by Leye Adenle
‘But you still have no evidence that he was involved in the girl’s murder.’
‘I don’t but he’s obviously into something illegal. It could be drugs, he could be laundering money from some people, it could be anything. A bank MD I spoke to tried to convince me not to see him.’
I wanted to tell her that Gabriel shared the MD’s sentiments. ‘Why?’
‘Well, he just said the man is not right for my charity. He was uneasy when I said I was meeting him today.’
‘Maybe we shouldn’t go, then. I mean, that sounds like a warning.’
‘And that is precisely why I am going. The MD is a traditional chief as well. He’s involved in the occult. I’m thinking he might know something about him and that might be the reason he doesn’t like the idea of me mixing with him. These people know each other.’
‘Occult? You mean another ritual killer?’
‘Oh no,’ she laughed. ‘He’s a member of the Ogboni. It’s more like a fraternity. It’s a Yoruba traditional secret society, a bit like the Freemasons. People say they practice black magic but I wouldn’t know. The fact that he didn’t want me to associate with Amadi makes me even more suspicious.’
‘I really don’t like this, Amaka.’
‘You don’t have to. Listen, I’ve just changed my email password to your name, Guy Collins, one word. I always email myself all the information I get. My database, pictures, movie clips, it’s all in there. I’ve left my webmail open.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘I’ve always thought that someone else should have access to it. Just in case.’
‘In case what?’
‘Just in case. Anyway, you need the information to write your article. I have to go now. Stay in the room, I might need to reach you on the phone.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘I told you, to have lunch with him.’
‘I thought we were going together?’
‘It’s better that I go alone.’
‘Dressed like that?’
She glanced at me. ‘What do you mean? What are you insinuating?’
‘Nothing, Amaka. Look, I really don’t think this is a good idea. At least let me come with you.’
‘I have to do this alone. Your part is to tell the story. And besides, nobody must be able to link us to one another. Do you understand?’
‘But what do you expect to achieve by going to see him?’
‘I told you, I don’t know. We’ll just have to wait and see.’
She got up to leave. I watched her walking away and decided I had to tell her how I felt. I caught up with her and held her by the arm. ‘Amaka, I don’t want you to go because I care for you.’
She stopped but she did not turn round. ‘You care for me?’
‘Yes. I do. I really do.’
‘And why would that be?’
I didn’t have an answer. ‘I just do. And I don’t want to see you get hurt.’
‘Hurt? By who, you or the person I’m going to see?’
‘You know what I mean, Amaka. I think you’re really in over your head with this one. You don’t have to do this. This man might be dangerous. Amaka, what I’m trying to say is…’ The timing was wrong. ‘Look, I don’t know how I got involved in this mess but all I know is that there are evil people out there and this guy might be one of them.’
She turned her head sideways and looked at me from the corner of her eye. ‘You got involved in this mess, as you put it, because you went out looking for black pussy, remember? Well, congratulations, you’ve had one. Don’t tell me you care for me. You don’t know me and I don’t know you. You will return to your girlfriend in England, and then what?’
I shook my head. ‘Amaka, it’s not like that.’
She turned to face me. ‘No? And how is it? Tell me? How is it? All I am to you is some black adventure. I know your type. You people come here thinking you can just tell a girl that you care for her and she’ll melt into your arms – as if you’re doing her some kind of favour. I don’t want to regret what happened between us. Please, don’t make me.’
She left, leaving me stunned. Where did all that come from? I knew I shouldn’t have told her about Melissa, but what the hell? I couldn’t worry about that now though, because more importantly she had just left to go and meet a potential killer. I had to do something.
I went through my inbox searching for an email. I found it and used the phone in the room to call the number I knew it would contain.
‘Hello? Ade? It’s me, Guy.’
‘Guy? You are still in Nigeria?’
‘Yes. I’m at the hotel. I need to see you now.’
He asked for my room number.
‘Don’t leave the room,’ he said. ‘I’m coming now.’
I wondered how much I would have to tell him.
44
‘Please, we have to go back for my dogs,’ Knockout said again.
They ignored him. They had driven through the night to the brothers’ hideout: a room in a trucker’s motel in Badagry.
Catch-Fire told them what they needed to know about Chief Amadi: he would ask to meet at a secluded place, probably at his secret bungalow off the Lekki expressway. He would have no problems paying the ransom. He would ask for assurance that Catch-Fire was dead, then he would try to kill Knockout as well. They had to kill Chief Amadi.
Go-Slow came up with a plan. Knockout would call Chief Amadi and ask to meet alone. If Amadi asked where Catch-Fire was, Knockout would tell him that his men, who were waiting for him to return with the money, were holding him. If Knockout failed to return on time, the men would drop Catch-Fire at a police station where he would tell them everything he knew. Knockout didn’t know where Catch-Fire was being held, only where to return with the money. If on his return the men suspected something was afoot, they would take Catch-Fire to the police. If he returned without the money, they would also take Catch-Fire to the police.
