Guardian Angel

The bank manager, not yet 35 years old, sat quietly at his desk in his cabin and looked at the screen of his smart-phone. Jordan had stepped into the branch almost ten minutes ago, as was his usual practice of arriving shortly before the bank opened for business. He had greeted the security officer, and also his deputy manager Ravi. Neither man had noticed anything out of the ordinary in Jordan’s manner. But for Jordan it was a far from normal morning…

Only married a year back to a beautician, Jordan had been involved in the mother of all marital fights this morning. It had taken place at the breakfast table, in front of his mother, who lived with them. He and Cleo had already had a number of spats these past several months, but none had been as serious as this.

Cleo had used harsh words, spitting them out across the table with such venom that his mother had quietly risen and left rather than witness her son being rebuked so badly. Jordan had then retaliated, not holding back. Cleo had finally stormed out with her bag, vowing to teach him and his mother a lesson.

And now text messages from Cleo… He reached for his iPhone when he heard a tap at his door.

There was a man standing there, no doubt a customer. Like Jordan himself, he was skinny, but he was bearded, and his hair was grey and he wore glasses. He was neatly dressed in formal attire and he held a slim briefcase at his side.

Forcing a smile he did not feel, Jordan gestured for the gentleman to come in. “What can I do for you?”

The man slipped into a chair. “My name is Ramesh. I am an old client of your bank. The previous managers know me well. I worked with one of the mining firms out south-side, employed as a demolitions expert.” He cast an eye about. “I’ve been to this office many times, but of course we’ve never met.”

Jordan nodded. “I was only recently transferred here. I got a promotion a few months back. This was the posting I got.” He clasped his hands together. “How can I be of service, sir?”

Ramesh leaned back in his chair. He shrugged. “Well, the thing is: I’m not really sure you can… be of service, I mean.” He ignored Jordan’s frown. “Ten years back, your loans department assisted me in buying a double bedroom flat in the city. Repayment terms at twenty years, which I knew would not be a problem. Then, three years ago, the Supreme Court shut down mining operations in the state. A year later I lost my job.” He pursed his lips. “It didn’t take long after that for your people to start knocking on my door…”

Jordan looked at the older man, deciding it would be wiser to say nothing until he had spoken his piece. He had had his share of disgruntled clients and in many cases, after giving him a piece of their mind, they had left in better spirits.

“To make a long story short, they re-possessed my flat, despite all my assurances and pleas. I had to back to my ancestral home, a two-room dump with a toilet in the back-yard. My wife was furious, said she couldn’t live like a peasant. She packed up and took the kids and left to stay with her folks. She told me not to come back unless I had sorted things out.” He let out his breath. “I tried, I really, truly tried… but you know how many openings there are for a fifty year old whose only job qualification is blowing things up?”

He hefted his briefcase. Jordan watched him place it flat on the desk. The thought struck him that Ramesh was going to open the case and show him stacks of currency notes. He wondered at the dramatics and when Ramesh snapped the locks and turned it to face Jordan, his eyes automatically fell to the contents.

It was not money. What he saw was a digital display nestled in a bed of fine wiring. The full unit was resting on something that looked like wet clay. Ramesh leaned forward and reached into the mass. The display came alive, and 10:00 flashed up at Jordan, and as he stared, mesmerized, changed. 09:59. 09:58. 09:57.

“I’m an explosives expert.” explained Ramesh calmly, sitting back. “And now I’m down to my last dollar. My savings are exhausted, my family taken from me when your bank stole my flat. I have nothing left, nothing to look forward to, nothing to live for… But I’m not going to end my life by jumping off a bridge or from a building.” His head tilted somewhat as he studied Jordan carefully. “There’s enough putty in the case to bring down this entire building. I think that should send a strong message to the institution, wouldn’t you agree…” He slid the case back and put it on his lap. He rolled the chair backward a few inches to bar the door – and Jordan’s access to it. “There’s no escape for you, Mr. Jordan – or for those inside.”

Jordan continued to stare at the count-down, as if it were communicating with him. Not a word had emerged from his lips since the device was revealed.

“Mr. Jordan. Jordan!”

The manager looked up, startled.

“You have less than ten minutes left…” murmured Ramesh, caressing the sides of the briefcase. “Maybe there’s someone you want to call, to say your final goodbye…” He looked beyond the nameplate on the desk, as if looking for a clue. “I see you have a wedding band. Why don’t you give her a call? Not everyone gets a chance to say farewell, you know.”

That’s when Jordan smiled. His eye had fallen on his phone where a text had flashed on the display. He could read the first part of it: youre a loser, jordan. the biggest mistake I ever made was marrying youe…

How ironic to have a bomb ticking on his desk the very same morning he felt hope die. If a fortune-teller had mentioned either possibility the night before Jordan would have demanded a refund.

