I stood there in stunned silence.
Father Frank wasn’t a bad guy after all.
In my obsession to make him pay for what he had done to me had turned me to this vengeful person; loathe eating on me like a deadly virus.
I was the bad one. Well, Father Frank could have the number 666 on his forehead, but I had 333. Just little old me.
I stayed standing, dazed, my face frozen like the screen of a computer in safe mode. The other girls were an exact version of me. They too were dumbfounded just like me. Gwen had kept us in the dark about her investigation and the direction it was taking.
Yes, Fr. Frank was a killer, a murderer, but he was doing it to fight the Jewish Movement. That much Gwen had known. He had penetrated the movement to the level that he could be trusted. When the right time came, he was to strike. He was working for the Americans. He was CIA.
“Frank called me when he learnt of the Operation Salvage. He did not give me details. He just said the less I knew the better. He asked whether I would help you if I learnt you needed my help. I couldn’t say no. So, he told me what to do, and here we are.”
My head was spinning like a blender on ice crush. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I was on the verge of simultaneous heart and brain failure.
“And something else,” Gwen continued. “Something will happen in 2013. There could be a terrorist attack in Kenya. Not a terrorist attack per se, but an attack all the same but to blame will be terrorists. Secret CIA and Mossad, the military wing of this Jewish Movement, will be the ones to do it. Al-Shabaab will be blamed. The location is not known. Well, Frank did not give me the details, but something like that will happen in 2013 here in Nairobi.”
Well, the details of this terrorism thingy didn’t matter to me. I was safe from dad and his madness, at least in the meantime. Dad will find me. I could run, but not hide, not from him.
That night my army lover and I made love to celebrate the victory and days ahead together as a fugitive from my father. However I ended up with him at Wisty’s house, all to us, I’ve got no idea.
Before I knew what I was doing, I was taking off my dress with speed that startled even me. I could feel myself melting inside, and my breasts enlarging. So much had happened in the last few hours, even for Willy to be called for an emergency he had not been told by Gwendolyn.
I don’t know what had gotten into me. I could blame my hormones. No. The adrenaline? No. The tension of the Operation Salvage? Perhaps. James Bond had turned out to be Painkiller Jane. I couldn’t fuck her.
I felt something primal take hold of me, and I let it. I knew I was just being human. Sex does that to us. We tear off clothes, our inhibitions, the trappings that the society demands. It brings out the animal in us, tosses out the window thousands of years of civilization and screams that we are alive. I was alive, that’s what I felt.
When I felt his full length in me claiming territories he hadn’t before, I opened my eyes and stared at Major William Sang’s face. At that moment I knew. It was official.
I was alive, but I was walking away from everything.
I was walking away from my past life. My career. My profession. My family.
I was going to start a new life with this Kenyan man.
And I was not going to be a writer – not for any media house, for fame (I will contact my editor and tell her to return my ‘Miser and Miseries’ manuscript to me and shred it) and definitely not for pleasure.
Yeah, I will not be baring my dirty little secrets in any way. Who knows who might stumble on to my diaries?
When the big damn dam burst and flooded in me, I knew I had everything I wanted.
I was not going to be a bachelorette anymore.
And definitely no bachelorette diary.