The jet touched down at Robert Gabriel Mugabe International Airport under a blazing midday sun. Takudzwa stepped onto the tarmac with dark shades covering his eyes and a quiet weight on his chest. During the flight he was anxious. The Morettis were powerful, he knew that much. It wouldn't take time before they caught up with him. However he had to try to escape them for as long as possible. Maybe they would forget about him by then.
He looked like any other successful diasporan returning home — well-dressed, confident, quiet. But beneath the calm, he was scanning every face. Old habits from the U.S. — from that final threat — had taught him to never let his guard down.
Two black Toyota Fortuners met him. No attention. No fanfare. Just the way he liked it now. He had notified his team about his arrival, making sure to use a burner phone to avoid being traced. A security detail was also there. He felt ridiculous and hated himself for the paranoia.
By nightfall, he was pulling through the gates of his mansion in Southdowns, Gweru — a modern, double-story structure tucked deep behind electric gates and manicured hedges. High walls, CCTV, and motion sensors — security was no joke.
He had bought it three years back, one of several quiet investments he'd made long before life had turned wild. He had a house in every major city in The country: in all 10 provinces. At the time, it was a vanity move. Now, it was his escape route.
He had chosen Gweru right now because it was far from where the major activities of the country occurred, that is Harare. Also, all the major millionaires of the country stayed in the capital city. It would be easy to find him in Harare than in Gweru.
Inside, the house smelled of fresh paint and untouched furniture. Imported. Clean. Minimalist. There was a pool in the backyard, a small gym, a whisky bar, and space to breathe. He let out a breath.
He was home. But on his terms.
***
Within weeks, Takudzwa's hands were deep in his Zimbabwean portfolio. While America had made him rich, Zimbabwe had always been his insurance.
He had invested in Petroleum and LP Gas distribution. One of his earliest ventures. Legal, clean, and high demand. He had four filling stations across Midlands Province and several others in across the country. And they brought in consistent USD.
He had a Solar Installation business. Load shedding had made this sector boom. He had a small team that installed domestic and commercial solar systems in Gweru and Kwekwe.
He also had invested in logistics. He'd invested in a fleet of haulage trucks. Grain, cement, fertilizer — whatever needed to move, they moved.
He also had a borehole drilling company. Water was a necessity, and his company handled everything from site surveys to installations.
His favorite was the Forex Trading Training Hub. It was a more modern venture — offering paid training courses to youth wanting to make money online. Mostly run by a team of young guys in their 20s.
He had other minor ventures including agriculture, mining, insurance among others. He didn't run these hands-on. He had managers. Fronts. Trusted names. But everything passed through his phone, quietly.
***
It didn't take time for people to notice the return of Takudzwa. Within weeks all of Gweru already knew about him. For the locals, he was "TK" — the wealthy guy who drove luxurious cars, partied, and never kept to himself. People saw his money, but not his trail. Women whispered. Men speculated. But no one really knew the whole story.
***