“Jordan!” Ramesh’s voice was urgent. “You’re running out of time! If you need to call and tell your wife you love her, now’s the time to do it”

Jordan shook his head sadly. “It wouldn’t really matter…” His eye fell on his iPhone. “After this morning, there’s no point. She won’t even care…” His shoulders slumped. “She might even be – gladdened… if it ends like this.”

Ramesh’s eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to feed me a sob-story? Maybe you think you can make me feel sorry for you and I change my mind about blowing your bank up, huh?”

Jordan’s expression was bleak. “I don’t think I actually have anything left to live for… Not after this morning, after the way she brought my whole world crashing down…” He shook his head, as if in wonder. “It’s as if she never loved me…”

Ramesh studied him for some moments. “My gut tells me you’re making this up, because coincidences like this don’t happen… but you know what, Jordan? I’ll give you the benefit of doubt, and a chance to walk away alive. Convince me that what you told me is real, not an illusion to escape.” Seeing Jordan’s confused look, he nodded to the iPhone. “Make a video recording to your wife, telling her it’s over. It has to be convincing if you want to get out of this.”

Jordan stared at him, speechless.

Ramesh gestured to the timer in the case. Six minutes left.

Jordan picked up his phone, went to the camera icon and toggled to video mode. He flipped the lens so the camera was facing him. “Cleo… this morning…” He licked his lips, struggling for words. “This morning was… the most terrible one of our married life. I know- we’ve been having a lot of disagreements lately, and some of them were very nasty. But today, Cleo was – so unexpected… I never knew you could feel the way you did about me… all those things you said, when did you start hating me – and so much? What have I done to you to make you utter those words? Or was it what I didn’t do, ways in which I’ve failed you… we haven’t been married for very long and maybe not long enough for me to show you the love and respect and concern that you might have expected from me, but I never suspected your true feelings – until now.

“And now you want out, saying you never really cared, that going on would be a mistake to top the one you made by marrying me, I am truly sorry for whatever wrongs I’ve done you. I have no regrets about marrying you but you are right.” He look was forlorn. “It would be wrong to go on… I’ll send you this recording now and maybe it’s the last you’ll hear from me, Cleo. You see,” He turned the phone so the lens was pointing at Ramesh and the bomb in his lap. “there’s a man in my cabin. Our bank re-possessed his flat and now he’s angry and he’s sitting here with a bomb that’s ticking as I speak. He told me to call my wife, to say goodbye…” He brought the iPhone back so his face was back in focus. “That’s why I’m recording this, Cleo, to tell you you’ve won, that you’ve got what you want – your freedom. And maybe it’s my last goodbye as well. One way or the other, whatever happens to me now, this is goodbye, Cleo.” He ended the recording.

Ramesh stared at him. “Now send her the video on WhatsApp.”

Jordan looked at him. “What purpose will that serve?”

“Were you just acting, Jordan?” There was an edge to his voice. “Is this just a show you’re putting on for my benefit?”

The manager looked down and with a few light finger touches, sent the file to his wife’s phone. Ramesh stared at the screen. “The message hasn’t been delivered. You could be pulling a fast one, Jordan. You could have sent it to some other number of yours, meaning to delete it later.” He was watching Jordan’s face. “Give me the phone. Let’s send the video file to all your contact-groups.”

Jordan looked at him, stunned. “What?”

Ramesh gave him a fierce look. “Do you want to live or not?”

Ramesh sent the file to three groups: family, work, and friends. He nodded. “There’s no going back now. I believe you.” He put the case on the desk. Jordan stared at the numbers, flashing in a downward spiral. No words emerged from his mouth as he stared at the timer.

Ramesh got up, holding something in his hand. “This is a remote detonator.” He reached into the case and the countdown stopped. “The device is still armed. My detonator has a range of 200 meters. In ten minutes I’ll be out of range. After that you’re free to get up and call the police.” He looked at him one final time. “Good luck, Jordan.” He left the cabin and the self-closing mechanism brought the door back into position.

Jordan closed his eyes, drained. The sound of the door swinging inward made him open them. His deputy Ravi stood there, holding his mobile. “What the hell, Jordan – I got your file… a bomb?” And then he saw the case and the timepiece, numbers frozen. “My God!”

Jordan shook himself. “We need to get everybody out of the building. Do it now. I’m going to call the police.”

Ravi nodded, twice, thrice, still gaping at the device. About to turn, something made him halt. “Jordan, your video – about you and Cleo…”

“It was a story, Ravi. I saw a way to convince him that I was in worse shape than he…”

Luckily, the semi-urban branch was in a building which housed few offices, and the evacuation took place quickly. The bomb disposal squad took a while to arrive. By then the police had already questioned Jordan and Ravi.

