Clean Money

The only thing guaranteed in life was its cessation and no one knew this bitter truth as intimately as Aida Kimani. Growing up as the daughter of one of the largest coteries (mafias) in Kynea, she had been always been privy to things that would leave most grown adults cradling their knees for comfort; it wasn’t uncommon for Aida to catch whispers of the tormented screams that echoed from the west wing of the house or her nannies racing to burn her father’s expensive clothes, clothes that returned stained and blotchy with a crimson colour that her father would often dismiss, making throwaway comments about having spilled wine, or juice, or cranberry sauce until those excuses no longer pacified her. Still. Aida couldn’t believe it had happened. It was stupid. Given the nature of her father’s occupation, Aida knew that this kind of thing was likely to occur, perhaps, it was even inevitable. She knew it was stupid for her to even consider that they were somehow impervious to harm yet she could not seem to wrap her head around the fact that the night that had started out so quiet and quaint quickly turned vicious and unforgiving. Aida vividly remembers standing by the balcony, nursing the glass of iced scotch in her hand as she attempted to block out the whole evening from her mind; she didn’t want to focus on the stream of expensive cars pulling into her father’s estate or the familiar faces hopping out of those cars as she wanted to relish a few moments of peace before she attended to the guests. She could recall glaring at the way the palm trees seemed to mockingly sway to the beat of the familiar colenge music playing a few floors down before turning her attention further. In the distance, she could see the vast expanse of the mainland below, the cluster of city lights seemed brighter, almost twinkling with anticipation as they faded by the fringes of the ocean. Tonight was the big night. Aida could remember how her nerves had seemed intent on betraying her as she took a large swing from the glass in a futile attempt to burn the knots forming in her stomach. Tonight was the night her father was to officially introduce her as the successor to his company, the single largest and wealthiest precious stone company in Africa and across international markets, Diacious. It was almost comical that Aida had years to prepare for this day and she still found herself irrationally restless, seeking comfort from the pregnant moon that sat perched against the midnight blue sky, smiling down at her in silent support. ‘Drinking before nine? Your father would not approve.’ The teasing voice that echoed behind her had brought a small smile to her lips as she took another swing. ‘Is this coming from the man who serves my father a tort of rum every morning before nine?’ There was an amused chuckle and she turned to meet the kind hazel eyes and wide wrinkled smile of their inju Maina. Aida noted that the old man had traded his trade mark black tega and beaded accessories for a finer cloth that was accented with shells and that he looked all the better for it in her own opinion. ‘I like the outfit.’ Aida had said. ‘Thank you.’ He smiled with a small bow. ‘You look…good.’ He had said, his tone slightly questioning but sincere. Aida could remember chuckling at his attempt at a compliment. It wasn’t unusual for her to receive this reaction from those around her as she often preferred sophisticated suits, ties and tegas to erudite dresses, skirts or synas. She knew her father would have preferred for her to wear a syna and wrap hair in a ademu but Aida opted to wear a tailored red tega cut from the most expensive tumae fabric; it was woven with intricate designs that complimented the ruby and gold she chose to ornament herself in from head to toe, even braiding it into her long locks as well. She didn’t dress in a conventionally feminine fashion and she knew that to most Kynea’ans found it strange but it didn’t bother Aida in the slightest, she looked good either way.   ‘Thank you.’ ‘Nervous?’ Maina had asked. ‘No.’ Aida had lied through her teeth and was only met by the amused smile of a man who knew better. Aida could recall wondering if he did know better or if she was just very bad at lying to him, although, with Maina being the inju of the house he practically helped raise her and she could recall feeling rather foolish for trying to childishly hide her glass behind her back like a child who had been caught in an obvious lie. ‘You have your mother’s beauty but your father’s habits.’ He said. Aida shrugged, she could recall electing to have no opinion on the matter as she had never met her diseased mother but she did resemble her likeness with her dark eyes, thick black hair and angled features, plus she really didn’t want to go on a tangent about how she was nothing like her father besides the fact that she shared his tan complexion and pension for all things fine. ‘Speaking of my father, has he called for me?’ ‘Yes. All of the guests have arrived and you are expected to make an appearance in…ten minutes.’ He informed, pausing to glance at his watch.  ‘Oh and here.’ He had tossed a packet of her favourite strawberry gum into her palm before exiting the room. ‘Thank you Maina!’ Aida could remember running to the west wing side of the house, receiving strange, amused or exasperated looks from the armed black suits lined against every corridor she passed as she raced down a few flights of stairs and took a couple of left turns until she found herself behind the large oak doors that led to the ball room. She wasn’t sure if it was the running or the alcohol or a combination of both but Aida’s nerves had seemed to have completely fizzled themselves out by the time she arrived and she was feeling far lighter than she had been before, even silently swaying to the music on the other side. Maina had seemingly materialised by her side to confirm that she was ready before pressing his fingers to his ear and whispering the order through the piece. ‘Good evening everyone!’ The deep, dominating voice seemed to thunder through the mic and the room quickly fell silent. It was her father. ‘Thank you all for coming tonight.’ He continued. Aida couldn’t remember what else he had said as she had admittedly zoned out for most of it but she did snap right back to attention when she heard him announce to his audience that he has chosen a successor for Diacious. ‘Congratulations.’ Maina had said as he opened the doors to reveal her. Aida recalls the tumultuous applause that followed her reveal. Her father, a tower of a man, stood by her beaming, his hazel eyes bright against his tan skin as he raised his glass. ‘To the new successor of Diacious, Aida Kim–’ BANG! BANG! Aida could recall heavy weight knocking her back and the sharp pain that split up her spine as her back made contact with the edge of the door. There was a rush, a stampede of tailored boots and designer heels scurrying away, a few nearly trampling her as a crowd of people peddled towards the door, petrified, pushing and shoving to get out, barely being able to make it through without someone else stomping them out of the way. The black armed suits at the party had their guns drawn while reinforcements struggled to herd the horde of terrified attendees out to safety. It had taken a moment but as Aida rose from her position but her mind will forever be haunted by what she saw; her father lying on the floor, a crimson pool forming around his twitching form. The sound that tore from her as she rushed to her father’s side barely registered in her mind at the time all she could see was a river of blood and all she could think was to close it. The events that unfolded shortly after that were a shaky blur. The gunshots. The shrieks of horror. The injured guests. Aida could only catch vague glimpses of them in her mind’s eye at the moment. She couldn’t remember which black suit helped her or ordered an ambulance, she couldn’t remember the ride to the hospital and she couldn’t remember who came along with her or who yanked her from the doors to the operation room but here she was, seated in one of the uncomfortable steal chairs, back straight, fingers folded on her knees still stained with blood as her countenance darkened with each passing minute. Aida knew her father was not a man of high moral virtue but at the very least he was an honest man, he was honest about being dishonest. It would’ve been a lie for Aida to pretend she didn’t know that her father had been involved in some rather insidious business in the past; it was hard to miss the odd happenings at her father’s estate and as a child she would often demanded answers from him and as an adolescent, she would attempt, rather unsuccessfully, to sneak around and find out what she could. Her father often dismissed her or punished her for her behaviour, promising that one day he would indulge her when she was old enough to know the truth. He kept his word. Four years ago, on the morning of her sixteenth birthday, he called her to his office and although he never went into explicit detail, he hinted that at how he had amassed his portion of wealth in rather unscrupulous ways before Diacious – and how she was to be the successor that cleaned the money for him. This revelation came with strapped with some new responsibilities and Aida soon found herself working alongside her father. Still. Aida had never imagined a day that this darker reality of her father’s life could directly affect her as it had today. Sure, she had considered the possibility, she knew from a young age that she was a constant target because of her father even before he disclosed his nefarious past to her. If it wasn’t the armed black suits that constantly shadowed her and her father’s every move, it was numerous action movies she had managed to sneakily stay up binge watching during her pre-pubescent years that helped Aida deduce the following: all rich men are targets. If her father hadn’t pushed her aside the bullet would have hit her instead. It would’ve her lying under the harsh white light with a scalpel slicing through her skin and her father would have been in her place, seated and waiting for word on her condition instead. The thought didn’t scare Aida as much as it angered her; her mouth was drawn shut, clenched tight, her muscles were sore from the tension rippling through her body and her blood as hot and as thick as lava boiling beneath her skin. ‘Aida?’ Aida slowly turned her attention to the soft raspy voice, her eyes falling on a familiar face; the man who looked like a spitting image of her father with the same tan skin and bright hazel eyes, except he wore his year’s plain on his weary mature face. ‘Uncle Roge.’ She nodded in acknowledgement. ‘May I?’ He asked, gesturing to the free seat beside her. Aida nodded. The sat in a tense silence until Aida spoke: ‘This wasn’t an accident, was it?’ It was a statement, not a question. ‘No. I don’t believe it was.’ He said despondently. ‘Who do you think did it?’ Aida asked, her voice betraying no emotion. ‘Your father is a powerful man with a lot of enemies.’ He sighed. ‘It could be anyone.’ ‘No.’ ‘No?’ He quizzed. ‘No.’ Aida asserted. ‘I don’t think they wanted my father dead. The bullet wasn’t meant for him, it was meant for me.’ ‘You think the hit was targeting you specifically?’ Uncle Roge said. ‘Of course it was. The marker was set for me.’ Aida scoffed. Uncle Roge raised his hands in mock surrender. ‘Okay, alright. But, what if it wasn’t?’ Uncle Roge asked. ‘What if the person was someone from the outside? Someone who wanted to try and sabotage your father’s chances at continuing with Diacious because they feel threatened by his success.’ ‘But Diacious doesn’t have ties to his other…past dealings.’ Aida said. ‘Perhaps it doesn’t.’ Uncle Roge said. ‘Or perhaps you just might not think it does.’ Uncle Roge said. Aida resisted the urge to swallow at this. Uncle Roge wasn’t wrong. Aida knew that her father had often opted to focus on training her for her role as the successor and hardly ever let her dabble in the more malevolent half of his franchise. He had always argued that it was for her safety but now she couldn’t help but wonder how safe could she really be if she was already a marked target. It made her wonder what else her father was hiding – and how much of it could potentially cost Aida her life. ‘You think it’s someone from my father’s past who is behind this?’ Aida clarified. ‘All I’m saying that I think your father has kept a lot of secrets from you. I know he was doing so because he thought he could protect you if he did but…’ He shook his head dolefully. Aida thought for a moment. If was true, if the person who shot the bullet was out to sabotage her father by killing his daughter because he was their biggest threat then who could it be? There had to be an entire roster of potential suspects, a roster she needed to shave down and investigate without drawing attention to herself – the last thing she would need is anyone getting a wind of this and then suddenly have their hackles raised or worse still, burning sturdy business bridges that could be beneficial in the future. ‘What do you suggest?’ Aida asked. ‘Well, speaking as your legal counsel, I will say that there are many ways, both constitutional and unconstitutional, to make a criminal face justice for their crime.’ He said, a slight twinkle in his eye. Aida could feel a slight tug of her lips as she pick up on his implication. ‘I see.’ She said. ‘There are many groups and organisations both national and international that would be more than willing to satisfy a well paying customer.’ Uncle Roge smirked. ‘But those are just the facts I can give you as your legal counsel. As your uncle though, I think I recall a good, old friend of mine telling me that he had worked with a certain company that did not disappoint – unlike this entire night that has gone to shit.’ He said. ‘I’m going to the vending machine, I’ll be back. Stay strong.’ He slid his hand into hers and giving it a gentle squeeze letting the cool rectangular piece her had slipped in there press against her skin. Aida simply smiled as she watched him walk away, discreetly slipping the card into the gilded belt of her tega as she watched him walk away. Aida knew what she wanted…she wanted to make the perpetrator of the crime pay. If she was going to do this, to hunt down the person who did this and punish them for it, she knew she couldn’t do it alone; she’d need the help of an expert, someone discrete and preferably, someone new (she couldn’t afford to run the risk of plucking someone too familiar). Someone had wanted her dead tonight. Whatever the reason that may be did not matter right now, what mattered was finding the person; she was going to make them regret the day they even considered coming after her or her father. Aida was out for blood.                                      *     *    *   Although Aida was hesitant to return to her father’s estate, she did so on the behest of her Uncle Roge after spending the night camped by her father’s bedside; the doctors’ report said he had lost a lot of blood but they had managed to remove the bullet now all they had to do was wait. It had been a few hours, since Aida arrived, she showered letting the dried blood, her father’s blood, run down the drain as she made a silent vow to capture and kill the bastards who had come after them. Aida had opted to wear a simple black trousers and a black turtleneck to match for the day, tying her hair back as her nerves sparked with anticipation. The black laminated card that her Uncle Roge had given her now sat in her palm with nothing but a number on it and Aida, having taken note of this earlier, had ordered in another phone just to call this mysterious number – call her paranoid but she didn’t want to take any chances. Now, she sat on the edge of her bed with the card in one hand and the new phone in the other, her fingers hovering over the screen testily. There was no going back once this started. So many things could go wrong and if she wasn’t careful, Aida knew she could end up dead in a ditch somewhere, in prison or worse, completely and utterly financially ruined for the rest of her life. Would the risk be worth it? Aida wondered. Yes. If she didn’t go out of her way to find the person who was behind this, there’s a real chance the person was never going to give up until they had Aida and her father dead, detained or decrepit. The idea that the person responsible for putting her father in hospital is still out there, still free and probably still lurking in the shadows waiting for her was enough to solidify her resolve as she keyed in the number with a nearly visceral glee and she could readily taste the retribution dancing on the tip of her tongue as she spoke: ‘Hello?’ ‘Hello.’ The distorted voice responded. ‘I’m looking for someone who can help me take care of a little problem.’ ‘Is it a temporary solution or a permanent one?’ The voice asked. ‘Permanent.’ ‘That’s going to cost you.’ ‘I’m willing to pay whatever I have to.’ Aida said. ‘I just need a discreet job done.’ ‘Naturally.’ They responded. ‘And who is the target?’ ‘I’m…looking for them.’ There was a slight pause. ‘That’s going to cost you more.’ ‘I already told you that I’m willing to pay whatever I have to.’ Aida said, trying to keep the impatient bite out of voice as she added ‘Send me your best, that’s all I want.’ Aida said. Another pause. ‘How soon do you want them to arrive?’ ‘As soon as possible.’ Aida said. ‘Alright.’ Another pause. ‘Once you pay a deposit, you will receive the profile of your assistant. The message will disappear twenty four hours. Your assistant will confirm their arrival once they land and will read to you the full terms of service once they do.’ ‘Okay.’ The phone hang up. Aida only took a few moments to fill in the details sent to her on the phone, deposited the money from the spear account and shortly after, the profile that she was promise appeared. As her eyes scanned the profile, Aida couldn’t help but smirk triumphantly. It was all coming together, all she needed was the final piece and the final piece was on their way. ‘See you soon, Jae Brown.’