Whatever connections the Unit had, they had serious pull. On Monday at exactly eight o'clock, I watched as my old life quickly faded away as the private plane they had chartered took off from a private airstrip. I was not one to hype up the indispensability of money, but even I had to admit that having a lot of money opened a barricaded door with a mere whiff.
Here I was, in a private plane, passport and Visa that I had never even applied for, in hand, and nothing else. Monica insisted we travel light. Everything else we would need could be bought when we arrived at our destination. Where we were going was still a mystery to me, and the other members, shooting curious but cold glances my way, did little to ease my anxiety. But their distaste did not deter me from picturing the bliss that the pure anonymity was going to afford me. In all honesty, I realized I was romanticizing an utterly fucked up situation, but who was going to stop me?
I fell asleep almost as soon as we were airborne. I had spent what was left of my Sunday packing and putting my furniture for them to collect by a moving company and taken to my brother's place. I told my brother a fake story about a scholarship, an excuse he accepted and wished me the best. I hated studying and thought furthering my education was an absolute waste of time; he more than anyone knew this, and yet he did not pry any further. We had always been like that, cold, and any form of affection was assumed. Don't get me wrong, we were ride or die, but we would have rather jumped off a cliff than admit that to each other. We parted with the promise of inviting him over once I settled down, something that was entirely too uncertain for my liking. Maybe we would not even get to sleep wherever we were going. If we managed to get followed, we would have to look for a new country altogether.
I've always wanted to go on an adventure. The idea of travelling the world and taking part in a heist or two had always sounded appealing. Yet more appealing was meeting strangers and shocking them into forever remembering me. Here I was facing a future that could, lightly be described as adventurous, but the danger that I had so much craved seemed suffocating and imminent. Monica held my hand as I drifted off to sleep, and was still holding them when I was woken up by the air hostess telling us to fasten our seatbelts. I heaved a sigh of relief as I took in my surroundings through the tiny airplane window, buildings around, and I could see skyscrapers in the distance. At least we had not gone into hiding in some inaccessible jungle. As the plane touched down, I found myself sweating as a zoo formed in the pits of my stomach. My bravado vanished with each inch the plane covered so that by the time it halted, I was questioning whatever stupidity had led me to this moment.
Judging by the monopoly of black workers in the airport, we were still in Africa. I had been asleep for a good while, but not long enough to have gone anywhere extremely far. I was going to ask where we were when a huge neon sign hanging at the entrance of the airstrip we had landed answered my unvoiced question. 'WELCOME TO JOHANNESBURG, SOUTH AFRICA, ' it read. Some of the tension I had been drowning in eased. Maybe this would be fine, according to Monica; this was just a precaution. They had taken care of pretty much everyone who could have been a problem. She said, taking care in such a nonchalant way, that anyone would have taken it at face value. The truth, however, was not so simple.
Ever since she came clean, sort of, I have had a million questions I wanted to ask her. Questions like how many people have you killed before, was the cargo you mentioned human, and if so, does that mean you traffic humans? Are you the bad guys? Will being with you lead directly to my death? How could I fit into your world? Could I? Are you okay? Has it been hard all on your own?
For the first time in my life, maybe because my life was being threatened, I was afraid for my life, for the lives of my family, and her safety. Everything was up in the air. More times than not, I had always been in control; some people(Clara) even went as far as calling me a narcissistic control freak. Yet here I was, unsure if something as simple as where we were going to sleep tonight. That was better than wondering if I was going to make it through the night. Uncertainty extended its cold, suffocating tendrils, squeezing my heart for all it was worth. How was I going to survive this unstable future, and would she be there with me every step of the way? I did not know much, and it was clear I was out of my depth, yet the idea of her being by my side was strangely comforting. If she did not leave my side, I could pull through. I found that thought slightly more disturbing than the idea of being shot in my sleep.
