City of Saints & Thieves

He leans forward, like he’s going to tell me a juicy secret. “Step three,” he continues. “Blood.”


I roll my wrists, trying to work the wires without him noticing. “Mr. Omoko, I know I’m in trouble here, but can we talk about all this? I mean, I don’t think step three is really necessary, and—”

“What’s to talk about?” Omoko says. “Step three is the best part. I know you wanted to do it yourself, but picture this: Once all the cash transfers are secured, he takes off in his helicopter with his son. Then—” Omoko holds his finger up, pausing for effect. He mimes putting a rocket launcher to his shoulder and pulling the trigger. “Bwooosh. We blow them out of the sky.” He gestures grandly. “It’ll be dramatic.”

I can’t take my eyes off Omoko’s face. Has he always sounded this crazy? Or have I just been so wrapped up in my plot that I never noticed? I have to get out of here. I keep rubbing my wrists together, trying to see if I can squeeze out one of my hands.

“Mr. Omoko,” I say, trying for my best rational voice, “Mr. Greyhill isn’t quite as bad as I thought. I’ve learned things since I’ve been here. I was wrong—he didn’t kill my mother.”

“Oh, I know.”

I stop moving. “You do? How do you know?”

Something is tickling my brain. My body is buzzing with it, some realization that is just on the edge of my understanding. I stare at Omoko.

“Because I killed her,” he says matter-of-factly.

For a moment, nothing moves. The words settle outside of me, sinking in slowly, like he’s speaking in another language.

I killed her.

He killed my mother.

Blood rushes to my head.

He murdered her. He is the man in the video.

“Tina, are you listening?” Mr. Omoko snaps in front of my face. “That fool priest killed all your brain cells,” he grumbles. He smacks me lightly on the side of my face, and I jump and gasp, my whole body suddenly zinging with adrenaline.

He looks me in the eye. “I’m telling you this because I want you to understand me. As you can now see, you do not get away from me if I don’t want you to. You do not get away if you wrong me. Especially if, like your mother, you’re some village girl, thinking she can make bargains that destroy everything I worked so hard to build.”

I realize I am not breathing. When I start, it comes in massive gulps, like I’ve had the wind knocked out of me. “Are you Number Two?” I manage.

He makes a face. “I never liked that name. But yes, once I was Mr. Greyhill’s Number Two.”

“But that means . . . you’re . . .”

Omoko fixes his eyes back on me. “Yes,” he says, with an edge of impatience. “Do you get it now? I’m your father.”

I am slipping; I hear him say it, but it’s like he’s talking to some other girl while I watch. I did know it. Of course I did; that is the logical conclusion to all of this. But it’s as if something inside of me had been holding this information back, not letting me get there yet. It’s too much.

“Any other person sitting where you are would be dead by now,” he says. “I am angry with you for running off. Of course I am. But I’ve taken care of you this long, and I’m not going to kill you now. I just want you to know that I am capable of it.”

His words pull me out of my stupor. “Taken care of me?” My voice is barely a whisper. “What are you talking about?”

“Why do you think Bug Eye brought you into the Goondas, eh? Not because he cared what happened to you. Because I told him to find you. And why do you think you weren’t put out on the streets with the other girls? Why did you get away with being cheeky? With being different?”

His face is so close that I can see the tiny web of veins in his eyes. “You never noticed that you were treated better than the others? You think it was because Bug Eye and those idiots liked you?” He laughs. “That’s not how it works, Christina.”

It’s all lies.

My whole life is built on lies.

I swallow hard. “You killed my mother.”

“Your mother told Greyhill I was stealing from him.”

“But why did you have to kill her?” I gasp.

He looks at me like I am slow. “Christina, in this business, your reputation is everything. What would I be if I let a woman spoil things and walk away?” He waits, making sure I get it. “She was tricky, your mother. You have to give her that, going and telling Greyhill my secrets in exchange for protection from me. It took some time, but I found a way to teach them both the lesson they had to learn.”

I try desperately to get my breath. “You tortured my mother. You raped her. I’m only here because of what you did.” I feel myself coming unhinged, separating from my body. “Wasn’t that enough?”

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