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[size=15pt]Fixgoo's bakery Fiction bakery Fixgoo's bakery[/size]

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This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and
dialogues are products of the writer's imagination and are not
to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or
person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All right reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced
or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior
permission of the copyright holder.

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CHAPTER ONE

Location - Bogota, Columbia.

A middle aged woman stepped through the doors of a suburban customs shop barely reading the sign at the front. She walked quickly trying to rush before her window of opportunity to participate in the play and win raffle was shut down because of lateness. She was probably a tourist from her dressing wearing an oversized green Hawaiian shirt on a pair of jean shorts with a camera dangling on the ends of a leather belt from her neck, her face looked red and plastic from the excess application of blush.

There was a marble counter against the wall, behind it was a clerk busy checking coupons with a pencil, he strained his eyes on his glasses to get better looks on the yellow slips of paper. He must have been at it for a long time and seemed focus. In front of the counter was a boy Janitor laboring to scrub the floor sparkling clean. None of them bothered to give the woman face, as far as they were concerned, business was over for the day.

The woman walked up to the counter and produced a coupon which she tried handing over to the clerk, he didn't take it. Instead he continued with his work as if nothing happened. Her hand stretched out even more nudging the clerk with the paper, she wasn't giving up easily, the clerk began to lose his patience and decided to release pent up anger from hours of work.

"Can't you read, We are closed. I don't work overtime madame, this is the last batch I'm doing. I'm I the only one who has a job? Why is it that I should not go home to my family!" barked the clerk in a fierce voice. The woman was down cast, a smile appeared as she got a brilliant idea. Indeed the saying that a hungry man is an angry man was true.

Her hand reached into the deepest parts of a purse and came out with a wad of bank notes which she waved in his face teasing me.

"How about something for the family when you do this thing for me" urged the woman tempting him to take the huge tip. He couldn't resist, the janitor even stopped scrubbing and was getting jealous. Just then it came to the clerk's mind to ask her why she was willingly to give away that sum of money on a gamble.

"That's really kind of you but do you believe you will win the play and win raffle. A lot of people believe they can and end up dissapointed every year" said the clerk trying not to sound as if he didn't want the tip.

"A seer told me that I would win the all expense paid trip to Dubai" she replied. The clerk motioned for her to handover the money but she told him to take care of the coupon first.

"Okay miss...Jocasta, let me get a file first" said the clerk reading her name from the yellow slip given to him, it sounded familiar but he never cared, all he thought about was the tip, he even imagined dollar signs glittering on his eyes as if he was a cartoon flash. He dropped it before going in towards a shelf with papers stacked on it.

It was now or never, Jocasta's eyes shifted to a well wrapped toaster that was one of the several consolation prices. She grabbed it and made for the doors, the janitor tried to block her way.

The clerk stared at the coupon before realising it was a used one, it was just a distraction to shoplift the toaster.

"Thief! Thief!" He screamed starting a chase. The body of the janitor crashed out of the shop into the pavement, resultant of a powerful jab to the jaw.

She backed out of the shop as fast as possible before bolting away like a gazelle in the direction of the east with the toaster, the clerk sweated as he tried to catch up, he was losing his breath. The distance between them continued to increase, the clerk stopped, panting. Jocasta disappeared into a bend, She thought she had lost the clerk, how wrong. She collided with a couple of men with strong faces wearing hats on brown uniforms, the cold nozzles of some pistols stuck out of a holster on their belts- They were sheriff.

The clerk appeared in full view on reaching the bend.

"Don't let her get away, She's a shoplifter" announced the clerk resting his palms on his knees. One of the sheriffs pushed the woman against a nearby wall before handcuffing her.

"It might be a lesser crime, but a few weeks in jail should chill you out, won't it?" whispered the sheriff into her ears before whisking her into the back seat of a police cruiser, she tried to free herself. It was no use, the door was slammed in her face. The sheriff joined his comrade at the shotgun before they drove off headed for the precinct with sirens wailing.

Three blind beggars came round the corner of the intersection and moved slowly down the pavement towards the four cars. They were bowed by their hunchbacks as they shuffled along, tapping at the kerb with their white sticks. They walked in file. The first man, who wore blue glasses and could presumably see better than the others, walked in front holding a tin cup against the crook of the stick in his left hand. The right hand of the second man rested on his shoulder and the right hand of the third on the shoulder of the second. The eyes of the second and third men were shut. The three men were dressed in rags and wore dirty jippa-jappa baseball caps with long peaks. They said nothing and no noise came from them except the soft tapping of their sticks as they came slowly down the shadowed pavement towards the group of cars. The three blind men would not have been incongruous in Kingston, where there are many diseased people on the streets, but, in this quiet rich empty street, they made an unpleasant impression.

