A STITCH IN TIME

Howard opened his eyes with a start. His heart palpitated as he felt rivers of sweat flow down his arms. He threw away the duvet and blankets, letting the cold air wrap its icy fingers around his body. He let out a dry cough and pushed himself to a sitting position. He didn't know what frightened him from his deep slumber. Was it a dream or was it the current situation?

Speaking of which, he realised his heart was still racing as if the cause of his fear was still present. Outside, it was very dark in silent. The silence that can only be brought about at 3:00 AM. He strained his ears trying to register any sound but he came up blank.

The next temperature dropped a few degrees forcing him to pull back the blankets up to his chin, he gave a silent prayer to the stars. He looked around the room staring intently at the darkness hoping to catch any moving shadows. When he was satisfied he lay back down and slowly drifted off to sleep.

Ten kilometres away from his room, three men under the cover of darkness, packed away their luggage. 

"We are done here, lower the barrier," one of them barked. The other nodded and pressed a button on the mobile screen in his left hand. 

The cacophony of sounds rushed to their ears; hooting of a passing owl, chirping of nearby crickets, the bubbling and rush of the nearby Brook as well as the shrill bark of a red fox watching the three men hidden behind a large oak tree. 

A van trundled over to them and the three jumped in swiftly, sliding the door shut behind them as it rolled down the hill. 

The fox yelped again, watching the van that had an emblem of a lightning bolt in the background and an eagle carrying a shovel in its talons flying underneath the bolt. It gave one last yelp and then disappeared behind a tree. 

Eleven am found Howard heading to The Coffee Shop. There were three ladies ahead of him in the line. 

As he waited for them to be served, he looked around. This was his third month in the neighbourhood. He has just moved over from the little town he had grown up in Laikipia. Moving here to the city had been a big step for him. 

On the first day, he discovered this hidden gem. The Coffee Shop. Simple name but nothing about the food and drinks was simple.

The interior was nothing to write home about, just the usual coffee shop decor, standard furniture, jars filled with coffee beans in different maturity stages as well as roast profiles from raw to dark roast. They even offered traditional Ethiopian coffee. 

The prices were affordable, making him wonder if the place was ever busy, speaking of which, the three ladies ahead, he had not seen them around. 

He now noticed them closely. They were all standard height, dressed up in grey hoods. He mentally shook his head noting how hot the sun was. He was even debating taking an iced coffee. 

He realised during his musings, not one of them had spoken to the barista, yet he was busy making their orders. The hum of the coffee grinder appealed to his senses. 

"I love my morning coffee, eight double shots."

It took Howard a moment to realise that statement had been directed to him. He looked at the young girl who was watching him. She was busy with what looked like a silver scarf though she wasn't paying it any attention. 

He nodded, "I too love my morning cappuccino, but a doppio." He took a step back as she leaned into him as if trying to get a whiff of him. 

"I am Claire," she introduced herself, holding out her hand. Howard took it, shaking it firmly, surprised at the strength he could feel behind the handshake. Her hand was calloused and strong contrary to what he expected from a young lady. 

"These two are the rest of my family. This is Lavender and she is Atlanta."

Howard shook their hands. 

Lavender was of the same height as Claire, only unlike Claire she was pale skimmed and had platinum blonde hair in contrast to Claire who was dark brown in skin colour and sporting curly black hair. 

Atlanta was the last of the trio, she had more of an Asian profile, ranging from her smaller-sized body to her narrower eyes, dark straight hair and a light brown skin tone. 

Lavender took a tape measure from her pocket and wrote down two measurements in a notebook that Claire handed her.

Atlanta read the measurements and cut the scarf into two uneven portions. One was slightly bigger than a handkerchief and the other too long to be a scarf unless wrapped thrice over the neck. Both pieces were pushed into Howard's hands. 

With that, the three took their coffee and silently left. Howard approached the bespectacled barista who smiled at him. 

"Good morning Howard, the usual?" he rhetorically asked in a jovial mood.

As he extracted the espresso shot and frothed the milk he continued, "I see you've talked to the Moran Family."

Howard nodded and decided to wrap the longer scarf around his neck as he felt awkward carrying them both.

It felt very soft and light as if it were made of spider silk. Though it was warm, he could barely feel any heat being trapped by the scarf. 

"It's very rare for them to come out. I have seen them a few times though. Never married that family."

Seeing Howard's raised eyebrow he explained, "That's grandmother, mother and daughter, three-generation matriarchal family."

Howard received the coffee and cornetto and paid. He put away the smaller scarf in his backpack and walked out the door heading to the office. 

As soon as he left the coffee shop, a grey van pulled up outside and four men stepped out. They marched into the shop, heading straight for the barista. 

"Where is it?" one of them asked towering angrily above him. The barista took off his spectacles, making an act of cleaning them very slowly. 

"You have to be specific," he replied.

One of the men advanced and tried to grab his throat but the barista was faster and smashed a very hot portafilter on the man's hands. 

