In Tracy’s office two days later, she and Ted sit pensively with the lie detector on the table between them. They had just listened to the recording for the third time and it is obvious that Vicky was not lying when she denied any knowledge of the existence of the Chibok papers. Unless the three girls they have interviewed so far are such consummate liars that can fool even a machine as accurate and as unemotional as a lie detector, there is something not right about the whole investigation, something more underhand than meets the eye.

“I got a feeling something aint right about this matter, Captain,” says Ted, unconsciously tapping the table with the forefinger of his right hand.

“Me, too, Ted,” replies Tracy. “My gut feeling is we’re on a wild goose chase. It’s as if somebody somewhere has the key to this whole matter and is sitting somewhere laughing as we run about like stupid fools. We still have four more subjects to investigate. Let’s hope for a lucky break somewhere sometimes soon.”

“Yeah. But that’s just a part of my worry, Captain.”

“I know. The reception parties, right?”

“Yeah, Captain. We’ve been to three different countries at three different times. Yet, a reception party was always there to deter us from carrying out our mission. It’s obvious somebody somewhere is monitoring our every move. How’s that possible, Captain?”

“I’m puzzled, Ted. There are only two of us. I alone pick our mission at random without reference to our principal. He’s a tested and trusted client, and we’re not about to sabotage our investigation and lose reputation and income. Yet, somebody somewhere knows our every move. I don’t find that funny, Ted.”

“Me, neither, Captain.”

Both remain pensive for a while. Ted’s finger continues to tap on the table while Tracy stares unseeingly into a space above Ted’s head. Suddenly, Ted jumps up.

“Jeez!” he exclaims in a horrified whisper.

“What, Ted?”

“A bug. There must be a bug in this office!”

“Good God! We never thought about that.”

Galvanized by fear, Tracy brings out a small handheld bug detector from the top drawer of her file cabinet and frantically sweeps the room. It is clean. Next they sweep Ted’s office and the reception. Both are also clean. Paranoid, they sweep the toilet too without finding the trace of any listening device. Still unsatisfied, they call a friend who is a professional debugger and he comes in with his team to sweep all the rooms in T & T. The result is still negative. There is no bugging device in their establishment. At five o’clock, both depart for their homes no wiser and more worried than before.

***

It comes to Tracy around eight in the evening as she lies on her sofa waiting for David to pick her up. They plan to eat at a new restaurant Downtown and from there go to a live Jazz performance in the university auditorium. Tracy plans to spend the rest of the night in David’s flat, one way or another. David is to pick her up at eight-thirty for their dinner appointment. The Jazz performance is not starting until ten, time enough for them to dine at leisure and still get to the campus for the performance. As she relaxes on her sofa, sipping a glass of wine, she suddenly recollects a conversation she had with David shortly before her trip to Taiwan:

“I’ll see you when I come back from Taiwan. Don’t look at another woman in my absence!” she had said.

“Really, Trace? You’ll need to put a blindfold on my eyes seeing I work in a university,” Dave had responded.

“So?”

“It’s a woman’s world out there, Trace. And in my department there are five female students to a male. Wonderful, gorgeous ladies!”

“Shut up!” shouted Tracy in mock-anger. “Any woman that looks at you anyhow in my absence will get an ice pick in her brain when I return.”

“So you’re now Captain Ice Pick!”

Both had broken into laughter at his last remark.

Tracy breaks into a cold sweat when the recollection comes to her. Before she could ponder on the painful recollection, however, another incident thrusts itself in her memory.

She was walking arm in arm with David on the sandy beach in Ohio when she suddenly blurts out:

“Oh, shit! We can’t meet tomorrow, Dave. I got to go to Paris on assignment.”

“Not to worry, love. We’ll go dancing anytime you return.”

And then another recollection flashed into her brain. It happened just before she travelled to South Africa. Dave was driving her back to her flat when she observed:

“I should be back from Johannesburg before the concert, Dave.”

“Fine. I’ll buy the tickets tomorrow.”

Tracy is stunned. She cannot believe she committed those unprofessional blunders. She begins to walk up and down her living room, kicking herself mentally for making such amateurish mistakes. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have been so unprofessional? I can’t believe I did those … those gaffes, like a rookie investigator. Jesus! This man’s got me wrapped round his little finger like a virgin on her first date! Oh my God, what have I done? She slumps back into the sofa, holding her head as if afflicted by a sudden attack of migraine.

