The Snare

by David A Ogunde

  James just nodded. He knew the driver had just been doing his job, and didn’t fault him for it. Besides, he had gotten what he wanted; he was glad that he had asserted himself and his authority and helped the little girl, rewarding her for her efforts even though it was only in a small way.

  *

  “Here we are, Mr. Mode,” the driver announced cheerily as he pulled through the guard station and up to the steps of the Capitol building. He hopped out and retrieved James’ briefcase from the trunk before opening the passenger door.

  After taking his case, James thanked the man for his “excellent service” and made his way inside. From the security checkpoint, he was escorted by an aide to the conference room where no less than eight government officials of the economics branch expressed their welcome and invited him to begin his presentation. Unlike his “spontaneous” visit to the Ukadan Republic where the representatives weren’t sent the contract to look over before James and Cyndi had arrived to close on it, the executives in this room had been in GED’s sights for a while, and were well-informed of the deal. More so than James had expected.

  “Now, this GED loan agreement is conditioned upon a number of economic streamlining processes,” James stated at one point to the room. “And the opening of this country’s market to foreign investors and foreign businesses. So be prepared to forge and upkeep additional foreign commerce relationships since the loans may take many years to pay back.”

  “We have thoroughly considered this,” responded an official with a neatly-clipped mustache, “and have taken the liberty to form a projection based on the numbers GED has offered us.” He pulled a file from a stack of paperwork beside him and slid it across the smooth, round table to James. James reached for it and began to flip through, surprised at the length of preparedness these officials had gone to for this meeting.

  Then, again, James caught himself thinking, this is only your second meeting as a…what was that title again? Oh, International Strategy Executive. Maybe most of them will be this easy.

  “Thank you,” he said, setting the paperwork in front of him before pushing on. “No doubt you are also aware of the condition that any of the nation’s resources, infrastructure and/or utilities which are ordered by the IMF to be privatized must be sold to our allies or subsidiary companies.”

  “We understand and agree,” spoke an official in red spectacles and a navy dress. “We are also aware that the unit price of whatever is sold to GED allies must be reduced below current market value, allowing for contingencies in case of unforeseen devaluation of the asset.”

  “You’ve done your homework, I see,” James complemented the officials, “and, may I say, it’s been a great pleasure being GED’s liaison to you. I feel we have a bright, productive future ahead of us. There is just one more point I’d like us all to be clear about before we sign the papers. Are you aware that in any event of a default, these loans could be multiplied to five or ten times their original capital?”

  The room skipped a beat for only a moment before a third official in a broad, brown suit looked James in the eye and answered for the rest. “We’re sure there will be no default of any kind, Mr. Mode. The profits of our recent oil boom will be more than capable of repaying the loan; and we plan on doing so very early.”

  “That sounds good to me,” James agreed enthusiastically. “Let’s seal the deal.”

  Chapter 55

  “Come. I will show you what you do not wish to see.”

  For what seemed like the hundredth time, Sarah reached out her hand and placed it into the sturdy palm of the aged rabbi before her. And for the hundredth time, he led her to the back wall of the dark room in which they hid, from which a dim ray of light suddenly appeared. Sarah, already knowing what the rabbi was going to entice her to do, stepped up to the chiseled-out-hole in the wall, which was about the same size as her slender face, and peered through. For an instant, she could see nothing as the light cast from the outside overwhelmed her shadow-adjusted eyes. But soon, colors, shapes, and images merged themselves together into a distinctive scene.

  It began in a familiar way: A huge vaulted room of ancient, carved stone with several arched doorways leading in. Light from the eagerly burning flames of hundreds of candles set round—in brackets along the walls, upon flat bronze trays placed on worn wooden tables, and perched within an immense iron chandelier demoted from the unseen heights of the ceiling—clawed at the dark spaces of infinite gloom, managing only to keep at bay the total realization of an endless night.

  Poised at ease within the vying conflict between flame and shade were a handful of figures, their faces shrouded against the candlelight. They were standing in a tight circle, almost shoulder to shoulder with their hands clasped behind their backs. From Sarah’s position, she clearly saw short, silver daggers gripped in the fists of those whose backs faced her. And in the midst of the ring was a man whose face Sarah longed for, and yet caused much pain to look at.

  James.

  His eyes reflected no fear; yet there was a hint of uncertainty about his movements. As he looked around the group, he smiled at several, shook hands with a few, and cautiously sidestepped from one or two. The first time he had appeared in this dream, Sarah had tried to call out to him, to warn him of the potential threat of the hidden knives. But he heard her not—her presence seemingly unknown to him. Now, she simply watched the pageant in silence, holding her breath and waiting, fearing for the time when the daggers would be revealed, and their treacherous purpose consummated.

  It was about this time that Sarah would be pulled from her dream, and she made to inch back from the wall in anticipation. However, an unexpected flash of movement from the circle reclaimed her attention as the dream continued to unfold. Someone in the group had stretched out a slender hand and caught James by the wrist. Automatically, he took a step back; but like a vice made of stone, the fingers held him fast. Then, those in the circle suddenly parted and glided backward toward the side walls, the one pulling James unceremoniously with it, as the middle of the stone floor split open with a violent rush of an element which appeared to be water-wielding fire. In a furious wave, the element crashed to the floor, sending splashes of sparks ricocheting around the room.

