by Tope Oluwole
"I think your privacy was blown once your husband made the evening news," Morefishco replied. After a moment of silence, Morefishco continued. "Were you happy?"
"Yes, I was," Fatima continued.
"Was he?" Morefishco added.
Fatima looked away towards the window out of the flat into a memory of the day she and her husband were married. Nothing Fatima could think of after that came close to describing her husband as happy. "I don't know," Fatima said. "I thought so."
Morefishco made some more scribbles on his PDA. "Thank you Misses Blanc," Morefishco said. "I'm going to have some police do a warranted search of your premises just to see if there are any personal effects of Mister Blanc that can help our investigation.
Fatima nodded. "Okay."
Morefishco let his leathered face crack a grin. "If you think of anything else Misses Blanc, please call me." Morefishco handed Fatima one of his digital cards. Fatima studied it for a moment, and then tossed it on the seat next to her.
Morefishco then walked up to the door where Ingrid had entered. "I hope you're dressed because it's time to go for a ride." There was no answer. "Misses Natarajian?" Morefishco called. "It's time to talk and I'm ready to listen."
Morefishco looked to Fatima who returned a blank stare. Morefishco whipped out his auto-pistol, then slid open the door with his free hand. The room was empty, and the window wide open. As Morefishco approached the window, its curtains rippled with the breeze.
CHAPTER 13
The Slip
It was another forty minutes before Dockery and Churchwell arrived at Fatima's flat. They searched every square-centimeter of the flat, taking just about anything Morefishco pleased.
Meanwhile, Morefishco interrogated Fatima about the envelope her husband sent from Maiduguri University. Morefishco took the envelope along with the media player.
Fatima waited another hour, and then walked to the window where Morefishco had stood earlier. After glancing out to the street below, Fatima returned to the sitting room. She picked up the phone's earpiece as it started to ring-tone. "They have gone." Fatima got her bag together. "Okay, Dejure Bakery, seven o'clock," Fatima said. "That is okay. The children are with my mother. It is safer there."
CHAPTER 14
The John West Building
Omoaiye watched Ingrid as she hopped off her okada at Ogba, and then faced the street with her back to the John West Building for economic development. It was dark already, so getting close to Ingrid would be no problem for him, he thought. However, a series of taxis and danfos raced by Ingrid, allowing her to get pulled into a throng of market sellers and pedestrians crossing the street.
At first Omoaiye followed Ingrid, then he hesitated. He crept across the street and found his way down the alley beside Dejure Bakery.
Omoaiye had waited for Ingrid outside the building she had entered in Victoria Island, but then an oyinbo policeman arrived and entered her building as well. Omoaiye decided not to chance it, and instead waited. After sometime he saw the woman climb out of the window, and down the fire escape. With an eye out for the policeman, Omoaiye pursued Ingrid.
Now Omoaiye had traced Ingrid, to of all places, Dejure Bakery. If he had just waited half a day, she would have come to him. Omoaiye waited until dark, and then slipped into an alcove next to the bathroom window.
CHAPTER 15
Dejure Bakery
Ingrid's heart pounded as she entered Dejure Bakery. She had spilled her guts to Fatima, and Fatima had done the same. Ingrid confided in Fatima that she had been working on a vaccine with her husband for the Epitome virus before he died. All their trials failed in the first, through the third versions of the vaccine. Finally Blanc added an ingredient which he wouldn't yet identify, but knew where he could find it.
Now Ingrid had this map, but where was this a map to? Fatima had told Ingrid that she knew of someone who might be able to find out. Ingrid felt her stomach growl.
Dejure Bakery was almost full to capacity with young twenty and thirty-somethings, businesspeople, and European and American refugees. Ingrid had just glanced at the wall menu adjacent to the entrance, when a stout, white woman in her fifties, came up to her dressed in an apron with the Dejure Bakery logo on it.
"Something to drink?" the woman asked in what Ingrid thought to be a Russian accent. The waitress, whose name tag read Illyana, had biceps bigger than Ingrid's head.