The car that picked us up had a partition that had yet to be pulled down. Our driver could have been a mermaid, and we would never have known, highly unlikely, but still. The rest of the unit, whose names I did not know yet because introductions had not been forthcoming, did not question the driver's anonymity, and neither did I. We were driven around for at least three hours. Sometimes it felt like we were going in circles, other times it felt like our driver was engaged in a high-speed car chase, and other times it felt like he had slowed down almost to a stop. The windows were darkened; therefore, our destination was still a mystery, I was beginning to suspect, for all of us, including Monica. When the bloody vehicle finally came to a stop, they all got out of the car, insisting that I come out last. Monica shoved my head back inside and shut the door with a curt " Wait ", before disappearing. I waited for a few minutes before she reappeared. The rest of the members were nowhere to be seen as I stepped out. I stopped in my tracks as our destination came into view.
We were standing in front of the biggest mansion I had ever seen. It looked more like a castle than a mansion with what seemed to be five floors. The dark-roasted chestnut building sat across an expansive estate with manicured and well-looked-after hedges and flowers. An asphalt pavement led up to the house that had seven luxury cars parked in front of it. I do not know much about architecture, but I know enough to know that the building in front of me was an architectural wonder. The big door swung open as we approached and closed behind us. It was not just a huge mansion; it was a smart house too. The light sensors went off, illuminating our way as we crossed the spacious foyer and made our way to the grand staircase. The interior décor of the house was just as impressive as its exterior.
Monica picked up my hand from my side, urging me to follow her to what I assumed would be our room. I followed her up to the fifth floor to a door on the far left of the floor. I walked in and found myself struggling again to remember how to breathe. To say the bedroom was immaculately done would be an understatement. The bedroom had to occupy half of the entire floor. The enormous room was decorated with cream, grey, and a very light pink. A ridiculously large king bed was centered in the room. Its grey headboard, which towered to the ceiling, was covered with intricate carvings etched into it that made the bed look a lot more appealing. The cream walls were streaked with haphazard, faded neon pink patterns that seemed to glow. The monochrome covers were cream in color. There was a fluffy grey bench at the foot of the bed that I dropped on as I continued to ogle at the rest of the room.
Monica, who had disappeared into what I had assumed was the bathroom, reappeared head peeping out. She motioned me to join her, and what seemed like a fantasy so far was upgraded into a dream. The expansive room that had been ushered in was a walk-in closet. The closet was an understated name as I faced what could be comfortably passed as a boutique. There were rows and rows of clothing aesthetically arranged according to color and occasions. The handbags adorned the shelves, and the shoes were this closet's crowning glory. The jewelry was also placed at the center of the room in a clear glass display.
"You can wear whatever you want, if you want more a credit card will be provided for you tomorrow. You don't have to use the money in your account now. It is an online financial company that does not limit the amount you can receive, but your banks will, so either use multiple bank accounts or withdraw the money in small quantities so as not to draw the attention of local authorities. This house is one of our safe houses. It belonged to a billionaire who would have gone bankrupt if it were not for our services. He bequeathed this house to our boss, and we use it when we have missions around here or when we need a place to lay low. The security is tight, and the house is smart and has been authorized to let only select people in. You can have a shower, then come down for supper. Reagan whipped up a feast for us."
We walked out of the closet and got into the adjacent room, and at the risk of sounding like a broken record, the bathroom was simply breathtaking. A huge artistic bathtub took up half the room. The brilliant white tile walls reflected the light from the ocean blue mosaic tiles, giving the entire room an underwater feel. The tub had already been filled with steaming water and rose and lemon-scented soap that pervaded the entire room. I stripped down and tested the water with my fingers before gingerly tiptoeing in.
I sank into the heated water and relaxed as the water soothed my sore body. I heard the bedroom door open. I listened for a second and was rewarded by a humming Monica. I closed my eyes, intending to soak for as long as I could. I heard the bathroom door open, but I refused to open my eyes. I felt Monica close in on me, felt her squeeze in behind me, and I adjusted my posture to create room for her before sinking back into her. She began kneading my shoulder, easing the tension as she slowly progressed lower. I melted further into her, content to spend the rest of my night in this tub.