The generators hummed outside. Flickering blue light from surveillance monitors glowed against concrete walls. This was one of their old monitoring base, a nondescript house on the edge of town, used during covert missions. Tonight, it was active again, for something more personal.

Shem walked in, wiping his hands with a handkerchief. His face had changed, the softness Malaika had brought out was gone. In its place was steel.

Three men stood inside, watching footage in silence. They saluted slightly as he entered.

“Report,” Shem said.

“Sir, we compiled today’s visual feeds. The surveillance car stayed on Japheth and Ms. Kaweme for exactly four hours. But we diverted them midway as instructed,” one of the men replied.

“Good,” Shem muttered, sitting. He reached for the laptop, opened a folder marked “SparrowNet”, and began reviewing timestamps.

There, he saw the SUV with the tinted glass. The same car was seen earlier parked across from the Nezelcom headquarters. It wasn’t random.

Then came another file, a still photo taken that morning. Shem leaned forward.

“What the…”

The image was grainy but clear enough. The acting chairman of Nezelcom, Mr. Hamududu, smiling and shaking hands in a private compound, with none other than Brigadier General Ngoma.

Another man stood by the car, half-turned.

“Pause,” Shem barked.

The image froze.

Shem zoomed in.

“Is that… Japheth’s boss?” he asked slowly.

The operative nodded. “Yes, sir. Nkandu, the Head of I.T showed up in multiple stills from today.”

Shem cursed under his breath and muttered, “Then this thing is coordinated. A corporate cover-up… backed by someone in the military.”

Just then, the door opened. Japheth stepped in.

He looked tired, emotionally wrung out. Still in his polo and jeans, eyes shadowed by worry.

Shem turned. “How is she?”

“She’s okay,” Japheth said, dropping into a chair. “Scared. Really scared. She kept looking back, thinking the car was still behind us.”

“They won’t make a move,” Shem said. “Not yet. This phase is intimidation.”

Japheth let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well, it’s working. My wedding is in less than two weeks. I keep asking myself if we should just pause it,  but the only reason I’m not cancelling is because God said we should go ahead.”

“There’s nothing to cancel,” Shem replied. “We’re going to pull this off. Safe. Beautiful. And loud. They have messed with the wrong family.”

Japheth looked at him with open gratitude. “I couldn’t have done this without you. You know that, right?”

Shem nodded once, but didn’t smile.

Japheth added with a grin, “And I’m sorry I cut off your mall time with Malaika. I hear you two are… friends.”

Shem gave him a long look.

Japheth raised his hands in surrender. “I’m not saying anything. She’s a sweet girl.”

A flicker of something passed Shem’s face. “That’s the problem, she’s too sweet. I don’t know what’s happening with me,” he said honestly. “And I don’t want to think about it. I need to stay focused.”

Japheth didn’t press further. He nodded, letting the silence settle.

Shem turned the laptop screen so Japheth could see it. “Then look at this. This is why we both need to stay focused.”

Japheth leaned in, studying the frozen stills.

His brow furrowed. “Wait. Is that Hamududu? And that’s General Ngoma?”

“Exactly.”

“Ngoma is supposed to be retired.”

“No one ever really retires in Zambia,” Shem muttered. “Especially not men like him.”

“And… that’s Nkandu?” Japheth asked, heart dropping.

“Clear as day,” Shem said. “Your boss is involved, Japheth. That car that was following you, it’s part of this network. And all of them are tied to Kaweme’s father’s crash.”

Japheth’s face went pale.

“But what’s their endgame?” he whispered.

“I don’t know yet,” Shem said. “But I know this: we’re not dealing with small fry anymore. We’re dealing with power.”

Japheth looked at him, dread building. “So what now?”

Shem stood. “Now? I have to go and see someone who has power too. Colonel Chibwe.”

“Your boss? He can’t win a fight against a General as powerful as Ngoma.”

Shem nodded. “He’s still in service. Has a personal vendetta against Ngoma. If there’s anyone who will back us and not fold, it’s him. He just needs a senior ally. I will speak with him.”

“Will he listen?”

Shem picked up his keys. “He’ll listen because I’m going to give him something he can’t ignore.”

Then he paused, looked at Japheth.

“Stay at Kaweme’s place, my guys will escort you. Don’t leave unless I say. That building is secured. You hear me?”

“Yes.”

Shem clapped his shoulder. “I’ll call you soon.”

As he walked out of the room, Japheth called after him.

“Shem…”

Shem turned.

“I love you, bro.”

Shem hesitated. Then gave a rare, tired smile.

“Thank you.”

He turned back slightly, not fully facing Japheth, as if the words were harder to say when looking someone in the eye.

His voice came quieter this time, less soldier, more man.

“And, um… Malaika.”

He hesitated, then exhaled.

“Please make sure she’s okay. Let one of the guys stay close to her… Just, just make sure my Malaika is fine.”

Japheth’s eyes widened slightly at the slip, ‘my Malaika,’ but he said nothing, only nodded with understanding.

“We’ll keep her safe,” Japheth said gently.

“She’s at home with Kaweme.”

Shem gave a single nod, sharp, but grateful, and pushed the door open.

His boots hit the gravel outside with renewed purpose.

But for a moment… just a moment… his heart lingered on the girl who had made him smile today.

