A ChrisEffe Bliss
“Where are they?” Sir Lance screamed as he wiped his face with a huge, white handkerchief. “We should be on top of them if Stanley’s Body Tracker is active! What the hell is happening? Somebody should tell me something sensible, goddammit! Paul, hey Paul! Stop the fuckery! What the hell is happening?”
The helicopter was now approaching the White Coves where four other helicopters were keeping a hard line, preventing any boat from approaching the coves before being inspected by the Coast Guards.
“I don’t know, sir!” Paul Blankson, confused, answered. “The damn signal is on my radar right here! Idle! We should be on top of them, sir! I don’t know what the hell this is! They’re on the radar, and yet they’re not on the sea!”
“Chris was able to block my signals to the police earlier this morning with a device he has,” Effe chipped in quickly as she looked at the small but powerful locator in her hand. “If he still he has it, then there’s every likelihood that he has blocked Mr. Adu’s tracker too.”
“Damn it! Somebody shave my balls bald!” Sir Lance said explosively, causing all of them to be uneasy, and he looked at Effe with hard eyes. “So, what are you saying? What’s going on? He blocked and misdirected the heat? That should not be possible, Effe! This is top-notch technology!”
“In tech development everything is possible, sir,” Effe said calmly. “If you know what you’re doing, you can come up with ways to thwart even the best security systems. Chris knows all the SPF security protocols. He built most of them himself, or was instrumental in getting them established. I am certain he knows his way around most of them.”
“Effe, the body tracking system was instituted after Prodigal was imprisoned,” Paul Blankson said. “There’s no way he would know about it!”
“Maybe he doesn’t, but that shouldn’t stop him from assuming there’s something like that,” Effe said quickly. “From the little time I have been with him, he has been very thorough and meticulous, not leaving anything to chance. He had all the right angles covered. Believe me, he might be blocking the tracker, or misdirecting it with one of his devices.”
“So, what do you say?” Sir Lance asked tightly. “Give me something, Effe, please! Every second we waste could prove fatal for Stanley, and us! Prodigal is skilled, and I shudder to think what he might do to Stanley if he is convinced he had a hand in his brother’s death!”
Effe looked at her locator again.
“Chris is a tech-savvy, sir,” she said. “If he suspected that the Director had a trace on him, he would take precautions. So, maybe he threw the signal off with another device, but since it is still embedded inside the Director, we might not be too off. Looking at the arc of the sea from the airport, the safest place for Chris would not be the White Coves!”
“Be clearer, Effe!” Sir Lance cried explosively. “Make some sense to me! I don’t understand what you’re saying! Effe, my dearest girl, stop the fuckery and speak to me in a language I understand, please! I’m not one of your damn techie guys! I’m an old man who wants to be told that my shit stinks, and not that it is a by-product of nutrients that have been absorbed leaving the chaff! Tell me white is white and not eggshell, cream, broken white, vanilla and nonsense! Forgive me for my choice of words but damn it, tell me something, Effe!”
Effe could understand the man’s agitation because she was gradually knowing him better, and knew Sir Lance could be very explicit and uncouth sometimes when the atmosphere demanded it.
He had been on his way to brief the king and security apparatchiks of the threat posed by Chris Bawa. That in itself was very unpalatable enough, but to add the fact of the director’s abduction to that would make anybody freak out.
Effe sighed and showed the locator in her hand to him, and indicated what she was saying with a beautifully-manicured finger.
“Look, sir, this green arc is a trajectory of the route from the airport to the White Coves. The red arc depicts a deviation from the green, where the Reine Lake joins the sea, but the lake leads straight to the forest areas to the North. I believe that somehow Chris intercepted the Director’s BT signal and projected a false one to us. And then, instead of coming to the Coves as the location indicates, he will rather make his way to the forest area through the lake. And once he gains that forest…”
“Oh, damn!” Carl Acquah said heatedly. “If he gains the forest, we might lose him! That terrain is huge, with many caves and niches for two men to hide forever! Yes, Effe, that makes sense, also shows why we’ve not sighted them!”
“Get on the damn intercom!” Sir Lance said grimly. “Leave two choppers patrolling the White Coves! All others follow Effe’s arc to the Reine Lake! I want the damn bombers to be in pole position! Tell the Coast Guard to leave one boat on the coves and direct all other armoured boats to the Reine! Now! Go, go, go!”
As the helicopter banked sharply and headed out, Carl Acquah put a hand on Effe’s shoulder and nodded.
“You’re good,” he said appreciatively. “You’re really good! Glad we have you on our side.”
“Thank you,” Effe said, and carefully shrugged his hand off her shoulder.
Stanley Adu stared at the gun in his hand with horror!
He had fired eight times, and only dull and muted clicks amplified horribly in his ears as the hammer fell on empty chambers!
It dawned on him finally that Chris had only loaded two bullets into the clip, and had dropped the gun intentionally! He could hear his heart hammering loudly and everything slowing down almost with macabre precision that informed him that he had fallen for the bait and given Prodigal an opportunity to go lethal.
“Oh, God!” he said in a resigned voice as his hands dropped and the gun clattered on the deck. “No, Chris, please, no! I’m sorry, man, I’m damn sorry!”
