Disclaimer: Another fake tale so don't bother fact-checking. If there is one distinguishing feature of the common street pro, it is this: they are the nastiest, toughest, slyest and most heartless women on the planet. They are the ultimate birds of prey - slaughterhouse vultures. They deal with men who are scum and come out on top. Cindy was one of the toughest I knew, and I knew a few. After our escapade with the politician, I woke up early in the morning and left her still sleeping. I went back to my place across town to hide the money and then went back to town to find out who knew what. I discreetly made enquiries but none of the other drivers had heard anything. When the news came on, there was a short clip about the politician suffering a heart attack and dying surrounded by his loved ones in hospital. It seems the whole scene had been cleaned up to avoid dragging his name through the mud. Cindy and I were in the clear, I thought. Around three in the afternoon, she called me 'Babe, umeenda kwa nini ? Nilikuwa nataka ukaekae.' This surprised me. A street pro never sounds mushy unless it is with a client. I told her I was investigating her crime and trying to see if there were witnesses. I told her to avoid K street for a while and she complied with my suggestion. She had a bit of cash so she could take a few days off anyway. Since there was nothing more to be gained by staying in town, I decided to go to her place and see if she was still in the mood to give me free cat. I bought chips and chicken at McFrys and a bottle of vodka. Even street hookers need to be treated like women so they can unleash the goods properly. At her gate, I told the watchman I was going to drop some food and he didn't bother checking with her if it was okay. I went up the stairs and found her door slightly open. I walked in and before I could say anything, I heard her voice on the phone, presumably in her bedroom. I assumed she was talking to a client so I didn't want to sour the deal. What I heard made my blood freeze. She yelled loudly 'Skiza hapa Onyi, huyo taxi driver fala ako na dough zangu. Imagine alinitoanisha na pengine yeye ndio aliua mhesh. Tutafanyaje ? Ehh ? Sawa. Nitamshow akuje leo. Nyinyi mtangojea hapo nje ya gate akitoka. Ati ? Apana, atakuja. Ako na njaa ya kuma sana. Sawa Onyi, tutaongea. Wacha niingie bafu.' Shit. I froze in the middle of the sitting room hoping she wouldn't come this way. Luckily, she went into the shower and I heard water splashing after a minute. I picked up my takeaway, quietly crept out and rushed down the stairs. I gave the watchman the food and told him 'Ako na mgeni kwa hivyo usiseme nilikuwa hapa.' He knew the score so he would probably not tell her I was there. Hell, I wouldn't want this dummy idiot lazy motherf**ker guarding me. I sat in my car and digested what I had heard. It seems she was in cahoots with some robbers to take my share of the loot. What a greedy slut. I knew this one would have to be played carefully or it would finish me. I decided to play along so it wouldn't seem suspicious. When she called me after about an hour, I agreed to go to her place and spend the night. I told her I would be there at 10 pm. She seemed quite happy with this and insisted I don't be late. I had four hours so I knew what I had to do. I drove to Westlands and after a few enquiries among taxi drivers, found the address I needed. I gathered up the courage and headed towards Parklands. I soon found the house I wanted and knocked at the gate. The watchman opened the gate, assuming I was either dropping or picking someone. 'Unataka nani ?' I told him I had a message for bibi ya mheshimiwa. His face hardened slightly and he told me to park inside and wait in the car. After a moment, a slightly built man with a bulge in his double breast jacket came and asked me what I wanted. I told him I had some private information that I wanted to share. he told me to get out of the car and frisked me. He led me into a small unfurnished room and told me to sit down. After about 20 minutes, a stout lady with gold rings on all fingers and a smart skirt suit walked in, followed by the skinny guy. 'Who are you and what do you want in my house ?' she asked without preamble. I told her I knew what had happened to mheshimiwa but it was very sensitive and could ruin his good name. 'So you want money ?'