‘Chief of the island?’
‘Yes. Williams Island we drove past this morning. He is one of the most powerful men in this country. As powerful as the President. We need to get to the residence and talk to Miss Spencer again, now that we have further information… now that we know that she is hiding something from us.’
‘I sensed the maids were hiding something too,’ Kwame added.
‘I agree.’
‘Then I will find out. From now on, everyone in that house is a suspect. Including Evangelist Chuba and his wife,’ Kwame said.
Leonard laughed. ‘That day, when I asked the boy a question, Miss Spencer answered for him. I thought nothing of it then. But now… oh my God.’
Evangelist Chuba came back from visiting one of his churches. It was late, but he was feeling wide awake and energized. He removed his jacket and walked to the bedroom. Franca was already in bed, wearing a thin nightdress, the covers thrown off her. He looked at her for a while, allowing her beauty to take effect. Her rosary was beside the pillow. He knew she’d forgotten to hide it. He grabbed it and ripped it apart. The beads bounced and rolled across the room. The rattling sound woke Franca.
‘Hey! What’s that?’ she asked sleepily. ‘Oh, welcome home.’
She raised her head and saw the scattered beads of the rosary. She said nothing. Her husband was removing his clothes.
‘Get undressed,’ he said and unbuckled his belt.
She was not surprised. It was an act she had got used to. ‘I am not in the mood.’ She rubbed her palms over her eyes.
‘But I am in the mood.’ His trousers were already down. He pulled down his underwear revealing the clear sign of his desire. As he leaned over the bed to remove her nightdress, she said nothing.
His hands travelled up her smooth legs. His breathing became slightly more urgent. She flinched.
‘I am your husband. Both of us know what the Holy Book says on this. So just do as I say!’ He pulled her white lace pants past her hips, and then down the length of her legs. Climbing on top of his wife, he slid into her as she let out a sharp cry.
That same night, two men arrived in Ishieke. They had driven all the way from Kano. One of them was Malik Hassan. They drove a big black jeep with a federal government number plate. The seats had been slit open with a knife, and guns and bullets concealed inside and then the leather had been sewn back up. They pulled into a small hotel and checked in.
THIRTY-FIVE
Tuesday, 11th May 2010
Chief Donald Amechi’s private phone rang and he hurried to his library and locked the door.
‘Good morning, Chief.’
‘Good morning.’
‘We are aware of what has happened to the Evangelist’s daughter.’
‘Yes. But God is in charge.’
‘If we can be of assistance, do not hesitate.’
‘Thanks. Your concern gladdens my heart.’
‘The enemy of my friend is my enemy.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Do we make a move with a martyr?’
‘Yes. In the upper and hallow chamber we have begun our own move.’
‘Then ours will facilitate yours.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Pay attention to the news. We want to send you a congratulatory message.’
Chief Donald Amechi understood what that meant. The caller rang off.
As Sheikh Mohammed Seko hung up, he pondered what may have happened to the Evangelist’s daughter. Could it be that their enemies had made a move against them?
Shedrack Obong approached him.
‘The attack will be carried out tomorrow,’ the Sheikh told him.
Shedrack was surprised. He removed his marijuana joint from his mouth, and a curl of smoke came out with it. ‘It is just a few days after the other attack.’
‘Yes. Our friends have begun to plant the seed to impeach the President in the Senate and the House of Representatives.’
‘Oh, I see. Then it is imperative that we make a move because with the attacks coming every few days, the President’s impeachment plot will have a jolly quick ride.’
‘Exactly, so prepare the explosives.’
‘Where do we attack?’
‘Lagos. The Government think that the South is safe. Let us take them by surprise.’
Donaldo was in the chapel on the Island. The birds chirped as they sat in the branches protecting themselves against the hot afternoon sun. The memories flooded back; how it all happened played in his mind like a movie.