The blood was gushing from his shattered toes and his shoulder, but that did not scare him one bit. What scared him was the look on Chris Bawa’s face as he slowly got to his feet. There was still grief on that handsome face, even tears were shimmering in his eyes, but when he looked at Stanley, who had taken the bait and shot to kill him, judgement was passed.
“Remember when I said I was not angry, and warned you against making me angry?” Chris asked softly. “Now I’m angry, and believe me, you don’t want me angry.”
“Chris, Chris, listen to me, listen to me, man!” Stanley Adu grovelled. “You don’t want to do this, Chris. Kill me, and the whole security system will descend on you! Soldiers, police, agents, Chris, and you won’t last a day! You want the truth, I can help you get the truth, damn it! But don’t kill me! Don’t bloody kill me! I beg of you, Chris! I have a wife and children, man, please.
““Hoc bellum est,” Chris said in a tortured voice. “Semper fi.”
“Chris, please, don’t do this, don’t!” Stanley cried as he held up his hands. “Don’t kill me, Chris, please!”
Chris crossed to the driver’s seat, reached under, and took out a bolt-action double-barrelled rifle with sawn-off barrels.
He slid the bold and pointed it with one hand.
On his face was death.
“Chris, no, no, Chris!” Stanley Adu screamed.
Knowing the inevitable, seeing the welcoming arms of death, Stanley Adu struggled to his feet with the intention of diving into the sea.
“For Rollie,” Chris said with great grief. “An innocent man you killed. Semper fi!”
He fired once, and the double slugs from the sawn-off riffle, at that close range, simply blew off Stanley Adu’s head.
His headless body thudded to the deck like a macabre magician pulling off one last dirty trick; Chris turned away and started the engine.
He drove the speedboat through the sea and swung off into the Reine Lake in the bend, heading for the forest. He glanced at his wristwatch as the stout boat cleaved the waters at top speed.
And then he heard the sound of a helicopter and looked up with minor surprise as his sense of danger increased!
They had breached his warped signal, evidently, and now they were on his tail!
That was too bad!
How had they been able to make out his strategy? He had effectively hosted their GPS after rerouting the security signals from Stanley Adu. That should have bought him enough time until he was in the woods.
But, somehow, they had seen through his smokescreen and turned the heat on him. Was that Effe girl with them? If she was, then she would be responsible for setting the wolves on him once again.
He pushed the throttle to maximum and the boat zoomed forward. He cut sharply towards the forest line as the helicopter picked his trace and immediately honed in on him with relentless fury. Chris looked at the radar panel and saw a lead helicopter without heat, and farther back he noticed two yellow dots surrounded by red circles, and his teeth set grimly.
Chris knew the white dot was the luxury helicopter, probably carrying Sir Lance and core SPF staff, but his worry was the yellow dots with the red circles. These were Apache helicopters, armed to the teeth and could obliterate him in seconds. In a couple of minutes, they would be directly on him.
He gauged the shortest distance to the forest and flipped the GPS coordinates on the boat’s console fast, and the machine veered sharply to the left as it headed for the trees.
“There he is, the motherfucker!” Paul Blankson screamed and pointed to his screen.
Sir Lance stood up and put on his headphones as his eyes scanned the boisterous sea below him.
“Where are the damn Apaches?” he screamed furiously. “I need a visual! Is Stanley alright?”
“Just a minute, sir,” a calm voice came through the headphones as the Apache helicopters zoomed in to each side of the luxury helicopter. “Yes, we have a visual of the boat, sir. Two men confirmed… holy shit, oh, no, no, no!”
The last words were in a scream!
“What?” Sir Lance screamed furiously. “Paul, give me visuals, damn it! What is going on down there?”
The man on the intercom was almost weeping now.
“He’s… he’s dead, sir!” he groaned. “The DFO… his head is gone! His body is inside the boat, headless! Prodigal killed him, sir! He fucking decapitated the director, sir!”
“Damn it!” Sir Lance screamed. “Oh, may hell welcome you, Chris Bawa! May you burn in the hottest depths of Hades! Take him out! Take out that murdering bastard! Go on, take him out now! Hit him with the missiles! Now!”
Effe was shivering as she slowly sank into her seat and stared at the screen of her tracker, and she put a hand across her mouth when she saw two missiles leaving the launchers of the army helicopters.
She knew the murderer called Chris Bawa – Codenamed Prodigal – was going to die! And in that cold moment of realization, surprisingly, her heart flipped with turmoil.
Chris Bawa grabbed the stout, black army pack off the console and without cutting the engine, turned the steering fast and banking to the right as he lunged from the powerboat.
As he hit the shallow waters, he saw the white flashes as two Hellfire Missiles left the launchers of the Apache helicopters. Because the missiles were heat seekers, they zoned in on the powerboat which was now speeding up the lake with its speed locked.
Chris threw himself high into the trees and covered his head with the bag. Even so, the missiles hitting the powerboat and obliterating it with deafening twin explosions that made red-hot fire shoot high into the sky also lifted his body clear off the ground and slammed him several feet away.
He lay there, stunned for a moment, his ears ringing with the explosions, knowing the danger was just beginning, and he needed to move – and move fast.
He got to his feet groggily and began weaving his way through the swampy trees. Quickly, he reached for a gadget in the army bag, switched it on, and tossed it away from him as he took the opposite direction and increased his speed.