Play smart
Xavier wiped off his sweating hands with the face towel slung over his shoulder, taking a moment to catch his breath under the shade. The relentless Kenyan sun beat down on the cargo yard, intensifying the physical exertion required for loading the lorries destined for shipping. Amidst the hustle, his phone buzzed in his pocket, a welcomed interruption from the monotony of manual labor. He fished the phone out, glancing at the caller ID. It was the lawyer's office. Anticipation coursed through him as he answered the call. "Hello?"
"Good afternoon, Mr. Xavier," greeted the composed voice of the secretary from the lawyer's office. "I'm calling to confirm your meeting with Mr. Johnson next week on Monday. Is that still convenient for you?"
Xavier, grateful for the development in his tumultuous situation, replied with a determined tone, "Absolutely. I'll be there."
"Perfect. The meeting is scheduled for 10 AM. Please make sure to bring any relevant documents or evidence you might have. Mr. Johnson will do his best to assist you in addressing the accusations against you," the secretary informed him.
"Thank you. I'll be prepared," Xavier affirmed, a glimmer of hope shining through the challenges that loomed over him.
As the call ended, he turned to head back to his duties, his mind already racing with thoughts of the upcoming meeting. However, a subtle instinct made him pause. Something urged him to glance at the office windows. There, behind the transparent barrier, stood Emma, her gaze fixed on him like a hawk assessing its prey. Their eyes locked for a brief moment; the tension palpable even through the glass. Xavier felt a chill run down his spine as he held Emma's unwavering stare. Without breaking eye contact, she turned away from the window and retreated back into the office.
Malik pulled up without bothering to park, the tires screeching briefly before falling silent. The engine's growl lingered in the air as he swiftly stepped out of the car. His face, usually a canvas of calm sophistication, was now wrinkled with anger. The click of his shoes echoed purposefully in the cargo yard as he marched toward the cargo manager's office, his demeanor commanding attention. His strides were long and purposeful, each step resonating with a simmering intensity. One hand rested casually in the pocket of his tailored trousers, a subtle yet potent display of confidence. The other hand firmly clasped a briefcase, the weight of which seemed to mirror the gravity of his emotions. The cargo manager's office loomed ahead, a nondescript structure in the midst of the bustling yard. Malik's jaw was set, his eyes focused straight ahead, as if he could will a resolution to the conflict that awaited him. The rhythmic cadence of his footsteps reverberated in the air, a precursor to the imminent confrontation. As he reached the office door, Malik paused for a moment. His hand, which had been resting in his pocket, emerged to grasp the doorknob. With a controlled push, he entered the office, the door closing behind him with a definitive click.
The carriers, engrossed in their labor, were in the midst of transferring heavy boxes onto their shoulders to load them onto the awaiting lorries. The collective effort paused abruptly when a devastating scream for help pierced the air. It was the manager's voice, a cry that carried a raw urgency that demanded attention. The carriers, their bodies momentarily frozen to the ground, turned towards the manager's office. Their eyes conveyed the unspoken wish for hands to open the door, to intervene in whatever turmoil had unfolded within. The agonizing silence that followed was punctuated by another scream, a visceral sound that resonated with distress. The tension outside the office was palpable, as if the very air held its breath in anticipation. And then, as abruptly as it had fallen silent, the sounds ceased.
Malik emerged from the office, his presence commanding attention. The carriers' heads turned in unison, their gaze momentarily meeting his. With a subtle adjustment of his attire, he rolled down his sleeve and put on his jacket. Unlike before, he no longer carried the briefcase. The carriers, perhaps sensing the conclusion of the intense encounter within, swiftly returned to their duties, the rhythm of their labor restoring a semblance of normalcy. Standing at the door, Malik surveyed the yard with a stoic expression. He then began walking back toward his car, each step measured and deliberate.
