The Black Widow || Clifford .O. Ochieng

One day, he received a friend request from a user who went by the name Black Widow. Black Widow’s cover photo was a black flag with Arabic writings and her profile picture was of a black rose flower which appeared to be oozing blood. Salim was intrigued and he immediately accepted the friend request.

My name is Omina and I am a court reporter. The job of a court reporter is to narrate every account of official court proceedings. For five years I have had the chance to work on hundreds of criminal cases; from hit and runs to high profile assassinations and bizarre homicides. However, one shocking case in particular fascinated me.

It was a case against a suspected extremist recruiter and terrorist handler and, at first, it all seemed straightforward.

The prosecution claimed that the suspect had recruited, trained and ordered a gunman to indiscriminately open fire at a party, subsequently killing thirty people. He was also accused of planting an explosive device inside his vehicle. The explosion had killed one man. Investigators uncovered the suspect’s social media accounts, which painted a grim picture of an intricate and highly coordinated programme of indoctrination, recruitment, training and eventual execution of the plan. They revealed how the Al-Shabaab terrorist organization, which later claimed responsibility for the both attacks, manipulated social media to reach out to sympathisers and recruit followers into their agenda. It was also believed that the suspect organized and publicized an event with the intention of luring unsuspecting victims to their deaths in what the prosecution described as a precision attack aimed at realising maximum casualties. While the suspect admitted to having organized the party, he denied any involvement in the plan or with any terrorist organization. The prosecution cut open the suspect’s family history and his relation to the gunman in a bid to prove motive.

However, a detailed confession from an unlikely witness brought a fresh new twist in the case.

***

The whistling of the diesel engine signalled the end of the journey as the Nomad shuttle grinded to a halt at the station in downtown Nairobi. Passengers of the purple 52-seater Isuzu jostled to the exit, making frantic attempts to get to their destinations after a long arduous three-day journey from Garissa. In the bus, Salim, a smartly dressed young man, whipped out his phone and after opening his Facebook, typed out a message.

‘I have arrived.’

‘To God be the Glory. The driver will call you shortly,’ was the subsequent reply.

As Salim got up from his seat to allow his unamused neighbour pass, his phone began to ring.

“I’m in the grey Mazda parked opposite the station,” said the voice on the phone.

As they weaved through the city’s chaotic roads, Salim looked around with awe. He marvelled at the skyscrapers and how their tips seemed to pierce the sky and disappear into the clouds. Salim had never been farther than ten kilometres away from his hometown of Waggala in Garissa, where he lived with Saad and Mudi, his uncle and cousin. His mum Khadija, he had been told, died shortly after giving birth to him. She was said to have developed complications during his birth which may have been exacerbated by the disappearance of her first son and the tragic passing of her husband, Salim Ali. Saad had told Salim that government forces had arrested Salim Ali and a few days later, his mutilated body had been discovered in a nearby river.

They drove into an exclusive and pristine neighbourhood and eventually stopped near the entrance of a luxury hotel. The driver adjusted his face mask and pointed to a gate that read ‘DUSIT APARTMENTS.’

 “Madam told me that everything you will need is in here.”

He retrieved a brown envelope from the glove compartment. The envelope contained a bunch of house keys, a car key, and a fancy plastic key card with R6 engraved on the back.

Dusit Apartments was a modern establishment ensconced on two acres of prime land in one of the city’s most exclusive neighbourhoods. It comprised six substantial and luxurious housing units containing fully furnished, three-bedroom condos, all en suite. The monstrous walls fencing the compound were complemented by a state-of-the-art security and surveillance system. The doors and elevators were all automated and only accessible with a key card. The owners of these apartments were mostly discreet wealthy individuals who had other properties strewn across the country and abroad and most of the Dusit apartments were being leased out as residences for VIPs that included foreign business executives, diplomats and tourists.