The bomb unit emerged from the bank a few minutes later and the chief spoke privately to the police inspector. The inspector walked to where Jordan and Ravi were standing. “The bomb was a fake.” He told them.

At that moment, a young woman came up to their group. Jordan stared at his wife. Ravi looked down. The inspector stared at her and Jordan introduced her. The cop nodded. “Let’s go to your cabin.”

The four of them went inside the manager’s office and sat. Jordan was the first to speak. “Wait, you said the bomb wasn’t real?”
Cleo looked startled at this news, and she gasped out loud.

The inspector nodded. “Plasticine and a few wires and a timer.”

“But why?” asked Cleo, clearly not understanding.

“An extortion bid?” wondered Ravi.

The cop nodded. “He was after your currency-chest. You wouldn’t have had a choice, faced with a bomb. Only you out-maneuvered him, fooling him into thinking you were depressed and suicidal. When he realized his bomb-ploy wasn’t going to succeed, he then pretended he was letting you go since it wasn’t a real bomb.”

Cleo looked from one face to another, slow to understand what was happening.

“Yes”, said Jordan. He was unable to meet anyone’s eyes. “I concocted the tale to sway his resolve to blow us up. Of course, I had no idea at the time the bomb was a fake.”

“But you didn’t know that!” She said sharply. “You thought it was real and that’s why you said what you said. And that makes you a hero. Correct, inspector?”

Whatever the inspector was thinking, he chose not to say. Instead he nodded.

Cleo got up. “So Jordan’s a hero. That’s the story for the media. Stick to those facts.” She looked around. “I need to speak to Jordan alone. Please excuse us…”

The cop looked at Ravi. “I need the hard drive.” He gestured to the CCTV camera in the cabin. Ravi led the inspector out.

She stared at her husband. “Was that bloody video really necessary? You couldn’t have figured out some other way to be a damn hero?”

“I had no choice, Cleo.” He replied quietly. “Believe me, he forced my hand every inch of the way. Nothing less would have satisfied him. That’s the only thing that saved me, Cleo.”

“Jordan – I couldn’t care less about your worthless spine!” she hissed. “If you were supposed to die, you should have just dropped dead! Instead, you make some damn video that’s gone viral, making me out to be some queen bitch! I’ve gotten so many calls I had to switch off my phone! Thank God one of you had enough brains to work that angle about it simply being fiction for the press.” She pressed her hands together, thinking furiously.

“You need to make another video. I’ll pen the words… you say that the bomb-matter is resolved and that by your cleverness, you persuaded that lunatic to change his mind and vanish. Now you want to clear the air, that the story about me was just that, a story, pure fiction and nothing more. Tell them to watch the news for the exact details on things unfolded…” She grabbed a pen and pad from his desk and began writing. “Learn it, it’ll look more natural if you don’t read it. Like your other video.” She said cuttingly. “Once you do it, send it to all your contacts.”

When that was done, she tossed the paper into his bin. “Obviously we can’t break up right now otherwise people will know it was true… we’ll sit tight for some time, and when the hue and cry has died we’ll start the divorce process.” She got up. “I’m going to collect my things from the flat. Give me a couple of hours before you come home…”

Right after she left his phone rang. It was his mother. “Jordan, I received your video messages. Oh my God, are you alright?” she cried.

He assured her he was fine and explained everything. He left nothing out. She listened without interruption till the end then said: “You must be hurting so bad. I’m so sorry about Cleo. You don’t deserve her, Jordan. It had to end, and it’s better it’s happened now, after only a year.”

He sighed. “I knew that things weren’t right some months ago but I was scared to think in terms of failure. Maybe part of me was worried about how you might feel, that I would be letting you down. You know, after you and Dad…”

“Jordan, your father left me when you were just a little boy. He did what he had to do and I don’t judge him for it.”

“But already one divorce in the family – and now this. People will talk…”

“Sometimes you have to know when it’s time to let go.”

“I think you’re right, Mum. But it’s ironical. If that bomb thing hadn’t happened, I don’t think I could have worked up the courage to end it, no matter how badly she’s been treating me.” He shook his head. “In a way, that crazy man did me a favour…”

“Jordan, I’m out to lunch with some friends. Are you going to be alright…?”

When the call was over, Jordan’s mother put her phone in the bag and looked at the man making lunch for them both.

“So,” asked ‘Ramesh’, minus his wig, glasses and beard. “why did you do it? What did the masquerade of this morning achieve?”

“You heard Jordan: you did him a favour, forcing him to a decision he couldn’t have made himself.” She went to his side. “I could see it falling apart, day by day, little by little, and I couldn’t bear it.” She laid a hand on his arm. “Thank you. You did it knowing he would never know the truth.”

He looked down at her arm and smiled. “In a lifetime of wronging you and our son, I’m glad I finally got the chance to do the right thing…”

__END__