Beneath the Shining Jewel

by Balogun Ojetade

  “You flirted with her multiple times, from what I hear,” Bande replied.

  I wanted to lay with my friend’s wife,” Mba said with a shrug.

  “Did you?” Bande asked.

  “Of course not,” Mba lied.

  “If you did, it would be understandable,” Bande said. “Frogging made it harder to determine the right course of action.”

  “Yes,” Mba said, staring down at the floor. “I guess so.”

  CHAPTER twelve

  “You boys sit there and keep telling lies and swatting flies,” Abea said, laughing as she dropped hunks of ice into two oversized clay cups. Bottles, glasses and chrome implements gleamed on a shelf behind her. Mba and Montu settled onto a semi-circular mound of pillows. There was a low table in front of them.

  Abea bought the men their drinks.

  “Thanks honey,” Montu cooed from his spot on the pillows. “But you have to come and chime in sometime; you were there too.”

  “I couldn’t stand it back then,” Abea said. “You boys got as wild as those skin eating monsters that everyone was talking about…it was awful.” When she finally sashayed off to load the dishwasher, Mba and Montu traded stories from the days two decades ago – the days of frogging and blackouts at the Stationhouse.

  “So, have you heard from Jima?” Montu asked.

  “Why would I hear from him?” Mba said with a smirk.

  “After he was attacked…” Montu took a sip from his drink. “I figured after he gave it some time... um…did things not get right with you two?”

  Mba shrugged. “It doesn’t matter; him and me, there’s no love lost.”

  “Sorry for bringing it up.” Montu said, reaching out to smack Mba’s forearm.

  “No problem,” Mba replied. “But what about you? What have you been up to?”

  “I just stay to myself, Mba,” Montu said. “To forget.” His expression fell. “I’m kind of messed up still. We did some bad things.”

  “Like save the world?” Mba said. “We did what we had to do and we would do it again.”

  “But the Gnaw Maws…” Montu’s eyes were suddenly weary. “That was bad, and sometimes I stabbed first and didn’t ask questions later.”

  “I always stabbed first!” Mba said.

  Montu nodded.

  “Which brings me to this, because now I guess we have a chance to make good, if that’s what you want,” Mba said. “That’s why I’m here…and speaking of Jima…”

  Mba dug into his jacket pocket and withdrew a crumpled piece of parchment. “We were both called up on special assignment.” He threw the parchment on the table. “We found Gnaw Maws in town.”

  Montu sat bolt upright. His shoulders squared and military stiff. For a second, he resembled the young captain and hand-to-hand master he once was; ready for war. He leaned forward, peering at the parchment. He slumped back onto the pillows. “Gnaw Maws?” He croaked.

  “Just three,” Mba said.

  “Gnaw Maws, now?” Montu said, scratching his head. “I’m not even trying to deal with that!”

  “You only need to talk; to teach.” Mba reassured him. “Believe me, I’ve had enough of the rough stuff too…but they’re asking us to volunteer, Montu, before they order us back to active duty.”

  “I’m going to be sixty years old, for Daarila’s sake!” Montu shouted. “And what about Abea?”

  “Like I said, they need us to train new Bacillus Squads,” Mba replied. “We are too old for more than that. We’ve done enough.”

  “Look, Mba” Montu began. “I’m retired. We’re retired. It’s over!”

  “The Elder Merchants call, old soldiers answer.”

  “It doesn’t matter what the Elder Merchants want,” Montu said. “Abea needs me every minute of every day.”

  “She’ll get over it,” Mba reassured him.

  “No…she won’t,” Montu warned.

  CHAPTER thirteen

  “Shortly after the Gnaw Maws attacked us in the tunnels, the Elder Merchants took control of the Bacillus Squads and filled them with scholars and bureaucrats – those who would push the legal playbook, which would keep us veterans too crazy to demand reparations for all we suffered!”

  “Let’s not get sidetracked,” Bande said. “The fact remains that Montu isolated himself.”

  Mba shrugged. “So did Jima. That day changed everybody.”

  “Jima was in seclusion for obvious reasons,” Bande said. His words appeared on the scroll. “Montu’s silence was indicative of something more – the Montus had food delivered from the market; paid young girls and boys to shop for them.”