The security guard manning the complex was a tall, dark, middle-aged man of moderate build. He brandished a temperature gun and waved it close to Salim’s temple. Salim’s temperature was fine and he ushered him in. The living room had wooden floors and marble walls which seemed to glisten in the evening light. At the far end of the room, opposite to where he stood, was a huge sliding glass door that led to the balcony. From this vantage point he was able to see the towering hotel and beyond it, the Nairobi skyline extending into the horizon. He put down his luggage, a black leather duffle bag and in no time, he was settled in.

His mobile phone chimed. It was Black Widow. She was confirming if all had gone as discussed.

“The guard downstairs was of great assistance and cooperated fully. I was able to access the apartment.”

“Get enough rest. Tomorrow, we begin.”

***

“Love, wake up.” Rashid opened his eyes and smiled at his girlfriend. He stretched his hands over her head, gently pulled her towards him and passionately kissed her on the lips. Ruhila had just moved into his house and he was planning on marrying her. In fact, he was soon going to propose to her and what better place than where they first met two years before?

When he first arrived in the city over two decades ago, he had wanted to escape the squalid conditions that he was accustomed to. But not even he could have ever fathomed that his life would turn out as it had. Rashid had been born into a poor, dysfunctional rural family. His father was a religious and very traditional Somali man. He was always getting into trouble with authorities for his extremely radical beliefs and practices, and he foisted his militant values on his family. Despite his son’s outright brilliance and success in education, he had other plans for him. He wanted his son to follow in his footsteps as he did with his father before him. This forced Rashid, with the help of his then expectant mother, to escape home in search of education. With the aid of a local political leader, Rashid was able to completely alter his identification documents to make sure his father couldn’t find him.

His star ultimately shone when he received a full scholarship to join the elite Starehe Centre in Nairobi. There, he continued with his impeccable academic record and when he sat for his Form 4 exams, he emerged among the top candidates in the country. Subsequently, he received another full scholarship to pursue any course of his choice at University. Eventually, he settled on law rather than his long-term dream of studying medicine. Upon completion of his studies and admission to the bar, he got employed to the prestigious Musa & Musa law firm. It was during the firm’s end of year party that he met Ruhila.

Ruhila was an extremely attractive and intelligent girl born to a prominent and well-connected Asian African dynasty and raised in privilege. Hers was a wealthy Indian business family whose patriarch had been a vocal trade unionist during Kenya’s clamour for independence. Her demeanour exuded class and she had a unique personality to complement it. Her symmetric face, impeccable features and deep family connections landed her myriads of opportunities in the media and she made a career of hosting TV and radio shows, as well as events. Her busy schedule meant that she had no time for a relationship. Being the only child, her parents had made numerous attempts at introducing her to suitors within their social circles without success. This drastically changed when she met Rashid at an event she was hosting and was instantly swept off her feet. Several successful dates later, she was ready to introduce him to her parents. On the other hand, Rashid had no family to introduce her to. He resented his family roots, and since his mothers’ demise he had completely severed links to his past.

***

Salim worked at his cousin’s cybercafé where he learnt how to use a computer and  navigate the internet. He joined Facebook in search of his older brother, Ali, who had disappeared shortly before his birth and whom he had heard so much about from Mudi. Unfortunately, his searches bore no fruit and he grew despondent. Social media then became a platform for him to vent his anger and frustrations and he took on anyone who dared give him audience, launching scathing attacks against the government, women and all non-Muslims. His hateful posts and comments were often flagged off for being inappropriate and against Facebook’s standard policies.

One day, he received a friend request from a user who went by the name Black Widow. Black Widow’s cover photo was a black flag with Arabic writings and her profile picture was of a black rose flower which appeared to be oozing blood. Salim was intrigued and he immediately accepted the friend request.

Ab initio, Black Widow appeared to show genuine concern about Salim. She would ask him about his family background and experiences. She was also quite generous to him and would time and again send him money. Gradually, she started to discuss Islam with him and how Somalis had faced persecution from society. When she intimated to him about how her whole family was massacred by religious opponents, he became convinced that their fates were aligned. She would send him newspaper stories, texts and even religious excerpts suggesting that they must prepare for a spiritual battle. Her mastery of history, religious texts and teachings further persuaded Salim that his was a calling sanctioned by the highest echelons in heaven. He grew increasingly agitated with every engagement and developed strong desire for violence against those he perceived as the tormentors.

