by Leye Adenle
55
Amaka put her phone on speaker, placed it on her lap and looked in the mirror as she pulled out.
‘Hello Ibrahim,’ she said, ‘I have evidence that a policeman was responsible for the lynching yesterday at Oshodi.’
‘I’m at your house,’ Ibrahim said. ‘Where are you?’
‘I’m not at home.’
‘I know. How soon can you get here?’
Amaka didn’t recognise the policeman who opened the gate when she honked. As she drove in, she saw him peering out onto the road. She pulled up alongside a black Range Rover with tinted windows parked in front of her father’s old Rolls Royce. She couldn’t see Matthew the gateman and the front door had been left open. Ibrahim’s car was not in the compound.
She watched the policeman in the mirror as he shut the gates. She was sure she had never seen him before. She kept an eye on him as she unlocked her phone, then she became aware of somebody by the passenger door. The man bent down to the window. She dropped the phone and her hands flew to the steering wheel and the ignition. She had started to turn the key when Ibrahim walked out of the front door.
‘I’m sorry I startled you,’ the man said.
Amaka got out of her car.
The man was in his twenties. He had a gleaming shaved head and a full beard. He was slender and wore a purple polo top tucked into faded, tight blue jeans. He stared into Amaka’s eyes.
‘Who are you?’ Amaka asked.
‘Alex.’ He held out his hand. He had at least three bracelets on his wrist, leather, wooden beads, and colourful fabric.
‘Alex, what?’
‘Just Alex.’
She did not take his hand. ‘You don’t have a surname?’
‘He’s with a branch of the DSS,’ Ibrahim said.
‘What are you doing in my house?’ Amaka said facing Ibrahim. She noticed that Alex was watching her.
‘Where were you last night?’ Ibrahim asked.
‘I don’t see how that is any of your business, and you haven’t answered my question.’
‘I’m sorry. Last night we received an anonymous tip that your house was being raided. I wasn’t on shift then. They sent a patrol van. Our men spoke to the security guard.’
‘What did he look like?’
‘I don’t know. I came here first thing today after they updated me. Nobody was here when I arrived. The gate and the front door were both open.’
‘Had the house been burgled?’
‘Yes.’
‘What did they take?’ Amaka walked towards the door.
Ibrahim and Alex followed her into the living room. She looked around. The TV was missing from the credenza. Nothing else looked out of place.
‘What happened to the guards?’
‘Ibrahim thinks they robbed you and absconded,’ Alex said.
Amaka looked back from the bottom of the staircase. ‘They will never rob us.’ She began to climb. The men followed.
‘I agree with you,’ Alex said.
‘And why are you here again?’ Amaka asked on the landing.
‘Ibrahim was afraid something had happened to you. He contacted the Foreign Ministry. They sent me.’
‘You could have called,’ Amaka said to Ibrahim. ‘I got my phone lines back.’
The door to her parents’ bedroom was open. She stood in the doorway and looked inside. Someone had pulled out the drawers of her mother’s dressing table.
‘May I?’ Alex said. He eased past her into the bedroom. ‘What kind of robbers will leave that behind?’ He pointed at her father’s double-barrelled shotgun resting against the wall by the bed. ‘And this,’ he waved his hand over the dressing table. ‘It’s too neat. Also, they didn’t take the TV in the library. The trouble of taking it down the stairs was too much for them?’
Amaka left the doorway and went to her own bedroom. The contents of her drawers were on the bed. The wardrobes were open, clothes and hangers on the ground, shoes, bags and boxes strewn everywhere.
‘They took their time here,’ Alex said. ‘Do you know what they were searching for?’
Amaka walked around the bed, her eyes not missing anything.
‘Who is Malik?’ Alex said.
Amaka shot him a look.
‘I asked Ibrahim if anyone would want to harm you. He told me everything you told him.’
‘I didn’t know where you were,’ Ibrahim said.
‘It’s OK,’ Amaka said. ‘You don’t think this was just a robbery?’ she asked Alex.