. No, I lied, I wanted justice. I played her the recording up to the point where I asked for half. As I did, her face contorted in rage. 'Who is that bitch ?' she asked in the coldest tone I have ever heard. I told her it was a street hooker who killed her husband for money. I said she was a regular and I knew where she lived. All I wanted was protection because she had threatened to have me killed to hide her crime. 'Wait here' she ordered. She went out with her skinny bodyguard and returned after ten minutes. 'If you are lying to me, I will run you over with my car. But if you are telling the truth, I will help you.' I swore on my grandmother's grave that it wasn't a lie. I told her I would be going to the girl's address at midnight and they should me meet me at a nearby petrol station. I would then get the girl out of the house and flush out the robbers. This plan sounded good enough for her. 'I just want to see the girl and look in her eyes' she said sadly. We exchanged numbers and I left. I headed back to town around 8 pm and called Cindy. 'Babe, nitachelewa half an hour'. She sounded upset but I told her I had a loyal customer to drop. 'Usichelewe'. Hahaha, who is in a hurry to meet death ? At quarter past 10 I called and told her I was on the way but there was traffic. She sounded a bit more panicked and asked me exactly what time I would get there. I told her around midnight and could she meet me by the gate as I had a present for her that she needed to help me carry up the stairs. I needed her out of the house so she could flush her crew out of hiding. At half past 11, I met bibi ya mheshimiwa who was in the one and only Rangerover and her boys in the Landcruiser. The guys glared at me in recognition but checked themselves because of their new boss. 'Sikujua vile kulienda siku hiyo. Nilichanuka baadaye' I apologised weakly. We drove off in a convoy and when we reached Cindy's street, the two four by fours parked up and I drove up to the gate. There were a few cars parked in the area and I felt as if a large X was painted on my back. I called Cindy and she came downstairs. What followed next was like a scene from a movie. A black Mark X with tinted windows pulled up suddenly and I was hit on the back of the head by someone who came out of the shadows behind me. Before I fell to the ground, I was lifted and the boot of the car opened and I was thrown in roughly. This was about three and a half seconds and the car drove off. After about 50 metres, the driver hit the emergency brakes. I was in total darkness and panicking but I heard tyres screech in front of the car. POP POP POP. There is no mistaking the sound of silenced bullets hitting a windscreen. I heard a girl's scream followed by a loud slap. 'Nyamaza ama nikuue !' a voice ordered. There was movement in the car and then the boot lid opened. I staggered out groggily and walked over to the Rangerover. The door opened and I saw Cindy lying on the floor at bibi ya mheshimiwa's feet. 'Is this the slut ?' she asked coldly. I nodded and out of her bag she pulled out a pistol. She put it in Cindy's mouth. 'Don't expect to see her again.' The door slammed and the Rangerover drove off. The Landcruiser which had blocked off the Mark X reversed and the front passenger hissed in a low bass voice 'Usidhani hii story imeisha. Tutaonana tuongee vipoa.' I felt like shitting on myself in panic. They drove off with screeching tyres. I walked slowly back to where my car was parked and then decided to pull a risky move. I went to Cindy's gate and told the dozy watchman 'Nimesahau wallet yangu kwa Cindy. Naeza ikimbilia ?' He opened the gate and I went up to her house. The door was closed but the padlock wasn't secured. I went in and rifled through the house. Under some clothes in her wardrobe, I found what I wanted. 'She won't be needing this cash in hell' I laughed. I secured the padlock and as I left, I slipped the watchman a 1000 shillings note. 'Hujaniona'. As I drove off with cash burning a hole in my pocket, I passed the scene of the massacre and there was a small crowd of street boys, watchmen and other riff raff gathered around the car. Some were discreetly looting and pickpocketing and others were offering did-not-see-but-I-know eyewitness reports. There goes the evidence for the police, I thought. Damn, another undiscoverable crime. I was getting good at this. Suddenly, my phone beeped as I received a message. 'See me tomorrow'. Shit.