23

De La Paz wasn’t like how Richard expected a capital city to look like. It was a run down town that didn’t qualify to be called so. It looked like it had been a thriving town once but had been run down over time.
It was like no one invested in real estate industry in this city for from this side of the town, there weren’t any new buildings around. Ever heard a capital city devoid of at least one sky scraper? Yeah, that was De La Paz for you.
‘Wow! This is the worst president even. Some countries should come and see this so as to appreciate what they have,’ Richard thought as he walked around.
He wondered how these people had survived this far. In a country with less than twenty million people in total, he expected better. No wonder the population was declining every year. People of Dela Lucia didn’t want to give birth and now that he had seen it with his own eyes, he could tell why.
From the report on this country that he read on his way here, he could tell that the youthful population and the young ones was declining. In fact, Antonio’s government had introduced a new policy where anything to do with motherhood would be free all over. Be it maternity, child care, schooling and all that.
That was to encourage young people to give birth because it seemed if they didn’t, soon enough, there won’t be enough young people to run the economy.
But looking at it now, Richard understood why. If he was a Lucian, he wouldn’t get married let alone give birth either. He wouldn’t bring a child into these chaos.
It seemed like the current president had used the last twenty years of his reign to run down the country instead of building it.
He wondered whether to just leave it at just rescuing the General or to help him oust the sitting president. It wasn’t his duty but he thought of the words of the taxi driver.
Even illegal militia were given the permission to kill and loot as they saw fit. Is that the type of a country he would want to see?
He thought about all this as he went round the massive State House trying to see whether there was anywhere he could sneak in through. He did this at night while there was darkness and not many eyes looking.
He couldn’t do it during the day as he knew even though he had disguised himself as an old man, he would be asked questions. But at night, anyone seeing him would think it was just an old man going back home.
After he was done, he decided to go to the hotel and he booked a room under the name Fabian Francis Marley, a tourist from Jamaica and he was going to stay for two months. That was what his visa said.
Sometimes he admired the efficiency in which the security agencies iyf his own country worked. They could get you anything you wanted in matter of hours of it worked for their good.
He went to the room he had booked, a suite and he wondered whether these people understood what the word suite meant.
Instead of a self contained house with a bedroom, living area, inside washrooms and a kitchen with a stocked fridge and a television set, this had a bedroom and a small room which served as the sitting area and a small dining area.
The bathrooms and toilets were outside. One had to walk along the corridor and there at the end, was the shared washrooms.
Richard could not take it. He needed privacy and this wasn’t privacy. He thus just paid for that one night and decided that he would go looking for a better room the following day.
He slept for two hours and woke up like clock work. He didn’t even need an alarm. It was all thanks to vigorous training and discipline.
He then started strategising. If he wanted to know where the genera was being held, he had to infiltrate the state house. To do this, he needed connections.
He took out the red phone he had been given and he dialed the only number saved on it.
“I need documentation showing that I am a public relations advisor with good references that a president who wants to campaign and win will not be willing not to hire such a person.
He listened and then said okay and hang up.
That day, he spent walking around like a tourist taking photos of land marks and trying the food. He was still Fabian, the old tourist who had just lost his wife, God rest her blessed soul, so he would always say as he talked to anyone willing to listen.
It was while he was sitting at this taco place that he heard a conversation between two men. They were speaking Spanish and he wasn’t so bad in it and he could pick phrases here and there and connect the dots.
“Yes, he was shot last night and he died on the spot,” one man was saying.
“Who shot him?” The second one asked.
“It is assumed he was the General’s sympathiser. The boy who shot him was shot on the spot too,” the first man answered.
“So, you mean Dog is dead? Just like that? I don’t even know what to feel or say. He has killed so many,” the second an answered while he ate his tacos.
“Don’t speak so loudly. Someone might hear you and we might be branded as traitors,” the first man said and the second one scoffed with a mouth full of food.
“For how long are we going to live in fear like this and in our own country? I really wish and pray that the General manages to escape. I hope he wasn’t betrayed by his own people,” the second man said and shook his had sadly.
This told Richard clearly that these men weren’t on President Antonio’s side but on General Jose’s. He thus talked to them politely.
“Excuse me manners men. Just wanna ask who dis Dog ya talking ’bout is,” he whispered and the men looked at him sceptically.
“Why should we tell you and who are you? One of the two asked him sceptically.
“Just a Jamaican tourist who couldn’t but help and… Sorry, me English a bit rusty. A Jamaican tourist who couldn’t help but overhear ya conversation. Better. Yeah, thas better,” Richard, Fabian, said and smiled sheepishly.
“Idiot. Dog is the, was the head of security of Antonio’s security team. Last night he had been sent on a mission but he was shot and killed on the spot,” the first man told him. He seemed to enjoy telling the story.
“He deserved it. He has killed so many,” the second one said with a mouth full of food.
“Oh, okay. Is that so? And why do people still vote for Antonio? They can refuse to come out for voting on the election day,” Richard said in his American accent forgetting that he was supposed to be Jamaican.
The men, whose English was also horrible didn’t notice the change and the second one, who seemed to hate Antonio more said, “and what do you think the military do? Their work is to make sure that everyone goes to vote whether they like it or not.
Not that it would make any changes even if we didn’t go. The president is already always predetermined and the voting is done for formality purposes and to keep up appearances to the international media and world.”
“And what if the General was to go in the ballot paper with Antonio, who do you think would win?” Richard asked.
“The General of course. People would vote for him. We are all tired. Everyone is tired. Look at how he has run down our country!
Thirty years ago during the reign of the late President Diego, this was the best country on these sides of the continent.
We were rich. There were jobs, money circulated in the economy, schools were good, there were doctors and medicine in the hospitals. They were good days,” the man who hadn’t stopped eating said with nostalgia on his face.
“Yes, and we all want to go back there. And the only way is changing the president,” the first one said sadly.
“I wish the boy who shot Dog could have shot Antonio’s head instead,” the second one said while sipping soup directly from the bowl loudly.
“didn’t we all? We all want him dead and I told you that that tongue of yours will one day kill you if you do not control it,” the first man said as he slapped the second one on the back of the head making him spill a little soup down his lap. A good thing was that he was wearing a napkin there otherwise his dirt trousers would have been soiled more.
“Thank you me people. I feel tired to the bones. I will go back to my hotel. Now, enjoy your day too. And pray for a miracle if you believe their is God,” Richard said as he stood up to leave.
“See you around and enjoy our city,” the first man said with a wave.
Richard returned to the hotel quickly and took out his red phone and dialed the number.
“Change of plans. No need for those documents I asked for earlier. I just heard that Antonio’s head of security was shot last night.
I can use that and infiltrate. All I need is the documentation for that. Same plan holds,” Richard said and listened for a while.
“You know I work alone and only alone. If I need help, I will tell you,” Richard said and hang up.
When he woke up the following morning, there was a parcel delivery for Mr Fabian Francis Marley that came via express courier.
‘Good. Antonio, here comes your new chief of security,” he said as he went to work on becoming a retired Marine Corp from Kenya, Mr Gresham Kano who spoke ten African languages and five international languages,” Mr Kano smiled as he entered the bathroom.