Satans and Shaitans

by Obinna Udenwe

  It had occurred to the DPO as he entered the compound that it did not receive many visitors. Its serenity was striking.

  ‘Does Adeline always leave the compound?’

  ‘Haa! No, Sir. She has no need to leave. She has no need for friends. Not at all, Sir.’

  The DPO was amused at the idea that she had no need for friends.

  ‘How many people visit her in a month?’

  ‘None.’

  ‘In a month? I need an estimate.’ At his side Officer Jubril was still taking notes.

  ‘Sir, if anyone is visiting, it must be to see the Chief and big madam when they are around. No one has visited Adeline before.’ The gateman exchanged glances with Miss Spencer.

  ‘I see. This is a kind of prison, hmmn?’ No one answered. ‘Who is this young man?’ he asked, looking at Donaldo.

  Before Donaldo could answer, Miss Spencer spoke up. ‘He is Chief Amechi’s son, a very close family friend.’

  ‘Chief Donald Amechi?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Leonard knew who Chief Donald Amechi was. He was one of the most influential politicians in Nigeria.

  ‘Young man, any idea about Adeline’s whereabouts?’ he asked, focusing his gaze on Donaldo.

  Donaldo unfolded his hands and smoothed his hair.

  ‘I do not know, Sir. I heard about her disappearance. I was called and that’s why I am here.’ The officer was intrigued by his chocolate coloured face, his straight pointed nose and long hair. He deduced that the young man had mixed-racial parentage. He wondered how one person could possess so much beauty.

  ‘Who called you?’

  ‘Miss Spencer.’

  Leonard turned to Miss Spencer.

  ‘Why did you call him, Miss Spencer?’

  ‘Like I told you,’ she replied, coldly, ‘the two families are close. I called to know if she had gone to the Island where the Amechi family live. I guess he is here because he felt concerned.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Leonard considered this for a moment, before once again addressing Donaldo, ‘so, Donald —’

  ‘Donaldo! My father is Donald.’

  ‘OK, Donaldo, what’s your relationship like?’

  ‘With Adeline? Cordial, just cordial. She doesn’t have friends that I know of.’

  ‘When was the last time you saw Adeline?’

  Donaldo said nothing.

  ‘Think. Think. You must remember.’

  ‘Easter.’

  The maids looked at each other. The security man exchanged a glance with the gateman. Officer Leonard scratched at his bushy hair. He stood up and tucked his shirt tightly into his black trousers. He looked at all of them.

  ‘There are possibilities that she was kidnapped from this place since none of you saw her leave. And if so, Moses, I will have you beaten to a pulp, and thrown behind bars. And you, the security man, I will make you a warder inside Kpirikpiri prison at Abakaliki.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Shhee.’ Leonard placed a finger on his lips. ‘Kpirikpiri prison is not far from here. Should I remind you that it is the notorious prison where General Yar’adua died?,’ Leonard put both hands inside his trouser pockets.’Think about it. All of you. Have a wonderful day.’

  When his boss had finished speaking Jubril grimaced and added, ‘I advise that none of you should leave this compound. Nothing should be removed from here. Especially anything that belongs to Adeline. And don’t fail to contact us immediately if there is any information.’

  Officer Leonard gave Miss Spencer his personal phone number.

  ‘What about journalists?’ she asked. ‘We don’t want them coming here—’

  ‘Journalists?’

  ‘Yes, officer. Our oga is an important person. As soon as the news gets out they will invade this place. That… that… will be disastrous.’

  Leonard thought about it. What the woman said was true. ‘Don’t worry about that. We will post an officer at the gate.’

  He joined his men who had already climbed into a worn out police van. They sped off, causing dust to rise from the gravel drive into the sunny morning sky.

