When Trouble Sleeps

by Leye Adenle

  ‘Amaka,’ Ibrahim called from the corridor. She stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

  Ibrahim was standing in the doorway. ‘You have to see this,’ he said.

  Amaka followed him and an officer up to the second floor to a large door. Ibrahim pushed it open. ‘After you,’ he said.

  Amaka walked into a dim room. The only light was from shaded lamps surrounded by unlit candles on stools in each of the four corners of the room. The walls and the carpet were red, and there were no windows. The ceiling was covered in mirror tiles that reflected the black massage bed below. Open handcuffs with long chains secured around the legs of the bed lay on the leather top, and next to the bed on a trolley lay an assortment of whips, ropes, and melted candles.

  Amaka walked slowly round the bed.

  ‘At least we know it’s the right place,’ Ibrahim said.

  Amaka picked up a black horse whip and inspected it before placing it back next to other similar whips.

  ‘Come, there is more,’ Ibrahim said.

  77

  Sisi stopped on a quiet residential road with tall fences and engaged the handbrake of her red Audi TT. Naomi sat next to her, her hands on the bag in her lap. The AC was on but the sun’s rays through the glass were still hot.

  ‘Why did you help me?’ Naomi said.

  ‘I didn’t help you. I helped myself. You already told your friend how to find The Harem. He would lose his business and he would see me as a loose end. You have no idea how dangerous he is.’

  ‘You do?’

  Sisi nodded. ‘I do.’ She used the mirrors to look around. ‘I told him I caught one of the Ukrainian girls with a phone. I said I took it from her and saw that she had sent the location to a number in Nigeria. He told me there was a pistol in his office. He said I should get everyone ready for the bus, then I should get the pistol, take the girl to the back yard, and shoot her.

  ‘Florentine is not the first girl that has vanished. There was this girl, Wumi. She was eighteen. He wouldn’t let her out of her room anytime we had guests; said he was keeping her for someone special. One day I noticed I hadn’t seen her all day. I mentioned it to him and he told me to mind my business. I went to her room and her things were still there. He found me in the room. He locked the door and told me he had warned me to mind my business. She never returned and I never learnt what happened to her.

  ‘There have been others. They just vanish overnight. I have never had anything to do with it, Naomi, you have to believe me, and you have to tell your friend. I had no part in any of it.’

  Naomi stared straight ahead.

  ‘I’m leaving Lagos tonight.’ Sisi said. ‘I have to see my daughter. Then I’ll fly to Dubai.’

  ‘I didn’t know you had a daughter.’

  Sisi fetched her bag from the back and removed her purse. She showed Naomi the photograph that had been laminated in plastic.

  ‘She looks like you,’ Naomi said.

  Sisi put it back in her bag and placed it on the back seat. ‘What about you? What will you do now?’

  Naomi sighed. She leaned her head against the window.

  Sisi reached under Naomi’s seat, pulled out a large brown envelope, and removed a brick of fifty-dollar notes.

  ‘Take,’ she said.

  Naomi held the cellophane-wrapped cash and stared at it.

  Sisi looked around; there was no one on the road.

  ‘Malik’s money,’ Naomi said.

  ‘Money,’ Sisi said. ‘He told me to get it from his safe. If he contacts you, the story is we got stopped at a checkpoint, they searched the car and took the money.’ She tucked the envelope back under the seat and retrieved another from under hers. ‘Take.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘There are hidden cameras in all the rooms. He makes videos of the clients. He uses them for blackmail. If his clients know about the tapes, they won’t protect him. Give them to your friend, but make sure you watch them first. You might be on some of them.’

  Naomi looked in the envelope and put the dollars in with the CDs.

  Both women sat in silence.

  ‘Are you sure this is where you want me to drop you?’ Sisi said. She looked at the tall fences.

  ‘Yes. It’s my grandparents’ house. My daughter is in there.’

  78

  Chioma sat at the dressing table, staring down, pen in hand, eyes drained of tears. Her face was as blank as the piece of paper beneath the pen; the one she’d stared at for thirty minutes since she asked Eyitayo for a pen and an envelope. It had been an hour and thirty minutes since the phone call; an hour and thirty minutes since she made up her mind, and yet she still couldn’t find the right words to explain it. But she had to. She owed Amaka that much.

