However, Steve knew Bawa could be funny sometimes, and dangerously unpredictable. It would be worthwhile to keep a close eye on him at all times.
Bawa climbed the dais. The other men were on their feet.
He approached the coffin and looked in.
His jaw set with an almost audible crunch.
It was Irving Agorkoli alright.
He did not appear to have aged even a day older since the last time Chris saw him. Same close-cropped hair, same sharp features, same grey at the temples. He looked strange in the black coat he was wearing, though, with his hands at his sides. He looked almost peaceful, calm, serene.
Irving Agorkoli had never been calm; he had always been fretful, full of dark verve, always moody about something, always seeking a grudge to hold, an ego to appease, a perceived wrong to ave
