Chapter 12 – Doubts Multiply
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The black sedan pulled up at the university drop-off point shortly after breakfast. Smith stepped out into the morning sun, the warm light doing little to ease the heaviness in his limbs. The all-nighter still clung to him, his eyes burning, his body aching. He had barely slept, and now the caller's latest message echoed in his mind: I needed you tired. It keeps judgement sharp.
Hawthorne stood there, still holding the door open, calm and professional as always, cane resting lightly in his gloved hand. "Shall I wait for you, sir?" Hawthorne asked.
Smith hesitated, his doubt sharpening. Hawthorne had driven him back to the manor the previous day. He was the one who collected the signed document... and delivered it unsigned. How did the caller know he hadn't slept? Unless someone had been watching and reporting. Feeding information directly to the unknown caller. Maybe they guessed. Or maybe the caller simply understood how people under pressure behaved.
"No," Smith said, voice steady. "I'll call when I'm done."
Hawthorne inclined his head, a faint polite smile touching his lips. "Very well, sir. Have a productive morning."
Smith watched the sedan pull away, the tinted windows hiding Hawthorne's face. The man was calm and too perfect. The effortless deflections during his first day as Smith's driver. It all pointed to something hidden. He was the one who delivered a signed document which turned unsigned. It would make sense if he was the mole. The one sending feedback to the caller about his every move, including the all-nighter. Smith didn't want to doubt the man, but all he was given were reasons to suspect him.
He turned and walked across the campus, the hum of students, honking matatus, and bicycle bells filling the air. His mind kept circling back to Hawthorne. The driver had been new. Convenient. Always there. He couldn't think of anyone else in the family who could be a mole. Those he thought of rarely entered the manor.
Marcus was waiting near the lecture hall, leaning against a wall with his notebook.
"Smith," Marcus called, waving. "You look like hell. Everything okay at the manor and the meeting?"
Smith managed a tired smile. "Family stuff. The usual."
Marcus studied him for a moment, his expression neutral but with that familiar flicker in his eyes. "You sure? You seem… off. Like you're carrying something heavy."
Smith shrugged. "Just tired. Long night studying."
Marcus clapped him on the shoulder. "Alright. Let me know if you need anything. I'm here."
The gesture was friendly, but Smith couldn't help wondering. 'Has Marcus always been like this? He suddenly feels so inquisitive… it's suspicious.' He thought, 'or is the tiredness making me more paranoid? Is this what the caller meant? Keeping judgement sharp.'
Later, as they entered the lecture hall, Jenny slipped into the seat beside Smith, her usual easy smile in place.
"You look exhausted," she said quietly. "Everything okay?"
Smith nodded. "Just a long night. University work."
She tilted her head, concern in her eyes. "You know you can talk to me if something's bothering you, right? Family stuff can be heavy."
Her voice was gentle, genuine. Smith felt a small warmth. Jenny was one of the few people who still felt normal. No hidden agendas. No games. Just a friend dealing with her own family troubles.
The lecture began, but Smith's mind wandered. He kept glancing at his phone, the caller's message burning in his memory. Noon at Uhuru Park. Alone.
By the time the lecture ended, his decision was made. He couldn't risk Hawthorne driving him. If Hawthorne was the mole, he couldn't let him know where he was going.
He slipped out of the hall early, avoiding Marcus and Jenny. Outside the gate, he hailed a tuktuk, the driver nodding when he gave the destination.
"Uhuru Park. Near the old monument. Fast as you can."
The tuktuk weaved through traffic, the wind whipping against Smith's face. He kept looking back, half-expecting to see the black sedan, or any signs of someone following. But there was nothing. Just the normal chaos of Nairobi.
As the park came into view, Smith's heart pounded. He wasn't sure if he was walking toward the answers… or further into manipulation. After getting out of the tuk-tuk and paying the driver, Smith moved toward the old monument and waited, hands in his pockets. Noon arrived quietly. People passed. Conversations drifted. Nothing happened. He checked his phone again. No new message. Minutes slipped by, and doubt began to creep in. Had he misunderstood the instruction? Or was this silence part of something he couldn't yet see? The uncertainty gnawed at him more than any direct threat could have.