“Does it mean that Dave is a spy?” a voice intrudes into her mind.

“No! No!” she shouts aloud. “It’s not possible. No! No! No!”

Just then David knocks at the door. Tracy has no time to reflect on the troubling thought. She composes herself somewhat and goes to open the door for her lover.

“Ready, love?” says David, giving his lover a peck on the cheek.

“Sure, Dave. Let’s go.”

She grabs her handbag from the sofa and follows her lover out of the flat. As they are about to enter the car, David suddenly asks: “Any problem, Trace? Your face is not as cheerful as it used to be.”

“No, no problem, Dave. Must be the pressure of work, love.”

“Poor babe,” says David stroking her cheek fondly. He opens the door for her to enter, and then gets behind the wheel. He gradually eases the car into the evening traffic.

***

As soon as they enter into the new restaurant, David and Tracy develop misgivings about the place. The restaurant is located in an old section of town that is populated by low income earners and the down-and-out. The restaurant itself is all right: bright new paints, shiny new furniture, sparkling cutlery and plates etc. etc. But the patrons do not look genteel, with one big guy obviously inebriated with whisky. The lovers are still taking in the visuals when a waiter materialises beside them.

“Want a table, Sir?”

“Yes, please,” replies David.

“Follow me, please.”

David and Tracy obey. As the waiter leads them past the drunk’s table, he lungs out and pats Tracy’s buttock.

“Nice arse, baby,” he says with a sly smile. “Won’t mind a piece of the cake!”

Instinctively, Tracy raises her hand to give the drunk a karate chop on his beefy neck. But before the blow could land, David blocks it and holds her hand in a vice-like grip. Had the blow landed, the big guy would probably be dead by now.

“Cool it, Trace!” cautions David. “You want to kill him?”

Tracy is stunned by the strength in David’s hand which is able to hold her hand immobile. More than that, she is shocked by his speed and skill in countering her karate move. She looks at him questioningly but relaxes and allows herself to be shepherded away from the scene.

“Sorry about that, Ma’am?” apologises the waiter as they continue towards a corner table. “I’ll get the bouncer to throw him out.”

Unknown to them, the drunk is not finished with Tracy. He lungs up from the chair and rushes to grab Tracy’s buttocks again. Fortunately, David perceives his movement from the corner of his eyes and turns to face him. In a classic Judo throw down, he grabs the drunk’s right hand with his left, his right hand grabs the drunk’s shirt; he slams his body onto the on-rushing body of the drunk and heaves. The drunk flies over David’s head and is slammed on the floor with a shattering impact. He stays down, completely winded and in shocked disbelief. Two bouncers rush over and drag him out of the restaurant. For the second time that night, Tracy looks at David with dumbfounded surprise.

“Let’s get outta here, Trace!”

She follows him out meekly. They enter the car and David zooms off. Instinctively, he heads for the campus and stops at a restaurant on the university road. They have dined here before and are sure of its patrons and service. All through the drive from Downtown, none of them spoke a word. As David parks in front of the restaurant, Tracy looks at him with wonder and says:

“Who are you, David Adams, a professor or a black belt Judoka?”

David smiles. “Maybe both.”

“Really?”

“You’re not the only one with a martial arts mother, Trace.”

“What! You mother also is a martial arts teacher?”

“Was,” replies David softly.

“Was? What do you mean, Dave?”

David lapses into silence for a while.

“She … she’s dead.”

“Oh my God!” exclaims Tracy. “I’m sorry, David. I shouldn’t have probed.”

David remains silent for a while, trying to bring his emotions under control. It is obvious to Tracy that the memory is quite fresh and the circumstances of his mother’s death are still traumatic to David. Tracy is filled with sudden remorse.

“To put the records straight, Tracy, Mum only taught me up to age six. Thereafter Dad enrolled me in different martial arts schools all through my elementary and high school years. He was hoping I would go to West Point and like you obtain a military commission. I disappointed him by choosing to study literature at Harvard. I’m not sure he has entirely forgiven me. More to the point, I was in some martial clubs all through college but was never serious enough to obtain a black belt. Curiosity satisfied?”

“Somewhat.”

“Okay, let’s go eat.” He makes the move to go out but Tracy holds him back.

“I don’t feel like eating out again. In fact, I don’t feel like going anywhere again tonight.”

“I’m sorry for taking you to that new place, Trace. I thought some variety would spice up our evening. So what would you like to do the rest of the evening?”

