Back-Heel Treachery

The writer

From beneath, the intruder could see the bedroom lights on. He climbed the metal stairs behind the house and stealthily made his way to the back door. From his pocket, he withdrew his master key and slid it into the lock with practiced dexterity. He let himself into the room. The sight he beheld took his breath away. In the decade that he plied this trade, he had yet to see a room of such resplendent beauty. For a moment, he forgot his mission and drank in the comeliness that surrounded him. The room's owner was clearly a person of flawless organization. He could tell that from the immaculate order in which everything had been arranged. The overpowering presence of pink betrayed the gender of the occupant.

At the center-back stood a queen size bed that displayed a white bedsheet with generous patches of pink. The pillows were not spared from the wanton display of pink. Beneath the bed was a well-placed couch that had two couch pillows tucked neatly in each other. The bed was flanked on each side by a drawer. The left drawer displayed a make-up kit that followed the general pristine order of the room. The intruder moved to the second drawer which carried an open book. It was opened at Page 84 and the lines that caught his attention were.....

The things I refused to learn through counsel, life forced me to learn through crisis.

His heart missed a beat but he quickly stifled the guilt the words invoked in him but not before he turned the book to see the title. It was the autobiography of James Kyinkyinsorsor. Whoever that was, he had never heard of him. He heard the bathroom door squeak. Someone was coming. Quickly, he hid behind the closest curtain and held his breath. From behind the door emerged a figure that made him gasp for air as if he was drowning in a pool of fast-moving water. Her ebony skin that had yet to dry from her bath glistened under the light from the filament bulb. Around the middle of her torso hang a small towel. The curvature it revealed made him choke on his saliva. Her wet dark hair flowed down her spine. He quickly averted his eyes when they found themselves hooked into the rounded mounds on her chest. He almost pinched himself for his lack of discipline on a night like this. Unable to bear the torture her figure was having on him, he moved quickly into action and rushed towards her. With his left hand, he covered her mouth whilst his right hand pressed a stiletto into her back. "Don't scream else you die".

Her body vibrated as her mind took in the shock of what was happening. She remembered that she had locked her door right after entering it earlier that evening and had expected no company not to talk of this hideous assailant who had suddenly taken her hostage. She was badly startled and her breathing betrayed the trepidation that had instantly built up in her heart and the anxiety that ran through her lungs. With the stiletto pressed to her back, the intruder held on strongly to her. She quickly contemplated what to do. A struggle was out of the question. She had heard several stories of victims who had been murdered by robbers because they had resisted. She would rather acquiesce and save her life than lose it over possessions she could easily replace. Her mum had always emphasized that the most potent weapon in a moment of chaos is a cool head. "Lord, give me strength to handle this. Give me wisdom to know what to do", she silently prayed.

Her body suddenly relaxed. Confidence rushed through her veins from her feet to her heart in a manner that the intruder felt the rapid change in the demeanor of his hostage. She held his left hand which had been firmly clasped over his mouth and took it away. A jolt of electricity went through him as her hand touched his. Her palms had the softness of a baby's. He found himself enjoying the feel of his hands in hers. The intruder was shocked at his visceral reaction to this young woman who was supposed to be his victim. Had he rather become the victim, he wondered. Not in all of his life and trade had he had such an experience. "I'm not going to scream. You need not worry about that" she said as she turned to look at him for the first time.

The intruder wore a black ninja mask that revealed only his eyes. The rest of his costume, a long sleeved shirt on top of a pair of pants, was also black. He was a well-built man. His muscle clamored for attention through his tight cotton sleeves. She judged his height to be above six feet. He was so tall that she had to raise her head to look into his masked face. "How may I help you?" she queried. He was visibly taken aback by her sudden show of self-possession. He looked at her enthralling face that glowed at him and wondered what he was doing there in front of this bewitching woman who had disarmed him so badly on the night of such an important mission. He summoned new energy and commanded "Put on some clothes and come with me!" She signaled him to turn around so she could dress up. He shook his head firmly albeit with some hesitation. He liked the beautiful young woman and was not happy he was denying her but then he had a job to do. Reluctantly, she took the sheets on her bed and improvised as she put on clothes in obeisance to her captor. As she finished, they heard a knock on the door. The intruder stiffened.