‘No.’ Alex said. ‘Ordinary thieves won’t attack a well-guarded house. And they would not leave a gun behind, unless they had superior firearms. It also looks like the driveway has been washed. I suspect to get rid of blood. I believe the guards are dead.’
‘If they’re dead, where are the bodies?’ Ibrahim asked.
‘I believe they took the bodies to make it look like an inside job.’ He pushed his hand into the tight pocket of his jeans. When he brought out his hand he had two empty shells in his palm. ‘I found one downstairs and in your room.’
‘When did you find those?’ Ibrahim asked.
‘One was under your car. I collected it after your driver left. The other one was in one of her shoes. You missed it. This was not a robbery. This was an assassination attempt.’ He turned to Amaka. ‘Ibrahim said you’ve never met this man and you’ve been trying to locate his building. What more can you tell me about him?’
‘I know how to find him,’ Amaka said.
‘How?’
‘The girl he left for dead on the express, the reason I’m after him, her phone has been off and she hasn’t been returning my calls. Last night she sent me a message. She wants to meet.’
56
On one of four flat-screen monitors in his bedroom, Malik watched retired Navy Commodore Shehu Yaya walk through the gate into the compound of his duplex in Gbagada. The guard closed the gate behind Shehu and for a moment both men stood close to each other in the one-metre space between the closed gate and the nose of Malik’s white Range Rover, neither talking nor moving.
Malik watched the two men in their little impasse, then he stood, picked up a kimono housecoat from a papasan chair and threw it over his naked body.
The bulletproof front door opened and Shehu swung round. Malik was in the doorway in his kimono, his legs, arms, and chest covered in thick black curly hair. A black pistol dangled from his right hand. In his other he held two phones, one white, one grey. ‘How did you find my place?’ he said.
‘Come on,’ Shehu said. ‘You and I both know that Ojo is not the smartest man in Lagos.’
‘Even then, he knows better than to give out my home address.’
‘Does he? Like he shouldn’t have brought me to your little sex house last night? You give him too much credit and it’s not fair to him.’
‘If anyone other than Ojo had brought you, I would not have allowed you enter The Harem last night.’
‘But we both know our friend is about to become the third most powerful person in Lagos.’
‘The third?’
‘Oh yes. He would never wield as much power as the man who puts him there. And combined, they would never be as powerful as the man who knows what it took to get him there.’
Malik nodded at the guard who was standing aside, unsure what to do.
‘Come in,’ Malik said.
A deep-pile cream rug covered every inch of the floor. A solitary beige armchair sat in front of a 52-inch flat-screen TV on a stand in the middle of the room. There was a single white leather-bound chair at a glass dining table large enough for six chairs. Opposite the stairs, there was a mirror-panelled bar with two stools.
‘What would you like?’ Malik said walking behind the bar and placing his pistol and the two phones on it. From underneath he fetched two shot glasses and a half-finished bottle of Cognac and placed them on the top.
‘Louis XIII,’ Shehu said. He stood a metre from the bar. ‘I would normally say no to alcoho
l this early, but it’s not every day you get a sip of a half a million naira brandy.’
‘Cognac.’
‘I have never known the difference.’
‘Do you mind?’ Malik said. He fetched a glass ashtray and a cigar from behind the bar, placed the ashtray on the top and held the cigar between his fingers.
‘Please, go ahead,’ Shehu said. He searched his pockets and brought out his packet of Consulates, put a cigarette to his lips and searched his pockets for his lighter.
‘You organise girls for your friends in the force,’ Malik said.
Shehu looked up.
‘When they drove you from the Navy you became a pimp. I know who you are. The Harem must have made you jealous.’
‘Jealous?’ Shehu smiled. He shook his head and placed his hands on the bar.
Malik picked up the pistol and pointed it at Shehu’s face.
Shehu stood still. He stared into Malik’s eyes. Seconds passed. Malik squeezed the trigger. Click. Shehu flinched. An orange flame burnt upwards from the muzzle of the lighter-gun. A moment passed. The tiny flame danced between the two men, the constant hiss of the gas lighter the only sound in the room, then Shehu leaned forward and dragged the flame into his cigarette. Smoke rose between them.
