Previously On Evening With Eva… .
Earlier that morning just before the snipers were dispatched, the Sniper Commander had assembled them and gave them a harangue. The order from the Sniper commander was:
“Make sure there are no infidels out there!” He charged and continued
“The MP is in full view of the public. Make sure there are no smart asses up on that roof! You see a threat, you take it out!!! Nothing and I repeat Nothing happens to the governor on my watch! Copy that?!!!” The Sniper commander yelled.
“Yes sir!!!” The snipers replied.
However, Sophia’s instructions were simpler:
“Take out the MP”.
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S02E06. . .
Sark’s heartbeat rose as the seconds grew closer. It was a few minutes to 9am. The Sniper commander had just radioed, saying that the MP and his convoy were very close and would pass by any moment. He demanded sharpness now more than ever. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.
He was nervous. Who wouldn’t be? Asides the fact that he had to take out the number one citizen of the region, this was his final test. His performance would determine the next thing that happened to him. Still sprawled on the roof top he looked through the lens of the sniper rifle positioned on a small tripod stand.
The street beneath him was free of cars but filled with armed police men who were desperately trying to control the teeming crowd and still watch out for strays. He slotted in the only available single long silver bullet and snapped the bullet chamber shut. He needed only one shot.
He closed his eyes and waited. Closing his eyes always helped him gather his thoughts. It made him focus on the task at hand and helped block out any form of distractions.
A few minutes later, he heard sounds of drumming and fanfare. The trumpets blared at heightened tempo while the drummers desperately tried to match the intensity of the blasts. They were close by. He opened his eyes. His heartbeat was intense. But he had to do it. He had come too far to stop now. He could not help it.
He put his left eye on the lens and closed his right eye. The MP was about 5 knots to his left, standing through the open roof of his car and waving to the ecstatic crowd who chanted his name. He waited as the MP’s car moved slowly into the target zone. Sark hands were sweaty under his black cotton gloves. He suddenly felt the need to ease himself. He fought it. Sophia’s words rang in his head: “Take out the MP”.
He put his right forefinger in the trigger hole. As the MP’s car moved, slowly entering the target zone, Sark’s finger slowly grabbed the trigger. The MP was finally in the zone. The target mark was on his head. Sark pulled the trigger. 20 meters to his left, the MP fell on his head. Dead.
There was commotion everywhere as the crowd scattered in different directions. The Campaign carnival had suddenly turned into a blood bath. The MP was immediately pulled inside the car. The once slow cars that moved at snail pace during the parade now sped dangerously through Adum, rushing to get the MP medical attention.
The armed police men were confused and surprised at the same time. Nobody envisaged this. Nobody knew what to do.
From his ground position the Sniper Commander stood perplexed. He looked through his highly powered ultra-binoculars at the rooftops of the nearest buildings.
He spoke into his radio:
“Snipers! Maintain your positions! No body moves! I repeat, NOBODY MOVES!” He screamed
As he spoke, he scanned the entire sky rise buildings, making sure that each sniper was in place as commanded. As he radioed the choppers for a head count, whilst scanning the rooftops with his binoculars, he noticed one of the sniper posts without a sniper.
“Code Red. Track down Sniper 038 now!” He ordered
Sark got up very quickly, moving away from the edge of the roof. There was a small door on the roof which also served as a fire escape. He opened the door, revealing a stairwell that led to the ground floor.
As he hurried down the stairs, he took off this sniper uniform. He had another uniform underneath which had RRS written back and front. He was on the third floor when he heard the radio call from the Sniper commander.
There was a gun and a helmet by the landing of the second floor. He wore the helmet and took the gun. He got out through the back door looking very smart. He saw a team of RRS soldiers and joined them.
They nodded at him as they walked in a group. They had walked for fifteen minutes, searching every nook and cranny when a grey Peugeot car pulled over. A man opened the door and called to him.
“Hey you. Come in here.” The man pointed to Sark.
Everything was going according to plan. This was the exact way Sophia had said he would be extracted. He felt relieved.
Immediately he got into the car and shut the door, he knew he was in trouble.
There was no one he recognized in the bus.
As he calculated his options on how to escape, a punch hit him on the face from nowhere. He felt blood trickle from his nose. Before he could react, someone put a wet handkerchief on his nose. He could not breathe. There was some form of liquid on the handkerchief. It smelt like sulfur.
Sark passed out.
Two men walked into a huge bakery. One of them was tall dark and huge. He looked like a thug. His biceps and chest rippled and struggled against his tight black body hugging t-shirt. He walked behind the other man who was plump, had a bulging stomach and was dressed in a suit. He was below average height and smoked a cigarette.
Smoke filled the whole atmosphere as sweaty workers mixed flour. They divided the mixed flour, cutting it into different sizes and panning it. They did not bother to acknowledge the men as they walked past them, opening a small door that led into a corridor. One of the men was the Boss and had previously warned that the workers always carry on with their work anytime he comes by. He detested recognition.
They closed the door behind them. There were in another room now. It was a very tiny room with pipes carrying water lining the walls on both sides. They walked quietly for a while till they got to the end of the room.
