His tyres screeched to a dreadful halt in front of Prosti Hotels. The demonstrators were yet to torch it. It was left intact, the building, for all attention had been shifted to the burning market. He jumped down and ran inside the hotel. His heart was beating fast. “Where is my Amy? She should have come to me, supposing these bastards have her tortured?” He had thought.
He pushed open the door. And standing in front of Shaba’s door was Panic with a stick of cigarette in his left hand. Ben was terribly frightened that he was nervous all over. A sudden wave of heat hit him and he started sweating.
“Jesus Christ!” That was what had escaped from his mouth
“Come in and close the door.’ Panic ordered in a stern manner. His right hand was deep inside his pocket. ‘You are the guy I’m waiting f