‘Why are you here?’ Malik asked.
‘The girl. Florentine. You told him she’s alive.’
‘Yes.’
‘Is she?’
Malik removed the unlit cigar from his lips. The end was still sealed. He looked behind the bar and got his gold-plated cigar cutter.
‘Is she?’ Shehu repeated.
‘Why?’
‘Because if she is, and you are hoping to use her as some sort of insurance or leverage, that complicates things for me.’
‘So what if I’m using her as a bargaining chip?’
‘When I was a young boy of about twelve, my father told me something that has guided me ever since. He said, if you must have an enemy, have a wise man as your enemy, because a stupid enemy would do something stupid that would harm you and harm himself.’
‘She’s not the only one.’
‘Yes, I know. You told him about another girl looking for him.’
‘She’s the dangerous one. She’s a lawyer. Her father is an ambassador.’
‘I am taking care of her.’
‘How?’
‘How else?’
‘Have you ever taken care of anyone?’
‘Are you joking? I’m a military man. I saw active service in Bakassi. Do you think one silly girl in Lagos would be any problem for me?’
‘He asked me to take care of her.’
‘When?’
‘Last night.’
‘See what I mean? He’ll make a big mess of what should be handled quietly, and then when the caca hits the fan, he’ll call in his father-in-law and we will both end up in the bottom of Lagos Lagoon. That is why I’m here. To clear up this mess before it gets to the old man.’
‘What do you suggest we do?’
‘Let me have the girl you have, and let me take care of the other one.’
‘Then you have all the hands.’
‘This is not about hands, my dear friend. It’s about staying alive.’
57
‘Amaka,’ Ibrahim said, ‘you cannot meet the girl. It’s a trap.’
‘Of course it’s a trap,’ Amaka said. ‘She’s probably dead. She most likely contacted Malik to get the money he owed her and he lured her in. After leaving her to die like that, when she returned, he would have had no choice. Stupid girl. She’s probably floating in the lagoon or rotting in a shallow grave somewhere.’
‘Take it easy, Amaka,’ Ibrahim said.
Her eyes had glazed over, even as her face had hardened with anger. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘I was hoping we could play along and set a trap for him too.’
‘It’s risky,’ Ibrahim said.
‘You’re a police officer. You can figure it out. It might be the only chance to find him.’
‘Then what? What would I arrest him for? There is no evidence to suggest he’s connected to this. And what if it all goes bad? You’re basically suggesting that we use you as bait.’
‘Yes.’
‘Amaka, this is not a game. They…’
‘Don’t fucking tell me it’s not a game. Do I look like I’m playing? He dumped her on the fucking road. A human being. He thought she was dead. Arrest him for that. He runs a brothel. Arrest him for that. He threatened me – he said he would kill me. Arrest him for that. Just fucking arrest him. Are you going to wait until I’m dead before you have a reason?’
‘Calm down,’ Alex said.
‘Don’t tell me to calm down. Don’t tell me to do anything unless you’re going to tell him to fucking get with the programme and catch this bastard.’
‘If I may,’ Alex said, ‘I disagree with you, Ibrahim. I believe the two are related. Someone threatened her, and subsequently her house is raided. Until we know exactly what happened here last night, we have to investigate all angles, including this. Even if just to eliminate it.’
‘It would be dangerous,’ Ibrahim said.
‘It would be dangerous,’ Alex said, ‘but it’s doable. She will wear a vest. We will choose the location.’
‘Are you joking?’ Ibrahim said.
‘What about my office?’ Amaka asked.
‘That could work,’ Alex said. ‘We can place officers inside and outside, but I doubt he would agree to that. In any case, he thinks you think you are talking to the girl, so we must play along. It would only be natural that you ask the girl to come to your office.’
‘Are you seriously considering this?’ Ibrahim said. ‘We could be dealing with a very dangerous person.’