That night, after she died, he was so weary from the thoughts that crowded in on him that he had no strength to stand up. He sat there, staring at her with tears streaming down his face for what felt like a lifetime. He could barely breathe for the guilt and anguish were strangling him. Then he remembered what she had told him once: Donaldo, I would love us to get married in that chapel…
He gathered the last strength in him and carried her lifeless body. She was so heavy. He wondered that someone so light when alive could be so heavy in death. Her skin was already beginning to feel cooler than the Island beach. He laid her at the altar. Tears were in his rheum-filled eyes. Mucus ran down his nostrils, saliva filled his mouth and his lips trembled.
He ran back to the hut, collected a shovel, and quietly dug a shallow grave by the altar of the chapel, just in front of the tabernacle housing the sacred body of the Lord.
His whole body shivered. The hand that held the shovel felt limp. Regret and fear convulsed him. He looked at her beautiful corpse, paler than usual, yet pretty even in death.
‘Darling, I am so sorry for what I did. If only God in heaven could give me a second chance, if only He could give you life just for a minute for me to tell you how sorry I am. Since you died at my own hands, the same hands that I used to caress you, I pledge to respect your spirit all the days that I remain on earth. I will always pray before you. And will always kneel at this altar.’ He knelt down, exhausted, sobbing.
‘I have no other way of saying sorry but to bury you here, where you’d wanted to marry me.’ He bent over her and wept. When he was done, he gently placed her in the grave. He collected the golden fillet that held her hair. It smelled of her skin. He sniffed it and tossed it into his pocket. ‘Rest in peace, my darling.’
And there Adeline lay, buried close by the tabernacle, at the holy altar of the chapel of the Roman Catholic church. He covered the grave with soil and collected some dried leaves and scattered them over it. It takes evil to commit another evil and another evil to commit a sacrilege.
Donaldo hurried to the hut. The silhouette of the strange figure that lurked behind walked away too, wearily, turning just once, to stare and then continue.
Donaldo was sobbing. He knew that Adeline was cold beneath the earth at the altar. He made the sign of the cross, and stood. Just then, he heard his name.
‘Donaldo!’
He froze.
He turned slowly.
‘It’s been a long time, my boy. Who were you talking to?’
He took a while to reply. ‘The Virgin Mary… telling her about my trip to Italy.’
‘Italy?’
‘Yes.’ He wiped his eyes with his sleeve.
‘That is good. Telling her before you tell me.’
‘I was coming to see you, Father.’
‘Come, let’s walk down together.’ The old priest walked slowly down the path, his back bent as if he had a hump.
‘Father, remember that work Man on Glass I painted few months back? It has been sold for a million dollars.’
The priest turned and stared at him.
‘God is great! Christiana must be happy in heaven. You know, Naldo, I knew you would be great. The day they brought you here for baptism, your father and mother, you were special.’
They walked on quietly for a while.
‘So you have changed your mind about going to Italy?’
‘Yes. I think it is the best thing for me.’
‘Hmmn.’
The priest looked suddenly concerned. ‘I will always pray for you, my son.’
As Donaldo and Father Simeon talked in the cottage, Chief Donald Amechi and his bodyguard were being driven in a Toyota Sequoia jeep to Abakaliki to visit the State Governor. A backup Honda Pilot was a few metres behind the Toyota. When they reached Mile 50, close to the Bishop’s Court, a Volkswagen Golf parked at the roadside suddenly moved and blocked the jeep. The driver slammed on the brake frantically and swerved, then the right side of the jeep hit the Golf and the two cars skidded a few metres to a halt as a large man, dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, his face covered with a white mask, leapt out of the Golf carrying a 9mm semi-automatic handgun. He fired three shots at the windscreen of the jeep, but the bulletproof glass didn’t shatter. The bodyguard jumped out and used the door as a shield. The assailant shot the guard in his right shoulder, rushed towards the jeep and shot him twice more at close range. The driver of the jeep ran across to the other side of the road firing at the assailant to draw his fire away from the Chief.
Chief Donald Amechi got out from the other side, pulling a shiny silver 1911 Colt .45 ACP from beneath the seat. He squatted beside the rear of the car, waiting. Just as the assailant turned to shoot at the driver, two men, carrying semi-automatics, were rushing towards the scene from the Honda. One saw his boss and ran to him, while the other covered him. The assailant shot at the driver but missed, hitting a fence post and shattering the wood.