  That morning, a very tall, slim man with broad shoulders lay on a mat in front of a mosque located inside the Centre for Islamic Knowledge. Beside him were the book of Hadith and a Qur’an. His eyes were closed and in his mind roamed thoughts – very strong thoughts – that if said aloud would send shivers down the spine of his followers, his soldiers. The war had begun; the weapons that he had stockpiled were so numerous and so sophisticated that not even those of the Nigerian army could outdo them. He knew that he had power and fame in his hands. He smiled to himself. Everything was possible – all he needed was to believe. No, he smiled to himself; all he needed was to make the five thousand foot soldiers who were loyal to him believe that this war was in the name of Allah. They did not need any incentives. The money his friends in the South had brought to be used to lure the youths into the war had not even been spent. He had simply diverted the money into his Nigerian account.

  Just a while longer, he thought, just a while longer and power, fame and fortune would be his. No one needed to know his true motivation, not even his friends in the South, and especially not his soldiers.

  He smiled again. Then a young man came to him.

  ‘As-salamu ‘alaykum, Sheikh.’

  He startled. Who dared to disturb his meditations? He sat up and his face brightened.

  ‘Oh, it is you, Musa.’ He smiled. ‘Salam.’

  ‘Yes, Sheikh, it is me.’ The young man bowed a little.

  ‘Please sit.’

  ‘I cannot sit beside my Sheikh.’

  ‘Your Sheikh understands that you do him great honour. I know that your loyalty stretches to the shores of India.’

  The young man sat down. ‘My journey was successful. I have come to do the will of the Almighty.’

  The Sheikh smiled broadly. He took the two hands of the young man into his and said, ‘You do not know… you do not have any idea what great work you are about to do. What you are bound to gain when you complete the task before you, Musa. Listen to me, brother, in Sunnah al-Tirmidhi it is narrated that the least reward for the people of heaven is eighty thousand servants and seventy-two wives, over which stands a dome of pearls, aquamarines and rubies.’

  The young man’s face radiated happiness.

  ‘I am made bold by your words, my Sheikh.’

  Later that morning, Evangelist Chris Chuba rang the Governor of Ebonyi State, where the town of Ishieke was situated. His wife had started packing, even though her husband had not informed his staff to get his jet ready. The Evangelist had locked his room again. When the Governor answered, the Evangelist greeted him. ‘Peace and love, brother.’

  ‘Peace and love, Evangelist.’

  ‘It seems… that it is done.’

  ‘The solemn offer?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Have you heard from the men sent to do the will of the Sacred Order?’

  ‘No, Your Excellency. But I have received a call from my family. The girl is gone,’ Chris Chuba reported with a heavy feeling in his stomach.

  He heard the Governor take a deep breath.

  ‘This must be hard for you, brother.’

  ‘Very hard… what do I do? We cannot be sure. The mobiles of the men sent to perform the task are not connecting.’

  ‘We have to take necessary steps nonetheless, Evangelist. The police have been informed, right?’

  ‘Yes, Your Excellency.’

  ‘Then I will call the State Commissioner of Police and ask him to personally take charge.’

  The Evangelist rubbed his eyes. He yawned, out of hunger and exhaustion.

  ‘That must be done, Your Excellency.’

  ‘You must not grieve too much. Everything will be all right, Evangelist.’

  ‘Peace and Love, brother.’

  ‘Peace and love, Evangelist.’

  The Ebonyi State Governor ordered the Commissioner of Police to take charge o
f the case. The Commissioner deployed four armed policemen at the gate of the Chubas’ residence and ordered that no journalist should be allowed to get into the compound.

  THREE

  Wednesday, 5th May 2010

  A swift wind swept up dust from the ground. It rattled the aluminium roofs. Children played about in the compound of the Centre for Islamic Knowledge. Some Almajiri walked in carrying plastic plates. They were talking excitedly. Sheikh Mohammed Seko sat on a mat in front of the mosque, with Abouzeid, his deputy, and one other man. Some children were reciting anasheed.

  Allah is the greatest

  Allah is the greatest

  There is no God except Allah

  Allah is the greatest

  Allah is the greatest

  Glory be to Allah…

  The Sheikh recalled when he was an Almajiri. It was a long time ago. They were sweet and bitter memories.