  She heaved a sigh and began to write:

  Aunty Amaka. I have gone to Oshodi to see Kingsley. He said he was there at the market because he was trying to save Matthew. He wants to explain everything to me in person. I did not tell Aunty Eyitayo and Uncle Gabriel where I’m going because they will tell you and you will tell me not to go. But I know what I’m doing. I have to see him. Thank you for everything you have done for me.

  ‘She’s still not answering,’ Eyitayo said, placing her phone on the stool by her chair. ‘Let’s give her some time.’

  Chioma shook her head. She was dressed in a boubou Eyitayo had given her. In her hands she held the white envelope. ‘I have to go,’ she said.

  Gabriel watched from the door to the kitchen, a mug of coffee in his hands.

  ‘Is that the letter for Amaka?’ Eyitayo asked.

  Chioma nodded.

  ‘Can’t you see your pastor another time? And, do you really have to stay there for the night vigil?’

  Chioma nodded.

  ‘But you’re coming back here first thing in the morning?’

  Chioma nodded again.

  Someone knocked on the door. ‘That must be the taxi,’ Gabriel said. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to take you there?’ he asked.

  ‘No, it’s OK.’ Chioma said, standing up.

  The gateman who had gone to get a taxi opened the door from outside. Eyitayo looked at Gabriel. He placed his mug on the dining table and walked over.

  ‘At least wait to see Amaka before you leave,’ Gabriel said.

  Chioma shook her head.

  Outside in the sun, the taxi idled and the gateman held the gate open. Eyitayo and Gabriel stood in front of Chioma by the back door of the car.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ Eyitayo asked.

  Chioma nodded. She was still holding the envelope in her hand.

  ‘OK. Call us as soon as you get there.’ Eyitayo embraced her, then Chioma gave her the envelope.

  As the taxi drove out of the compound Eyitayo looked at the envelope in her hand. It was sealed.

  Chioma turned in the back seat of the taxi and watched the gate close. She turned back, leaned forward, and placed her hand on the driver’s shoulder.

  ‘We are not going to Apapa,’ she said. ‘Take me to Oshodi market.’

  She dialled a number. ‘Hello, Kingsley, I’m on my way… No, I didn’t tell them where I’m going… Yes, I’m coming alone.’

  Eyitayo sat opposite Gabriel at the dining table and placed the sealed envelope down on the table between them.

  ‘Should we open it?’ she asked.

  Gabriel shook his head.

  ‘What do you think she wrote?’

  ‘Thanking her for what she’s done, I guess.’

  ‘Do you think we should have let her go?’

  ‘We can’t hold her against her will.’

  79

  ‘What do you think they do in here?’ Ibrahim said.

  Amaka walked between the chains hanging from the ceiling. She pressed her hand into the white padded leather wall. Chains rattled behind her as Ibrahim held up a length and looked at the metal hoops in his hand. ‘Do you think they tie themselves to these?’ he said.

  Hot-Temper stepped
into the doorway. ‘Oga Mshelia say make you come downstairs.’

  Amaka took pictures before they left.

  Outside, Alex and all the officers were looking in through the doorway; Mshelia was in front of them, one end of a blue nylon rope in his hand, and excess loops of it in the clutch of his other. The rope led across the floor to the banister of the staircase from where it looped back to the lid of the blue trunk.

  ‘You think it’s a booby trap?’ Ibrahim said as he stepped out of the door.

  ‘Don’t know, but not taking chances,’ Mshelia said. ‘Get back.’

  Everyone moved out onto the gravel-covered front yard and watched. Mshelia backed away, letting more of the rope fall to the ground until he backed up to the fence. He looked behind him and grinned. The men put their fingers in their ears. Amaka did the same. Mshelia began pulling the rope, gathering the loops in his other hand. When it stretched tight across the ground, he paused. ‘Ibro,’ he said. ‘If anything happens to me, I have a case of Petrus under my bed. I will it to you.’

  ‘What is Petrus?’ Ibrahim asked.

