The Fall of Saints (25 page)

“And Melinda? Did she know?” I asked weakly, almost seeking more time to digest what I had just heard: that Zack, as Mark, had fathered Kobi.

“Not about Wangeci and Kobi.”

“Your own flesh and blood? You would have sold your son?”

“At the time, in my mind he was not, you know. You saved him. Your need for a baby saved him. And now I love that boy dearly. I cannot imagine life without him. I thank you for that. Where is he?”

“You had the mother of your child murdered,” I said, avoiding the question.

“That fool Miles Jackson did it. Tell him to scare somebody, he scares the person to death. He almost did you in at the Starbucks in the Bronx. He was a bubbling idiot, mixed up the adoption papers, and I’m not surprised the police got him in the end. I don’t kill people I have loved.”

“So all that talk of loving me is just talk?”

“Why?”

“You’re going to kill me. Do you realize that by killing me, you’ll deprive Kobi of his remaining mother the way you were deprived of a father? Is that your revenge on history?”

“I did just fine growing up without a father.”

“I see. So you found the father you lost in Father Brian?” I said sarcastically.

“Father Brian? He thinks he’s smart. I drew a vision. It’s in the document. I showed him the way, and he ran with it. He has acting abilities, that I grant. He turned the Vatican into a believer. A big achievement, in my humble view. But he had no idea what would be born out of the ashes of the Alternative Clinics. True, he registered the name ALASKA, but that was my idea. He enjoyed his new role, with the whole nation, from cabinet ministers to women and children, as the admiring audience . . . For him, the document had achieved its purpose. I could never figure out why he clamored for the original. For me, the document lives. Its purposes and vision have yet to be fully realized. Your curiosity almost ruined me. Your tricks—bringing those people to fumigate my office—you just missed it, didn’t you see it when you rummaged through my library? The original document, the one that clearly outlines the vision of the glory of the future, was in the file marked ‘Alaska.’ You took a piece from it because of a telephone number and the name Kobi. Your curiosity almost tore down my vision for a domination that has eluded the strongest of men. I will not give you a second chance to destroy what I have already built. But maybe, just maybe, we can negotiate something if you tell me where Kobi is. If you don’t fully cooperate, you know the end. After I’m done with you, it will be the turn of Father—”

“I am here, Zack,” Father Brian said. “And don’t turn around. Your wife can confirm that I am not a phantom. Fling that gun away. Do it.” Zack obeyed. “Good. And by the way, Wakitabu is my man, not yours, Zack. He just called me about you. You killed my gunman and took away his gun.”

Father Brian, still in his fake uniform of a Catholic priest, emerged from a door behind Zack. He stood slightly to one side, the rosary around his neck falling on his white frock, occasionally prodding Zack with the gun he held.

“Father Brian,” Zack was saying in a tremulous voice, “I have been faithful in ensuring that your pay is intact. Edward and Palmer, my legal firm, has done well as a laundering center, providing legal defenses, and protecting channels. We have bribed customs and immigration officials from here to America. I have built a global network. The relations I have been trying to establish with Okigbo and Okigbo might bear fruit, and Nigeria will be the new theater of our operation. Look, Brian, I have always protected you, even tried to make my snooper of a wife believe you were an innocent bystander. And now you turn against me?”

Okigbo and Okigbo? I hoped not, but everything was unfolding, like a film noir, before my very eyes.

“Zack, you are a bad actor. When we first met at Shamrock, I mistook you for a reliable crook, like me. Now here you are, claiming the document as your sole creation? You’re a legal mind. You know the name of what you’re doing? Theft of intellectual property. I registered Alaska Enterprises as our umbrella company, and you say it’s all your work? Your wife has more guts than you. As for the money, we agreed on equal shares, but you took advantage of the fact that I could not leave my adopted post of priest. You ignored all my messages and, in the end, killed the messenger, jeopardizing our enterprise. Wakitabu tipped me. You treat him with contempt: no respect for all the cleaning he has done for you. Now I cannot take any chances, so I need you to tell me: Where’s the gun of my gunman?”

“I have it, Brian,” I said, pointing the gun at him. “I tested it on Miles, but if you want proof that I can shoot, just resist. Put the gun down. Zack, don’t move.”

“So you are going to protect Zack?” Brian said laughingly, as if he did not believe me.

