Love Hates…

AARON ANSAH-AGYEMAN

LOVE HATES

A CHRISEFFE BLISS

 

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EPISODE 1

 

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It was late afternoon in Tripoli.

It was stiflingly hot in the private taxi Effe Kedem had taken, even though the taxi was air-conditioned.

The taxi had stopped at a traffic light, and the swarthy driver was sitting back, tapping his fingers lazily on the steering-wheel in tune to some Arabic music. The traffic was slow, with people moving around busily, the cars honking, the raised voices of people causing a never-ending cacophony of noise that characterized a typical day in Africa.

Effe, dressed in a fetching dark-blue suit, glanced at her wrist-watch again with a worried little frown. She had just closed from a meeting with some Libyan investors interested in coming down to Ghana to invest in KEDEM ESTATES, one of the biggest estate developers in Ghana owned by her father, Ken Kedem.

The two-day meetings had gone exceedingly well, and she was now headed back to the hotel. She would check out and take a flight back to Ghana that evening.

The chauffeured car at her disposal had broken down just at the entrance of the conference centre, and the driver had summoned a private taxi for her.

The traffic lights changed to green, and the driver moved forward, taking a southeast route.

Effe finished reading a page on the proposals of the investors, and she smiled to herself as she put the sheet of paper into a white A4 envelope and put it into her slim document carrier.

She glanced out of the window, and saw that they were travelling on an unknown stretch of road, and that the traffic was thin here and the people also few.

She scowled and looked at the back of the driver’s head.

“Hello, where are we?” she asked carefully. “I’m going to the Al Mahary Radisson Blu Hotel, please. I don’t know where we are now!”

The kind-faced driver looked at her through the driving-mirror and smiled reassuringly.

“Not worries, madama!” he said, showing his teeth in a grin. “This shortcutty take you quick quick to hotel, no worries madama at all, at all!”

Effe leaned back, but her antennas were up. She reached into her bag for her phone and quickly activated Google maps, and found they were heading away from the Radisson Blu hotel.

Her breathing came in quick bursts, and her fear began to escalate!

There had been quite disturbing news in the city since her visit about rampant kidnappings of mostly West African women in Libya.

There had been reports of people from other African countries being sold into slavery, or being butchered for body organs which were sold at high prices on the human organ markets.

She had seen on CNN just that morning about a group of Cameroonian migrants who had been flown to Cameroon after a terrible time in the camps of some kidnappers and rapists.

“Stop the car, please!” Effe said as she gripped her document-holder and put her handbag across her shoulder.

“Not worries, madama, this –,” the driver, now sweating and looking anxious, began.

“Stop the damn car!” Effe shouted.

The driver suddenly stepped harder on the accelerator, and the powerful car leapt forward with a screech of tyres.

Effe forced herself to relax.

She had always been a level-headed girl, and the situation suddenly informed her that her life was in danger. She leaned down and removed her high heels. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the right shoe, leaned forward, and slammed the pointed edge repeatedly on the driver’s skull.

He uttered a strangled cry of shock and pain and spun the steering-wheel to the right by reflex, slamming the car into the back of Volkswagen van in front of them which made the car reduce speed.

Effe grabbed the door-release lever, opened the door, and stumbled out just as the car righted itself and began to speed away.

The driver realized Effe had gotten out, and he braked violently, bringing the car to a shuddering stop.

He jumped out of the car with a gun in his hand just as a motorcycle with two men on it zoomed out from behind another car, coming towards Effe at top speed.

People in hoods and scarves were shouting as Effe crossed the street frantically, running with terror on her face as the two men on the motorcycle bore down on her relentlessly.

She felt the impact as they slammed the bike into her back, propelling her forward to smash against a tall man on the sidewalk.

Effe uttered a cry of panic as she almost fell heavily on the ground, but the tall man was holding her, and setting her aside as one of the men on the motorbike got down.

They were wearing masks over their heads, with slits for eyes and nose.

The man coming toward her was holding a gun pointed at Effe’s head. He grabbed Effe by the upper arm and began dragging her across the ground towards the revving motorbike, waving his gun and sending the onlookers scurrying away.

“Help me!” Effe screamed with tears of anguish coursing down her cheek. “Please help me, please!”

The tall man she had crashed into suddenly moved behind her attacker. He grabbed the man and spun him round, delivering a cruel blow into the smaller man’s jaw with such brute force that the attacker was lifted off his feet to slam rather violently on the sidewalk.

The tall man now had the gun, and he turned in an arc, bringing the gun up just as the remaining man on the motorbike also tried to draw his gun. The tall man leapt forward with fast, supple steps and closed the distance between him and the motorbike. He hammered the barrel of the gun into the wrist of the man on the motorbike ferociously.