  Suddenly from the chasm, a hiss of steam erupted, followed by sulfurous stench of death and decay. Sarah couldn’t look away as a gigantic form began to rise. Draped in light suppressing shadows like those against the wall, the features of this terrible manifestation were hidden away. But by its lissome movements, Sarah’s eye caught snatches of jagged talons, tufts of mangled wiry hair, and sinewy muscle that shone blood red. As the nightmare creature rose on two legs to full height, its head touched upon the dangling chandelier which, as if with a mind of its own, positioned itself to smoothly slide upon the terrible bulk as a fitted crown. A thunderous roar emanated from the beast as sharp, twisting horns began to grow rapidly out from its skull, entwining themselves with the iron of the black ornament.

  Ten, Sarah counted to herself. There are ten horns.

  The sound of a struggle ripped Sarah’s gaze from the behemoth, and she watched in horror as James’ captor, gripping him with forceful, steeled hands, began pushing him toward the center where the beast stood. James fought to free himself, to push back against his fate, but no effort, exertion, or emotional pleas stayed the determined advancement. At the serrated edge of the pit, James turned to look at Sarah, his eyes revealing her known presence.

  Help me, he uttered. Though the sound of his words was not audible to her, Sarah, all the same, knew what he was saying. Fervently, she tried to tear away at the thick wall which held her in, her hands turning chalk-white as the powdered mortar mixed with the clammy sweat seeping from her skin. But nothing substantial would give.

  Reaching her arm out into the space which she could not access, Sarah yelled out to her husband as a thick, sinister hand composed of shadow, blood, and claws reached down toward him.

  Chapter 56

  �
��JAMES!”

  Her body still muddled with sleep, Sarah leapt from her bed, almost tripping on the trailing bed sheets. She yanked open her door and flew down the stairs to her husband’s office, the empty room seeming to forebodingly confirm her fears. Searching frantically in the throes of helplessness, she rushed outside in the hopes of finding some clue, some idea she could latch onto to help save her husband from that foul grip.

  The grey cobble stones were like ice on her feet as she began padding down the driveway. There was a chilly breeze ruffling the air. As the coldness seeped in, whispers of reality began trickling into her mind.

  It was just a dream.

  Like a soaring gull diving for its catch, Sarah’s height of fear suddenly plummeted into a sea of frustration and sadness. Unhindered tears streamed down her face as the weeks of worry, disappointment, hurt, and neglect had their long-suppressed effect. All her efforts to remain stoic, strong, and understanding shattered like stained glass, leaving her feeling the pains of the heavy burden she had been carrying all along.

  Feeling crushed under its strain, Sarah fell on her knees to the unyielding bed of stone and sat in a numb state of despair, oblivious of the biting cold. Many moments passed, or maybe they didn’t. But, as if a familiar voice called to her, Sarah suddenly lifted up her tear-streaked face. Her breathing calmed; her panic subsided. A strong notion swept over her being, gently reminding her that she was not alone; that she was never meant to walk through storms by herself.

  “God, I’m lost,” she said out loud. “I thought I could be strong enough to handle this, but I’m not. I’m so afraid for James. My dreams are getting worse; and I don’t know what they mean. I don’t know what to do…”

  “Mommy?” Tolu’s concerned voice sprang from the doorway. “What are you doing?”

  Clad in her robe and slippers, Tolu went to her mother and threw a coat over her shoulders. Embarrassed, Sarah managed a weak smile to reassure her that she was all right.

  “Are you sad about Dad?”Tolu’s perception surprised Sarah, and she looked into her daughter’s eyes as if realizing for the first time she was not a little girl anymore.

  “Yes,” Sarah answered. “I had a bad dream about him, and it made me feel very sad.”

  “When I have bad dreams,” Tolu offered, “and feel scared, I say a prayer. And it makes me feel better and … safe.”

  “I know, honey.” Sarah pulled her daughter into a hug. “I just remembered that before you came out. Should we say one together?”

  Tolu nodded and clasped her mother’s cold hands.

  *

  Later that morning as she was getting ready for work, Sarah was relieved to feel more calm and steady. But at the back of her mind she felt a nudge, a push that would not go away. She had sent a couple of texts to James, and even left him a message, asking him how he was and if everything was going all right. She was used to him not replying; but right now, silence was no longer an option.

  After seeing Tolu off to school, she called Commissioner Moreau at the museum and told him she needed to take a personal day. Though his response was professional and courteous, she couldn’t help but pick up some subtle undertones of regret. For him, getting those tablets worked out were the top priority of, well…life. She could understand that, she thought, as she set the house alarm and walked out, and might even feel that way herself if her top priority slots weren’t already filled.

  With a sharp chirp from the remote, she unlocked the new silver BMW James had had delivered to the house a couple of weeks ago. She hadn’t driven it before. She had been upset that he would take time to send a car home without him bothering to show up. Now, however, she felt compelled to use it on her mission. Sinking into the first-rate leather seat, she didn’t even stop to examine the car’s luxurious aesthetic features as she pushed the ignition button, pulled up the directions she wanted, and gunned out of the driveway.

