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CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

While my throat was been pressed by the strange lady, Timmy walked back and forth in front of his television, with a glass of golden liquid in his right hand. He paid no attention to what the man and woman said on the television concerning Islamic extremists.

He only watched CNN in order to be updated about international business activities such as shipping. The moment he stared at the bottle of Moet & Chandon on the centre table, he knew shipping and business were presently unimportant.

He downed the third glass of the golden stuff while thinking about the assignment he’d been given by the goddess.

“What the hell has he done now?” He muttered to no one in particular. Ten minutes ago, he was surprised when he saw the portrait of the goddess in his bedroom. She was dressed like a geisha, crying, with twenty-one dead geishas, scattered around the room in which she stood.

“Watching Tonye’s not the problem…the problem is the reason for watching him.”

He began to unscrew the lid of
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