Gorilla Republic: Deutschland: Part 15
22nd January 2025
Dragging herself out of the car seat was nothing short of agony for Banou. The Opel Commodore had mercilessly sapped her endurance, leaving her sore and stiff. Another day on those torturous seats loomed large. Before dawn broke, they stationed the car at a discreet vantage point near the house where they had last seen the old man.
Mapacha had parked strategically behind a sleek black Mercedes, watching intently while Banou, unbothered by his silent vigil, sank into a deep, rhythmic snore beside him. Her displeasure at the early hour was palpable, even in her sleep. For Mapacha, the next four hours stretched out tortuously, an endless symphony of her snores and an empty street.
At precisely 10 AM, the Audi rolled up with the old man emerging, dressed in an ankle-length light brown overcoat that fluttered slightly in the morning breeze, paired with tailored grey slacks and polished black shoes.
“Banou, wake up,” Mapacha barked, nudging her shoulder with just enough force to rouse her from slumber. “Tell me if that looks like him.”
Banou glared at him, her disdain for his methods flashing briefly before she grabbed the field glasses. Squinting, she focused on the man, noting his gait and features.
“I do not know, Mapacha,” she muttered, her voice thick with sleep. “He does not look like the sketch.”
“Look at the nose. His ears too,” Mapacha insisted. “He is older now, but that is him. I know it.”
She peered again, but the old man had already entered the car. She sighed and shrugged.
“Fine. If you are sure, let us follow and see where it leads.”
The Audi glided away with effortless precision, and Mapacha eased the Opel into pursuit. Banou glanced at him, marvelling at his patience. They tailed the car to the spa, where the old man disappeared inside, leaving them in a two-hour stalemate. Banou’s impatience bubbled beneath the surface, but Mapacha sat unflinching.
When the man finally re-emerged, he embarked on a mundane errand spree, first a bakery, then a butchery, and finally a pharmacy, where he lingered for nearly an hour chatting with a bespectacled pharmacist. Banou tapped her fingers on the dashboard, her boredom barely masked.
After nearly five hours of tailing, the Audi returned to its starting point. This time, another figure appeared, a stocky young man in grey trousers and a leather jacket, helping the old man carry his shopping inside. Ten minutes later, the younger man re-emerged, slid into the Audi, and drove off.
Mapacha and Banou watched through the field glasses as the day’s activities unfolded. The house, with its tall fence and unassuming design, seemed like the perfect hideout. Banou felt her initial doubts begin to waver.
“You seem unusually pleased,” she said, noting the slight grin tugging at Mapacha’s lips.
He didn’t respond, his eyes still fixed on the house. But she could see it, the satisfaction of a soldier who had found his target.
Back at the hotel, Mapacha laid out the next steps over dinner.
“Tomorrow, when he leaves, we will break into the house. We need to confirm his identity before making a move.”
Banou frowned, stirring her soup absent-mindedly.
“And what if he notices someone has been inside?”
“If we are careful, no one will. Hell, we might even find the hamsa sitting in plain sight, saving us the trouble.”
She raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.
“And if he or the young guy returns while we are in there?”
Mapacha’s grin was wolfish.
“Then we adapt. Grab them, tie them up, and beat the truth out of them.”
Banou’s stomach churned at the inevitability of violence. The air around them seemed heavier, as though it carried a premonition of bloodshed.