Niko’s Eye

Chapter 30

"He Who Laughs Last."

Aisha.

As soon as Sergio had shut the door behind him, Aisha’s eyes flung wide open, her murder instincts kicking in.

The term "murderer" was now reserved for psychopaths. If the killing was done for means of survival no-one thought less of you. There were those that took life and crumpled under the weight of guilt, even if they’d no choice. There were some who killed when necessary and never lost a wink of sleep over it, that’s pretty much where Aisha sat. There are others who have made it a whole new hobby, look at them the wrong way and they attacked with lethal force. That last group are the only ones considered murderers now. The term applies to Aisha as much as it does to a wolf or a bear. Killing in self defence is just a given. Killing for resources is a grey area.

Her heart seemed to be made of stone, the way she had always brutally killed her victims. She always smelt of blood. Of danger.

She had a sudden flash back of how she had killed her own father.

The killing part was her least favorite; it was a necessary chore rather than a pleasure. She’d watched CSI over and over to analyse the best way to not leave a trace of herself but after watching so much violence, she found herself too fired up to think straight. Instead she went right out and offered her father a cup of coffee, laced with arsenic, enough to kill 30 men in battle. Once he was dead, she dragged him into the barn in the back of their home, as they owned a farm. She had locked the doors. She had so many fun games to play with her victims, but only when they were dead. She was sick. It was the stuff made out of more than just a lame horror movie. By the end of it, she was almost relieved to have gotten rid of her father. Never once had her victims died peacefully from her "fun," after all, she had no intention of being a murderer. Mommy wouldn’t like that.

She snapped out of it and sprinted to the bathroom and carefully climbed up on top of the bathroom sink and reached above her head.

Aisha had installed a DinoEye camera in the corner of the bathroom, small enough to be mistaken for a fly.

"Let’s see...", she said, exhaling.

She got down, ran back to the bedroom and grabbed her laptop.

Putting on her glasses, she logged into the camera’s setup system and looked for the most recent capture.

She watched the short video clip, unmoved.

By the time she was finished, she had concluded that Sergio had been lagging her.

"What is he driving at ? I mean, I didn’t say anything that he does not know already. Unless...he wants someone else to believe what he already knows."

She tapped her chin thoughtfully and removed her glasses.

Thank God I’m a bad b***h. Smart too.

"But, you know what. I don’t think he’s capable of harming me. The man put a ring on my finger, and if he wanted to have me arrested for the murder of Archimedes, or the Puebla Viejo bombing, or the Casablanca heist, or the murder of my father, or maybe the unconsented adoption of his child, he would’ve done it a long time ago."

She scrunched up her face and thought long and hard.

This makes no sense. What is this man up to ?

"And anyway, he can’t possibly find out about Zainab. Nobody knows about Zainab. And I’ve made sure that those who knew about her, went to hell."

Aisha was full of vengeance, hatred and bitterness.

Hate and enmity welled up in her heart. Fury itself, burning her up.

For reasons that even she didn’t quite understand.

Hate colors the soul. It spreads throughout the entire system, shutting down all other feelings, and becoming central to the life and the intent of the person.

All she had ever known was hate. And if ever someone posed as a threat to the walls she had built around herself, then they would either end up dead or resented, until they’d end up...dead.

"After this goddamn wedding, I’ll take everything you have Sergio, and then I’ll make you eat dirt."

With her purple-painted lips turning upwards into a smile, she said, "I’m two steps ahead of you Sergio. Try me. I dare you."

Isis.

Isis and Alejandro were curled up watching a movie in the lounge, when suddenly, Isis starting to feel a slight headache and dizziness slowly coming through.

She tried her best to ignore the tingling sensation in her brain.

She had been suffering from headaches ever since the Sunday that they had been to church, but she had refused to let Alejandro know.

She thought they would cease after a couple of painkillers and some sleep.

Her amnesia was the worst. It was a dark tunnel, with no light at the end of it.

It was the stuff that movies were made of;after a blow to the head, a person wanders aimlessly, unable to remember who they are or where they came from.

During her struggle to ignore what was happening to her, she noticed that Alejandro was staring at her.

Intently.

"Are you okay?", he asked, with a concerned look on his brow.

She slowly nodded and let out a small smile.

"You sure? I can make you some noodles. I don’t know even know why I thought of that but, it always made me feel better."

She shrugged.

"Hey, by the way, you look good in my t-shirt. I’d like to take a quick photo of you like this."

Before she could get the chance to protest, Alejandro already had his phone in his hand, ready to snap away.

"Oh, one more thing. Put these on."

He reached next to his bedside and grabbed Isis’ thick black frames, shoving them in position onto her face.

"Uh...why, I mean...d..."

Snap.

"Okay, okay. Atleast let me pose."

"While you do that, let me just put on the flash here. It’s a bit dark with these orange walls."

Isis got into position, and posed.

As soon as the flash hit her eyes, it was like she was given a blow to the head.

She cried out in pain and closed her eyes.

"Whoah, hey. Hi. Are you okay?", Alejandro asked, dropping his phone and canoodling her.

When the migraine struck, Isis was it’s prisoner.

Helpless in her cage of pain.

She was blinded with flashing, colorful spots and craved darkness, quite and stillness. The pain throbbed so violently around her skull that she felt herself beginning to lose consciousness.

She faintly heard Alejandro asking her a question.

Would you like some water?

And then... She was out, like a light.

Sergio.

The bright television screen in his office was blaring in front of him.

He was listening to the evidence he had gathered, for the hundredth time.

He had realised that he had been smart in putting up that show he had put on earlier.

Planting a camera in her bathroom and finding out that I was wired makes no difference.

He knew Aisha so well that she did indeed pretend to be asleep.

"You’re smart. But not smarter than me."

He still couldn’t believe that she would give up their child for adoption, and then tell him that she had miscarried.

Zainab. Her name was Zainab. Where would he even begin looking for her?

"I’ve missed out on years of my little girl’s life. All because her evil mother never wanted me to know about her. For what reason?"

What kind of a woman is she? Is she even human? And on top of that, she wants to take everything I’ve worked so hard to build?

He sucked his teeth and downed the last of his whiskey.

Sergio was in so much pain that his complexion was ashen.

His natural golden skin had sunken in tone, to something so lifeless.

He closed his eyes and sucked himself into a deeper place.

Stroking his ’salt-and-pepper’ hair, he let the tears stream down his face.

"I couldn’t have suffered all my life just to suffer again. It’s not possible. Aisha, it’s not possible."

He leaned back into the black leather that he was seated in, and exhaled.

The pain commands my attention, it does not sit quietly in the background like garish wallpaper. It cows my brain into meek submission demanding a solution that I cannot provide. What do I do about my child? Where do I start looking? How do I go about it?

"Aisha you are a devil. May the Gods of my forefathers deal with you on top of the punishment that you’re about to receive."

He wiped his tears and pulled out his cellphone from his blazer.

Finally, some formal clothing.

"She said she was two steps ahead of me. Obere ebe, we’ll see."

He dialed a number and put the phone to his ear.

The need for revenge and justice, was like a rat gnawing at his soul. Relentless, unceasing. It could only be stopped by the cold steel of a rat trap.

The trap that he had devised.

The man on the other end had asked a question, and Sergio had answered him.

"Yes, it’s time."