The man screamed and dropped his gun, and then he tried to speed away but the tall man slammed the barrel of the gun into the kidnapper’s face, dazing him, and then he caught the attacker by the arm and pulled him down, smashing his face into the hot tarmac!

Three other heavily-muscled men in singlets had appeared from a restaurant across the street, and they rushed forward quickly and subdued the two attackers the tall man had disarmed and almost knocked unconscious.

Up ahead, in the confusion of the accident, the taxi driver had seen what had happened, and he was already pushing his gun back into his waistband as he fled desperately from the scene.

Already police sirens could be heard, and a lot of people had gathered. Some of them were now tying up the attackers with belts and ropes.

The tall man, wearing black jeans, black combat boots and a black muscle-T singlet, bent low and picked up Effe’s document holder and her handbag from the ground, and then he turned around.

Effe was standing between the three other men who were dressed like the tall stranger. She was holding on to one and weeping inconsolably as reaction set in, aware that she had been close to the worst nightmare of her life.

She looked at the tall stranger who had saved her with gratitude in her eyes.

“Oh, thank you, sir!” she said tremulously. “Thank you very much!”

The man looked at her, and Effe suddenly gasped with horror, her eyes bulging out of her face, her free hand flying to her mouth.

“Chris!” she whispered, aghast, shocked, desperate and horrified.

The tall man looked at her from an incredibly handsome face.

He was tall and built with the sleek lines of a Greek demigod. His cheeks had a trace of dimples in them. His lips were full and lovely. Prominently, his eyelashes were long, almost feminine, framing two grey eyes that had only suppressed disdain in them as he looked at Effe. And his nose was long and aquiline, giving his face a perfect symmetry and a beauty that was hard to resist.

His well-muscled body, toned sleekness, and simple allure made him an incredibly handsome young man.

“You dropped these,” he said in a deep drawl that was as masculine as it was pleasant but now held slivers of cold ice as he proffered her handbag and the document holder.

Effe could not take her eyes off him.

She stared at him as if she had seen a ghost.

“Chris?” she whispered with incredulous disbelief. “Chris Bawa.”

“Are you going to take your damn stuff or not?” he asked calmly, and almost in a trance Effe reached out and took the things from him.

Chris stepped away from her, and she reached out and touched his arm.

“Please, Chris, wait!” Effe said desperately. “Don’t leave like this, please. What are you doing here in Libya?”

He looked at her hand on his arm with a snarl-like expression on his handsome face as if her hand was a venomous serpent.

“Take your damn hand off me!” he hissed furiously and pulled his arm from her grasp.

“Chris!” Effe whispered painfully. “Please.”

The cold handsome man looked at the men with him.

“Let’s roll, guys. Police gonna be here soon,” he said in that same deep voice.

The three men looked at Effe.

One was very huge with a bearded face and a black patch over one eye.

“Hope you’re good, miss,” he said politely, and stepped off the sidewalk.

“Chris!” Effe cried earnestly. “Please wait!”

But the tall man did not even pause in his stride as he walked through the crowd and away from her.

Soon a police sedan came to a stop by the kerb, and three burly policemen got out and approached Effe.

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***

They took Effe to the police station, despite her protestations that she might lose her flight.

She was aided by an English-speaking police woman to write down her statements and give vivid descriptions of what had transpired.

Her name was Yaasmeen Quaddaffi. She was patient with Effe although she saw how agitated Effe was.

“You’re going to make me lose my flight!” Effe insisted for the umpteenth time.

“You can’t go to the airport today, Madam,” Yaasmeen said as she filed Effe’s statement.

“And why not?” Effe asked, getting angry. “I’m taking a flight to Ghana!”

The policewoman picked up a remote and switched on the television set against the wall. Effe turned to watch.

The writing on the screen was Arabic, but she could see demonstrators on the streets, and then a shot of the airport where soldiers, in battle tanks and with heavy weapons, were moving around. She could also see armed troops in UN insignia marching up and down, and then a top army official began to speak in Arabic.

Effe was horrified.

She turned startled eyes to Yaasmeen.

“What’s going on?” she asked hollowly.

“Everything is a mess, madam,” Yaasmeen replied with a shake of her head and a sad smile. “Rebels are trying to take over the government, demanding the withdrawal of US soldiers. People are demonstrating and causing havoc! Slave traffickers are kidnapping nationals from other African countries, especially West Africa, and selling them off as slaves. The situation has escalated quickly. The rebels are fighting government troops for control of the airport. All flights have been grounded!”

Effe began to tremble, and had to force herself to remain calm.