The assailant took cover behind the jeep’s bulletproof door and shot at the guard nearest to him and missed, while the other guard ran with the Chief to their car. The remaining guard saw the Chief’s driver trying to escape when the assailant’s driver emerged from the Golf and shot him in the back, then shouted at the assailant to pull back.
The assailant ran to the Golf, while the driver shot twice at the guards to cover him.
‘Let’s go!’ he screamed.
The driver got in and sped off.
Franca Chuba wore a singlet and long skirt. Her hair was bound in a hairnet. She, Miss Spencer and her husband were having lunch that afternoon with Kwame. When the plates had been cleared away by the maids, Kwame’s words hit all of them like a terrorist’s bomb. Chris Chuba’s eyes sparkled with rage; he could not look his wife in the face.
‘Did you know that Adeline had a boyfriend?’ Kwame asked. They were dumbfounded. Fear gripped Miss Spencer. Since the day Kwame arrived, the staff had been having secret meetings and monitored the man’s moves. Miss Spencer had taken all the drawings and paintings that Donaldo had made for Adeline to a friend in Abakaliki for safe keeping.
‘Isi gini? What did you say?’ Mrs Chuba asked. She removed the toothpick in her mouth.
He turned to Miss Spencer. ‘Have you ever had a male visitor, maybe in his early twenties, a tall, handsome guy?’
Kwame also had a toothpick, and he played with it while looking challengingly into Miss Spencer’s eyes. The two maids present only stared at each other. Michelle wanted to excuse herself and return to the kitchen, but the detective ordered her to stay put. Franca looked at Miss Spencer in shock, the woman in whom she had special trust. If Miss Spencer had told her that Adeline had no male friends, it meant she had no male friends.
Kwame turned to Chris Chuba. ‘Sir, we believe that Miss Spencer here once took Adeline to the Citi-chef café in town. We also believe that a young man took Adeline to the same place twice afterwards.’
‘Spencer!’ the Evangelist said sharply.
‘Is that true?’ Mrs Chuba asked.
‘I took Adeline out to Citi-chef once. But that was that.’
‘Spencer, did you arrange a boy for my daughter?’
‘Haa! How could you say that, Sir?’ Miss Spencer cried.
Kwame and Leonard had questioned Miss Spencer the day before when they got back from the café. She had admitted to going with Adeline to the café once for some meat pie, but said that she wasn’t aware that Adeline had ever met with a young man.
‘Now, tell me, all of you maids, just how often did Miss Adeline leave my house?’
‘No one visited her and she didn’t go out unless I went with her,’ Miss Spencer answered, flashing an almost imperceptible look at the two maids. She looked at Franca Chuba directly in the eyes, hoping she sounded convincing.
‘Was my daughter ever visited by a boy before?’ Evangelist Chuba asked Michelle, noticing that she was looking nervous.
‘I… I don’t think so—’
‘No, Sir,’ Miss Spencer interrupted. But in her heart, it was as if a pestle was pounding some melon in a mortar and she wondered how long she would be able to keep lying.
‘For Christ’s sake! What are you women hiding from me?’ the Evangelist shouted, rising to his feet in fury. Then his phone rang.
‘Hello!’ he barked.
After some seconds he shouted, ‘What? Okay. Thanks for the information.’ Everyone was silent. Kwame stared at him. Evangelist Chuba quickly dialled Chief Amechi’s number. Looking at the others in the room he explained, ‘I just got a call to say that Chief Donald has been attacked. His driver and guard are dead!’
Mrs Chuba let out a startled cry. The maids hurried out of the room with Miss Spencer.
‘What about the Chief?’ Mrs Chuba asked.
‘It seems he wasn’t in the vehicle. His line is ringing.’ Chris Chuba was sweating. His hands were shaking. What on earth is happening to us?
‘Hello, Evangelist!’
