Four

Chris notices that more people have come out of the house, and across the streets and all around him people had come out of their houses to witness what is happening.

A tall, dark, sultry woman in tight white jeans and a tight pink blouse pushes her way forward and comes to stand beside Effe. Her eyes are mean, and her lips are pressed together so angrily that they look like a dash of red line on her face.

She is Elaine Boateng, Effe's best friend and maid of honor at their wedding. She is a famous television presenter in the country.

It is quite evident that she hates Chris Bawa with a passion.

"You never learn, do you, Chris?" she hisses like a trapped mamba. "You chose today, of all days, to break out of prison? You decided to come and mess up your son's birthday? Did you even pause for a moment to consider the fact that you're now going to leave the poor boy distraught and heartbroken? You'll always be a pig, Chris!"

She is quite unprepared for the roar of fury from Junior.

"Stop it, Aunt Elaine!" the boy lends vent to a screaming retort. "Don't you call my Daddy a pig! What's the matter with you, Aunt Elaine? I really, really, really, don't like that!"

That shakes Elaine up, and she looks at the distraught boy with a contrite expression.

"Oh, Junior, I'm sorry, precious, but –"

The boy is acutely agitated, and his plaintiff voice cuts her off with brimming anger.

"Shut up, Aunty, please! Shut up, shut up, shutupshutupshutup!"

The boy's agitation tears into Effe, and with a muted cry she rushes to his side, drops to her knees and gathers him into her arms. He will not have it that way, and he struggles, his young heart going into a frenzy for the welfare of his father. He is evidently spooked by the sight of the police sedan.

"It's okay, my precious," Effe whispers, holding him tight and curling one hand at the back of his head. "It's okay, take it easy, darling. Don't stress yourself up this way, please!"

And across her son's shoulder, Effe's eyes drive into Chris like hot daggers.

The police sedan slows down and performs a perfect U-turn, and then it comes to a stop. The front doors open, and two uniformed burly cops come out with drawn guns which they aim instantly at Chris Bawa.

"Alright, Mr. Chris Bawa, you're coming with us," one says in a sharp voice. "Lemme see your hands up."

Junior is struggling furiously in his mother's arms now, his face acutely distressed.

"No, no, no!" he screams. "Don't take my daddy away! Please don't take my daddy away!"

Chris holds out a hand toward his son, but his hard eyes never leave the faces of the cops. When he speaks, his voice is calm enough, but it is laced with an undercurrent of fury.

"It's okay, Champ, it's okay," he says. "Calm down, son."

Junior stops struggling immediately at the sound of his father's voice, and gazes from his father to the cops with huge, frightened eyes. Already people are moving back quickly at the sight of the guns in the hands of the policemen.

The second policeman is flanking Chris on the right, and he speaks curtly.

"You heard the sergeant, Mr. Bawa! Get those hands up! Don't let this turn nasty!"

"You see kids all around and you come out with drawn guns?" Chris hisses furiously, his body tensed as he fights to keep himself under control. "For what, huh? It's my boy's birthday and I came to give him a present. Since when did that become a crime?"

"That is not a crime, mister," the first cop says with a smirk. "But your presence here is a crime. You just broke the law."

"Any law says I can't visit my son?" Chris asks, and again the fury is palpable in his voice.

He is finding it really hard keeping himself in check, trying to restrain himself from tearing the two fools apart for terrifying Junior that badly.

The second policeman speaks.

"Yes, Mr. Bawa. Your wife took a restraining order against you. You can't come within one thousand meters of her and her son. I'm not a very good judge of distances, but it seems to me you're pretty much breaking the law because I do believe you're less than ten meters away from them."

That shakes Chris Bawa.

It shakes him really hard.

He turns stunned eyes to Effe, and his eyes narrow with the sudden pain. When he speaks it is as if his big heart is breaking, and the devastation spills out of his voice.

"You took a restraining order against me? Why would you do a thing like that? I've never hit you, or ever put your life in any danger, Effe."

They stare at each other.