  ‘Very expensive wine,’ Mshelia said. ‘Amaka, this one will not appreciate fine wine. I will my custom seizure to you. OK, people: three, two, one…’

  He pulled the rope and the lid of the blue trunk lifted. When it was almost vertical, he gave it a tug and it fell backwards. Two Navy officers stepped out and walked along either side of the rope that led into the house. Once they were past the foyer they slowed down and approached the open box as if it was a rigged bomb.

  ‘What’s inside?’ Mshelia called to the men.

  ‘Oga, you have to come and see,’ one of them said.

  Everyone crowded round the trunk. In one end was a woman’s head – Caucasian, with silky brown hair. The blue eyes were wide open, as was her mouth. Her large lips covered in hot red lipstick formed an ‘O’. The rest of the naked body was partly buried under different sizes, colours, textures, and shapes of gelatinous dildos, the largest ones up to twelve inches long, fat as an arm, and ranging in colour from dark brown to jet black; the others were every colour from cream to blue to neon green.

  Two navy officers reached inside from either end. One reached through the soft sex toys and clasped his hands under her legs; the other put his arms under her armpits and together they lifted up the life-sized silicone doll as dildos fell away from its belly.

  They laid the sex toy on the floor in front of the trunk. It was the size of a real woman; its large breasts had pink areolas and hard nipples; its lifelike vagina had minuscule dots as if it had been shaved.

  Some of the men reached into the trunk and held up wobbly prosthetics, teasing one another with them. A few would neither touch the toys, nor laugh at the others. Some were frowning, looking on in disgust.

  ‘It’s definitely the right building,’ Ibrahim said.

  ‘Yes, ‘Mshelia said. ‘And someone left this here on purpose so we would know we have the right house. They know we are here.’ He turned to Amaka. ‘You’ve found The Harem. What do you want to do now?’

  Amaka looked around, and up the stairs.

  ‘Burn it down,’ she said.

  80

  Malik’s gate opened. Down the road, Shehu sank low in the seat of his wife’s car. A white Range Rover Sport inched out of the gate, held open by the same security guard Shehu had spoken to earlier. The SUV stopped midway through and the darkened window rolled down. Malik was at the wheel. He spoke to the gateman then continued out of his compound and drove away, up the road.

  Shehu started the Prius. Without a sound from the engine, the dashboard lit up. Malik turned left at the end of the road leading out of the estate. Shehu waited till the gateman had closed the gate then he pulled out and followed Malik.

  81

  Officers found a half-full drum of diesel in the generator building. Keeping it upright, two men rolled it along the ground at an angle. Other officers helped get the drum through the front door into the mansion. An officer inserted one end of a rubber hose from the generator building into the mouth of the drum then sucked on the other end till the fuel collected in his mouth. He clamped the hose with his thumb and spat diesel into the trunk of sex toys and onto the sex doll.

  The men walked through the house dousing chairs, beds, chests of drawers, and carpets. They tore curtains off the windows, dipped them into diesel and lit them, then they threw the burning fabric onto the beds and retreated only when the fire had taken hold.

  By the time the men gathered outside the building, thick smoke seeped out of the windows, curling over the roof.

  Standing just outside the door, Hot-Temper lit the wick of a Molotov cocktail he had made and flung the improvised weapon onto the floor inside. Orange flames spread throughout, engulfing the sex toys and the blue trunk.

  In minutes, fire was raging behind every window. Through the open front door, flames curled and leapt from every surface, rolled up the staircase, and danced over the walls. The building was soon consumed by fire. The sky darkened behind the inferno; black bits sailed up with spirals of smoke from the burning roof. Everyone watching had to step back and shield their faces from the heat, then the wind changed and the smoke descended upon the party.

  ‘That is one big house on fire,’ Mshelia shouted over the noise of the burning building.

  ‘Yep,’ Ibrahim said. ‘Time to leave.’

  ‘Yes.’ Mshelia looked around for Alex. ‘We were never here. Remember that when you write your report. OK?’

  Alex nodded.

  ‘Do you think we’ll ever find him?’ Mshelia asked Ibrahim.

  ‘He knew we were coming. He’s on the run. Amaka, have you been able to speak to the girl?’

  Amaka looked at her phone. She had new missed calls from Eyitayo but nothing from Naomi. She tried her number.

  ‘Her phone is still off.’