Meanwhile, Mudi was getting fed up with Salim’s excessive use of the computer. He would be so engrossed on the internet that he would not attend to customers. One day, he came across a particularly large folder saved in one of his computers. It contained grim and violent videos on war, radical Islamic preaching and even tutorials on how to make, assemble, dismantle, transport and use guns. He immediately confronted Salim, who then reached out to Black Widow for help.

‘God is good. You have to leave tout de suite.’ She said.

That was how he left for Nairobi.

***

Rashid’s job at the firm came as a godsend. Years of academic struggle and raw determination were finally paying off. He had a fancy office with a stunning view of the city and an assistant at his service. He also had allowances for clothes, transport and housing.

Thanks to a hefty retainer, he moved into a serene estate in an upmarket neighbourhood complete with a golf course, a pristine private swimming pool and a state-of-the-art gym. Lacking any pressing responsibilities, he decided to invest his earnings in the then nascent taxi business. He purchased a brand-new saloon car which he duly registered as a taxi. However, as his job at the law firm was very demanding and he had to clock in a lot of hours, he needed someone to manage the car business on his behalf. He took to his social media and advertised. From the numerous responses that he received, none was well detailed and appealing as Samantha’s pitch. After hiring her, Rashid was extremely impressed by Samantha’s management of every aspect of his taxi business. The British Lebanese publicist had made Rashid’s side hustle grow from one cab to a fleet of six. His money reflected into his accounts on time and he never had any issues with condition or safety of his vehicles. She ensured that insurance and service was done always on the button. He never met her but they would frequently communicate on LinkedIn where they had first met and via email.

When Rashid had asked Ruhila to move in with him, she hadn’t wanted to let go of her apartment so Rashid suggested that they should put it up for lease. At the time, digital leasing sites such as Airbnb were just starting up and it seemed like a good idea. Ruhila expressed her reservation about the security and condition of her apartment which her parents had bought for her when they had finally acquiesced to her insistence on living on her own. Rashid then suggested that Samantha should manage the lease just as she had managed his cabs. It was an offer that she gladly took up and it was a decision that paid off handsomely.

***

At 3 a.m., Salim’s phone alarm went off. He jumped out of bed and readied for his routine morning run. He swiped his card and stepped into the elevator. At the exit, he met John who saluted him and opened the gates.

He emerged onto the eerily quiet boulevard where he began his course that headed westwards along a 50 metre stretch parallel to the walls of the apartment complex. At the T-junction, he took a right turn unto Kamati road whose 300 metres covered the whole length of the Dusit hotel’s southern wall. The course would see him circumvent the whole perimeter of the expansive establishment and back to his starting point. At the entrance, there was a 200-metre road that served as temporary parking for pick-ups and drop offs. As was his routine, Salim made way to one of the cars there, and using the car key left for him by Black Widow, collected a brown envelope from the glove compartment, locked the car and dashed back towards the apartment. This was the final package.

***

Rashid reached into his pocket and retrieved a purple coffret that opened to reveal an engagement ring with diamond and emerald insets. He recalled the day he met his love, Ruhila. It had been his first end-of-year party at the firm. They had posted exceptional numbers that year and the senior partners had decided to throw an elaborate rooftop party for all the shareholders, partners and employees and their families. Ruhila had hosted and they had gotten to know each other during one of the segues. So much had happened since that day; Ruhila had moved in with him, he had met her parents and she was now three months pregnant. He had just been promoted to partner and it was just a matter of when-not-if he would make senior partner. He believed that the time was ripe to start a family and, with a baby on the way, he needed to propose. He was going to surprise her during her birthday party which, significantly, was going to hold at the very venue their love began.

Ruhila was a media personality and in addition to her affluent background, she had equally successful and well-known acquaintances. She had a huge following online and her fans were enthusiastic and supportive. With Samantha’s help, her traction had multiplied tenfold and as expected, her birthday party invitation cards, outside those that went to her close friends and family, sold out within hours of her posting on her social media.