  Mba shook his head.

  “Montu was seen out in their gardens,” Bande went on. “But he never strayed off the property. No one has seen Mrs. Montu out of the house. Your rank gave you access to all the personnel files. Why was Montu the first captain you chose?”

  “The Elder Merchants demanded a name in a hurry,” Mba replied. “Montu came to mind because he was dependable and into fitness, and maybe alive.”

  “Investigators found nine cases of Ebandela behind a false wall in Montu’s crawlspace,” Bande said.

  Mba whistled and then stared across the table. “If Montu was collecting that rubbish, then that was his problem.”

  “Each crate of Ebandela is numbered and tracked by those numbers,” Bande said. “They traced the lot numbers of the Ebandela we found at Montu’s place and correlated them with the raids on the unscrupulous medicine priests who sold Ebandela on the black market after it was banned.”

  “Okay…” Mba said. His back ached. He needed another drink.

  “You were on most of those raids with him,” Bande said.

  “You said I wouldn’t need a counselor,” Mba said.

  “You don’t,” Bande said, smiling.

  CHAPTER fourteen

  Abea smiled sweetly at Montu as she strolled out of the kitchen. She swept into the living room, snatched up the empty glasses, cleaned them, and bathed fresh ice cubes in honey wine in one long continuous action. When she brought the drinks close, Mba heaved himself forward and grabbed his glass. Her eyes turned cold. “That was rude,” she hissed. Abea shot a glance at her husband.

  “Honey,” Montu said, turning her toward the kitchen. “Can I speak to you in the galley?”

  Mba watched them go, savoring the honey wine.

  The couple stepped inside the kitchen doorway. Mba overheard a hissing sound; an angry voice. He leaned forward listening – struggling noises? A grunt; feet sliding on tiles? They appeared in the kitchen doorway and walked toward Mba. Montu’s arm was slung around Abea’s back. Her eyes were puffy and red. Mba noticed Montu stuffing something into his left pants pocket.

  “I’m sorry, Mba,” Abea said finally.

  Mba reined her in with a hug. “Hell, Abea, you know how I love honey wine, but I shouldn’t have grabbed the glass like that.”

  Abea smiled. “I’ll let you two old…old…”

  She brushed her fingertips over a spot on her apron. The spot spread. Abea ripped the garment off like it was on fire.

  “Now I have to wash garments!” she screamed, turning on her heels and marching out the door. Mba heard her feet stomping at the back of the house.

  “Too much tea,” Montu said, smiling weakly.

  “Is she okay?” Mba asked.

  Sweat gleamed on Montu’s brow. “Yes. She worries too much, that’s all.” He picked up his drink; took a hurried sip. “But you can see why I can’t…couldn’t leave her.”

  Mba laid a firm hand on Montu’s slumped shoulder. “If she needs help, the Elder Merchants could make sure she’s looked after while you’re at work.”

  “No,” Montu replied, shaking his head. He took another drink. “I think you can see why I can’t come back. Abea needs me. When you and I were out frogging and killing, she was there. She needs me now.”

  Mba scooted forward. “I wish it was that easy, Montu.”

  “What do you mean?”
Montu asked, squinting at Mba.

  “This isn’t a request,” Mba said, sitting his glass on the table.

  Montu stared at Mba for a long while. He didn’t blink once. “Maybe you should leave.”

  “I’m not asking you to come back to the squad,” Mba said. “The Elder Merchants demand it.”

  Montu leapt to his feet. “No!” He chopped at Mba’s windpipe.

  Mba blocked the blow, but the force sent him tumbling back onto the pile of pillows. He landed on his haunches.

  “I can’t leave Abea alone,” Montu sobbed. “I won’t.”

  “Because she’s infected...with Bacillus,” Montu sighed.

  “Yes,” Montu cried.

  “Ah, Montu,” Mba said. “You’re finished.”

  CHAPTER fifteen

  “You didn’t arrest him right away,” Bande said, inspecting his scroll. “That’s a problem, Mba.”

