ICON OF THE FIGHT

Chapter 6

Dr Lance Mutsvodo sat cross-legged in a plush chair on one side of a massive oak desk, his professorial glasses hiding the amusement in his eyes as he watched and enjoyed the power game unfolding before him. Making sure to keep his expression appropriately humble, his incisive mind analysed each of the players.

From behind the desk, in a high- backed gilded seat with red velvet armrests, Air Chief Marshall Sol Komari glared at the two men in front of him. His stature alone was enough to instill fear in his subordinates. Tall and bulky with a bullet head, bloodshot eyes, a fist-sized nose and sausage-like lips, the former Defence Forces commander knew how to use his looks to full effect. The Power Room, as the presidential office was called, appeared small compared to the current resident. He exuded a larger than life aura so intense that the eight by five metres office seemed like a cubicle. The light from the huge chandeliers was dull compared to Komari's eyes. This building which housed the presidential offices might have been called Eagle's Castle, but the current president was more of a cat than bird.

Apparently, the recipients of the president's glare were feeling the power. Brigadier General Foombu, short and fat, his custom made dress uniform stretching over his potbelly, was sweating bullets as he battled to maintain a rigid stance in front of the desk. His multiple chins quavered and his eyes settled on everything thing and nothing.

He knows it's his end, Mutsvodo thought. What he doesn't know is that the president is like a malicious cat. And he is the unlucky mouse.

Beside the brigadier, Colonel Wally Jongwe stood at an easy attention. Though there was fear in his eyes, he kept his dark skinned face mostly deadpan, his eyes avoiding those of the president and staring at the back of the chair. His uniform clung to his tall and lean frame nicely and his shoes shone like polished silver.

"Incompetence," growled Komari, his gaze shifting from Foombu to Jongwe. "Thirty three rebels escaping unscathed from a military base. That's incredible, isn't it, Doctor?"

Mutsvodo shrugged without saying anything. It hardly mattered. Komari had that tendency to throw rhetorical questions at him, then going on unperturbed.

"And you two commanders are telling me that you haven't found a single one of them? That too is incredible. Helicopters, dogs and all the resources at your disposal, you haven't found a trail. Worse, neither of you has an explanation as to how it happened." He paused, then said, "Colonel, how could they have escaped?"

Foombu's gaze momentarily abandoned their fixation with the back of Komari's throne and slid down to face the president.

"Sir!" he said, his voice clear and firm. "The detention facility lacked adequate security. Only two sentries at the entrance and no roving guards. That, Your Excellency, is my opinion."

"And you knew all of this before today's unfortunate incident," the president said. "And you didn't act."

"I did what I could do, sir. I gave my recommendations to my superior officer three months ago, and since then I have made numerous follow-ups. Every time, I was assured my suggestions were being considered."

Mutsvodo saw the twitch of the president's mouth and thought, Here it comes.

Komari said, "Your superior officer?"

Jongwe squared his shoulders and let out a deep breath. "My direct superior commander. Brigadier General Foombu."

Mutsvodo suppressed a chuckle. At the mention of his name, Foombu started shaking visibly.

"Ah, Brigadier," Komari fixed his laser like stare at Foombu, "so it is you. .."

"Sir, I…I…I can explain." Foombu made the mistake of interrupting.