***

Upon entering the apartment, Salim placed the package on the table and he went across the room to pick his phone which he had left charging. He then headed for the master bedroom and on his way picked up the package. The room was messy with brown envelopes and boxes strewn all over. He slid open the door to the master bathroom and stepped towards the bathtub. He pulled over the white bedsheet to reveal the tiny pieces of metal hidden underneath. For thirty days’ Black Widow sent him pieces. Now the puzzle is complete, he thought to himself as he emptied the contents of the package. He unlocked his phone and located the last documents from her.

***

At 4 p.m., Rashid stood at the door heading to the rooftop, ushering in guests and directing them to their seats. Ruhila would be arriving shortly. They agreed she would pass by her apartment just across the street from the venue to freshen up for the party. Suddenly there was a tap on his shoulder.

“Bro, I thought that the video guy was you.”

It was Mugo, Ruhila’s childhood friend who also happened to be the President’s nephew.

“We don’t all look the same.” He chuckled.

Rashid looked over to the camera man. He did not know him but Samantha had recommended him. She said he was impeccable at his job and was offering them a huge discount.

Through the scope of his camera, Salim could see the whole place. The set up was identical to the video game Black Widow introduced him to. There were six tables, seating five guests each. The mood was jovial with loud exchanges and laughter wafting through the air. The charismatic Mugo paced around to mingle with the guests, chatting some and teasing others. They appeared to be a tightly knit group of men and women alike clad in latest designer suits and pants, short skirts, tight jeans and revealing tops.

Everyone had settled to their respective tables in anticipation of the birthday girl. Then Rashid who was standing at the entrance, signalled her arrival and instantaneously Salim unlatched the camera from the tripod, placed it on his shoulder and with his eye still fixed on the pin hole moved towards the door.

The beautiful brown girl with very long straight dark hair and large round hazel eyes with long black eyelashes walked in amidst roaring cheers, ululations and claps. Soft jazz music began playing in the background as she majestically walked to the high table as Salim, captured her every step. Mugo, who now stood close by, microphone in hand, directed him to go back to his designated area, close to the door.

‘Please let us all be seated’ he said.

This was Salim’s cue.

The spacious living room of the apartment had been his field of practice and the furniture had been his props. With fastidious study of the video tutorial, he was able to successfully assemble both his pistols and the explosive devices. When he glanced at his watch, it was 8 am. He had ample time to rehearse and play out the assignment. After thoroughly cleaning and arranging everything, he expertly inserted the pistols into his dummy camera which he subsequently placed inside his duffle bag. He took the elevator to the basement where he had been told a grey Mazda would be parked. He drove out to the temporary parking spot. He took out his pass and placed a brown envelope into the glove compartment together with the keys. After setting an alarm on his phone for 6 p.m., he threw it in too and got out of the car, bag in hand.

***

Friday afternoons are usually busy times for the officers on duty manning the gates and entrance of the hotel especially if there was an event. For this reason, event organizers were required to present a list and credentials of attendees. They would then be issued with individual passes upon arrival, save for service providers who were required to have received theirs a day or two prior. Salim’s pass indicated he was a cameraman for the event set up at the roof top. The guards hurriedly allowed him in and pointed him to the rear door where he would be directed to the venue.

No sooner had Rashid taken his seat than he heard an ear-deafening bang followed by a gut-wrenching cry close to him. Ruhila was on the floor clutching her stomach which was bleeding profusely. He heard more loud bangs and loud cries as he reached down to her. It was a pandemonium as some guests were running helter-skelter and others were falling over.  Rashid lay under a rubble with people, tables and chairs all over, and passed out.

Salim stopped shooting and surveyed the result of his assault. The only thing moving was the mixture of drinks and blood flowing in every direction. He had ended the lives of these infidels and now he was the only person left standing. Everything had gone according to plan and his assignment was complete. He glanced at his watch. It was a few minutes to six. He threw the pistols across the room and planked himself on the ground. He closed his eyes and waited for the final explosion.

END