Effe has a haunted look in her eyes now. She can feel her son's petrified eyes on her, and a tortured look washes across her beautiful face. Twice she tries to speak, and twice her voice fails her. She sees the raw pain on Chris' face, and she notices how he suddenly seems to deflate a mite, his proud shoulders losing just a little height.

The twinge of guilt she feels suddenly makes her angry, and her gaze assumes a defiance she does not try to mask as she stares unwaveringly back at him.

The first cop gestures with his gun.

"Get those hands up, Mr. Chris Bawa," he says tersely. "I'm losing my patience here."

With an effort Chris tears his eyes off his wife and looks at the policemen.

"You got here pretty fast," he says softly. "She called you?"

That is when Elaine speaks again, and her voice is bitingly savage, filled with unbridled hatred and everything putrid.

"I called the police, Chris! You're a lawbreaker, and you broke jail! You're going back to prison where you belong, you bastard!"

Junior looks at Elaine, and then he begins to struggle in his mother's arms again.

"I really, really, really don't like you so much anymore, Aunt Elaine!" he screams, making Elaine shut up again with a little groan of remorse. "I really, really, really don't!"

"C'mon, Mr. Bawa!" the second cop says impatiently. "We ain't got the whole day!"

"Yeah, I'm coming with you," Chris says softly in a defeated voice. "But you don't put cuffs on me in front of my boy. I'm not taking that."

"Unbelievable!" Steve says scornfully. "Shouldn't you have thought of that before breaking jail, Chris?"

"You don't make any demands here, buddy," the first cop says rather rudely, evidently piqued by Chris' cold voice. "Slap the cuffs on him, Joe."

The second policeman holsters his gun and takes out a pair of shiny handcuffs.

He sees the way Chris' jaw tightens, and the evil glint that enters the huge man's eyes.

"Maybe I didn't make myself clear," Chris said, and his voice is now ice-cold, sinister and absolutely venomous, making the cops exchange sudden looks of unease. "I'm going with you, but you'll have to kill me before you put the cuffs on me."

There is a momentary silence filled with palpable menace, and then the second cop gives a shaky laugh and clips the handcuffs back to his belt.

"Come on then, Mr. Bawa," he says coldly. "We don't have the whole day."

Without another word Chris walks toward the police sedan. With a grunt of despair Junior breaks free from his mother's protective embrace and races to his father. He clamps his arms around Chris' legs and holds on tightly.

Chris fights the wave of passionate love that threatens to break his heart, and he drops to one knee and holds his son in his arms.

"Let me go with you, Daddy," Junior whispers, and his voice is a broken chord of agony. "Let me go to prison with you, please!"

And that is what finally breaks Chris Bawa.

His son's words cut him deeply, and they break his spirit. He cannot stop the tears that glimmer in his eyes this time, and he swallows painfully, forcing the bitter lump down.

"I'm not going to prison again, Champ," he says softly. "I do promise you that."

He reaches into his top pocket and brings out the small gift-wrapped box and holds it out to Junior.

The first policeman steps forward with a grunt of impatience, but his partner holds him back and shakes his head gently.

Junior is weeping silently as he unwraps the gift his father has brought him. Inside the box is a beautiful BEN 10 wristwatch. Without a word Junior pulls off the golden wrist watch around his wrist – given to him earlier by Steve – and drops it on the ground.

With tears streaming down his face, he extends his arm toward his father.

Chris gently fixes the watch around Junior's wrist, and then he stands up again.

He turns from his son without speaking because he cannot trust his voice anymore.

"Daddy!" he hears Junior's broken cry from behind him, but he does not turn.

"Daddy, don't go again, please!" the boy says tremulously. "I really, really, really, want you to stay!"

The tears shimmer wildly in Chris Bawa's eyes, but he does not stop or turn around. He opens the back door of the police sedan and gets in. The windows are lightly tinted, and he is grateful for that. No one will see his tears from the outside.

The policemen holster their guns and get into the car, and a second later the sedan moves away with its lights blinking. Thankfully for Chris, the siren is not wailing this time round, making him feel less of a criminal.