—————————————————————————————————————————-

Shem’s tires crunched across the gravel as he pulled into the military barracks. The sky above Lusaka was beginning to dim, a golden-blue wash bleeding into dusk. He parked the Hilux beside the admin block, barely giving it time to settle before stepping out with firm resolve.

At the door, a young soldier looked up.

“Colonel Chibwe is inside, sir.”

Shem nodded briskly.

“Thanks.”

Colonel Chibwe looked up as Shem entered, standing at attention with a sharp salute.

“At ease,” the Colonel said.

A beat.

“I thought you were on leave, Captain Mwansa. You and your kind of leave is war in disguise. What are you doing back here?”

Shem stepped forward.

“Sir, I need your help.”

Chibwe leaned back slowly in his chair, suspicion flickering behind his eyes.

“Don’t tell me you’re running one of your off-the-books operations again.”

“Yes, sir. It’s a personal one.”

“Of course it is.” He eyed Shem for a moment. Then, almost casually:

“By the way, have you been in touch with Rudo lately?”

Shem blinked, trying to recall the name.

“Rudo?”

“Yes, my niece. The one I introduced you to before your so-called leave. She mentioned you haven’t called. Not even once. Said you disappeared into thin air.”

Shem looked momentarily uncomfortable, embarrassed that he had forgotten the name.

“I’ve been… distracted, sir. Caught up in a lot.”

Chibwe raised an eyebrow.

“Let me remind you, Mwansa. Operations come and go. But people, that kind of connection, those are the things you make time for. You can’t keep using duty as an excuse to miss life.”

“Message well received, sir.”

The Colonel studied him.

“So I take it you didn’t really like her?”

Shem let out a breath.

“I haven’t had time to process any of it, sir.”

“Hmm.” Chibwe’s tone was unreadable, but he waved a hand.

“So what brings you here, soldier?”

The lightness in the air vanished.

Shem’s stance sharpened.

“It’s my brother Japheth, sir. He’s under surveillance. It’s tied to a plane crash that killed his fiancée’s father. We thought it was an accident. But it wasn’t. It was sabotage.”

Chibwe sat up straighter.

Shem stepped forward and laid a folder on the desk.

Photos. Surveillance logs. Audio transcripts.

Colonel Chibwe’s tone shifted as he flipped through the first few pages of the file Shem had placed before him. His brow began to crease. Then furrow. Then freeze altogether.

He turned one surveillance photo toward the light.

“Wait. Wait, wait…” He squints.

“Is that… is that Nezelcom’s acting chairman?”

Shem nodded once.

“And the other man?” Chibwe asked, pointing at the blurred figure beside him.

“Brigadier General Ngoma.”

Chibwe’s chair creaked violently as he pushed back and rose to his feet.

“Ngoma? You’re telling me Ngoma is working with Nezelcom’s chairman?”

Shem nodded again.

“This is verified intel, sir. Cross-checked thrice. And there’s more. Nkandu, Japheth’s immediate boss, is also in the loop. We caught all three of them in the same location two hours ago. Earlier today, we picked up a tail car and followed it straight to a facility in Rhodes Park. My team traced it there. When they got to the gate…” Shem paused, voice tightening, “they saw the three men leaving. Laughing.”

Chibwe knocked his table, rose, then began to pace.

“Jesus.” He paused, then threw his hands in the air.

“This is not a conspiracy. This is a damn syndicate!”

He turned to Shem, face suddenly hard.

“And you’ve been working on this off the books? You and your civilian brother?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You bloody idiot.” His voice rose, then cracked into a bitter laugh.

“You come here with a scandal that can collapse Nezelcom, take down a General, indict a Permanent Secretary, maybe even more, and you’re just now walking into my office?”

Shem stiffened but said nothing.

Chibwe stared at him.

Then exhaled.

Then grinned.

“You have some guts, Mwansa. Some stupid, glorious guts.”

He walked toward the window, thinking, tapping the glass absently.

“Ngoma.” He whispered it like a curse.

“I should’ve known that man wouldn’t stay quiet forever. Last time I saw him, he was grinning like a fox at a budget approval meeting. Slimy bastard.”

Then he turned suddenly, all amusement gone.

“Do you know what you’re asking for?”

“Yes, sir.”

“No, I don’t think you do. Because to bring him down, we need Mwape.” He says the name like invoking a god.

“And if we bring Mwape in, this isn’t just an operation anymore. It’s an execution.”

Shem didn’t blink.

“I understand. And I have eyes on every man we need. My team is prepared. Japheth is secured. Kaweme’s home is sealed off. We’re ready.”

Chibwe walked over to the desk, picked up the file again, slapped it shut like sealing a coffin.

“Then let’s end this. Tonight.”

He reached for the red desk phone.

The one nobody used unless the mission is deadly serious.

“Sir?” Shem rose, then saluted.

Chibwe paused, looking up.

“What?”

“Thank you.”

Chibwe sighs.

“Don’t thank me. You’ve just ruined my week, my peace, and probably my career. But…” He cracked a smile, dialing.

“…I wouldn’t miss this war for anything.”

He lifts the phone to his ear.

“Yes, connect me to General Mwape. Tell him it’s urgent. And tell him it’s Chibwe.”