  “Look,” Mba grumbled. “I wanted to get out with a whole skin and I didn’t know where Abea was at that point. I didn’t know what I was dealing with. She could have turned while she was outside. The aggression was there; the compulsiveness.”

  “You weren’t armed?” Bande asked.

  “No.” Mba replied. “Why would I bring weapons on a recruitment drive? Besides, I’m not sure I should; not until I am reinstated to full active duty. Right now, I’m just a washed up, old Gnaw Maw-fighter who keeps wine in his gut and a sharp sword in his hand.”

  “Carry your weapon at all times in the future,” Bande said.

  “I was there to talk to the man, not threaten him.”

  “Your reinstatement was approved earlier this morning,” Bande said. “You’re a captain again. Congratulations.”

  “Good,” Mba said, fighting the urge to smile. It was a good indication that they were not coming after him for what happened. Bande’s questions were tough, but he was throwing them hard to see if he could shake something loose.

  “Okay, just for the record,” Bande began. “You didn’t know about the Ebandela that Montu hoarded?”

  “Hell no.”

  CHAPTER sixteen

  “Abea doesn’t like wide-open spaces, crowds or traveling,” Montu said. His eyes were full of tears.

  “But, you love the festivals,” Mba said. “Must be hard.” Mba tried to keep his peripheral vision on the door.

  “It’s not so bad,” Montu replied. “She just wants to stay home. Is that so awful? This is her home; her comfort zone.”

  “I get it,” Mba said. “But do you get how much trouble you’re in?”

  “We have the infection under control, Mba,” Montu said. “When Ebandela was first banned back in the day and they took Abea off of it, she tried to kill herself. The new herbs they prescribed didn’t work…made it worse.”

  Mba’s back was drenched with sweat. His ears pricked up at every noise. Where the hell was Abea? “So you stole Ebandela when we were supposed to destroy it.”

  Montu gripped Mba’s heavy forearm. “So? What did it matter, Mba? I gave up my life to the squad to fight Bacillus; to fight Ebandela, but Ebandela helped her.”

  “Look,” Mba whispered. “You have a point. You worked for the squads. They’ll remember that. So, we turn you both in and they’ll go easy.”

  “It’s not as simple as that,” Montu said. “Abea had some trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?” Mba asked.

  “She became very defensive,” Montu replied, rubbing his hands together. “It wasn’t long after the ban – when we were using Ebandela on the sly – and I was able to go out for short periods. There was a man who kept stopping by, trying to sell rugs from his cart. He was persistent. I told him to stop coming around.” Montu reached out to his drink and took a sip. “When I got home, Abea had cut him up and placed his torso on the roaster.”

  “Damn,” Mba sighed.

  “He triggered something in her,” Montu said. “She didn’t know any better. He was a threat to her home.”

  Mba shook his head. “How did she get away with it?”

  “I helped hide the body,” Montu said. “By eating him with her.”

  Mba forced his face to stay a mask of stone. “How about another drink?”

  What are you boys whispering about?

  Mba peered over his shoulder, looking toward the voice.

  Abea stood in the kitchen doorway, head down, and hair hanging forward over her face. A washcloth dripped in her hand. “You know it isn’t nice to have secrets.”

  Mba spun on his heels to face her. He knew that Bacillus enhanced everything: strength, dexterity, madness and homicidal tendencies…

  “Oh, honey,” Montu chuckled. “I was just telling Mba about the time we ate the rug salesman.”

  Abea lifted her head, smiling. “Mba, Mba,” she said, shaking her head rapidly. The veins in her neck pulsed, the muscles and tendons quivered erratically. “You’re a bad influence on my husband. Kamau never told anyone that before.”

  “What are you talking about Abea?” Mba chuckled, trying to sound casual. “I would have eaten that fool with you.”

  Abea folded the washcloth and laid it on the table. “You’re a bad liar, Mba.”

  Mba reached down and grabbed the glass tumbler. It was not much of a weapon but he needed something to increase his chances of survival against these two. When he looked up, Abea was gone. He turned to Montu.

  “I’m sorry Mba, but Abea likes things the way they are,” Montu said, taking a step toward Mba. “And I can’t stop helping her now.”

