A Lawyer For The Devil
AARON ANSAH-AGYEMAN
A LAWYER FOR THE DEVIL
A ChrisEffe Bliss
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Chris’ car came to a shuddering halt in front of Effe’s house, and he jumped out in a maelstrom of rage and fear. His heart sank when he saw that there were no cars in the main yard! The gate was not locked, so he raced up the driveway and tried the front door, screaming Sisi’s name as he went along. The living room door was unlocked, and Chris ran blindly into the living room.
“Sisi!” he screamed. “Sisi, Daddy is here! Sisi!”
Silence!
Silence everywhere!
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He raced through the rooms, opening doors, searching frantically, racing, racing, racing!
“Sisi!”
She was nowhere to be found!
Effe was nowhere to be found!
He went through the kitchen to the backyard, through the garden, screaming in frenzy!
Silence!
He raced around the house to the front where he met three men and a woman coming towards him, and they stopped when they saw his wild eyes, his agony, his horror.
“Jesus, it is him, the lawyer!” the woman said, her voice excited. “Lawyer Chris Bawa!”
“May we help you, sir?” one of the men asked gently.
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Sweating, tired, heart beating, Chris tried to speak calmly.
“The woman that lived here, Effe Kedem,” he said as clearly as he could. “She has my daughter.”
“Yes, I saw you earlier when you came in with them,” one of the men said. “My name is George Williams. I’m the Community Foreman here. This house belonged to an old widower whose daughter from South Africa came for him. They put it up for sale. Two weeks ago, the woman you mentioned and some policemen came to see me with a court document allowing them to occupy the house for two weeks for a security operation. This morning, they moved out immediately you drove away. They called to inform me that the operation was over and they’ve left the house.”
“Oh, Jesus!” Chris cried with horror. “Oh, Jesus! They have my daughter. Did they tell you where they were going? Anywhere?”
The people looked at each other and shook their heads sadly.
“Maybe you should make a report at the police,” the woman said gently.
Chris nodded.
“Thank you, thank you very much. I’ll do just that!”
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He raced to his car again, leaving them bewildered, and as he sped out of the community, he called Mrs Rosemond Arthur, the assistant headmistress at Sisi’s school and enquired about Effe Kedem.
“Effe?” the woman asked softly. “Oh, she was just a temporal staff, Mr Bawa. Evidently, she was a policewoman staking out the area for some criminals, and she needed a cover, so we agreed to give her a cover because she came with some top-ranking officials, and they had a special letter. But she was real nice, took a shining to Sisi from the very first day! She informed us that the operation was over, so she would not be coming anymore!”
“When was that?”
“Friday, sir, after school. Why, is everything alright?”
“Yes, Mrs Arthur, just wanted to see her again.”
The woman laughed softly.
“Yes, I knew you would. She’s a lovely person, and everybody loved her here, especially Sisi!”
Chris thanked her and cut the call.
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Yes, of course!
Especially Sisi!
That had been the agenda all along!
Effe and Steve Hollison, whoever they were, for whatever reason, had acted it all out! They had been behind the attempted kidnappings, and had set out the whole operation carefully to get him to trust Effe, fall in love with her, and then roped in Big Mac to complete the setup!
And, at the right moment, they had struck, and taken the most important person away from him!
His daughter!
But why?
Dear Lord, why, Effe, why? Why have you done this to me? Why the deceit and betrayal? Oh, Lord!
Chris was sweating as the agony flared through him, and he could barely concentrate on anything. A little over an hour later, he arrived at the police headquarters.
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A few minutes later, he was ushered into the office of the Commander of the CID, Allan Davidson.
He was a large man in a large grey suit. He licked Nutella from his fingers and pointed to a chair opposite his huge desk with the big sandwich in his other hand.
“Do sit down, Lawyer Bawa, please,” he said genially with a broad smile. “Hey, I’m your number one fan! Love the way you brought those bastards to their knees. How may I help you?”
Haltingly, heart beating, Chris narrated his ordeal, and Allan Davidson’s face kept going slack with horror as Chris spoke.
When Chris was finished, Allan dropped his sandwich into a plate, cleaned his hands with a white napkin, and leaned across the desk. He slowly punched information on his laptop. After a while, he turned the laptop around so that Chris could see the faces of two people on the screen.
It was Effe Kedem and Steve Hollison.
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“Are these the two you’re talking about?”
“Yes,” Chris said enthusiastically. “That’s them!”
“Oh, preposterous!” Allan Davidson exclaimed with passion and pounded the desk with both fists. “Lawyer Bawa, you’re treading dangerously! You can’t go around accusing the Assistant Director of MOP of kidnapping!”
Chris’ eyes narrowed with a sudden shock.
“MOP?” he asked softly. “The Ministry of Power? Motherfuckers!”
“Yes, the Ministry of Power!” Allan Davidson said with fear as he leaned across the desk conspiratorially. “Those people are more powerful than the police, or the army, or any other security outfit! They’re linked to Interpol, the CIA, the FBI and even the Russian KGB. They’re above our jurisdiction, sir! A mighty, superpower that reports only to the president and other powers that be! You can’t go around accusing them of kidnapping!”
“They got my daughter!” Chris hissed as his wrath began to get the better of him. His hands balled into fists, and all he wanted was to get his hands on them.
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Allan Davidson got to his feet suddenly, his expression troubled.
“I have to ask you to leave, sir,” he said quickly.
“You must be joking!” Chris said grimly. “I don’t care who they are! They got my daughter, and I’m going to get her back!”
“Get out, Lawyer Bawa, please!” Allan said, his voice shaking with fear now. “The MOP guys… they’re dangerous, powerful! Please, I don’t want any trouble. If what you’re saying is true, they’ll justify it, and you can’t pin a feather on them. Please, I’m sorry, but I can’t help you on that.”
Just as Chris tried to speak, his phone rang.
The number only came as XXX.
He picked the call.
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“Hello.”
Effe spoke softly.
“If you want to see your daughter again, get out of the police station. You’ll find a white van standing behind your car. Get in.”
“Effe?” Chris hissed ominously. “You don’t wanna do this!”
She cut the call.
Chris got up and rushed outside.
Five minutes later, he saw the white van parked behind his car with the back doors standing open.
His phone rang, and when he picked the call, Effe spoke again in clipped, cold tones.
“Get into the back. Now.”
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She cut the call again.
Scowling, seething with rage, Chris Bawa climbed into the back of the van, and the doors slammed shut.
Immediately, he smelt a strong gas oozing in from hidden vents in the roof. He hurled himself at the back doors, again and again to crash the doors open as he tried not to breathe in the gas.
It was to no avail.
The gas entered his system, and he crashed to the floor of the van. He moaned weakly, and a moment later, he fell unconscious.
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