  ‘What now?’ Mshelia said.

  ‘Whether or not she tipped him off, we find her, we find him,’ Ibrahim said. ‘Where is her place?’

  ‘1004,’ Amaka said.

  ‘Let’s go.’

  82

  Following the white Range Rover was simple, but the notoriously clogged highways of Lagos were free flowing, which meant that Malik could spot a car following him. Twice, when he turned off major roads, Shehu drove on, stopping a few metres ahead then reversing to take the same turning; each time hoping he’d find the Range Rover parked beside a fence and not behind a closed gate. But Malik navigated deserted residential roads and joined the same main road again, much further along. It occurred to Shehu that he was avoiding rioters or the police; either of which could be bad news.

  The white Range Rover slowed down on Aromire Avenue, allowing other cars to overtake.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Shehu said, looking at the SUV two vehicles ahead. He overtook them and watched the Range Rover in his rear-view mirror. Malik had slowed down so much that a line of cars was beginning to form behind him. Had he seen Shehu following him?

  Shehu came up to the Allen roundabout. A column of black smoke rose from Allen Avenue about a hundred metres away. Shehu continued round the roundabout, turning his head to watch the Range Rover. Malik had started moving again. Shehu passed the Obafemi Awolowo Way exit just as Malik took the roundabout and Shehu ended up behind him.

  Malik continued onto Allen Avenue and Shehu followed. When a danfo wanted to edge in between the two cars, Shehu dropped back.

  The smoke was from smouldering tyres that had been dragged to the side of the road leaving black entrails behind them. Soldiers were waving on the traffic. Malik passed them. Two cars later, Shehu was also waved on. Malik continued up the road, then changed lanes and pulled up in front of a used car dealership. Shehu passed him, continued a while, and pulled up on the side of the road, just after the open gates of another used car lot. He watched through the mirror as Malik got out of his car and walked into the compound. ‘What are you doing now?’ he said.

  The soldiers waving
on traffic ahead were looking at him. Two of them spoke among themselves then one began to walk towards the Prius. ‘Fuck,’ Shehu said. In the mirror he saw Malik return with a man in a sky-blue tracksuit. Together they inspected the Range Rover.

  A soldier tapped on the window.

  ‘Is anything wrong?’ the officer asked.

  Shehu kept his eyes on the mirror. ‘My car is overheating,’ he said and popped the bonnet.

  The soldier inspected the inside of the car then stepped back to let Shehu get out.

  Shehu held the bonnet up and watched Malik over the top of it. A black Mercedes-Benz ML drove out of the lot. The driver got out and handed Malik the keys. Malik, in turn, passed him the keys to his Range Rover and climbed into the Mercedes.

  Shehu turned his head as Malik drove past.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Shehu muttered to himself, before swiftly closing the bonnet and hurrying back to the Prius while the soldiers looked on.

  Shehu turned into 1004 Estate moments after Malik. He searched for the Mercedes as he drove up the road then turned into the main car park and looked between parked cars. He stopped when he spotted it, but it was empty – parked between two cars in front of a block of flats. Shehu looked around. Malik had gone.

  ‘Where are you?’ Shehu said to himself, looking up at the balconies. ‘And what are you doing here?’

  83

  The driver looked at Naomi in the rear-view mirror of his taxi. Since he picked her up from Ikeja she had not said a word other than to tell him the destination: 1004.

  When he told her the hiked fare, three times the standard rate because other taxi drivers were afraid of the riots, she just nodded and got into the back. She was now staring out of the window, as she had been doing all through the journey. She was dressed like an ashewo returning from work, so she should have money, but she looked like a worried prostitute; one who had been robbed of the money she earned during the night. What if they arrived at her destination and she refused to pay him? If he tried to insist on being paid, she could say she already had. She could start shouting and screaming, and when a crowd had formed, she would tell them to check his pocket for the crumpled notes she paid him with – and they would find crumpled notes in his pockets. Taxi drivers always have crumpled notes. Or she could offer him sex in lieu of payment. He arched his neck to see more of her exposed legs in the mirror. He looked at her face. Her eyes were red and moist. He was right. She had been robbed of all her money. He had picked up a prostitute who did not have any money to pay the fare.