“No, I am protecting women and children from two monsters named Brian and Zack. I came here to get both of you.”

As Brian turned around, I heard Sam’s father urging me to aim and shoot. I made a Krav Maga move with my leg, and the gun flew from Brian’s hand. As he rushed to recover it, I shot his leg. He fell on his knees. I saw Zack opening the door. I shot at him and missed. I shot Brian in the other leg, to ensure his complete immobility. I stood by the wall with both guns in my hands. When Wakitabu came toward me, shooting, I rained bullets from both guns. He slumped to the floor. I ran to the other room and tried to untie Wainaina. Though wounded, he had the strength to collect himself and help me free Betty. She had looked beaten and about to give up, but she seemed to acquire new strength. We handcuffed the uncomprehending Brian to the dead Wakitabu, back-to-back.

I said, “Wainaina, take a gun and watch the door. Betty, keep guard over this unholy monster.”

Betty’s reaction was one of disbelief and relief. “I want my baby,” she told Brian, “or I will drown you with my piss.”

I ran down the stairs, both guns drawn. I had to be careful because Zack could be hiding in any of the corners. But from a window, I saw a car drive past the gate. Zack had gotten away. I ran outside. Jane was on the phone in the car. I managed to reach Ben as soon as I was inside Jane’s car, and I told him his man was waiting for him in the church.

“And Zack?” Ben asked.

“He got away.”

“Mugure, we’re coming. With reinforcements. Please stay put.”

“Yes, Ben the African,” I said. Jane got off the phone.“Let’s go,” I told Jane.

“What the hell is going on? I heard gunshots. I called Johnston,” she said.

“Brian is saying the rosary on the floor. That’s good, but right now, we need to go after Zack.”

27

A
s we drove out to the Nakuru Naivasha Highway toward Nairobi, we were blinded by spotlights and deafened by the sirens of police cars. I was sure they were going to the house we had just left. But we didn’t stop. I briefed Jane as she drove. She was speechless with fury by the time I finished. “You should have shot Brian dead. I would have done it.”

“You’re a defense lawyer, not a law enforcement officer,” I reminded her.

We drove straight to Memories. I left Jane and went inside, where Kivete sat. I asked him to come back outside with me. “First a beer,” he said, smiling, showing off.

I pulled out the gun. “Let’s move,” I said amid screams and shouts in the bar.

“Hey, I’m coming, I’m coming. Go easy,” he said as he walked out with me and got into the car.

I explained to him as we drove away from Memories that it was time for him to help clean up the mess he had been party to. I briefed him on the baby murders. He was quiet for a moment, then told us that before he could do anything, we must first take him to Magda’s in Kaloleni and ask no questions. I knew it was a risk we had to take.

We parked on the road and let him walk to Magda’s alone. What a difference from the first time we had visited Magda! I would forever be grateful to her. Without her, we never would have known the story of Wangeci and Reverend Susan’s register of stolen babies.

Then Kivete came back with her, got in the car, and asked us to drive to the home of Magda’s friend, in the next neighborhood. Magda greeted us like old friends, but it was clear she looked at us with awe, admiration, and a sense of a comradeship.

At the friend’s house, the two left the car. It was all a mystery. Five minutes later, Kivete emerged, cigarette in hand, with a sack bag slung over his shoulder. As he got in the car, he threw the cigarette butt on the ground and stepped on it. He did it with such force and determination that I knew this was not Kivete Kitete who danced at Memories.

“I have waited so long for this day. I have to atone,” he said with a laugh, explaining that Magda had stayed at her friend’s place.

“No, I am coming with you,” Magda said, running toward us. She echoed Kivete’s words. “I must be there when we confront Susan. Besides, I may be of some help. I know some things.”

I said, “I want to know all about the secret meeting places, if any. When you were doing the cleaning, where did it take place?”

“Drive to the compound of the Miracle Church,” he said.

I heard some noise that sounded like two metallic pipes clanking against each other, and turned back. Kivete had unloaded the little sack, and lying on the seat were two double-barreled shotguns. He looked up and saw me staring. “You know you can’t go there unarmed. One thing I know about these people is that they will kill you to protect themselves,” he said as he fixed the magazines.

I looked at Jane. “Maybe you should take one of these.”

