It was then that she realized the world was never the same to everyone. The World was many different things to many different people. There was no clear definition of what constituted it. Its parameters were too complicated to be idealized. Many scholars attempted but could not even come close. The social-economical interactive forces were beyond anyone’s understanding. Some people turned to God for an explanation until faith became the only reasonable excuse.
Her grandmother tried in her native and traditional way to make the young girl understand the world in which she lived by using songs and proverbs prevalent in the village in her quest to explain the complications of life and living. Even her education didn’t do much, the more she got educated the more she felt illiterate, the void was too deep and broad. The urge to fill it grew stronger each day; but with what? She didn’t know.
She stood by the bank of river, Kafue with her hands akimbo, when suddenly, like a lightening flash, it came through. There was no doubt about its ramifications. She knew she had to take the chance because the odds were unthinkable. The bells of success resonated in her mind - he had said it to her but doubts pushed the idea aside. Maybe it weren’t really doubts, because she was never a person with second thoughts when it involved things with life and death. Death was death, no better words to describe it. It had no brothers, sisters not even cousins, when it struck it really meant it and its sting was merciless. Nobody understood it. Even religions were not spared from speculation, different religions explained it differently. Some even portrayed it as a sweet transition to a better world; and yet no one was willing to die.
She had dated him for a while before he dumped her for someone else. When she inquired, he refused to explain. Now everything was clear, he wanted her to act and act decisively. He saw something in her which maybe she had not seen herself.
She knew him as Kelvin or Kelly as he liked introducing himself. The guy did not look Zambian but that did not matter. After all, he wasn’t the first foreign guy she dated nor would he be the last. They met at a friend’s wedding at Chamba Valley Officers Mess. First impressions were not good but they still exchanged numbers. His accent left much to be desired, and no doubt, he was of West African origin. She was tempted to ask more, but instincts forbade her. She needed time to be sure what his intentions were. Moreover, she was a woman of few words, not by choice but nature had a strong bearing on her. She had a stutter that kept her from talking much, especially when she met someone new.
Tamara was sure the foreigner didn’t notice her stammer. She had learned the art of concealing it. No matter how much she told herself to live with it she never accepted her disability. It chewed and reduced her self-confidence to the point of envying her friends who were eloquent, and it made her wonder why she alone stammered. Little did she realize that she had other talents, which most of her friends admired-but such was life.
She walked back to her seat by the cliff of river, Kafue. It was common for her to take herself out for she was an introvert. She occasionally enjoyed the company of her friends but mostly she was a loner. Finances were not a major challenge to the young banker. Her job took care of it. She was an independent woman with a stronger spirit than what most people thought.
Her custom-made red hipster fitted her well and emphasized her curvy shape. At least her color combination was superb. If it wasn’t for her best fit, guys were not going to give her a second look. She was a pure Zambian breed, whose beauty was emphasized by the cross breeding of the two prominent ethnic groups. The Bembas who generally were light and tall while the Chewas prided in having slender and curvy bodies.
She admired girls with dimples on their cheeks in her high school days and so she learnt the art of creating one on her right cheek. Her face was a bit oval with thick and attractive lips. She had developed the habit of wearing heavy makeup recently as a result of her insatiable desire for traveling overseas.
She considered herself to be a woman of class. Her classy desires pushed her into visiting new places, tasting different dishes and extensive traveling. She had recently come back from Spain and could not get over the urge of going back there soon after. She enjoyed the scenery, the cool weather and the general convivial air around. Above all the Spanish knew hospitality at its best.
Tamara did not need a mirror because she knew and was hundred percent aware of her stunning looks. She did not wait for people to compliment her, she lured them to do so and proved herself irresistible and charming. It was not the multitude of charming words that she needed, but rather the esteem she gained from them. She embraced class in whatever she did including in her social outings. She prided herself as being possessed by a demon of fantasy, full of voracious appetite for new sceneries.
It was a very strange day - she wasn’t sure why but she felt the strangeness. She felt the need and it was really strong. She wondered as she traversed back to her seat. She knew what bothered her but was not ready to accept it. His face was vivid in her mind and his contact details were still in her memory. Something was telling her to call him and make amends. Courage she had, but also pride, and it was hindering her.
‘How was he going to look at me,’ she thought. Did she need him? She wasn’t sure. Maybe he needed her or both needed each other.