This was not good!

She was being marooned in a foreign land!

“What am I going to do?” she asked hollowly.

Yaasmeen smiled at her reassuringly.

“You must try and relax, Madam,” she said gently. “First I must provide police escort for you to the hotel, if you have some things to pick up there.”

“Yes, yes!” Effe said, horrified. “Some important documentation, and my equipment and luggage.”

“Alright, we’ll pick them up, and then I’ll make them send you to the Ghana Embassy for now as a temporary safety measure, until we can book you on the next available flight.”

“Thank you, Inspector,” Effe said. “Thank you very much!”

Her father called through as they left the police station; the family was worried about her after hearing the horrible news of the chaos in Libya. Effe assured him that she was alright, forcing a cheerfulness into her voice that she did not feel.

The streets were filled with pockets of demonstrators, some of them quite violent.

The two policemen with her were efficient, blaring their sirens and shouting with authority at people who tried to block their way.

Effe wondered how a perfectly good day could suddenly turn out so bleakly!

She tried to force Chris Bawa out of her mind and concentrate on her predicament, but he kept intruding into her mind vision, forcing her to relive that encounter on the street over and again…and forcing her to remember the bitter past! But that just would not do, no, not now. She was in dire straits right now and needed to concentrate on how to get out of the country, and having thoughts about that handsome man she had not seen in years could easily mar her day.

Effe forced him out of her mind with a great effort.

She had a clear and present danger to tackle.

The streets of Tripoli had become a war zone, and she could be swallowed up by the slightest miscalculation.

The police Inspector accompanying her was called Jeddah Ibn Nassim. He was huge and dark and brooked no opposition.

He made the driver park in front of the hotel, and went up with Effe, who was exceedingly grateful because the violence had spilt over the streets, and just opposite the hotel a group of people were breaking into a compound with wild yells.

Jeddah waited as she threw her things into the simple travelling bag and packed her equipment in their case, and then he took her luggage as she followed him back to the car.

They took the side streets and eventually appeared in the lane of the Ghana Embassy, and then Effe’s heart sank!

The whole street and the compound was spilling with an impenetrable mass of jostling people, predominantly black Africans from the West African countries. There were yells and screams as  they tried to force their way into the embassy.

“Oh, my God!” Effe sighed with trepidation. “This is not good! This is not good at all!”

“It is not good, indeed,” Jeddah said with narrowed eyes.

Suddenly the crowd began to stampede as a gas canister was fired from the police guarding the embassy.

“Tear gas!” Jeddah cried in alarm, and then he spoke rapidly to the driver.

The driver reversed blindly, executed a tight U-turn, and then he sped away down a narrow street as screaming hordes of people fled down the street.

Effe turned and looked desperately at the policeman.

“What am I going to do now?” she asked, striving to rein in her panic. “All avenues seem to be fizzling out!”

“Well, I can suggest a way, but you might not like it,” Jeddah said, his face serious.

“Anything, please, let me hear it,” she said. “I don’t relish the idea of being stuck here after what happened to me this afternoon, please.”

“Would you mind travelling by road?” he asked.

“Driving all the way to Ghana?” she asked, aghast. “That would be killing! Like what, three- or four-days continuous driving?”

He nodded.

“Maybe more,” he said blandly. “You’ll go through Tunisia to Algeria, then to Niger, Benin, Togo and finally Ghana. About a week, if you go by truck. But, if you can leave Tripoli and get to Tunisia, you can report to the Ghana Embassy there, you know, and make arrangements for a flight from there, if you have enough money.”

“Money’s not a problem,” Effe said miserably. “I’ll be willing to pay my way out, sir.”

“Getting out of Tripoli right now is the problem,” he said gravely. “The political tension has taken a dangerous turn, and bad people are using it as an excuse to do nefarious things. My cousin is the manager of a new company that imports raw materials from Ghana and other West African countries. Drivers bring the raw materials in huge trucks. If you’re lucky, he can get you to go with one of the drivers who’ll take you out. They have special passes so the law and the rebels don’t bother them. They can take you out of Tripoli, and when you get to Tunisia or Algeria you can take a plane to Ghana.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you very much!” Effe said, almost deflating with gratitude.

“It will cost a little money, though,” Jeddah said. “The truck drivers. Some are greedy. Taking huge fares.”

“Please, don’t worry about the money, sir.”

“Call me Jeddah, please, madam.”

“And I’m Effe, Jeddah.”

Note::

LOVE HATES is a Premium Story. The first 7 Episodes are free. Afterwards, those who wish to continue reading should contact Eunice on WhatsApp number +233244084955. Let’s welcome you to Premium Content.

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