Code of the Eagle - For The Motherland Book 1

Chapter 3

Tsholofelo Baboloki laughed uproariously as she saw her partner’s leg trussed up in a pink plaster of paris. Her black shirt was rolled up to the elbows and tucked into her light blue jeans. She wore white sneakers and a simple black watch on her left hand.

“How the hell did you break your leg falling from a stationary vehicle?” she asked, while tears ran down the corners of her eyes. She had to hold onto the back of a chair because she was laughing so hard she almost fell over

David gritted his teeth and didn't deign to respond to his partner’s patronising question. Instead, he made himself more comfortable in the hospital bed of the private hospital in Broadhurst and snuggled into the single bed which had his leg propped up. “How the hell did you manage to get them to give me a pink P.O.P?”

“I have my contacts,” Tsholo responded smugly and finally plopped herself down into the uncomfortable visitor’s chair. She lifted her sneakered feet and laid them on his bed, leaning back and putting her hands behind her head. She never made time to  get her hair properly coiffured as she felt it was unnecessary. As such, her hair was cut short, close to her scalp. She had this huge phobia of getting a weave caught in a door during a suspect chase. It always gave her pause when she thought about doing something drastically different with her hair. “You should be thankful it’s not neon pink with white unicorns and trolls.”

David gave her a small smile. He had no idea how grateful she was that she had at least spared him that indignity. She honestly could have done it.

“If I wasn’t in love with my wife, I would have made you my second missus,” he told her with a grin. Tsholo scoffed, rolling her eyes at him.

“I would have murdered you on our honeymoon,” she told him. “I don't even know how you made it into the Criminal Investigation Department. You’re squeamish, you go pale at the sight of blood and you can’t even handle suspects!” Tsholo teased. What she didn't mention was that he had a photographic memory that made him indispensable. He could piece concepts and elements together in minutes or hours that teams would take days or weeks to have fall into place. He was an unassuming genius who was an asset to the CID. Although he was clumsy and dorkish at times, Tsholo would not have traded him for anyone else on the force.

David’s phone rang and he picked it up off the side table, answering it. He frowned as the phone was cut off after a second.

“Come see this,” he said as he scrolled through his phone. Someone had sent him a video message.

Tsholo moved quickly to his side and they both stared at the screen.

The chaos that greeted their eyes shocked both of them to the core. They listened for a couple of minutes and noted the screams from Batswana as they watched what was happening in fear and dread.

David uttered one word: “Go.”

Broadhurst Mall - Gaborone

Tsholo dashed  out of the hospital, mindful to not injure any more patients and their visitors than was absolutely necessary. It was literally a five minute jog to where the events were unfolding and when she got there she gave the area a quick scan.

The police had created a barrier around the parking lot of the bank. Men in uniform swarmed around the area, keeping the curious and the morbid behind the portable barriers. Near by a woman was screaming, her makeup filled face smeared, making her look like a clown gone wrong.

“My husband is in there!” she screamed. “You have to get him out!”

A couple of officers restrained her and tried to calm her down, all to no effect.

She saw a man she knew wearing captain's bars on his uniform and walked up to him. “What’s going on, Captain?”

Captain Dikitso looked at her and shook his head. “I don't know,” he told her looking uneasy. “We received a call from a hysterical teller about twenty minutes  ago and rushed to the scene. We couldn’t hear what she was yelling about exactly. She kept on saying, ‘The man in the white suit.’ Then, she sounded like she was choking and the line went dead. We sent a couple of our men in there to investigate, as well as a paramedic.”

“You sent guys in there without understanding the threat?” Tsholo asked, her voice hard and clipped.

“They have bullet proof equipment and weapons. We did a risk assessment before we sent them in. The safety of the citizens was of paramount importance.” His voice had a defensive edge in it which Tsholo ignored. Dikitso was a good cop but sometimes thinking past the obvious was a huge challenge for him. Rather than get into it with him, she continued to assess the scene.

It looked like the lights in the bank had been switched off. There were clearly people inside and there had been screams that had now faded to nothing.

There was a space of about twenty meters from the building that had been cleared by the police, creating a no man’s land of emptiness.

She chewed her lip, wondering what she should do. This was Dikitso’s jurisdiction and she never wanted to step on toes, especially when she had not been invited. She was about to turn to look behind her when the door of the bank started to open. A man walked out.

He wore the blue uniform of the Botswana Police Service. He looked like he was dragging himself forward with a lot of effort. His breathing was laboured as his chest heaved dramatically. Even from where she stood, Tsholo could hear his wheezing breath. His throat bobbed up and down and it looked like he had swallowed something that refused to go down.

“That’s one of my guys,” Dikitso said unnecessarily. If Tsholo had not been paying such close attention to the man who had just exited the bank, she would have rolled her eyes. Dikitso took a step towards his subordinate.

“Wait,” Tsholo hissed as she grabbed at his arm to stop him. “Something’s not right.”

Dikitso frowned and glared at her. He opened his mouth to say something when Tsholo’s hand tightened around his arm. “Look at him,” she whispered. “Get your men to move everybody back now. NOW, DAMMIT!” she yelled when Dikitso didn't move.

It was the urgency in her voice which finally galvanised him into action. Yelling out commands he ordered his men to push the forty odd people who had ventured out to this area on this fateful Saturday morning. People screamed and cussed as they were pushed back by the men in uniform.  At this point, Tsholo didn't think they had a full appreciation of what was going on right in front of them.

But Tsholo saw.

The man took another step forward. As she watched, the visible skin on his body started to move up and down like water was being pumped into his veins. He stood still and started to spasm, as though along with the water, frequent shots of electricity were being added to the water treatment. Little red spots started to appear on his arms and face as though a mischievous child had decided to draw little chickenpox dots on his body with a red felt pen. His eyes started to bulge and red tears leaked from both the inside corner and the outerside corner of his eyes. His lips wobbled before a slow stream of red escaped from his mouth and dribbled down his chin. His ears bled out as well and as Tsholo watched his eyes seemed to roll upwards before they imploded into the sockets. He fell forward as the top part of his head caved in and then lay still.

“Holy mother of…” Tsholo couldn't say anything more.

What, in the name of all that was good, had just happened?