It was in this moment that he caught sight of Xavier, who had been observing the unfolding scene. Malik halted, his gaze meeting Xavier's. Without a word, he walked over to him and stood there in a heavy silence, the weight of unspoken thoughts lingering between them. Without breaking eye contact, Malik reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of car keys. He extended them towards Xavier, the metallic jingle resonating in the stillness. Xavier, unsure of the significance of this gesture, hesitated for a moment before accepting the keys.
"You might need this," Malik said, his voice measured and serious. The words carried a cryptic undertone, leaving Xavier to decipher their meaning.
As Malik turned to walk back to his car, Xavier could not shake the feeling that there was more to the situation than met the eye. The cargo yard, now buzzing with activity again, seemed oblivious to the subtle exchange that had taken place. With the keys in hand, Xavier felt a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. He glanced at the manager's office, wondering about the source of the screams and the enigmatic encounter between Malik and the office's occupant. The mysteries that surrounded him were multiplying, each layer adding a new dimension to the complexities of his world. Taking a deep breath, Xavier pocketed the keys and returned to his duties, the rhythmic sounds of the cargo yard providing a stark contrast to the lingering questions that echoed in his mind. As he resumed his work, he couldn't shake the feeling that the events unfolding around him were steering his life into uncharted territory, a realm where each step held the potential for revelation or reckoning.
The assistant manager decided to go to check on the manager. He turned the doorknob, but it did not budge. A voice came from the inside, "Please help me!" The assistant manager tried to twist the doorknob, but it was evidently locked. Just as confusion and concern spread among the workers, Xavier rushed to the door with the keys. Shocked, the assistant manager looked at him in disbelief.
Xavier swiftly inserted the key into the lock and turned it, causing the door to swing open. The sight that met their eyes was chilling. The manager sat on the chair, his head resting on his desk, his hand stretched out on the table, bleeding profusely with two fingers missing. Next to him in the dustbin was a fire.
"Bring the fire extinguisher," the assistant manager shouted, prompting one of the workers to rush to the designated area. The others gathered around, their eyes wide with shock and alarm.
Xavier, still holding the keys, took in the chaotic tableau. The air was thick with the acrid scent of burning material. He hurriedly approached the manager's desk, his eyes widening as he registered the gravity of the situation. The manager lay slumped in his chair, blood staining the table beneath his outstretched hand. The missing fingers told a gruesome tale of the recent ordeal. Without hesitation, the assistant manager grabbed the fire extinguisher from the worker who had retrieved it. He aimed the nozzle at the small blaze in the dustbin, releasing a burst of foam that quickly smothered the flames. The immediate danger averted; attention turned back to the injured manager.
Xavier, despite the shock of the scene before him, instinctively moved to assist. He tore a piece of cloth from his shirt and applied makeshift pressure to the manager's wounded hand, hoping to stem the bleeding. The manager, though unconscious, moaned in pain, a testament to the severity of his injuries.
"Call for an ambulance! Now!" the assistant manager barked, and a worker fumbled for their phone to make the necessary call.
As the urgency of the situation escalated, the cargo yard transformed into a frenzied mix of concerned voices, the distant wail of an approaching ambulance, and the harsh, clinical glare of emergency lights. In the midst of the chaos, Xavier couldn't shake the eerie feeling that this incident was intricately connected to the enigmatic encounter with Malik. As the ambulance screeched to a halt outside the cargo yard, paramedics rushed in with a stretcher. The injured manager was carefully placed on it, the urgency in their movements underscoring the severity of the situation. Xavier, still grappling with the shock of the unfolding events, watched as the ambulance sped away, its flashing lights disappearing into the night.
The assistant manager walked up to Xavier, his expression a mix of suspicion and accusation. The other workers gathered around; their curiosity piqued. Before Xavier could respond, the assistant manager fired off his questions.
"Why did you have the keys? Why were you hiding them, and when were you planning to let him free?" The questions hung in the air, and Xavier, caught off guard, stammered in an attempt to explain. However, no coherent words escaped his lips.
His fellow colleagues, their faces now clouded with disgust and mistrust, exchanged glances and began to walk away. The weight of the unspoken accusations lingered, leaving Xavier standing alone amidst a sea of silent condemnation.