What are you doing here, where’s my daughter? ” He spoke with rage. I stayed mum. I saw the rage in his eyes. I saw the anger try to grab me by my neck and strangle me to death. I stood up before the angry father could contemplate on doing anything to me.
“They have her, my friends have her. They won’t let her go unless you are dead,” I said. He punched me in the face and took me by my shirt. “I want my daughter, ” He boomed. By then Boris was in the vicinity, flossing with his new leather eye patch. “Killing me will never draw you closer to her, ” I spoke with a bloody mouth.
“Boris, lock this bastard in the basement, then rally every single men. We are going on a manhunt for my daughter. If we don’t find her by tonight you bastard, you are dead. ”
So I ended up in a dungeon-like basement infested with rodents. Even rich people have rodents. They locked the door and all I could have as company, apart from the rodents grazing my feet with their fur, was darkness. All I could think of now was that my days were numbered.
Having been working with the crew for eight months, I knew Alice’s dad would never find his little girl unless Roba wanted her to be found. The scenario was bound to end in two ways, Either The father dies so that the daughter lives, or the daughter dies. Either way, I was better off dead. By now, Roba’s truck connection might have moved poor Alice to Congo vaguely knowing what was going to happen to her. Perhaps it was even an exchange of truck drivers, maybe from Congo to Libya to Egypt to Arabia. A chain untraceable even to the authorities.
My mind was in a puzzle. I could visualize what was actually happening by now. Two rivals, guns and all. Innocent bystanders, law enforcement not knowing who to arrest. Bloodshed. Street covered in innocent blood. And if Alice was lucky enough not to have been shipped off, then this would be truly bad for her. Anything could happen. She could be caught by the gunfire. She could die. But that was just a thought in my mind, just a picture of fiction. I had to wait to know my fate.
Four hours later, as I was drifting into slumber. I felt the door open. This was it. Judgement day. There was no way I could survive a bullet to the head. Not this time, for there wouldn’t be a beautiful voice to save my life. Steps down the stairs, they drew closer and closer. I heard a grumpy voice. That was definitely Boris. He was definitely going to revenge me for his lost eye.
“Guess your time is up, ” Boris spoke having a cynical grin. He held a pistol straight to my head. The boss came around too, just to make sure I was dead. It was over.