Extraordinarily, she didn’t attract the eyes of people around her. It was a Saturday and the place was packed. People were busy drinking and chatting, while she was fighting the thought of somebody she once cared for though love was not her portion in life. She did not view the four lettered word as most her peers viewed it. To Tamara it was a weapon to be mastered for one’s success. It had the potential to destroy the most dangerous criminal. At the same time it was a smooth ladder to the apex of success and freedom. She trained herself to control it and customized it to achieve the greatness she desperately wanted - she needed.
Likewise, Kelly didn’t look to be a guy who meant well to anybody. Yes, he was certainly lovable and handsome, but he commanded something she took long to notice; he was too egocentric and expected any person to accept everything he said. In short he was full of himself. Tamara looked at him as her true replica. The two were like twins in a way. They had a lot in common and she realized it was time to press another button, what laid ahead was better than the pride she had.
She got her phone and dialled his number. As if he expected her call, he picked up right on the first ring. She knew what to say:
‘I’m in,’ she whispered as if to herself. It had taken her almost twelve months to utter those words.
Instantaneously she felt a chill run through her body. With time she learnt how to control it. It was a feeling she expected.
‘Nothing has changed, it’s still as we talked last time; places, codes, names and the game plan are still the same,’ he instructed.
‘Never mind, I still remember the blue prints,’ she assured while looking down and holding her phone on her right ear.
***
No living person knew his real name. To some he was Andrew, to others Kelvin and to others he gave names too numerous to be listed. He made it a rule to always match a name to the person he met. He never forgot what he introduced himself as because there was always a sequence to the assumed name and the person he met. The sequence was his living code, to which everything depended never to be revealed to anyone. The only person who tried decoding it died four years ago. He had no family, no wife and children. He didn’t need one at the moment or later. It didn’t make sense to have one. This was because he had no fixed abode, he was as fluid as water, as versatile as vapor and as cunning as the devil himself.
The call he had waited for, for some time now invoked memories he thought were never part of his life. But somehow he knew she would call. He knew a person immediately he met her. She wanted his idea, the moment he shared it to her though she denied it the first time. Ladies were always ladies - no matter how much they would hide themselves from him, their hearts were as an open book. He saw her interest and knew it was just a matter of time. Patience was truly a virtue he cherished in life and glorified to the extent of wishing he had another chamber in his heart to hold more of it. The young man remembered their conversation twelve months ago.
‘What do you think?’ Kelvin asked Tamara
‘Your story reminds me of Ringo Phiri, he did exactly what you are suggesting we do though in a different version,’ she said without looking at him.
‘You see! It’s been done before, considering all the details I have given you it should only take thirty minutes and you will have disappeared into the thin air.’
‘What’s important is to remain calm through the whole process and ensure that you remain a trusted bank employee,’ he continued.
‘But I’m still remaining with a few chapters to conclude my book,’ she said protesting.
‘I know how critical the book is, that’s the more reason you should memorize the middle two chapters by heart. Your life will depend on those. Remember, it's poetic, and people will just remain speculating on what the words were meant to be.’
‘By now you should have related everything to the title of the book. It’s there where everything is hidden - it’s the alpha and the omega of this project.’
‘Captured in a rucksack,’ Tamara reminded him.
‘That’s perfect, ensure the launch is done as planned and the book sends the correct message to the friends,’ Kelvin said while sipping his hot coffee.
‘Remember the preamble must have metaphors explaining the steps leading into the fourth chapter. Finally you merge the antonyms and synonyms in the epilogue to epitomize the Omega code.’
‘Any slight error will cause serious backlash and lead to serious consequences. The chain must be clear to you first, then myself and the few other friends,’ he tutored her.
Presently, the Syndicate had so much trust in him and he could not fail it. For the past one year, he waited for the woman to make contact but nothing came through. His faith was unwavering, one day she was going to see sense in his offer. Alas, the day came and the project could be energized once more.
His plans were working, the woman was back and hundred percent in the game. Kelvin could not wait for the day he could communicate with the rest of the team. He was careful not to preempt his intentions to her.
The number he gave her was still open to receive calls because something inside whispered to his instincts that one day she would call. For sure, her call proved that his instincts were always right. They were the only thing he could trust. He couldn’t even trust himself. Kelly paced back and forth like a groom about to march to the wedding reception while his heart thumped rhythmically. It was going to be the biggest bank heist in Zambia under his engineering.
