The last episode of Blood Island was published in July. I quietly stopped the series because, at the time, Corpers Lodge was in its climax and people were treating Sade as second choice. Sade is first love, how dare you treat her less! Corpers Lodge has since burned out and the ashes have been mercifully poured into the Niger. I bring back Sade to the centre of the stage, where she belongs. To refresh your mind on the drama so far, read episodes six and seven here and here . Or just go on and read this; the most important thing is that Sade is back, to kick some fresh ass, what else? I need you to give Sade a befitting welcome in the comment section. I am usually not sentimental about comments. But with Sade, I am a little touchy. Let’s go.
Valencia smiled as she replaced the receiver of the telephone. Sade was coming for her, Agent Doe had whispered. This piece of news had accelerated blood pressures in three continents and brought unpleasant thoughts of the graveyard. Valencia was expected to cower and begin to run for cover. Even as he leaked the secret to her, her informer’s voice reeked of raw fear that was almost reverend. But he didn’t know Valencia. She was the last person to run away from another human being. She had clashed with Sade two days back in Cameroon and had subdued Sade as easily as putting a corpse in a body bag. If Sade decided to pay her a visit then Sade would get a befitting welcome. This time around, the result of their confrontation, she was sure, would be final.
Valencia made for a window and drew the curtain aside. She watched the floodlit driveway lined with a canopy of trees in both sides. The bungalow had been a colonial residence. When Valencia was given this apartment she didn’t like it, its extra-spacious sitting room and countless bedrooms which had suited the ruling Spaniards, who usually entertained, had bored and annoyed her. But after six years of living here, she had grown sentimental about it, and almost loved it. But things had suddenly changed, Colonel Hector was dead and the new head of state, Air Vice Marshal Douglas was not a friend. He must be interested in removing the Russian satellites from Camus Island. But he was a coward. Rather than demand for her arrest and interrogation, he befriended the alien Sade and sent her after Valencia.
Valencia had only one option. Leave Camus Island. South Africa was a good destination to hide. But first, she must kill Sade. That would be her last perfect gift to the world of espionage.
Someone in the Russian Embassy was making a phone call. The instructions were in short, clipped Russian and twice the name Sade was mentioned.
Valencia had now packed to her taste and was now ready to take her bath when a smash on the gate broke into her consciousness. She ran to the the window. A fast moving jeep sped down the driveway. Sade was here! Blood pumped into Valencia’s face; she ran into the bedroom, snatched out a drawer and fetched her HAZARD Special Automatic. As she made back into the sitting room, the car crashed on the wall. Valencia dropped to her knees behind a couch, her pistol ready. She waited. Nothing happened. She was the hunted. There was no need for her to hurry. Let Sade play the next card.
She heard the noise of a gun head on a window glass, she turned, firing thrice on the window, on reflex, shattering glass. Then silence. She waited. Her breathing, notches high.
The breaking of the glass of the next window brought Valencia around to it, shooting twice. A thousand pieces of glass on the floor was the only visible result. Valencia waited, dead alert. The earth stood on its toes, silence filled the room with steel. Valencia with tout muscles and dripping forehead, waited, unblinking.
The door handle snapped, Valencia fired twice on the door, and waited. The handle kicked again, she fired three times. She half-expected Sade to fall and cry out from a bullet wound. Instead the first window shook, Valencia firearm reported twice. Her breathing was loaded as though she breathed in lead and breathed out iron. Then the keyhole began an urgent juggling, Valencia made to fire but her heart sank as she discovered the whole trick. She had run out of bullets. The door pushed open and Sade walked in calmly, like a nurse dropping in to see a favoured patient.
‘You bitch,’ Valencia hailed.
‘The only reason you are still standing on your feet is because I am a bitch. I am lenient when dealing with co-bitches. But don’t push me.’
‘What do you want?’
Valencia gave Sade a long evil eye and made her decision. Sade held her pistol by her hip pocket. I can surprise her. She rushed at Sade with the agility of a lioness. Sade lowered her head and thrust forward, slamming her forehead on Valencia’s midriff. Valencia crashed her back on the floor, her abdominal cavity on fire.
Sade grabbed Valencia on the hair and drew her face level with hers. ‘I am here over the Russian satellites. I need to know where they’re operating from?’
‘Go to hell,’ Valencia said.
Sade grinned knowingly. She would force the information from the former when she had to. She knew all about Valencia’s famous diary. If Valencia knew about the Russian satellites, her diary would know. Sade got hold of Valencia’s hand and handcuffed it on a foot of her couch. Sade entered the bedroom.
The first thing she saw was the large unmade bed, near which lay two suitcases. The makeup table was vacant. Sade’s eyes fell on the chest of drawers. She made for it, flung them open. No diary. She turned to the suitcases.
The sound of a car ignition starting set Sade’s eyes popping. She snatched out her pistol as she ran into the sitting room. Valencia was gone. She got the door opened and saw the jeep speeding towards the gate. ‘No!’ Sade ran after the car. It was useless. The car passed the gate and was gone. Sade was so mad at herself she slammed her knees on the gravels. It was a stupid mistake to make. She had handcuffed Valencia on the foot of the couch, but the piece of furniture was thinner than the circle of the cuff! All Valencia did was lift the furniture up and go free with the cuffs. Sade bit her lip and cursed herself.
A faint sound of aircraft swayed Sade’s attention, then gradually grabbed it as it ascended in volume. The plane was too low for comfort. It suddenly dawned on Sade. She dived towards the lineup of trees, making to hug one. Valencia’s house exploded into an inferno of concrete, wood, nails, steel and destruction. Poor Sade, even she couldn’t outrun a bomb. The blast wave struck her, the initial force of the shock wave knocked her down, flinging her deep into the trees in secondary fragmentation. Then, blackout.