Ingrid was so entranced by Illyana's massive arms that she forgot to breathe. Then out of Illyana's hardened features bloomed a smile. "I have that affect on people," Illyana said. Ingrid exhaled in relief. "How about a shandy?" Illyana asked. "You look like you could use one?"
"Okay," Ingrid said and nodded.
"Good, good. I'll be right back," Illyana said. Fatima watched Illyana's confident strides, and exhaled again.
Ingrid received her cold shandy, and then ordered eba with ila and pepe stew and fried plantains. When her meal arrived, she immediately began to devour the eba opting to use the fork provided to manipulate the pasty cassava substance, instead of using her hands, as the locals did.
A half-hour later as Ingrid reclined in her chair, with her top pants button undone, Fatima walked in with a medium-build, Latino man by her side. He wore a security uniform of some sort and black sunglasses that tucked into his jet-black hair.
He had on a double holster carrying two auto-pistols, and two submachine guns strapped to each of his legs. Ingrid sat up straight and blinked rapidly several times as Fatima and the man approached her.
As Fatima walked towards Ingrid's table, the patrons of Dejure Bakery all stopped and glanced at the man following behind her, before returning to their respective meals. The loud murmurs within Dejure Bakery shifted to a low hum. Fatima saw the head of the establishment, Natasha, behind the register glance at one of the servers, Illyana, who immediately placed the six dinner trays ladened with food that she was carrying, down on the countertop, and then ran an intercept path to Fatima. Fatima gulped as a burly Illyana stepped in between her and Ingrid.
"Can't you read?" Illyana scowled at the man. She then pointed to the sign in the glass wall next to the door, which read, "NO WEAPONS OF ANY KIND, OR YOU'LL BE SORRY." José stood without a response.
"He is my meguard," Fatima said, pleading with Illyana.
"I don't care if he makes your toes curl up in bed. No guns is no guns," Illyana said, with one eye still on José. Illyana and José both stood and faced each other down. The longer they stared, the quieter it became in Dejure Bakery.
"Don't worry," Fatima broke the silence. "Maybe she can hold on to your weapons until we go." She caressed José's arm which was already tense.
"Is that safe?" José asked. Fatima looked to Illyana.
"Safer than First Bank of New Lagos," Illyana replied. The entire bakery was now quiet. Ingrid looked over to Natasha who stood with a shotgun as a cane. José began disarming himself and passed his auto-pistols and submachine guns to Illyana. The whole of Dejure Bakery seemed to exhale.
"See that I get those back with no butter on them," José said, and cracked a thin grin. Illyana took the weapons and passed them to Olga on the other side of the counter once she got there. Olga took them and disappeared into the kitchen.
Fatima sat down, and then José next to her. Ingrid still had a scared straight look on her face.
"Oh my goodness!" Ingrid blurted out. "This whole city is crazy!"
"It is just New Lagos, and you are from away," Fatima said.
Ingrid straighted up and buttoned her pants, when she realized José had been looking at her. "This is José. He's a good meguard!" Fatima said. "My mother knows him."
"Why do we need a bodyguard?" Ingrid asked.
"I don't need a meguard," Fatima said, pointing to herself, "but you do." Ingrid looked down. "You have been attacked two times since your arrival in New Lagos yesterday."
"Twice?" Ingrid shouted out. Some of the patrons at the adjacent tables glanced at her. Ingrid remarked sof
ter, "What do you mean, twice?"
"You must have banged your head well-well," Fatima said, and then stared at Ingrid.
"Ahhhh," Ingrid replied, and brought her forehead to the table. "I wasn't counting how we met."
"I thought you had business for me?" José interjected.
Fatima raised a hand at José. "Relax yourself. She needs a meguard. She is just stressing herself," Fatima said. Fatima waited for Ingrid to raised her head from the table.
When Ingrid finally raised her head, José gave her his terms. "You pay a hundred grand, Afris, not Euros, not Dollars. It's my discount fee, since you're a friend of Fatima's."
Ingrid gulped. "Are you joking?"
José replied, "If you have to ask, then you're really not from New Lagos."
Ingrid stared at José and wondered what was going on behind those dark glasses of his, as he sat tight-lipped and stiff. Ingrid's head was heavy from the eba, and God knows she needed the protection.