  The Nigerian Government had reneged on their truce with Jama’atul al-Mujahideen Jihad. They’d paid the terrorist organization to cease fire, and when they did, the army had clamped down on the terrorists’ base in Yobe and shot everyone. Everyone. Then, they set the place ablaze. The terrorists’ contact in the South had given them orders to resume operations.

  ‘Abouzeid, we have orders to resume attacks as soon as we can.’

  ‘Good. I have been itching for war.’

  ‘At their end, our friends in the South are tightening up some huge bolts in Government. Big changes are coming, changes that will benefit our mission.’

  Abouzeid sat up straight. He was curious. ‘What is their plan, my Sheikh?’

  ‘Insha’Allah, the House of Representatives will move a motion to impeach the President. We must increase our operations so that the whole world will see that the President is weak. Kajiko! That is why the new attack is important. We have a new order to attack in the heart of Government. We will strike right in the seat of power.’

  Sheikh Seko wore a white turban, a quftan and a gibba. His masbaha of nintey-nine beads was in his hands. He had been through it twice, and was fingering it for a third time. A big Qur’an sat beside him. Some young men carrying Kalashnikovs loitered about. Abouzeid was dressed in a long gown and his head was covered with a red and white kufiyya. His face looked so young and handsome. The other man with them had just joined them from Yobe. He was the second in command there and had not been at the camp during the attack.

  A very dark man in his fifties approached them and the Sheikh motioned him to join them on the mat. The man, who spoke fluent English and seemed highly educated, said, ‘All the Southerners in Yobe and Maiduguri have been evacuated. The Southerners are fools. They are foreigners in a land, yet they build industries, petrol stations, big hotels, and mansions. Now they will have to carry them on their heads. They cannot go to their churches again because we have bombed almost all of them.’

  ‘Alhamdulillah! That is the goal. That is the objective of Jama’atul al-Mujahideen Jihad! May Allah guide our paths!’

  ‘He is with us.’

  ‘Now, listen everyone. The explosive is ready. It was finished yesterday in Abuja. The boys are ready to move back to the university from the flat. Our Ustaz said that the fortunate one must leave for Abuja in a couple of days.’

  Abouzeid’s eyes lit up in excitement. ‘Who is it this time?’

  Sheikh Seko paused before replying. ‘I do not want to bother you with this. It is better you do not know till the job is completed.’ But he did not name the person because he did not trust anyone. Not even Abouzeid. The first intifada in Kano had failed because they had trusted someone too deeply.

  Abouzeid looked at the man sitting beside him. The man’s eyes glowed with radiance. Abouzeid knew then that he must be the martyr. It must be him. Otherwise why did the Sheikh permit him to share their discussions?

  ‘Where is the target, my Sheikh?’

  ‘The target is a place they call Shoprite.’

  Abouzeid had seen one of the massive shopping malls in Lagos when he’d travelled to every state around the country to meet some of their men who were working on establishing their bases there. Their mujahideen were scattered in most states in Southern Nigeria as sleepers – waiting for a signal to carry out attacks. Abouzeid was jubilant. He smiled wryly. ‘Those who falsely claim to follow Isa son of Maryam will surely bleed this time.’

  ‘Yes. We will be triumphant.’

  Abouzeid stood to allow the two men to talk alone. The martyr must be briefed and guided by the Sheikh. When he left, the Sheikh looked the older man in the eyes and said, ‘In the Holy Book of the Qur’an it says “fight in the cause of Allah and know that Allah is hearing and knowing”.’

  Evangelist Chris Chuba and his wife returned to Nigeria from Canada, and the church sent a convoy to pick them up from the airport. The Evangelist was a celebrity, but the difference between him and other celebrities in Nigeria was that anywhere in the world his name was mentioned, men trembled in adoration. He was handsome, tall and huge. He walked like he was Jesus of Nazareth. He was so rich that money made him stink and people just kept on donating to his church. Every month his network of church branches all over the world remitted many thousands of dollars to his treasury.