  CHAPTER seventeen

  Bande rubbed at his chin with his fingers. “So, that’s when she killed him?”

  “Once she brought the knitting needles out, it was like all that’s bad in the Cleave broke loose,” Mba said.

  Bande coughed a laugh and shook his head. “Needles.”

  “Things went crazy when Abea came out of the galley,” Mba said. “Montu and Abea made their beds...and I tucked them in.”

  “To see an old friend fall, murdered by his own wife. And then to have to take her out,” Bande whistled as he shook his head. “I don’t envy you.”

  “Like I didn’t have enough to forget already,” Mba said, rising from his chair.

  “Well, thanks for cooperating, Captain Mba,” Bande said, his eyes darting back and forth across his scroll. “Everything appears to be in order. It’s an unfortunate incident.”

  Bande rolled up the scroll, stood and tucked the scroll and files under his arm. “I’ve been told to make sure you’re fed and then I have to take you to the stationhouse.”

  “What?” Mba said, frowning. “I’ve been going for two days straight!”

  Mba collapsed back into his chair.

  “A bunch of new constables are coming in,” Bande said. “The Elder Merchants want you to give them the once over. Your old stationhouse is going live.” Bande looked at his watch. “Your cousin is on his way.”

  “Jima?” Mba sighed. His spirit sank. “Listen…give me the rest of that bottle and I promise I’ll do a quick review of the new troops. After that, all bets are off.”

  Bande laid the bottle on the table and then sauntered to the door. He paused, and then peered over his shoulder. “I have to run a few errands, then we’ll get you something to eat.”

  Mba poured a drink. “I’ll wait here.”

  Bande nodded and walked out of the interview room.

  Mba dropped the last bit of wine into his mouth and washed it around his tongue. He needed a moment of peace. He had something else to forget.

  CHAPTER eighteen

  Montu lumbered toward Mba, his face suddenly old and heavy with guilt. Sweat poured over his features like he was waiting for the noose. A thump came from behind; Mba swung around. He just caught a flash of Abea’s dress as she leapt toward him.

  Mba threw his glass. It smashed on the wall.

  Montu grabbed Mba’s hand and twisted it backward.

  Mba wailed in agony as he felt tendons stretch too f
ar and ligaments twist at odd angles.

  “I can’t let you do that, Mba!” Montu spat.

  Years ago, the old captain would have snapped Mba’s wrist, but his strength was nowhere near what it used to be and madness had diminished his technique. Still, the attack – which came from Ijakadi, the fighting system of Oyo – was enough to force Mba onto a knee before the table.

  Under the table sat a basket. Mba thrust his hand into it, desperate to find something he could use to defend himself. He felt wool. He thrust deeper, driving his fingers into the warm cloth. A moment later, he felt the sting of something skewer his fist. He surged upward. A pair of knitting needles protruded from between the skinned knuckles of his hand.

  Fighting the pain, which was partially numbed by the wine, he punched with his injured hand, thrusting the knitting needles into Montu’s eye socket.

  The needles tore into Montu’s skull and through his brain.

  A gurgling noise escaped Montu’s slack lips and then he collapsed.

  Something slammed into Mba’s back, knocking him down onto Montu. Thin little fists thumped on his head, wiry arms stretched around for his windpipe. Teeth scratched at his bristly scalp.

  “Montu!” Abea screamed, wild with Bacillus.

  Her teeth snapped, almost catching Mba’s ear. “Get out of my house!” she shrieked, smashing her jaws into the back of his head. Her hands slid over the sweat on his stubbly cheeks. Her fingernails searched for his eyes. “Leave us alone!”

  Mba clenched his fist around the knitting needles, still embedded in his hand. He stabbed the needles blindly upward, over his shoulder.

  There was a shriek.

  Abea shuddered and went limp.

  For a second, Mba lay there, sandwiched between the dying couple. Blood and cerebral fluid dripped out of Abea’s mouth and punctured sinus and then slid over his cheek. Mba pushed Abea off his back, staggered to his feet and picked up Montu’s half full glass of wine. He poured a few drops beside Montu then upended the glass and cleared the last of it.