However, José made Ingrid uneasy. He was too slick with his baby face, sharp hair and sideburns, and his pressed uniform. She needed time to think this through. It was all moving so fast. "I need to use the bathroom," Ingrid said. She lay back on the chair.
"Who do you need protection from," José asked, "ex-boyfriend?" Ingrid simply stood up and walked up the aisle toward the back of Dejure Bakery. She saw a metal sign stenciled with male and female pictograms, and an arrow beneath it, pointing to her left.
Back at the table, Fatima watched Ingrid as she turned into the bathrooms. "The ghost of her former boyfriend is trying to kill her," Fatima said.
As soon as Omoaiye saw Ingrid enter the bathroom he brought out a small, black straw out of his secret pocket. Omoaiye used his forearm to prop himself up, and then he steadied himself on the window sill. He watched Ingrid as she looked at herself in the mirror, and touched her face. Omoaiye loaded the straw with a pellet from a vial, and then took aim at Ingrid.
Ingrid pulled her hair off her face, and then Omoaiye saw her eyes, in her reflection, become wet. Omoaiye blew into the straw and the pellet struck Ingrid in the neck. Ingrid slapped her neck in reflex. Omoaiye slithered into the bathroom through the window. Ingrid staggered back, and then passed out into Omoaiye's outstretched arms. With strength deceptive of Omoaiye's size, he carried Ingrid and then laid her in the corner to the right of the sink.
Omoaiye pulled a magnetic lock out of his secret pocket, and then locked the door. He fingered through Ingrid's front pocket. When he found nothing, he reached into her back pocket, feeling the firmness and warmth of her bottom.
Finally, in the corner of Ingrid's left back pocket, Omoaiye felt something. It was small, like a coin, except only a collector or a dealer would be carrying a one in this age. Omoaiye pulled out a media storage disk about the size of his fingertip. He placed it in a matching case, and then slid it into his secret pocket.
Afterwards, Omoaiye stopped and stared at Ingrid in the corner. He fingered her hair to the sides of her face, then sprung up before hoisting himself up the bathroom wall. Omoaiye slithered out of the window as quietly as he had come in.
Back at the table Fatima looked to José and said, "I am going to see what is taking her so long."
Fatima walked to the restroom, and then knocked on the door. "Ingrid? Are you all right?" There was no response. Fatima slowly pushed in the door with her foot and saw Ingrid just coming to. "Jesus!" Fatima ran to Ingrid. "What happened?" Ingrid tried to respond but at first couldn't get the words. Fatima came up to Ingrid cradling her smooth face in her rough hands. "What happened?" Fatima asked. Fatima helped Ingrid out of the corner. After Ingrid stood up, Fatima put her arm around her waist. Ingrid in turn wrapped her arm around Fatima's neck and shoulder.
"I was just standing in front of the mirror and all of a sudden something bit me in the neck." Ingrid felt the back of her neck.
"Bit you? Like mosquito?" Fatima stared at the bruise on Ingrid neck, and used her fingers to push up on it.
"No. It was that man. The one in black I told you about before the inspector came," Ingrid said. "After the bite, I began to feel sleepy. Just before I passed out, I saw a black figure behind me, through the mirror."
"This is why you need a meguard," Fatima said, holding on to Ingrid shoulders. "Did he take anything?" Fatima asked.
Ingrid began checking her rear pockets. "He took the media card." Ingrid looked at Fatima, eyes wide open. Fatima on the other hand gave a little smile and shook her head.
"At first I did not trust you, so I made a copy of the media card, and erased the original which I gave to you. Just in case you were captured by that inspector."
Ingrid felt her teeth clench. She began to speak, but then headed for the bathroom door. Fatima blocked Ingrid's getaway with her body, causing Ingrid to bang in to her. "Ow!" Ingrid exclaimed. "Knocking me out yesterday wasn't good enough for you?"
Fatima replied, "If I had not switched the media card, we would have nothing, and we would never know what exactly happened to my husband."
"We?" Ingrid asked. "We are 'we' again?"
