Silhouette

LX

Springfield Memorial hospital stands aglow, a blazing beacon of light in the cool evening air. Charles and Yemi park a few metres away from the gate. Up ahead a police squad car idles, three officers lean against the side of the car facing the hospital, chatting amongst themselves.

Charles takes his gun, checks the catridge, slides it into his shoulder holster. He nods at Yemi and together they exit the car, make for the gate. They join a group of paramedics entering the hospital. The policemen are young, rookies. Charles hopes they won't be a problem.

They walk past the main entrance and the waiting area. Yemi flashes a nurse a smile. "Accidents and Emergencies, please," he says. The nurse points at somewhere. Yemi thanks her, goes across the hall, turns a corner. "I'll check the emergency unit," he says. "You start from the third floor. Whether Dave Coker is badly hurt or not, they would want to keep him as far away as possible from anyone."

Charles nods, takes the stairs to the top floor. A warm thrill runs down his body. He feels almost lightheaded. For a moment he reckons he could pretend this was the old days and he was running an operation for the SIA. But he knows better; there is no more SIA, and if he is caught he would be nothing but a gun-wielding civilian.

He takes the nearest hallway. There are doors on both sides of him, white with the numbers painted black. He peeps into the window of each room he passes. He sees a family of three in one, in another is a young girl in a cast, in the last room is an old amputee.

He ascends one step and at the end of the hall is a policeman, armed, obviously keeping watch. Charles keeps walking, the policeman has sighted him. He bursts into the nearest room, an apology ready on his lips, but it is thankfully empty.

He peers out of the window and at the street below as he places a call to Yemi. Tries to gauge how far a jump it is. The window faces a back alley of sorts and the ground is asphalt, still wet from the rain. A long way down.

"Have you found him?" Yemi asks.

"Yes, third floor. There is an armed guard."

"I would be surprised if there isn't one."

"There is an alley behind the hospital. I can see it from the window in of the rooms here."

"Where are you?"

"Second floor," says Charles. "First room by your right."

Charles tries to guage the height of the drip, probably thirty metres or more. He sighs, looks around the room, the toilet and the closet for a long piece of rope, but the room is empty, just the large bed and white sheets with 'Springfield Memorial' emblazoned on it.

Yemi comes in, closes the door after him. "Those officers are downstairs chatting up with some nurses. We can't take Dave out through there," he says.

"The only way is through this window," says Charles. He looks at the bed sheet, it seems strong enough, voluminous. He rips it off the bed, finds there is another sheet beneath it. An idea forms in his head. He holds the sheets up to Yemi.

Yemi grimaces. "No." He looks out the window, turns back to Charles, scoffs. "I hope it holds."

"It will." Charles ties together the two ends of the sheets. He flings it across the room, it reaches the door with several spare yards in his hands. "Let's go get him."

They exit the room together, walk down the hallway. The officer standing before the door at the end watches them approach. Charles watches his posture, watches the hand holding the AK-47. He hasn't raised the firearm yet, nor has he cocked it.

Yemi approaches with a wide grin on his face. Charles is behind him. Yemi spreads his arms wide. "Oga police," he says. "Na the pharmacy I dey look for." Yemi does not stop until he is almost toe to toe with the officer, forces the officer to take a step back, then two. Charles looks casually at the glass, and he sees a man chained to the bed. He looks away again, flashes the officer a smile though his heart is racing.