will fuck you.’ She said it with so much conviction that she was surprised when he cast a doubtful look at her then glanced at the girls.
She pulled his head to face her.
‘I really have to go and sort this thing out. Give me your phone number, go to the hotel, and wait for me. Once I’m done I’ll call you and I’ll come and meet you.’
‘What do you have to go and do at this time?’
‘I can’t tell you. Trust me, I will be back.’
‘You can’t tell me?’
‘Listen, I don’t have time to explain. I’ll tell you all about it when I return. I promise. It doesn’t have anything to do with another man, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘Give me your number.’
‘OK. Let me call myself with your phone then we’ll both have each other’s numbers.’
She took his phone and dialled her phone with the new SIM in it. She pressed her palm against the side of her bag and killed the connection when she felt a vibration.
‘Now, go to your hotel and wait for me.’
‘How do I know you’ll come back?’
She looked him in the eyes while he waited for her answer. She turned to the girls. They were giggling their way through a bottle of Hennessey. They were young and pretty, and obviously on the job. She returned her gaze to him. Her face was expressionless. Looking straight into his eyes, she pushed her hands under her skirt, shifted on the chair and reached up. She found the strings of her underwear and twisted her fingers round the silk fabric.
He watched. She pulled her white thong down her thighsto her knees then down to her ankles. She reached down and stepped out of the underwear. She gathered it in a fist, took his hand, and squeezed her knickers into his palm.
‘Those are my favourite ones. I got them from Agent Provocateur in London and I want them back. Go to your hotel and wait for me.’
11
Bakare criss-crossed his hands over the steering wheel as we approached another bend. I braced and held my breath. The van was balanced just on two tyres as we rolled onto a narrow muddy road. There were no pavements. A wall covered in overlapping posters stood on the left while the right side was a row of deserted market stalls. He slowed down now because the terrain wouldn’t let him speed. Up ahead, the headlights briefly illuminated what at first seemed to be nothing but blackness but turned out to be blocks of flats standing in eerie silence like a ghost town. Clothes hung from laundry lines strung across grey balconies.
He turned hard, braked harder, and figures appeared in the beam. I jumped when a head materialised in the window to my right. The door opened and my captor climbed out. I quickly followed him, preferring to be close by. Now that the wind was not blasting my face, I began to sweat at a terrific rate. We were surrounded by officers who seemed drawn to us. I was the only one sweating. Everyone else just had faces that glistened as if a coat of Vaseline had been applied to them.
Policemen jumped out from the back of our van and more cars screeched to a halt next to us. We had come to a rundown bungalow with a single light bulb illuminating its front porch. Asignboard to its right said BAR BEACH POLICE STATION.
Officers dashed into the station or to our vehicle and stiffened to do chopping, sharp salutes at the man by my side. He was indeed the boss. I stayed close to him as he spoke to his men who kept casting glances at me. He turned to walk into the building and I followed, and behind us, a dozen other men. He fired off instructions in a local language and several people darted to carry them out.
Inside, the station was crowded, hot, and choking with the stench of body odour. A concrete counter divided the front room into a waiting area and a ‘police’ area. The wall behind the counter had three framed pictures hanging from strings that extended to nail hooks. The middle one was the President. I did not recognise the other two. The upper parts of the walls were blue, the
She pulled his head to face her.
‘I really have to go and sort this thing out. Give me your phone number, go to the hotel, and wait for me. Once I’m done I’ll call you and I’ll come and meet you.’
‘What do you have to go and do at this time?’
‘I can’t tell you. Trust me, I will be back.’
‘You can’t tell me?’
‘Listen, I don’t have time to explain. I’ll tell you all about it when I return. I promise. It doesn’t have anything to do with another man, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘Give me your number.’
‘OK. Let me call myself with your phone then we’ll both have each other’s numbers.’
She took his phone and dialled her phone with the new SIM in it. She pressed her palm against the side of her bag and killed the connection when she felt a vibration.
‘Now, go to your hotel and wait for me.’
‘How do I know you’ll come back?’
She looked him in the eyes while he waited for her answer. She turned to the girls. They were giggling their way through a bottle of Hennessey. They were young and pretty, and obviously on the job. She returned her gaze to him. Her face was expressionless. Looking straight into his eyes, she pushed her hands under her skirt, shifted on the chair and reached up. She found the strings of her underwear and twisted her fingers round the silk fabric.
He watched. She pulled her white thong down her thighsto her knees then down to her ankles. She reached down and stepped out of the underwear. She gathered it in a fist, took his hand, and squeezed her knickers into his palm.
‘Those are my favourite ones. I got them from Agent Provocateur in London and I want them back. Go to your hotel and wait for me.’
11
Bakare criss-crossed his hands over the steering wheel as we approached another bend. I braced and held my breath. The van was balanced just on two tyres as we rolled onto a narrow muddy road. There were no pavements. A wall covered in overlapping posters stood on the left while the right side was a row of deserted market stalls. He slowed down now because the terrain wouldn’t let him speed. Up ahead, the headlights briefly illuminated what at first seemed to be nothing but blackness but turned out to be blocks of flats standing in eerie silence like a ghost town. Clothes hung from laundry lines strung across grey balconies.
He turned hard, braked harder, and figures appeared in the beam. I jumped when a head materialised in the window to my right. The door opened and my captor climbed out. I quickly followed him, preferring to be close by. Now that the wind was not blasting my face, I began to sweat at a terrific rate. We were surrounded by officers who seemed drawn to us. I was the only one sweating. Everyone else just had faces that glistened as if a coat of Vaseline had been applied to them.
Policemen jumped out from the back of our van and more cars screeched to a halt next to us. We had come to a rundown bungalow with a single light bulb illuminating its front porch. Asignboard to its right said BAR BEACH POLICE STATION.
Officers dashed into the station or to our vehicle and stiffened to do chopping, sharp salutes at the man by my side. He was indeed the boss. I stayed close to him as he spoke to his men who kept casting glances at me. He turned to walk into the building and I followed, and behind us, a dozen other men. He fired off instructions in a local language and several people darted to carry them out.
Inside, the station was crowded, hot, and choking with the stench of body odour. A concrete counter divided the front room into a waiting area and a ‘police’ area. The wall behind the counter had three framed pictures hanging from strings that extended to nail hooks. The middle one was the President. I did not recognise the other two. The upper parts of the walls were blue, the
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