  When the Evangelist and his wife entered their large compound, Mrs Chuba could not wait for the jeep to stop before she rushed into the house. She ran straight to her daughter’s room, followed by devoted churchwomen singing hymns. The church pastors had admonished everyone to stay awake and pray against the great temptation Satan was bringing into the folds of the Christian faith. The superintendents had told the congregation that if Adeline was not found, it could seriously hinder further development of their church.

  At the door, the women were turned back by a guard who stood outside Adeline’s room. Mrs Chuba held her daughter’s clothes and wailed. She cried till all the tears in her eyes were exhausted. Her husband could hear her cry but chose to ignore her. He had watched his wife while they were on the plane and in the vehicle and had seen how she had wanted so much to cry. He thought it would do her good.

  The police were combing the town and its suburbs without luck. Chris Chuba had finally asked the police to place pictures of Adeline in the media and a substantial reward was announced for anyone who knew her whereabouts or had information that could lead to her location, but no one seemed to know the girl in the pictures. In town, people gossiped. They had often heard about the Evangelist’s beautiful daughter, but very few had ever seen her face.

  It was less than two days since the case had been reported and Officer Leonard was already so preoccupied with the investigation that he had abandoned all other tasks. He went home late and rose for work very early.

  Leonard was not a tall man. This made him self-conscious – as if to compensate, he was known for his aggressiveness and the harsh way he spoke to his men. He was also thorough and took his job seriously. Leonard had studied Geology at university but joined the police force because there were no other jobs on offer when he graduated. By the time he left Police Training College he had fallen in love with the job and he became so dedicated to his work that in a few years he had risen through the ranks to become a District Police Officer. His black uniform was always starched and ironed by his wife, a banker. He shaved his head every Wednesday and Saturday. The fact that he had no child contributed to his devotion to work – for whenever he thought about his misfortune, he would throw all his mental and physical energy into his role to escape the worries of a childless man, a man whose wife was operated on a year after their marriage to remove a large tumour from her stomach.

  Five men climbed down from the police Hilux van. Two were from the State Security Service, another two were from the Criminal Investigation Department of the police headquarters, and Leonard was the fifth. He had insisted that he was going to lead the investigation since Adeline’s disappearance had happened in his jurisdiction. The Evangelist saw them from the balcony of his room but wanted them to wait. DPO L
eonard took a walk round the compound after he was informed that the Evangelist was busy but would join them shortly. He studied the garden – there were cycads and canna lilies everywhere. Fig trees were planted close to the wall and bougainvillea lined the walls near the gate. By the pool, he saw some Queen of Philippines orchids and several guava trees. He came back just as his men were entering the house.

  ‘Good to see you, officers.’ The Evangelist shook hands with them. He wore a very white, sparkling robe and was holding a King James Bible. It was the evening of the day he had returned to the country. Leonard looked intently at the Evangelist, who had taken a seat, noticing that he looked tired but also that he seemed too handsome to be human. No wonder people worship him and tremble when he preaches, he thought. Chuba looked more angelic and attractive than his photographs suggested.

  ‘How was your trip, Sir?’

  ‘Fine, thank you. Do sit down, please. Which one of you is Officer Leonard?’

  Leonard remained standing. ‘I am, Sir.’

  The Evangelist was quiet for a long time, then asked, ‘What is going on? I need to know how far you have got with the investigation.’

  ‘You see, Sir, it’s not been as easy as you might think. This case is far more difficult than we had envisaged.’ He coughed. The clock in the room ticked. He spotted a large framed photo of the Evangelist with his daughter on the wall just beside the clock. ‘Sir, we thought that by now the abductors… that is, if Adeline was abducted… the abductors would have made a demand. They would have asked for a ransom, owing to who her father is and all. This is the third day of her disappearance. So, Sir, we are keeping our eyes and ears open.’

  One of the men, a CID officer with a protruding stomach, cleared his throat and said, ‘Sir, so far, we have interrogated your two security men. We picked them up yesterday evening. They were released this afternoon. But we are keeping them under surveillance.’