Hostile Takeover

Chapter Four

Judge Iynen shifted in her seat.

‘Alright, we have heard both sides,’

‘May the state call the first witness?’ the judge said.

Mrs. Imela stood, stared at a piece of paper in her hands and proceeded,

‘I would like to call Miss Prunella Mubanga to the stand please, as my first principal witness.’

A young lady arose from the middle role right in front of Nolan and walked to the stand. She was wearing a pink blouse, a coffee brown knee-high skirt and black flat slippers. She was short and slender with a light complexion.

‘Do you swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth?’ the bailiff asked, pressing her hand on a bible.

‘I swear.’ She responded and sat as the bailiff walked away with the bible like God’s messenger.

‘Miss. Mubanga, it is to my understanding that you work within Noisiv Reserve.’ Mrs. Imela started.

‘I do,’ she replied, a little shaken.

‘Please … relax, take a breath, only criminals should be nervous amidst the law, you’re alright.’

‘What is your job description?’

‘I am the manager of the Mufulira branch,’ she responded.

‘Okay, have you ever experienced before what you experienced on the fifteenth day of April?’ Mrs. Imela asked.

‘No, I haven’t. Noisiv has never recorded a robbery or a theft of any kind.’ She responded, handling the nerves a bit better.

‘Would you care to take us through what happened, what you saw, what you heard and how you felt from beginning to the end?’

‘Okay uh . . . so I was in my office doing … I don’t remember what I was doing.’

‘It’s okay Miss, just the key details,’ Mrs. Imela re-assured.

‘I was in my office, then I heard a few screams, they were not very loud, but they were distressful enough to fill me up with fright, so I hid under my desk.’ She continued.

‘As I was shaking, trying to think of what to do, I heard a voice asking about the manager. Where is the manager? He shouted twice, then I heard a door open.’

‘He called out to me; he told me to come out, or he would detonate the explosives, so I slid out from under the desk.’

‘He said, that you should come out or he would detonate?’ Mrs. Imela asked.

‘Yes, because when I came out and saw him, he had on a black vest, like an army vest with explosives all around; I knew he was serious because I have read about jihadists a lot.’

‘He asked me to take him to the safe, so that I should comply, or he presses a button and the entire building collapses on us all.’

‘Sorry you said you knew he was serious because you have been reading about jihadists?’ Mrs. Imela asked.

‘Yes.’ She replied.

‘Explain to the audience what a jihadist is please, so we are on the same page.’ She spoke.

‘Jihadists are Islamic extremists who see violent struggle as necessary to eradicate obstacles to restoring what they think is Allah’s will on earth. They are not afraid of dying along with who they term ‘infidels’ as long as it fulfills what they believe is the cause; most of them pose as suicide bombers. Jihadism is like a violent subset of Islamism.’ She enunciated.

‘So, you perceived him as a terrorist? ‘Objection! Speculative.’ Mr. Suseyi shouted.

‘Sustained! Do not put words in the witness’s mouth, State counsel.’ Madam Justice spoke out.

‘Let me rephrase, what is it that made you think he may be a Jihadist?’ Mrs. Imela asked.

‘Well, everything about him, he was wearing a Thobe, which is a white ankle-length, loose Islamic robe whose top is tailored like a shirt. On his head was a Taqiyah, which is a traditional Islamic skullcap, and brown sandals on his feet. Then there’s the explosives and the fact he also spoke a few sentences in what sounded like Arabic.’ She replied.

‘Tanaul tamak something I don’t know, he said repeatedly.’ There were gasps and loud mummers in the crowd.

‘Order!’ the judge exclaimed, pounding her gavel until order was restored.

‘You seem to know an awful lot about Islam, Miss.’ Mrs. Imela spoke.

‘My best friend is Muslim, we always argue about these things,’ she replied.

‘Alright, he asked you to take him to the safe and then what?’

‘When I left the office with him, people were staring in fright, customers, employees; a total of around thirty to forty altogether. The guard with his gun dropped stood helplessly, unable to attempt anything; it is company policy to do whatever it takes to preserve life in a situation where safety is not guaranteed, money is insured, life isn’t.’

‘Was Mr. Loma alone?’ Mrs. Imela asked.

‘Yes, he was alone, but with the explosives, he was the most powerful man in the room.’

‘I led him to the safe and opened it, he told me to get some bills from the first roll of the stack and throw them in his bag. But surprisingly, his take was very specific, thirty bundles of one-hundred-kwacha notes. Each bundle was twenty thousand kwacha, he was counting and pointing at them. It was weird. There was a moment when I threw a bundle in the bag, and he took it out and replaced it. I thought he was going to ask me to get him more, but he didn’t, which I thought to be strange because there was lots of money in the vault and his duffle bag was big enough,’ she said.

‘Then he zipped the bag, looked me in the eyes and a tear ran down his cheek which he wiped quickly and left.’

‘Thank you, Miss, your honor. I would like to present in evidence the security footage inside the branch to collaborate what Miss Mubanga has explained.’ Mrs. Imela said.

‘Go ahead.’ She approved.

The state attorney’s assistant walked to the front with a memory stick and handed it to the bailiff, who plugged it into a monitor and gave a remote to Mrs. Imela. Everyone in the courtroom was curious. Nolan was anxious, he looked at Arista; though he could only see the backside of his friend, he could tell he was uneasy. Everyone’s eyes were pinned to the screen. All in concentration, the only sound that was heard was that of a creaking bench at the back.

The screen showed a man entering the bank. He looked uneasy. He was pacing the bank’s hallway, and it was clear he was yelling at people, in a white robe and sandals, a black army-like vest full of some wires attached to some steel pins that were stuck in some sort of paste-like cuboids. Clasped in his left hand was what gave an impression of a detonator with a button on which his thumb rested; a long red wire went from the bottom of the presumed detonator to his vest.

The man on the screen looked like the one in the courtroom, but he seemed a completely different person. The screen showed him move swiftly to the manager’s office and shortly leave with her to the glass doors leading to where the walk-in Vault was, just like the principal witness had explained. Everyone else remained in the hallway. The manager entered the codes and the two entered the Vault and disappeared. The surveillance cameras only covered the vault entrance and not the inside. After a few seconds, the man in a robe re-appeared gripping the duffel bag in his right hand and still gripping the detonator in his left hand and left the bank.

‘Okay, that’s enough, we have all seen with our own eyes what transpired, and we have all heard from the witness. Nothing further your honor.’ Mrs. Imela said as she walked back to her seat.