“I suppose I could,” she replied, though unsure of herself. “Just in case!”

“I will stay with her,” volunteered Magda. “All that training may be of some use.”

We had come close to the gate. Jane pulled to the side. Kivete and I got out and walked toward the gate. I knocked. Kamau was getting used to seeing me. I waited for him to come outside, as he usually did. When he did, he said, “Today is not good. They are all in there. She has Americans. Besides, it’s so late, why don’t you come tomorrow?”

“I have to get in there,” I said, brandishing some money.

This time he refused. “Really, they are all there, and I am under strict instructions—”

“Open the gate, Kamau,” said Kivete, waving a gun at him. “Come on, my friend, you know not to waste my time.” I was so afraid Kivete would pull the trigger. “Take the money and walk away,” he continued. “Get yourself to Memories and buy a few beers. By the time you are done drinking, we will be done here!”

Kamau did not hesitate. He took the money I had brandished, got his small bag, and walked away. He didn’t look back.

“Aren’t you afraid he’ll call Susan or the police?” I asked Kivete.

“Trust me, he wouldn’t. He is going to Memories as we speak. He knows not to mess with me. Afterward, he will have a perfect story: Strange demons possessed him. If angels can fly the blessed from America to here, I am sure evil demons can fly an otherwise faithful servant to a bar against his will.”

With that, we walked through the gates toward the church. I saw the car Zack had driven in the driveway, and two other cars, which I presumed belonged to Susan and her accomplices. We avoided the security lights, walking in the shadows. Kivete was walking in front of me, gun at the ready. I had mine as well. Then he started to run, half bent over, and I followed suit. We stopped in front of a small gate. This must be the gate Magda mentioned, I thought. There was a huge padlock on it.

“We need to jump,” Kivete said.

Scaling walls and fences was what I had been doing lately. I tucked the gun in my jeans pocket and stepped on Kivete’s outstretched hands. He shoved me up as I pulled myself up. I pulled my right foot onto the top and then, using my hands as an anchor, jumped. Kivete was soon beside me. We walked beside the walls, away from the glaring security lights. We walked until we got to the end of the building. I heard voices.

“Are you ready?” Kivete asked me in a whisper. I guessed he did not waste time. We had to do what had to be done. No need to dillydally.

Gun in hand, he tried the handle. Surprisingly, it gave way, and he stormed in with me right behind him.

Susan tried to reach for something in her bag.

“I am sure you know Kivete will not hesitate, but don’t underestimate me, either,” I said.

“Who are you?” Reverend Susan asked.

“Amina,” replied Dr. Kunyiha, who was seated next to Melinda.

“No, this is my wife,” said Zack, trying to look at ease, though I knew he was terrified. “I am sure we can talk about this as grown-ups. Brian was the bad guy, and you were right to shoot him. Who is this gentleman?” Zack asked, looking at Kivete.

“The guy who has been doing your dirty work, but not anymore,” Kivete replied

“I was just briefing everyone here on what a shot you are, Mugure!” Zack said.

“C’mon, Mugure,” Melinda said, making as if to come to me, as if we were nothing but old friends. What nerve!

“Don’t, Melinda. Not now, not ever. Killing babies? Do you know Zack butchers babies, he and Father Brian? Body parts for export.”

“We don’t kill babies,” Melinda said.

“We give them to parents with needs,” Susan added.

“Zack set you up from the beginning. It’s all in a document he and Father Brian drew up. Simple: You and Susan deal with milk. Men with blood . . . Tell them, Zack, tell them about the blood,” I said, pointing the gun at him.

“Get on your knees,” Kivete ordered. “All of you.”

Reverend Susan was the first to fall on her knees. She said nothing. Dr. Kunyiha was next, and then Melinda and Zack, almost at the same time.

“What is she talking about, Zack?” Susan asked rather firmly.

“Oh, now you believe the woman with a gun to your head,” Zack said.

“Stop your theatrics, we just want to know if there’s some truth to it,” shouted Melinda.

Everything after that happened in a blur. Zack dove forward, pushing Dr. Kunyiha to the floor. Kivete’s shot caught Daktari in the shoulder. Zack dashed through the open door. I took aim but missed. For the second time, I had missed Zack. I ran after him into the inner room. It was quiet.