‘Are you all right? Where are you? Were you in that vehicle? Did you—’
‘My friend. Do you doubt the Brotherhood for my safety? I was in the vehicle. But the assailant didn’t get me.’
THIRTY-SIX
Around 5pm, a man drove a white Hilux truck with the number plate of the Nigerian military into the car park of Games, a massive shopping complex in Lagos. The man, dressed in an expensive suit, walked into the mall. It was crowded. He headed into one of the large stores, picked up a plastic shopping basket and put some items off the shelves into it, then made his way to the checkout.
He queued up with other customers, and began to mumble to himself, quietly at first until his voice began to pick up volume.
An elderly woman behind him asked, ‘What are you saying, young man?’
As the man turned to face her, the last thing she heard was ‘Amen’.
The suicide bomber pulled at the wire protruding from the sleeve of his jacket and his chest erupted into a ball of fire. The blast killed seventy-six people, and the body parts of the elderly woman mingled with those of the bomber.
Donaldo began to feel a biting pain in his chest shortly before he travelled to Italy. It felt as if pepper had been rubbed all over it. Once, he vomited blood in his hut and felt as if his tongue was being pulled out of his mouth.
He wondered what was wrong with him. He hid his condition from everyone. He did not want to tell his father because he would take him to hospital and he hated hospitals because his mother had died in one. He hated injections too. But the pain worsened by the day. He was worried. Perhaps it was a punishment from the girl he loved, the girl he’d murdered. He knew he had to find a way to earn her forgiveness, to let her soul rest in peace.
It was early in the evening, the sun was setting, but people could still drive without headlamps. He was driving back from Mr Ogiji’s house, who he’d been to see in the afternoon after leaving the priest’s cottage. He hadn’t yet heard about the attack on his father because he had left his phone at home. Then the chest pains came on and he drove faster. His eyes were closing, and he just wanted to get home and relax, but he was afraid he might faint and crash the car.
He pulled over by the side of a long, quiet road. He felt the taste of blood in his mouth. He rushed out of the car and vomited.
He didn’t notice as a car stopped and parked behind his Volkswagen. ‘Hey! You okay? Just calm down. You’ll be fine,’ a voice said. And a hand rested on his shoulders. ‘What’s wrong? Have you got food poison
ing?’
‘No, I am fine. I am fine.’ Donaldo stood and faced a tall broad shouldered man.
‘I was driving to the Island when I saw you.’ The man offered him a handkerchief.
‘Thank you. I am headed there too. I am grateful you stopped.’
‘Why are you vomiting blood? You need help. What is your name? Maybe I can take you the rest of the way.’
‘I am… Donaldo Amechi.’
The man’s heart skipped. ‘My God, you are the Chief’s son? Come with me in my car… I will send someone for yours later.’ He held Donaldo’s shoulders. ‘Come with me.’
‘Who are you?’
‘I am Simon. I am Evangelist Chris Chuba’s brother.’
Donaldo’s heart skipped too. He was facing the man who once tried to abuse Adeline. He remembered how she had sobbed when she had told him about it on the phone and how he had wished he could’ve been there to hold her. He was sure that Adeline had given him this opportunity to appease her by killing the man who’d tormented her for so long. Donaldo felt that Adeline had suffered not just from the hands of her parents but also from the trauma of the attack by her uncle.
‘Uhmn, I think I can drive—’ he said, before groaning in pain for the benefit of Simon.
‘No. I insist. I was going to see your father. You must be in shock from his attack this afternoon. What are you doing off the Island? Today is not a safe day for you to be out here alone.’
Donaldo registered what the man had said. ‘Attacked? Is he hurt?’
‘No. He escaped. Haven’t you heard? My God, come. Come. Let us go.’
Donaldo would have been happy to hear that his father was dead. But a more pressing opportunity was at hand and he had to act fast.
‘Okay, a minute, please.’ He hobbled to his Volkswagen and opened the glove compartment, groaning again, louder this time. Simon Chuba came behind him to offer help.
Satans and Shaitans Page 17