“If you don’t mind, let’s go to my flat. I can cook you a good dinner. I’m a wonderful cook even if I say so myself.”

“I’ll be glad to give it a try,” replies David starting the engine and engaging the gear.

“A trial will convince and confuse you!” jokes Tracy mischievously. Both laugh and David heads for his lover’s flat.

Two hours later after a wonderful dinner, Tracy and David sit sipping their drinks as they listen to Jazz covers of some popular Rhythm and Blue hits. They kiss intermittently, and when Tracy feels David is sufficiently aroused, she excuses herself and goes to her bedroom. She comes out some minutes later clad only in her slip and a completely see-through nightie that shows off her maddeningly tantalising figure and bouncy busts. With a seductive smile on her face, she cat-walks to the sofa and stands in front of David, inviting him with her will and eyes to do with her as he pleases. David is so shocked by the perfect feminine beauty before him that the glass cup falls from his hand and he reaches out to touch Tracy’s breast. He suddenly withdraws his hand as if stung by a bee. He puts his head between his knees and covers his head with his arms.

“Come on, macho man. Don’t keep a lady waiting.”

“Can’t, Trace,” David mumbles, still hiding his head between his knees.

“Why? Come on, Dave. Show me how much you love me.”

Instead of responding, David begins to sob. Alarmed, Tracy forgets her ploy and holds her lover while he sobs. “I’m sorry, baby. I wasn’t thinking. Forgive me.”

“I can’t, Trace, you look too much like her!”

“Like who, Dave? Your mother?”

“No. My wife!”

“Oh my God! You have a wife, Dave?”

“Had. She died along with my Mum?”

“Jesus Christ! I’m sorry, Dave.” She holds him in her arms until the spasm of sobbing subsides. He manages to lift himself up to a sitting position. “How … how did both of them die, Dave, an accident?”

“No,” says David in a whisper. “They were both murdered!”

“Oh my God!”

David begins to sob again, and there is nothing for Trace to do but hold him in her arms.

***

Two days later, Tracy is on the phone discussing with her mother the latest development in the relationship between her and David.

“You were right, mum. I need to be extremely patient with David. He is going through things that are more serious than sexual relations, Mum.”

“I’m glad you took my advice. Just be patient and all problems will be resolved.”

“Mum?”

“Yeah, Baby.”

“He is going through two personal tragedies that have enveloped his soul in perpetual grief although he covers it all up with a smiling face.”

“That sounds heavy, Baby. What happened to him?”

“His wife and mother were murdered on the same day!”

“O my God! When … how?”

“I don’t know the details yet, Mum. I just found out day before yesterday.”

“Poor, baby. Must have been quite devastating to lose two loved ones at once under such circumstances. Have the murderers been brought to justice?”

“He didn’t say, but I got this feeling that the murders are still unresolved.”

“My heart goes to him, Baby. It’s all so, so sad.”

“Yeah. And I’ve been too self-centred to notice his pain. I feel like kicking myself for being so insensitive.”

“It’s okay, Baby. There was no way you could have known.” Mother and daughter fall silent for a while. “Did you know he had a wife?”

“No. Although I often wondered how such a handsome and responsible guy like David could have remained a bachelor in this day and age. I even searched his apartment to find out if he had any girlfriend.”

“Baby! That was reckless.”

“I know, Mum.”

“If he caught you, that would have been the end of your relationship.”

“But I was intrigued and desperate to know my rival, Mum. When I brought the topic up jokingly during one of our outings, the pain that flashed across his face was so vivid I had to apologise for asking such an impertinent question. I didn’t understand then. Now I do. I was unknowingly tearing up a barely healed wound! You know what, Mum!”

“Yeah?”

“He showed me a photo of his late wife yesterday. And … and…”

“And what, Baby?”

“She looked exactly like me! Just a little older and plumper.”

“Good God! No wonder he’s found it difficult to be sexually intimate with you. You remind him too much of his murdered wife. Be very, very patient with him until he comes round by himself. Okay?”

“Okay, Mum.”

“What about children? Did she leave any child behind?”

“That’s the saddest part of the story, Mum. She was carrying their first baby in her womb when she was murdered.”

“O my God! Tell me no more, Baby.”

Tracy’s mother hangs up abruptly. Tracy also puts down her cell phone on the sofa beside her and lays her head on the backrest. She sits like that for a while, unaware of the tears rolling down her face.