Max and the Brigadier -Dominic Patel were holed up inside the Klub's cardroom deeply engrossed in a game, Max's hand reached out into the green pool of the centre table and gathered up some four cards. There was a quiet snap as the trick went to join the rest. "Ah...Wrong move," said Max, "that cost me Fifty thousand naira!" He looked at his watch and stood up. they had been at it for hours as if it was a duel, he needed to clear his head and maybe grab some luck. "Back in twenty minutes. Your deal, Dominic. Order some drinks. Usual for me. Don't bother to cook a hand for me while I'm gone. I always spot them."

The Brigadier, laughed shortly. He pinged the bell by his side and raked the cards in towards him. He said, "Hurry up, blast you. You always let the cards go cold just as your partner's in the money." Max was already out of the door. The three men sat back resignedly in their chairs. The coloured steward came in and they ordered drinks for themselves and a whisky mixed with Hewitt's Vineyard and water for Max. There was this maddening interruption again about halfway through their second rubber. Max had to go to the 'closet' and 'make a call'. It was a damned nuisance. But Dominic understood because they were almost co-workers. Their job was 'hush' and that was that. He was rarely away for more than twenty minutes receiving private briefings on their next mission and his role in it. He returned with an new expression that somebody had when there was excitement before informing Dominic to contact the other four, their mission was about to begin.

A vehicle drove into the parking lot of the Actis at a dangerous speed before screeching to a stop along the other side. One of the usual street blind beggars quickly moved out of the way with his alms avoiding the wrath of the driver behind the wheels of the black J5 van. Five grown men wearing maintenance outfit including the driver alighted carrying a rather large tool box.

They were sworn members of the Jihadist sect Al-Basil, a dreaded terrorist group hell bent on reinstating a sharia-led islamic caliphate in the country. This was Abbas second mission in the company of his brothers. He was tall in his early fourties and had a lot of beard and facial hair.

They entered the building through the revolving door, there was no security man at the entrance whatsoever. They split up. Abbas went with two men while two patrolled about the entrance keeping a lookout. They entered one of the halls before locating a room with a big iron door. DANGER! and ONLY AUTHORISED PERSONNEL was written across it in bold red letters, this was it. Abbas instructed the two men to redirect anybody coming while he worked on the door. He brought a long curved needle out of the tool box and shoved it into the keyhole, turning it systematically a few times and picking the lock.

A fair complexioned Police woman with long brown hair, probably in her early thirties with 'Kim' written on her name tag approached them to inquire of their business. One of the men was quick to answer.

"Just repairs, the light has been fluctuating for some time" he said, speaking softly with a hausa accent. Kim was rather inquisitive and requested to see the tool box. Abbas wasn't going to take any chances, she had a walkie-talkie and could easily summon some backup.

He slid the tool box on the floor towards Kim. As she bent down to take a look, Abbas drew his knife but Kim was faster. She brought her head down low in a duck and the blade grazed past her hair. She stumbled backwards heavily with on purpose with her elbows out. She knocked into them.

Block, block, Jab. She cupped her fingers into a fist and struck Abbas in the gut. Abbas embraced her tight, blood flowed freely from her back. She tried to speak but couldn't as her body went into shock wirh the knife deep inside. The blood messed up the well polished floor. There was nobody around so Abbas opened the door to the room and dragged her inside.

"Make sure nobody comes, and clean up the mess, i have a job to do" He said, the door creaked and closed behind him. There was a 250 KVA plant along with fuel supply tanks screwed to the floor. He retrieved an explosive device and some tools from the toolbox and began wiring it into the plant. Before he could finish, the cold nozzle of a Beretta 92 Fs pistol was placed against his forehead by one of the two men who rappeled downwards through a hole in the decked ceiling. They were wearing Balaclavas that covered their face and Tight black body suits.

He instinctively raised up one hand so that Dominic could search him. Max steadied his hands on the gun aiming at the legs. Abbas was quick to take advantage of this. Dominic slipped his hand inside the overall and frisked. He could feel tubes...He looked at Max who nodded. He tore off the cloth revealing a fine row of bombs. Abbas raised up the other hand revealing a trigger.

"Calm down" motioned Max carefully walking back. Abbas didn't, he pushed the trigger

so no comments good or bad (silence kills)