There was yet another man sitting on a chair by the wall. Bloodied face, swollen lips and one black eye that was now temporarily half closed. The man looked up at his visitors, his hands tied to his sides on the metal chair he sat on.
“Water. Wa..tttt..ee..rrrrrrrr” The man muttered almost out of breath. He was barely audible.
One of the two men, who was the Boss, brought out a plastic bottle of water from his jacket and handed it to his partner.
“He want’s water. Shark, Let’s give him some water.” The boss said.
“Yes Boss.” Shark said.
Shark opened the water and approached Sark. As he opened his mouth, Shark bent the bottle in a vertical position and began to gently pour. As Sark began to gulp, Shark moved the bottle away from his mouth. He slowly and deliberately poured the water on the floor beside Sark, laughing wickedly as the contents of the bottle emptied on the dirty floor.
Sark almost cried. He leaned his head backwards and closed his eyes. He knew he was going to die there. When it would eventually happen, he had no idea. But he was very convinced it would happen pretty soon
The room was very small, cramped with pipes on the walls on both sides. The only source of light was a small bulb on the ceiling that came on only when he had visitors.
There was a fan on the ceiling that croaked and worked at an agonizingly slow pace. He was sweaty most of the time. The whizzing of the pipes when water passed through them was now music to his ears. His only companion was his thoughts.
He had lost track of day and time and had no idea where he was. A very frail old man who seemed in his late 70’s had brought him food before his current visitors arrived.
He did not know if it was twice a day or once a day. The last time the Old man visited seemed like an eternity. He had tried to converse with the man. The old man did not speak English or any of the languages Sark had mastered.
The Old man eventually managed a little, “me don’t hear. Me speak” before feeding Sark with the usual meager bowl of tasteless rice just enough to sustain him. He was not even strong enough to question the old man or to strain his brain, so he let the Old man be. He knew they were keeping him alive for a reason. Maybe these two men were going to tell him.
Shark dropped the bottle of water, squatting in front of Sark
“Did you kill the MP?” The Boss asked just behind Shark
“Who? What MP? Is he dead?” Sark said slowly.
Shark landed a heavy punch to his stomach just below his rib cage. He yelped in pain as spurts of blood escaped his mouth. He tried desperately to catch his breath.
They waited for Sark to get himself together.
“I am going to ask you one more time Sark. Did you kill the MP?” The Boss queried.
He looked up at the man. He was feeling faint. He just wanted to die and give everything up. It was not worth it. He wanted to just spill everything but he thought about his mother. She had done nothing and she did not deserve to die for his crimes.
He was going to do this on his own. The Ghosts always keep their word. As long as he kept mute, his mother would be safe. They had honor. These men interrogating him did not. He had no doubts about that. He was ready to die.
“I.. do… not… know… what…you… are… talking about.” Sark said very slowly.
“Are you crazy? You are talking back at the Boss like that? What the hell is wrong with you boy?” Shark said irritated at him
He made to hit him again but the Boss stopped him.
“Stop. Easy Shark, easy.” The Boss said.
Shark moved away for the Boss, going farther away from Sark. The Boss now took Shark’s position. Only he did not squat.
“Sark, you are within an inch of your life right now. We can protect you. Change your life. Give you a new identity. Anything you want, just name it. It would be documented and signed. Its full proof, fail safe and very genuine. We need people like you on our side Sark. But first we need to bring down the bad guys. And we need your help.
We will make you disappear. The whole government is behind you on this one. You can disappear anywhere in the world. It’s totally your choice. The man you killed had a family. A wife, kids. A duty. He was loved by everyone. The Government is working at super speed. We have a lot of good clues.
The people won’t rest till they have the killer’s head on full display. That head doesn’t have to be yours boy. Do you understand me?” The Boss asked.
He closed his eyes. He smiled within him. These men were very good, but not good enough. If he was a rookie, he might have been bought over. He knew this routine the way he knew his name. Good cop, bad cop. The bad cop comes first, threatening and abusing. Tries to scare the living daylight out of the suspect.
Then when that doesn’t work out, then the good cop comes in. He acts like he really cares, tries to be reasonable. Offers a bottle of water, coffee or food. He tries to warm up to you. He is the deadliest.
“Are you with me Sark?” The Boss asked.
He opened his eyes. Slowly he said “Yes, I am”
“Good boy. Now who sent you to kill the MP?” The Boss asked.
“I do not know what you are talking about.” Sark repeated.
The Boss kept his cool and walked to Shark. He whispered something in his ears. Shark gave him another trademark punch. Sark’s chair rocked. They left him there and closed the door.
The visits continued and the torture increased. The food reduced and he hardly got enough water for a day. Every time, they asked him the same question. Every time they got the same answer. He had emaciated so much.
The sixth day came. They visited him as usual. He had sores on his skin. He could barely talk. His breathing was labored.
He could not open his eyes.
They met a pool of vomit and blood by his feet.
“He won’t make it. He can’t die here. Take him to the electric room. Let’s end his miserable life there. What a waste!” The Boss said to Shark spitting beside Sark.
Shark untied Sark and carried him like a groom lifting his wife for bedding.
Sark said a short prayer in his mind.
The end had finally come
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