"We all know this isn't a Gaggia machine but it can gag you and extract you very well," he warned. "So please just give me one excuse to activate Dark Roast."

One man stepped forward raising his hands slightly as a gesture of peace. "We aren't here to fight. You have to understand, that we have to find the last piece of the Torri Gate. Last night—" 

"So it was you who caused that city-wide barrier for exactly three hours and twenty-seven minutes. I hope it was worth it." The barista cut him short. "Because now every demon, imp and dark creature know what you are doing."

The four men glared at the barista who smiled cheerily at them. "It's too sad because I won't help you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a sack of beans to roast."

Howard watched as his boss hobbled over to him. He unplugged his earphones and waited for Mzee to speak. 

He let out a wheeze and dropped a piece of white paper on his desk, "You have to go and retrieve an item at the home of one of our previous clients. Make sure your presence isn't known or felt."

Howard frowned, unfolding the paper. He looked at the drawing of the jewellery box. It was a brown antique French Mahogany jewellery box inlaid with gold and brass from the seventeenth century. The box itself was in the range of five thousand dollars but the jewels were worth more. 

He knew this because he had stolen the same box three years ago. He now wondered whether he was stealing it back for a client or the company's benefit. 

He nodded showing his acceptance of the job by asking for the address. The wizened old man patted him on his back smiling. He handed him another piece of paper and a frown formed on Howard's face. 

The address was his neighbourhood, if that wasn't bad enough, it was his next-door neighbour Sarah, who worked at a local supermarket: The Crossroads. 

He and Sarah had talked a few times on the street and other than her being a single young lady he didn't know much about her. However, he highly doubted that she could be in possession of such an artefact. He wanted to ask a question but his boss had disappeared. 

Howard worked as an asset recovery agent for his boss. The work wasn't illegal but neither was it morally legal. He knew his boss had a deep network of people in his pockets and could get away with anything short of treason. This was why working for his boss gave him anonymity that he enjoyed. 

He got up and started to plan his mission to Sarah's house. He settled on going back home in the evening to search her place while she was still at work. 

It was late evening, the sun dipped very low on the horizon when he walked out of his door. He went to the backyard, jumping over the low wooden fence that separated them.

Glad that she didn't have a dog, he took out a pick lock and fiddled with the back door. He felt the lock release and slowly pushed open the door. 

He walked into the kitchen where the humming of the refrigerator met him. The kitchen tap was slowly dripping into the sink that had a dirty cup and plate in it. 

He cast a quick look around before walking down the corridor to the bedroom. 

The door was slightly ajar and he pushed it open heading directly for the wooden cabinets at the bedside. He took out his phone and snapped a picture of the room. He then opened the brown door to see his reflection stare back at him from the full-body mirror. 

He first did a light search of obvious places the box could be; under the bed, under bundles of clothing, inside suitcases but he came up blank. 

He was then forced to do a thorough systematic search of the bedroom. He looked at all nooks and crannies as well as tapping walls and the floor for hollowed out areas but still, he found nothing. 

He arranged the bedroom back to its original state with the help of the photos he took. 

One hour and thirty minutes later, he was still empty-handed. He frowned heading back to the bedroom. A thorough search in all the rooms turned up blank. A noise outside made him freeze. 

He looked at his phone which displayed a few minutes to eight. He heard footsteps but he knew it wasn't Sarah. She still had an hour at work. 

This time he heard the heavy footsteps clearly. In fact, they were three sets of heavy footsteps approaching the backdoor. He frowned as the only way to access her backdoor area was either jump from his house or approach it from the thicket that marked the boundary between the estate and the undeveloped areas. 

He started to leave the room when a cough sounded behind him. His heart skipped a beat and he turned around quickly to see a middle-aged man dressed in a white suit watching him. 

He jumped back frightened, into a pair of arms that held him tightly. 

"Hi Howard," a gravelly voice issued from the man before him. "I believe that you have something that belongs to me."

"But before I do so, I have a story to tell you." The man sat at the edge of the bed and motioned for Howard to be pushed down on his knees.

"My name is Njata Githioro." 

Howard blanched at hearing that name. It was a name that he knew very well. The assignment that he had been given, had been to recover the box from the man standing before him. 

It was no coincidence that he had been sent here. He had been set up as a sacrifice and he knew it. His boss had just thrown him under the bus. As the man continued with his speech, Howard knew it was futile to do anything.

His time was up and nothing short of a miracle would save him, not that he believed in them at all. He let out a deep sigh, all the fight flowing away from his body. Yes, he would die but he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of fighting or displaying a hint of emotion.

He was dragged up to his feet and bound and gagged before being tied to a chair. A sharp pain spread from the back of his head and he felt the darkness envelope him.

Njata Githioro watched as the orange flames devoured the building along with the petty thief that had stolen from him. He pulled out a phone and issued a command. "He's dead, we are even."