The intruder placed a finger on his lips in a warning to her to keep silent. The knock on the door repeated. Neither of them made a move towards it. He stood and waited in the hope that the knocker would leave. But such luck escaped him. "Rachel", he whispered towards his victim. She threw an affrighted expression at him. So he knew her name, she thought, surprised. Who was this masked man and what did he want with her? "Go and see who that is and drive him or her way", he ordered whilst he withdrew a pistol from behind him. It was an HK VP70, an 18-round German semi-automatic pistol manufactured by Heckler & Koch.

With a weight of 820 g, height of 142 mm and length of 204 mm, it was concealable in one's outfit and the intruder had done a good job of doing so. Rachel's heart turned around sharply. The confidence that had climbed its way into her heart began to drain away quickly. She had thought she was dealing with only a stiletto. Not that it was less of a weapon, but she was more at ease with it. It guaranteed that she wouldn't be hurt if she was a good distance away from her assailant in the event of an escape. This pistol could shoot from a 50m range. Her chances of escape had been dealt a deathly blow.

She summoned strength and walked towards the door. Behind her, the intruder was pointing the pistol at her torso. The knock persisted. "Yes, I'm coming. I was putting on my clothes", she said in an attempt to disguise her apprehension. She opened the door slightly. It was Sarfowaa, her friend from the apartment below. Her face was streaming with tears. She forgot her own plight momentarily and addressed her friend. "Sarfowaa, what is it?" "It's Kwame. Kwame has broken my heart!" she responded as she rushed towards Rachel and fell in her bosom. "Kwame has broken my heart badly. From henceforth, if a man tells me that he loves me, I will report it to the police CID for them to investigate. I won't let another man take me for granted", she said amidst tears. Rachel smiled. Sarfowaa, ever the sanguine, still had her humor. She put her arms around her and rubbed her back.

"As painful as a breakup is, it's also a restart button. It's a good opportunity to restart your life and pour yourself into your dreams. Channel your pain into your passion", Rachel admonished. Sarfowaa had a fashion accessories start-up that was doing quite well. It hadn't benefitted from her full attention because she had been overly caught up in her romance with Kwame. She had always felt that he wasn't a good influence but had kept mute. She held the belief that there are a few people in the world you can't advise and one of them is a person in love. This breakup is a good thing for her, Rachel thought albeit with a tinge of guilt.

She suddenly remembered her own predicament. The intruder was waiting. She could almost feel his eyes boring holes into her from behind. She had to devise a way of getting rid of her friend. "Return to your apartment and I will be with you soon", she urged her friend. Sarfowaa hesitated a bit and Rachel held her breath. She finally lifted her head and walked away like a baby crawling. She looked on for a few minutes and turned her back into her apartment. The intruder was standing right behind her, his eyes displaying fire. He was angry at Rachel's delay. Her own temper flared up and she threw her hands in the air in a gesture that meant that there was nothing she could do. He felt affronted by her attitude and marched towards her whilst pointing the gun at her. She threw her hand in an attempt to push the gun away. He was shocked at his victim's newfound arrogance. He responded with his left hand which connected with her right cheek leaving a feeling of hot searing pain in its wake. The door behind them burst open. It was Sarfowaa. She was back and there was someone with her.

For a second, time froze. Nobody moved. The intruder hesitated briefly, clearly at a loss as to what to do. He was already beginning to regret this mission. It had started unravelling too soon. That journey to the place called unravel began when Rachel stepped out of that bathroom looking like a goddess. The experience had clearly dulled his sharpness and incapacitated his ability to think. Only that could account for his loss of coolness and the slap that followed thereafter.

His boss had given unequivocal instructions that Rachel was not to be harmed in anyway. His only job was to capture and deliver her to the agreed location. The thought of his boss sent chills down his spine. James Nikken Parker was a ruthless man who had zero tolerance for failure. The intruder's partner whose body lay six feet below ground level was enough testimony to that. He couldn't afford to fail this mission. The thought of bacteria, worms and rodents fighting over his flesh in an airless coffin kicked him into action. He moved swiftly and grabbed Rachel. "Stand back or she dies", he barked at Sarfowaa and her new companion.

