(Continued from The Age Factor II)
Timothy is seething. Silvia has made a fool of him. Publicly. Worse, she has even been spreading malicious rumors about his allegedly poor bedroom skills
“We need to teach her a lesson,” he mumbles to himself, pacing around his private bar at his mansion. His six most trusted thugs are there.
Timothy suddenly throws a bottle of wine at a wall, smashing it with a loud bang. None of the men flinch. They are used to his tantrums.
“Calm down boss. I have an idea that you will like,”
Timothy looks at the speaker. Jared is the most intelligent and most lethal of the gang. Timothy is actually privately afraid of him. But so far Jared has been loyal and has not shown any ambition beyond serving his master.
“I am listening,”
“Easy. We kidnap that woman Silvia. Ask for a huge ransom. That foolish husband of hers will pay and it will ruin him financially. Then after getting the money we will kill her and dump her body near their farm and spread an anonymous rumor implicating Silaxwith him and I have pictures. If we can get Silas in jail we can destroy his business easily. We will have killed three birds with the same stone: Richard, Silvia and Silas.
Timothy looks at his lieutenant with both admiration and silent fear. One day this boy Jared will be his own waterloo. He should find a way of clipping the boy’s wings before it is too late. But for now, the younger man’s solution is brilliant. Silas is Timothy’s bitter rival. They have unsuccessfully tried many times to destroy each other.
“Do it,” he says.
Jared quickly gets three of the remaining five men to form a hit team. Their instructions are simple: Get the woman when she is alone and take her to that warehouse in Isinya. Make sure you are not recognized, even by the woman. And of course do not get caught.
He remains with the other two, and alongside Timothy, starts working on a plan to get Silas in jail for a crime they are just about to commit.
Timothy Kilome is the opposite of Richard in almost every aspect. Richard has the mould of a patrician. He is tall, well over six feet, with an athletic body that has neither an inch of fat nor a heavy muscle anywhere. Just a well-toned, evenly muscled body. He has a handsome face that lights up when he smiles and darkens aristocratically when he is irritated. His hair, which has a sprinkling of grey, is well trimmed. He dresses simply but classily, and wherever he goes, he leaves a faint whiff of a pleasant scent that could be from a brand of luxury soap, lotion or a very mild perfume. Most importantly, he has a very restrained temperament.
Timothy, on the other hand, is a semi-domesticated orangutan. He is short, hardly 5’2. He is heavily muscled, with the chunks of muscle that make up his legs, thighs, hands, and trunk resembling trunks of 150-year African hardwood trees. He does not have a neck. His head seems to sit peculiarly at the centre of his broad shoulders and the fact that he is able to turn that head is a minor modern day miracle. His hair is trimmed and dyed. His faces bears scars that he carries with pride, because they are the evidence of a hard street life, and the numerous knife and fist fight that he has gone through. He wears oversize casual clothes, always keen to display the designer labels. His gold chains and rings are a spectacle: huge and ostentatious. He wears a massive gold ring on each of his ten fingers, and three massive gold chains around his non-existent neck. He has a massive gold watch on his left wrist and gold bracelets on his right.
He has a massive ego and an extremely short temper. This probably stems from insecurities that he will not admit exist, but which gnaw at his soul every day. He resents people like Richard. Not Richard as a person, but generally people who have grown up in wealth and who have not had to taste the knocks of street life. People who have a patronizing attitude and an air of self-importance.
When he was young and was living in a shanty with his single mother, rich kids from a neighboring suburb would pass on the main road on their expensive bicycles speaking accented English. He borrowed a bicycle from one of them once, but his English was far from polished, and they all ridiculed him mercilessly before riding away to their gated compounds. Later, as a teen, he tried wooing a rich girl but she simply sneered and walked away. She did not even utter a single word to him. It was humiliating.
Some poor kids make up for their lack of financial ability by being the sharpest in their classes. These eventually go to the university, get degrees and attain some measure of respectability as doctors, lawyers or engineers. They are even able to attain the respect of the rich, irrespective of their backgrounds.
But Timothy is not book smart. Okay, he did not exactly care about school, so his academic abilities are unproven. He spent a large part of his school life serving suspensions at home or doing punishments in school. He finally managed to complete High School with a D minus.
That was not disastrous, he convinced himself. Even if he had managed to work hard and join any of the prestigious professions, there was no guarantee that he would earn respectability. There are so many broke lawyers, doctors, and engineers walking in the streets these days.
The key was to make money. Lots of it. Respect would follow the money.
He did make the money. Nobody knows how but he did. Some say he is a drug dealer. Others say he smuggles gold from the Congo. Others say he is illuminati. The consensus is that he did not make money from his legitimate businesses because he started those businesses after
he already had money. He launched his first six supermarkets and restaurants in six towns within
a span of three months, many years ago. Someone needs money to do that. Besides, Timothy’s extravagant lifestyle suggests that he spends more money than his businesses can cough and still remain solvent. So where does he get the money? Nobody knows.
Much to Timothy’s irritation, money did not earn him the respect of the old money folks like Richard. They still treat him like a pariah. He has joined two elite sports clubs, but they still treat him like a malignant tumor. He is now wealthier than some of them. But he is still not invited to their circles. Their daughters still treat him with contempt like that teenage girl many years ago.
True, he has a harem of women feeding on his palm. And he can get more if he wants. But they are all social climbers selling their bodies to him to get a slice of his millions. In fact, that is all he seems to attract: loose women, male good-for-nothing rascals and overzealous politicians all sniffing around for his money.
That is why he really wanted to marry Silvia. She is ten years older than he is and is a shameless social climber, not any better than the others in his harem, but she is also the wife of one of the rich. Okay, not rich anymore but still old money. For these folks still, get them to respect even when they squander the empires their grandfathers built, provided they don’t become paupers. Marrying Silvia publicly would be his revenge against all these arrogant fools. He had enjoyed his secret trysts with her, knowing that while Richard generally ignores him, he was at least having his woman. Having that woman publicly was the ultimate coup. But then the woman has backstabbed him.
She has made a fool of him. And she needs to be punished.
Jared’s mobile rings and he picks it casually and puts it on speaker.
“We have a problem,” a voice on the other side says. “We were grabbing the woman at a parking lot of a supermarket when the husband and his mother suddenly showed up. The man was armed and started firing at us. We returned fire. The old woman is dead, I think. I shot the man but I am not sure if he is dead or not. We have that woman Silvia with us. Unharmed.”
“That is okay boys, good job. Go to Isinya and wait for further instructions,” Jared says calmly.
“Lying low may no longer be a possibility, Jared. That man shot and killed Eric. The shoot-out attracted the police and we heard sirens before we could grab Erick’s body. The police are on our tail right now, but that is not a problem. We will lose them easily. The problem is that they have Eric’s body. It is just a matter of time before they figure out who he is and come for you and the chief,”
It is Jared’s turn to curse.
Elizabeth gets to Margaret’s school but the receptionist informs her that she is not in. Richard had come an hour earlier and picked her and they drove out together. Elizabeth’s shoulders drop.
Silvia seems to be one step ahead of her.
Her phone rings and she answers it absentmindedly. But what she hears wakes up her senses in a flash. She runs out of the school reception like a mad woman and hops into her car. She flies out of the compound, pushing the speed limits of her Demio. In less than an hour, she is at Nairobi Hospital.
(Continued at The Age factor IV)