‘No,’ Catch-Fire said. He had been silent, listening to the rest of them making the plan. Now they all looked at him.
‘What?’ Go-Slow said.
‘Not just the police. He always brags that he knows every oga of police. Tell him that you will invite the media to come and hear me confessing how I used to drug people and kill them with him. That would scare him more. If you say you are taking me to the police, he will tell you to do your worst.’
Go-Slow and the twins exchanged nods.
‘Tell him we are taking his boy to the police headquarters at Panti, and that we have told radio and television reporters to meet us there,’ Go-Slow said. ‘Tell him we have recorded his confession and we will send the video to saharareporters.com.’ He asked Knockout to recite the instructions one more time before calling the Chief. Knockout swore at him. One-Love asked him to repeat the instructions three times. He did.
45
Amaka realised that she knew Chief Amadi’s house when Aunty Baby described it to her. Her family had lived on the same street years ago. She remembered the building being a colonial-style bungalow before someone bought it and tore down the old house, replacing it with a mansion. As she drove into his compound, she took note of the cars parked under canopies. She recognised some of the licence plate numbers and memorised the rest.
A security guard showed her where to park then he held the door open for her. She saw him trying to look down her skirt as she climbed out of the car.
‘Welcome, ma. Chief is waiting for you.’ He bowed and held his hand out in a way that reminded her of a waiter showing her the way to her table.
She paused at the sight of an elderly Chinese man in chef whites who opened the door.
‘Welcome. Please, come.’
As she stepped into the foyer, she observed the statues on small plinths, oil paintings on the walls and the carved wood banister of the staircase that curved up to the next floor.
Her host appeared at the top of the stairs. He was in a purple silk tunic that stretched to his
toes. He took his time descending, his hand sliding on the banister. At the bottom, he stretched out his hands and waited for her to come to him.
‘You must be Amaka. You are on time, I’m impressed.’
He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. She was about to ease out of his hold when he let go.
‘We are twins,’ he said, pointing at their outfits.
It took a moment for her to realise he meant the colour. She smiled politely, noting that the charm offensive had begun.
‘Come. I can’t wait to hear all about your charity work.’
He led her into a huge dining room. The long table had been set at the middle with two chairs on opposite sides. He led her to what he had decided was her side and pulled the chair out for her before walking the long distance round to sit opposite her. The old Chinese man waited by his side.
‘Tom would like to know what you are having for lunch.’
She did not have an appetite. ‘Oh. Erm, what’s being offered?’
‘Tom?’
Tom fetched a folded sheet of white paper from his pocket. He unfolded it and presented it to her with both hands. She did not know anybody in Lagos who had a Chinese cook.
‘Shrimp dumpling soup sounds good,’ Amaka said, returning the menu.
‘Make me the usual,’ Chief Amadi said and the chef left.
‘Tell me everything about your charity work. Why should I donate my money to you instead of an orphanage?’
‘Well, for one, the work we do ensures that fewer babies are dumped at orphanages.’
Fifteen minutes later she was running out of things to say when he raised his hand to stop her. ‘Darling, I’m sold,’ he said. ‘This is the kind of thing I like to get involved in. The truth is I’d rather support this kind of work than pay tithes to a pastor. I’ll write you a cheque for five million naira today and see what I can do later.’
‘Wow. Thanks. I don’t know what to say. I’ve never raised that much money for the charity so quickly. I mean, with the corporate sponsors, our big donors, I have to write proposals and attend meetings, and even then it still takes months before I see a cheque. This is a record. Thank you, sir.’
‘You are welcome, ma. Your corporate sponsors do it for publicity. I do it because I genuinely want to. And it’s not because a pretty girl is the one asking me.’
‘I really don’t know what to say. Five million is a lot. Thank you. Really, really, thank you.’
‘Stop thanking me, please. You’re going to make me blush with my black skin.’
‘Do you mind if I ask you something? What exactly do you do?’
‘Do? You mean, business wise? The question you want to ask is, what don’t I do?’
‘OK. What don’t you do?’
‘Steal. Anything else that brings good money, I’ve either done it, I’m doing it, or the profit is not big enough. I’ve done all sorts. It’s the Igbo in me. I’ve done container business, frozen fish, tokunbo cars, cleaning business, even government contracts. Any clean business that brings good money.’
‘You call government contracts clean?’
‘You are funny.’
‘Where do you draw the line?’
‘What line?’
‘You said you’d do any business except steal.’
‘No. Any profitable, clean business. Stealing is not a business.’
‘But where do you draw the line? What makes one business clean and another not clean?’
‘This sounds like an interview.’
‘I’m just curious.’
‘You are in my house and we are talking about me. It’s making me look pompous. Let’s talk about you instead.’
‘I’ve told you everything about myself.’
‘No. You’ve told me everything about the charity. What about you? Who is Miss Amaka?’