‘Yes, he’s a dangerous person,’ Alex said, ‘but we know he’s planning an ambush, so we have the advantage of ambushing him first.’
‘What if he expects you to expect it’s an ambush?’ Ibrahim said.
Amaka threw up her hands. ‘What if he’s Lex Luthor? This is our first chance to catch him. If we don’t, he’ll get me sooner or later. And even worse than that, he’ll still have all those girls in his harem.’
‘How can that be worse than you dead?’ Ibrahim said.
‘I am one person.’
She began to type into her phone.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked.
She pressed send.
‘I just asked to meet at my office today.’
58
The white phone rattled on the glass bar top. Malik picked up the dead girl’s mobile, swiped the screen and read the message.
‘I don’t fucking know the address,’ he muttered at the screen.
‘What’s that?’ Shehu asked.
‘Nothing. Just some business.’ He placed his cigar into the ashtray and swiped through the messages Amaka and Florentine had exchanged in the past. He hissed.
‘Do we have an agreement?’ Shehu asked.
Malik sent a message on the white phone, placed it face down on the counter, picked up his cigar and took a drag. He puffed a circle upwards and watched it twirl and float away. He extended his right hand over the counter. Shehu ignored it.
‘I’ll take care of the Amaka girl and this should all be over,’ Shehu said.
‘Why don’t I find her and talk to her?’ Malik said.
‘He asked me.’
‘He asked me too.’
‘Ok. Here’s the deal. Whoever gets her first, we both talk to her. Deal?’
‘Deal.’
‘And that means I talk to your girl too.’
‘Sure,’ Malik said, his hand still extended. Finally, both men shook.
Malik let out a puff of smoke that expanded and lingered between them, for a moment hiding their faces from each other. As the smoke cleared, he said: ‘It is me they should all be afraid of. I am the thing that swallowed the thing that swallowed the elephant.’
59
Amaka’s phone beeped
in her hand. ‘He replied,’ she said. She read the message out loud: ‘I don’t want people to see me. I can take a taxi to meet you somewhere so that we can talk in your car.’
‘Good,’ Alex said. ‘He doesn’t seem to suspect anything.’
‘What if it’s really the girl?’ Ibrahim said.
‘She’s dead,’ Amaka said without looking up. She made a call and waited.
‘Who are you calling?’ Ibrahim asked.
‘Confirming she’s dead.’ She stayed on the phone. Ibrahim and Alex watched.
‘Is it ringing?’ Ibrahim asked.
Amaka put up a finger to shush him. ‘Hello? Hello? Florentine, can you hear me? Hello? Florentine, I can’t hear you but if you can hear me, listen carefully. You must not contact Malik or Ojo under any circumstance. I will explain when we see each other.’ She ended the call.
‘He’s also reading the messages wondering if I suspect anything. It would be odd if I didn’t try to call her.’ Her phone beeped with a message.
Amaka read the message first. ‘It’s him,’ she said. She read it out: ‘I could hear you but you could not hear me because my mouthpiece is broken. I will take a ferry to Fiki Marina Boat Club on Ozumba at 3 today. Let us meet there.’
‘Well played,’ Alex said.
‘Fiki Marina,’ Ibrahim said. ‘When robbers raid banks on VI, they escape through the lagoon.’
‘So that’s why he chose to meet there,’ Alex said. ‘Someone will be waiting for her. Once she’s spotted, they’ll open fire. A boat will be waiting for them.’
‘I’m really not too comfortable with this, Amaka,’ Ibrahim said.
‘You don’t have to be,’ Alex said. ‘I was sent to investigate what happened here. This is part of my investigation. You were told to give me any assistance I may require. I’m just doing my job and you are just following orders.’
60
Two men got out of the Peugeot 504 station wagon and crossed the untarred road in Oniru Estate. Identical bungalows lined both sides of the street. A black goat crossed the road, its kid strutting on little legs behind it. Further down, young children kicked up sand as they chased after an orange rubber ball.
