PROLOGUE
David Nsobe was having the time of his life. The bar was packed, the music was bouncing, and everybody around him was having a great time. They were dancing, singing, or just chatting with each other through the blare of the extremely well-chosen hits from the past by the house DJ. David hadn't heard most of the songs since he’d been in high school or at the university.
This was the official opening night of what promised to be one of York's finest night spots, and as the person in charge of city tourism, David Nsobe, had been invited to the bar's opening night. He’d already been given the red-carpet treatment and a tour of the establishment by the owner.
The owner had been very grateful to David for making sure that the necessary alcohol and entertainment licenses had been quickly approved. David had told him that it was his job to promote progress, and it had not been a problem. However, that wasn’t exactly the truth.
David had argued with more than a handful of his colleagues at work as he tried to speed the planning application along for the interior work on the old building, as well as the licenses that needed to be issued before the business could open.
It was fair to say that David was not going to be the most popular person at the next staff night out, if he even went, but that didn't bother him. He wasn't here to just mark time until he received his civil service pension.
David was one of those rare employees of the city of York who really wanted to do his job well enough to make a difference. That’s why it had been very important to him to make sure that the bar opened on time with all the necessary licenses issued and no delays caused from the York City Council's end.
The bar was making full use of both floors of the old building, with the ground floor containing the main bar area. There was some casual seating in the corners and in front of one of the windows on one side of the entrance. The other side had the DJ booth and the dance floor. The restrooms and a large lounge area were upstairs.
Every space that a body could fit in was occupied, and the atmosphere was very jovial. David could see that management ran a tight ship and knew what they were doing, which made him feel good about backing them, especially with the resistance he’d faced from a lot of the City Council members.
After an hour or so of letting his hair down and even dancing with some of the other revelers, David went upstairs to the men's room. On his way back down, David bumped into one of the other customers who spilled his drink as David and the customer collided.
"Sorry about that, mate," the man said to David.
"Not a problem. May I get you another drink to replace the one I spilled?" David asked.
"No, it's alright, pal. No harm done, right?" And then the man paused as he looked at David. "Hey, you're that local Head of Tourism guy who was on the telly, aren't you?"
"I am, yes," David said, not sure what else he should say.
The man laughed and said, "This is like meeting a celebrity!" He had to get close to David's ear for him to hear what he was saying, which made David slightly edgy. He wasn't used to such openness from members of the public, even though he’d been in his high-profile position for a few years.
The businessman who had opened the bar was well known around the area, so the bar’s opening was bound to attract attention, and because of it, David's face had been plastered all over the evening news. David's wife, Bernadette (Bernie to David and her friends), had said she was very proud of her husband and thought he’d looked very handsome and important when she’d seen him on the news.
But David just laughed when she’d said that, knowing how awkward he’d felt at the time. He wished Bernie could have joined him tonight, but their son had come down suddenly with a bad case of stomach flu, so she’d urged David to attend the opening without her. She thought he definitely deserved to be at the opening, even if it was without her.
The man he’d encountered on the stairs walked away and entered the restroom, leaving David to decide whether he wanted to get in line at the bar for one last drink, or if he should thank the owner for his hospitality and go home. There was a quieter bar behind him in the lounge, but he’d enjoyed the atmosphere downstairs, plus they didn’t serve cocktails up here, just beer.
David decided to go downstairs, but when he saw the number of people who waiting in line at the bar, he decided that a quick phone call on Monday morning to the bar’s owner would be adequate and heading home was the sensible thing to do.
Outside, the warm summer air of North Yorkshire wrapped itself around David and made him smile. Although it wasn’t nearly as warm as he’d been used to in Zambia, even so, it felt nice. The cold wet months from fall to summer had really taken David by surprise when he moved to the United Kingdom from sub-Saharan Africa.
He'd emigrated to England with his wife, Bernadette, on the advice of a friend who was already working here. With his degree in economics from the once renowned Wits University in South Africa, David had managed to get a position with a local City Council department in York. Hard work and dedication eventually opened up a few doors for him and he was promoted to a position of real significance, the one he was holding now. He was the head of Tourism for the City of York, and he couldn't be happier.
Strolling through the medieval streets of York at night was always a pleasant experience for him. The city was a magnet for tourists, and there were always families educating their children about the Viking occupation of the city in the 9th century, or lovers, young and old, holding hands and stealing kisses along the famous Shambles Street.
The street had mesmerized David and Bernadette from when they’d first seen it. The street was cobblestone and filled with oddly shaped shops that seemed to grow over each other at whatever the next angle and space allowed. When David had seen the street, he’d known that he and Bernie had made the right decision to emigrate to England.
Bernadette was a qualified bookkeeper, so she’d easily found work. And after their son, Saul, was born, the couple felt complete. Life couldn't get any better for the Nsobe's.
David left Shambles Street and walked past the towering York Minster cathedral and down a few side streets that formed a quick shortcut home. As he walked down the last side street that ended near his house, David saw a white van parked outside the back of a local pub. It was just an everyday workman's van, a bit battered, the kind that was always being used for some type of work or transit job.
It seemed like a late delivery was taking place, because the back door of the van was open, and the engine was still running. David glanced at the van but didn’t see a driver, so he continued on until he was nearly at the junction where the side street met the busier road that David's house was located on.
Suddenly, the way ahead was lit up for David, as the bright lights of a vehicle shone down the street, and he could hear the engine of a vehicle.
It must be the white van I passed. I'd better move over, David thought.
But there was no need to move anywhere because the van had stopped, which David found odd. He turned around to see if there was a problem, but there didn't seem to be anything wrong. The driver hadn’t gotten out of it to look at the engine, and nothing was being loaded in the back. There was just the van, idling and going nowhere.
The abrupt intensity of the full beam being switched on from the headlights blinded David, and he quickly looked away.
"I'm still here, you know," David said, annoyed with the driver.
He turned around so he could get off this dark little street and get to his own street. And that's when a feeling of dread came over him. The vehicle behind him had screeched into action and was accelerating toward David, who got as far away from the street as the narrow sidewalk would allow. The vehicle was getting closer far too quickly and blind instinct sent David into a quick jog that ended up as a flat-out sprint.
"What are you doing, man? It's not safe to drive that fast down here. You'll end up hitting and killing me!" David shouted over his shoulder to the vehicle, which he realized was the van he’d walked past earlier.
David was right. The van hit him from behind with great force, knocking him to the ground and running over him. The driver had aimed very carefully to make sure that's exactly what happened. David died later that night, but not from the injuries sustained from being run over by the strange white van late at night.
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