a man and a woman – were holding each other and kissing passionately. The man’s hands dropped to the woman’s ample hips and came around to clamp her curvaceous buttocks.

As their kiss got intense, the woman leaned back a bit with a groan of lust and shook her head with regret.

“Not on duty, Chidi, please,” she said, then she gasped when her eyes fell on the screens.

“Dear Lord!” she screamed with horror. “Jesus, Chidi, look at Level Three!”

The man whirled around with sudden alertness, and his hand knocked over a diet Coke bottle, spilling it over the panel.

 

“Oh, shit, shit!” he said frantically.

“It’s him, him!” the lady was still screaming. “Prodigal! Oh, Jesus! Hit the alarm! Chidi, stop horsing around and hit the alarm!”

“Hey, calm down, Helen!” Chidi said as he looked at the monitors, and then he froze as he saw the huge, black-clad form of Chris Bawa moving in on the Principal Elevator with bodies of agents strewn on the floor. “Oh, Jesus! It is Prodigal!”

“Are you deaf?” Helen screamed. “Did you hear a word I said? Hit the alarm, moron!”

 

Chidi leaned over and pushed a red knob on the front of the panel, and immediately a piercing alarm hit the underground garage and sent a distress signal with location to all SPF agents within a mile radius of the airport!

“Lock it down, lock it down!” the woman shouted. “Lock the garage down! Don’t let him escape!”

Trembling with anxiety, Chidi’s hands flew over the panels as he pushed knobs.

All entrances to the garage began to descend into an impregnable lockdown that would stop anybody – Chris Bawa included – from coming out.

***

The elevator doors were opening when the alarm rang out.

“What the fuck!” Kiki shouted and tried to lurch forward to punch the button again.

“Prodigal!” Stanley whispered as his whole body went cold, and his heart lurched so painfully that he almost collapsed. “He’s here! He’s here, damn it! Send us back up!”

It was too late, though.

Chris Bawa loomed large in the doorway.

“Shit!” Peter shouted as he desperately tried to pull out his gun.

 

Chris kicked out savagely, his foot smashing into Peter’s knee as he brought the butt of the gun crashing into his temple! The man screamed and buckled immediately and Chris shot him in the neck.

As Peter’s body began to hit the floor, Kiki screamed and lunged from the elevator with his arms held out to lock around Chris’ waist, but Chris Bawa side-stepped the lunge and smashed the barrel of the gun at the base of Kiki’s skull.

The SPF agent crashed heavily to the floor.

“Where are you?” he managed to whisper before darkness crept over him.

Stanley Adu remained absolutely still and looked into the furious face of the handsome man in front of him.

“Chris!” he said helplessly.

 

His huge face was drenched with sweat that dripped off his chin as he fought the dizziness and nausea that were consuming his body.

Chris Bawa grabbed the lapels of the Director’s overcoat and yanked him out of the elevator, and then he spun once and hurled him across the garage!

Stanley screamed as he sailed in space and crashed to the ground. He scrambled to his knees and held out his hands, his face filled with terror now as his hands shook frantically.

“No, Chris, Chris, please, don’t kill me! Don’t kill me, man!” he screamed with terror.

“Get into the car,” Chris said calmly.

 

“Chris, don’t be foolish!” Stanley Adu screamed. “The alarm went off, Chris! The doors to the Underground will lock automatically, sealing us in here! There’ll be no escape for you! You’re going to die, Chris, for daring to attack a director of the SPF! But it shouldn’t end that way, Chris… it shouldn’t come to that! Let me go, and I promise I won’t let them harm you!”

Chris kicked him in the chest, and Stanley screamed as he was hurled backwards by the impact, and his head smashed into the grill of the Audi! He bounced off and crashed facedown on the hard floor, screaming again as pain shot through his nose.

Trembling and out of breath, breathing in wheezes as his blood pressure soared, Stanley Adu crawled desperately towards the door of the Audi.

 

“I will get into the car, Chris!” he jabbered with terror. “I will get into the car!”

“Pussy,” Chris growled menacingly as he loomed large like a demon over the crawling body of Stanley Adu.

 

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