  Chapter 57

  “I’m Sarah Mode and I need to know where my husband is.” Sarah’s tone was raised to an almost hysterical height as she voiced her demand to the mousy-looking secretary for what seemed like the tenth time.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” screeched the distraught secretary, “but the whereabouts of our employees are CON-FI-DEN-TIAL.”

  “Not where their spouses are concerned,” Sarah countered. “This is an emergency and I need to talk to him right now!”

  “If you have an emergency, you can call GED’s Family Alert number and they will get a message to your—”

  “I don’t want to send a message. I want to talk to him!”

  “Excuse me, is there a problem here?” A barrel-chested man with big shoulders had just stepped out of the elevator and was making his way toward the commotion.

  “I’m Sarah Mode, and I’m looking for my husband.”

  “Of course! Mrs. Mode. I’m Derek Smith, the manager of this GED branch.” He extended his hand and Sarah shook it in a short, curt manner.

  “Where’s James? I haven’t spoken to him for almost two weeks now.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Mode. I don’t think I can be of much help. James doesn’t work from this office anymore. He’s been transferred to Brussels—”

  “That was supposed to be just for a business trip,” Sarah interjected. “He still lives here. He’s supposed to be working here!”

  “The promotion was rather sudden, I’ll give you that. But I’m afraid it’s quite settled and, for the time being, quite permanent.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” Sarah said, exasperated. “Live in London while my husband lives in Brussels?”

  “I suggest you take it up with him, ma’am since I’m sure I have no business advising you on personal matters. Now, if that is all, good day.”

  Abruptly he turned to the secretary, making Sarah feel as if he was attempting to sweep her under some proverbial rug. “Have the police cleared out those protesters yet?” he asked the secretary. “This is the third time in two weeks! We need to hire some more building security.”

  At his words, Sarah automatically recalled the scene she had passed on her way into the building. A small but feisty group of people had been riotously chanting and hollering on the steps leading to the entrance. They let her pass with only a few crude jibes meant for GED associates. At the time she didn’t care enough to bother correcting their assumption of her affiliation; in a way she had almost felt sympathetic to their plight…whatever it was.

  “May I offer you an escort to help you find the way out?” Derek turned back to her with a look on his face that might commonly be expressed during interactions between a woman and her husband’s dirty socks. Shocked by the incredible rudeness of both his words and manners, Sarah simply glared at him and shook her head.

  “Cheerio, then.” He turned on his heels and began walking down an adjacent hallway.

  “You can’t do this,” she yelled after him a moment later. Her voice saturated with desperation. “You can’t just pull families apart!”

  “Talk to your husband,” echoed back the snubbing reply before the manager turned a corner and discourteously disappeared from view.

  Chapter 58

  Sarah saw herself out of the building in such a state that she hardly noticed the absence of the cacophony she had traversed through upon her arrival earlier. Trotting down the now empty smooth granite steps toward the open courtyard and subsequent sidewalk, her shoe knocked aside a white pebble which had been resting incognito. For no particular reason, she bent down and picked it up, feeling the light weight of it in her hand. Fleetingly, she imagined the gratification she might feel in hurling it at the cold, mocking windows which, when she looked back at them, seemed to take joy in reflecting her pained disposition.

  Instead, she sighed, dropped the pebble back into a patch of decorative landscaping lining the path, and continued. She was halfway to the sidewalk when her attention was drawn to a racket before her in the form of two police officers arguing loudly with what looked like a
couple of young adults.

  “We’re not the criminals here,” one of them, a girl, shouted at the officers. At a brief glance, Sarah noticed she was tall and lanky—features that looked even more exaggerated by her long baggy coat, which provided a somber backdrop for the long, brown hair tumbling down her back in a wild and unkempt way.

  “Do you have any idea what that company funds?” she continued avidly. “How detrimental they are to the human race? They should be the ones behind bars!”

  “All I need to know about GED is that they’ve restricted their premises and you’re trespassing,” argued back an officer.

  “We have a legal right to protest!”

  “You have the right to protest on public property, not private,” replied the other officer.

  “The sidewalk is public property!” the girl rebutted, throwing her hands to her hips.

  “But that’s not where you were when they called us, was it, Missy? You and your little group of friends were up there stomping around on the steps and hollering like a bunch of maniacs.”

  “Excuse me,” Sarah pardoned her movement quietly as she went past the agitated party. Though a part of her felt a tinge of pity for the protestors at their getting ticked off by the police, she wasn’t interested in interfering at the moment. She had her own issues to deal with.

  Heading down the pavement she could hear the argument amplifying and suspected that it was not going to end well. When she reached the corner, she hurriedly crossed the street to where her car was parked. After starting the engine and checking the street, she was just pulling out when suddenly two people came out of nowhere and ran in front her. With a screech of surprise that matched the sound of her slamming brakes, Sarah stopped the vehicle with a violent lurch. She hastily locked the doors as one of the figures ran to her window and began rapidly tapping on it.