‘Well, let’s see, Amaka is a professional, single, female Nigerian who enjoys swimming, travelling, oh, and clubbing. Like last night, I was in a club on the island. What did you do last night?’
‘Last night? I was in my bed, darling. Sleeping alone.’
‘Really? What about your wife?’
‘She’s in America.’
‘You were in this house all through the night?’
‘Yes. Why are you asking?’
‘You know this is Lagos, and Lagos men are allergic to sleeping alone.’
‘You are very funny. Are you sure that’s the only reason you’re asking?’
‘Yes. What other reason would there be? I’m just a curious girl.’
‘I’m also curious now. Maybe you think you saw me somewhere? Maybe the club you went to?’
‘No. I was just asking.’ Amaka looked around. ‘You have a lovely home.’
‘Thank you. You know what? While we wait for Tom, why don’t I take you on a tour?’ He got to his feet without waiting for a response and skipped round the long table to fetch her.
He took her through each room on the ground floor and had a story to tell about everything. He had bought the grand piano because his daughter saw it in a shop window in Switzerland and she wanted to play it. The crystal chandelier was a gift from a business associate and the Le Corbusier chaise longue was bought on a whim.
They climbed the staircase to the first floor and through another series of rooms. He opened the door to his bedroom last.
‘And like they say on MTV, this is where the magic happens.’
His phone rang. He groaned. ‘Sorry, darling, this is business. I have to go downstairs to my study, do you mind?’
‘Nope.’
‘OK, please feel free.’ He waved at his room.
Just as she expected, he had led her to his bedroom. Men. She shook her head and waited till she saw him disappear down the stairs, then she walked to the chest of drawers with family pictures arranged on top of it and pulled out the top drawer. She had no idea what she was looking for; she simply hoped to find something – anything.
46
I checked to see who was knocking. A man’s face, rounded out of shape by the curved lens of the peephole filled my line of sight.
‘Guy, it’s me, Ade.’
I opened the door and finally met my elusive minder. He was shorter than I’d expected. We shook hands in silence, then he apologised for being in Abuja and asked that we go down to the poolside. On the way there I brought him up to date with what had happened. I started at the beginning with Ronnie’s Bar. He wasn’t fazed when I mentioned the dead body in a gutter. I said it appeared to be a ritual killing and he nodded. Then I told him about the horror at Inspector Ibrahim’s police station and how Amaka deceived the police inspector into releasing me. Lastly, I told him how a girl had called Amaka because her friend had gone missing after being picked up by a man the night before. Amaka checked the man’s licence plate on her records and Chief Amadi’s name came up. She was sure the missing girl was the body in the gutter, and Chief Amadi had something to do with it.
I’d told him about Amaka’s records before I remembered it was a secret. Thankfully, he seemed as disinterested as I had been when she first told me about them.
He listened without interrupting. We might well have been talking about the weather. At the bar near the pool, he ordered a bottle of Star for himself and a gin and tonic for me.
‘What do you know about ritual murder?’ I said.
‘Nothing. It’s just one of those things that we still need to eradicate from our society.’ He sounded disinterested.
‘What I don’t get is how this can still be going on today. It should be obvious to anybody that black magic is bollocks. How come people still believe in it?’
He checked his watch and looked over his shoulder at the lobby.
‘Are you expecting somebody?’
‘No. So, your friend Amaka has gone to the Chief’s house?’
‘Yes. I tried to convince her not to go. Won’t it be something if she single-handedly exposes him?’
‘Yes, it would be som
ething. Please excuse me. I need to use the toilet.’
I pointed the way. He started to make a call as he walked.
47
Amaka’s heart was beating so fast that she felt short of breath as she opened drawer after drawer, probing into each with her fingers, careful to leave everything as she found it. She pushed the last one in and stopped to listen. She went to the closet, opened the first door and reached in. Each time she parted neatly hung clothes, the thought of discovering a skull on top of a hidden shrine held her back a moment before she looked. She turned to the drawers at the dressing table and cringed as she slowly drew each one out. She rifled through jewellery and odd bits inside but found nothing.
Amaka stood looking around the room. It was sparse but neatly furnished with few places to hide stuff. Her eyes rested on the huge bed, the only place she hadn’t searched. She pulled up the covers. She cocked her head to hear if someone was coming then she bent down and reached with her hands under the bed. There was a black bag. Her fingers touched the leather exterior. She found the handle, gripped it, and dragged the bag out from under the bed. It was heavy. The type that lawyers carry. She placed her thumbs on each of its brass locks and pushed. It clicked open. The bag was full of dollars. She gasped. On top of the neatly arranged bundles of one hundred dollar bills was a small black book, like a small diary.
48
When Ade returned from the bathroom, he asked if I was enjoying my time in Nigeria. Had he not heard anything I’d said? Had he become so used to the madness in this country that he had become immune to it? He checked the time.