Tamara mentioned Ringo Phiri. The woman was clueless that the man she dated was an improved version of the Ringo Phiri of 1993 who was captured while trying to cross the border to Zimbabwe. Due to the sensitivity and publicity of the case, the trial and sentencing didn’t take long and in less than three weeks, Ringo became the newest member of Mukobeko Maximum Prison in Kabwe. He was doomed for life with no hope of a Presidential pardon.
A mere security guard tore the mighty Bank of Zambia apart. His courage was immense, tactical beyond doubt, and the attention to detail excellent. But a slight mistake costed him. Money could be a spoiler if handled by an uneducated person. Not formal school education but financial education was a prerequisite to handling huge sums of money. His life had drastically changed and some aspects of life inevitably changed as well, changes not befitting a mere security guard. He stole and remained the same Ringo, only changing his drinking and clubbing places. Nothing had really changed about himself, considering that Zambia Police had placed him on the most wanted list.
It was inside the huge prison walls that one night a young inmate was brutally ushered in. Everybody wondered what a young innocent looking man could be doing in such a filthy place. However, such was the norm at Mukobeko prison - it was a place for people who took the law into their own hands, a place for murderers, rapists, defilers, aggravated robbers, arsonists, the list was endless.
A place harboring condemned people just waiting for the time to be put to death. A place where the clock was the worst enemy for it determined the time to the gallows.
After serving three years, the willing student and a willing tutor were known to each other personally. The student was the fourth Mailoni brother who was picked up for merely sharing the same blood with the three serial killers. The mob plus the police were too angry to hear the young man’s pleas, more so because of the unfavorable testimony given by his mother. She told the court her sons were given charms by their late father that compelled them to kill mercilessly for they needed human blood to survive. The young boy being one of the sons who was not killed by the soldiers like the other three, was picked and thrown in jail for life to prevent further loss of human life.
It was in such a place that the master and prodigy relationship was conceived. The committed errors, mistakes and omissions were transferred to the young man on a daily basis. The lectures went well, with a hope that one day the ideas will see the light outside the walls. Hope was all what was needed for survival, even if by design Mukobeko Maximum Security Prison was never meant to offer any.
By Zambian standards, Mukobeko was the worst prison facility for hopeless and condemned criminals. Prisoners merely existed because the clock had not called them to the gallows yet. The sun was only visible twice a week and meals came by the grace of God. The authorities depended on meager contributions of food parcels by the surrounding churches and communities. It was indeed each one for himself and God for them all. Only the fittest survived.
The student was assimilating everything from the master; the teacher repeated each lesson as many times as possible until basic principles were thoroughly mastered. The assimilation levels were excellent and the enthusiasm motivating. The mere security guard turned out to be a natural born teacher of informal lessons. The young man was educated with a degree in architecture from the Copperbelt University, but fate wasn’t on his side and so he decided to grasp the topics that were never taught in class. The topics that would help him survive even when the whole country condemned him for merely being a Mailoni brother.
The student had not heard of Ringo until he became his student. In 1993, he was a small boy doing the third grade. However, lessons were learnt and stored awaiting the unknown.
Three years had passed; news went round the Government had poisoned Ringo Phiri. Since the declaration of Zambia as a Christian nation, presidential signatures never authorizing any form of killing at the prison. Therefore, underhanded and unorthodox methods were employed to such an extent that a week hardly passed without an inmate dying. The prison warders had mastered different ways of terminating the lives of these souls - the souls whose lives had been declared valueless.
Time seemed timeless since there was nothing to wait for. With the death of Ringo Phiri, the young man assumed a lonely life and concentrated on polishing his new identity and skills. He only had two options; wait for his fate and die like many prisoners or die while fighting his way out. The latter gave him hope and so he started planning despite the unbroken record of zero prison breaks since the inception of the facility. He worked tirelessly and skillfully day and night without ever exposing his intentions.
From his architectural background, he knew that every building had a weak point; from the substructure to the superstructure. The bonding of the two distributed the lateral and torsional forces towards the load bearing walls. This usually left the non-structural column weak and a non-reinforced member that in most cases is joined to the reinforced inverted beam. The few years he spent in industry, builders and bricklayers were taught to conceal this region of high stress concentration as extracted from the stress strain graph with stones. It was this stone pitched portion around the perimeter of the enormous walls that paved the way to his freedom a year later.