Sarfowaa and her companion stood in the doorway with expressions that exuded defiance. They were not moving an inch; their body language seemed to say. The companion also carried a gun. From its appearance, it was a former standard police issue, a Smith & Wesson .38 revolver. The companion stood in the doorway with his gun trained on the intruder who also held on to Rachel. "Put the gun down or I will shoot her", the intruder barked at the new entrant. He obeyed and slowly dropped his pistol. "Now kick it over to me", he added. The latter obeyed. "Now you take the hand cuffs hanging from his belt and cuff him to the bed post", he addressed Sarfowaa. She hesitated but on considering her options and realizing that she didn't have any, she obliged.

"So why do men like you do things like these?" Rachel blurted out. "Because life is not fair. People like you are born to rich parents and go through life without much struggle. People like me have to suffer so much pain just to survive so we do whatever will bring in some cash" the intruder harshly retorted. "That's a lame excuse sir. I may have been born rich but my parents weren't. They were raised in probably far more adverse circumstances than you. But they knew one thing; that even though they didn't choose the circumstances of their birth, they could choose the outcome of their lives. You can't go about brandishing guns on people merely because you had an unfortunate birth", she argued with fervor. "You shut up young woman or I will blow your brains out", the intruder warned. "Not in this life. Perhaps the next one!” a voice from behind said as its owner jumped the intruder.

The newest member of the motley crowd knocked the gun from out of the hands of the intruder. As he fell, he dragged his assailant down with him and he shot his left leg into his groin and they both fell down in a thud. His victim yelled in pain and his hand automatically flew to ground zero to soothe his pain. But he was not to be defeated easily. Rachel saw the opportunity to get away. She untangled herself and rushed to Sarfowaa's side. The recent member of the crowd and the intruder continued their battle. Wincing in pain, he pushed himself unto the intruder and began offloading an avalanche of punches into his torso. The rest of the crowd watched in fear, wondering what would be the outcome of this scuffle that was unfolding before their very eyes. The intruder rolled him away in a show of sudden strength, raised himself from underneath him and reached for his gun. As he touched it, his opponent shot his leg at him and the gun went off. The bullet flew into the metal door, ricocheted on it and hit Sarfowaa’s right ribs. She screamed in pain as blood oozed out from her side. In a few minutes a patch of red had formed on that side of her dress.

Rachel jumped to her side as the latter fell down groaning in pain. A few meters from them, the fight was ascending into higher levels of intensity. An anger of indescribable propositions had seized the new companion after the gunshot and he fought the intruder with intense aggression. The earlier companion, now remembering his role in the drama, called out to Rachel to uncuff him. She jumped up and quickly released the man from his bounds. Now free, he picked up his gun and pointed it at the intruder. "Your time is up, man!" he shouted. As if on cue, the struggle seized. The second rescuer, his facing looking utterly bruised, cuffed the intruder.

Just then the door flew open. "Ohhhh Mama", Rachel gasped as she looked at her mother who entered the room with anguish written all over her face. "Oh my daughter, I hope you are not hurt" she said as she embraced her. She screamed when she saw Sarfowaa on the floor in a pool of blood. "Call an ambulance!" she ordered one of the men in a tone that had the semblance of one used to giving instructions. "But Mama, what are you doing here? How did you know about this?" Rachel queried.

"We got a tip-off that James Nikken Parker was going to kidnap you to blackmail us to withdraw from bidding for the National Rail Project contract. So we sent these men from your Dad's security company to come and protect you", her mother explained. Rachel hugged her mother in a warm embrace. The older woman bent down to take a look at her daughter's wounded friend. "Forgive me Rachel, forgive me”, Sarfowaa whispered in pain. "Forgive me, I betrayed you. I was paid to give information on you and your family. Little did I know that I was going to be the victim. Life is a farm that provides due harvest for the seeds we sow. I sowed my seeds and I have reaped the harvest I deserve", she confessed. Her body went limp thereafter. She was gone.

About the Author: Jeremiah Buabeng is a multi-gifted motivational speaker who juggles writing along with his work as an entrepreneur, corporate trainer and consultant. You can reach him on 0246 88 26 32 or [email protected] .