Kema
glanced at Solomon, the Olympus Security police liaison in Abuja, and inclined
her head toward the row of chairs. “I can see her. Fourth row. Wearing black.”
Up
on the stage, a comedian entertained the
audience, eliciting some whistles and claps. The show had started.
Solomon
peered forward. He nodded. “I’ll send my men in to capture her.” Tall and wiry,
with a thick afro, his manner radiated a mixture of confidence and solemnity.
“No.”
Kema shook her head. “We don’t want to startle her and make her trigger the
bomb. I have an idea. Have your men order an usher to speak to the people on
either side of the bomber and get them to vacate their seats. She should make
up an excuse, any excuse to get them to leave.”
Solomon
stared at Kema. “What do you intend to do?”
She
sighed and said, “Try and get her to lower her guard.”
“Are
you sure about this? Where are Oliver and Steven?”
“They’ve
apprehended the bomber’s two associates. Now, it’s my turn.”
“Be
careful.” Solomon murmured and walked away.
Kema
bit her lip. This better work.
It
had taken some minutes to convince Oliver that she could handle the girl. When
he called in earlier to inform her of the bomber’s location, he had insisted
again on taking care of it himself.
Ughhhh.
He didn’t get it. She needed to play her part. She wasn’t an Olympus Security
agent only on paper. She could do this and thus prove to her stubborn husband
that she could pull her own weight.
Gazing
ahead, she watched a smiling usher approach the man on the girl’s left. The
usher bent down, whispered something into his ear.
He
glanced up at her.
Biting
her lip again, Kema ran her hand through her Mohawk.
The
man smiled, stood up and left.
Kema
sucked in air.
The
usher departed.
Kema
twisted her hands together.
From
the right, another usher advanced. She leaned over, talking to the man sitting
there.
The
man hunched forward, flinging his hands about. He shook his head.
Oh,
crap, crap, crap. The air seeped out of Kema’s lungs. Why were stupid,
obstinate people ever born?
The
usher persisted, smiling wider.
After
a few long seconds, the man got to his feet and followed the usher out of the
building.
Now,
the chairs on either side of the bomber were unoccupied.
Time
to act.
Adrenaline
surged into Kema’s bloodstream. She moved forward, heart rattling in her chest,
mouth as dry as the Sahara. This was the third time she would be confronted
with danger and certain death. Would she escape this as she escaped twice
before? She would. She was invincible.
Entering
from the right, Kema squeezed past people seated on the fourth row.
There
was the bomber. And an empty chair beside her.
Kema
dropped onto the seat, keeping her head forward while examining the girl from
the corner of her left eye.
Gosh,
she was young. Maybe fifteen, at most seventeen. The poor, silly girl. Her head
was draped in a black hijab; her torso was covered in a bulky black cheap
cotton jacket. The hijab couldn’t hide the darting of her fear-drenched eyes
and the sweat dripping off her skin, soaking the black material.
Kema
spun to face her. Smiling, she said, “Hello.”
The
bomber’s head jerked sideways. Her eyes widened. She stared at Kema and slowly
her eyes constricted. Glancing away, she fumbled under her jacket.
No!
Kema
lunged, throwing her right arm over the girl’s shoulders and pinning her left
arm. Then, with her left hand, she bore down, hard on the girl’s right.
The
bomber thrashed about, muttering unintelligible words.
With
all her might, Kema yanked at the girl’s right arm, forcing it away from her
chest.
Like
a wild rat ensnared in a trap, the girl fought, desperate to trigger the bomb.
The metallic scent of fear oozed from her body.
“Stop.
Stop!” Kema snapped. The surrounding guests were beginning to turn to stare.
The
suicide bomber shrieked, speaking in Hausa, saying something Kema didn’t
understand.
Kema
had had enough.
She
seized the girl’s right hand. Grabbing a hold of the thumb and the index
finger, she wrenched them in the opposite direction.
The
girl screamed, collapsing into the chair. She glared at Kema with hate-filled
eyes that were rapidly filling with tears, but stopped struggling.
Breathing
hard, Kema nodded at Solomon.
His men converged on them.
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The Unhinged Book Series; Book 1, 2, and 3 will be out this 2016. Find out more at the Unhinged Books page