Fatima frowned, and then put her hands on Ingrid's shoulders. "Oh yes, we are," Fatima said.
After dinner, Fatima, Ingrid, and José (with his guns) walked out of Dejure Bakery into the warm New Lagos air. Fatima waved down a taxi, and along with Ingrid and José, rode back to her flat.
By the time they arrived back in Victoria Island, it was nine-thirty. The streets of V.I. were populated and bustling with taxis and citizens enjoying the hot summer night. José walked with Fatima and Ingrid until they reach the front steps of Fatima's building. "One hundred thousand. Cash, up front," José said.
Ingrid's eyes widened. She started to protest, when Fatima held out her hand.
"Who deals in hard currency anymore?" Ingrid asked.
"I do," José said, aloof from behind his sunglasses.
"Then it will be ninety thousand," Fatima said.
"What?" José said.
"You sha will eat?" Fatima replied.
José countered, "Up front!"
"Ha-ba!" Fatima said. "Let us say...half up front, and ten percent, per week after."
"You want to put my services on layaway?" José asked.
"Yes o." Fatima nodded.
For the first time, José's faced betrayed a grin. "Market woman!"
"Agreed?" Fatima looked to José. He nodded.
"Agreed?" Fatima turned to Ingrid, who was in a trance of disbelief. Fatima nodded at Ingrid.
"Um, yes, okay," Ingrid said. "I will have to...go to the bank, first thing Monday morning."
José began to complain but Ingrid interjected. "Then tomorrow it shall be." Fatima led Ingrid and José into her flat. On entering her kitchen, she went into her deep freezer and began bringing out plastic containers of food.
"Is jollof rice okay?" Fatima asked.
"Sure," José replied.
Ingrid sat at the dining table with her arms crossed, then remembered her manners and got back up. José stared at her. Ingrid blushed and turned to Fatima. "Can I help you with anything?"
Fatima continued to bring containers out of the freezer. "Oh, not at all.
"There must be something," Ingrid continued. Fatima looked at Ingrid and saw her frown.
"Okay, you can set the table for him," Fatima said. Ingrid swore under her breath, and then mouthed, thank you, to Fatima. José eyed Ingrid as she headed for the cabinets, going through them one by one, until she found mats.
| "You never answered my question?" José asked. Ingrid hesitated for a moment and stopped putting the place mats on the dining table. "Who am I protecting you from?" José walked toward the cabinet until he was next to Ingrid. "Once you know your enemy, you can prepare for him," José said.
Ingrid at José and all his guns still holstered on him. She frowned and walked back towards the cabinets, and then brought out the least interesting plate she could find.
José looked over Ingrid's black, shoulder-length ha
ir, dark olive skin, and down her gender-neutral sweater and slacks. José gave a smirk which Fatima didn't catch, as she was defrosting some jollof rice in the microwave oven. Ingrid returned with the cutlery she got from one of the drawers, again she picked the most vulgar pieces she could find.
"He's a man completely covered from head to toe in black, he wears a mask," Ingrid said, without making eye contact with José.
"How tall is he?" José asked.
"I don't know," Ingrid replied. "I didn't measure him."
"Thin? Like a boy? Wearing a black coat?" José asked.
Ingrid and Fatima stopped what they were doing and looked to José. "You know of this person?" Fatima asked. Ingrid quickly finished setting the table, and then sat down. Fatima began serving José dinner without missing a beat while waiting for his response.
"Who doesn't?" José replied. "He's seen as some kind of...local champion."
"Local champion?" Ingrid asked. "I don't think so."
José gave a laugh for the first time. "Oh yeah, he's like a Robin Hood," José said. "That's what they say anyway."
"So is this one of those public secrets?" Ingrid asked. "Why doesn't the police just arrest him if he's local
"No one has ever gotten close enough to I-D the man behind the mask, yet alone arrest him." José continued.
"So what do I need you for?" Ingrid asked, knocking the smile off José's face.
Fatima caught on and added, "Maybe we made a mistake..."
"I intend to take him down; mask or no mask," José interrupted.
CHAPTER 16
Moon Over Bar Beach
The moonlight shone over Bar Beach as Omoaiye waited by a palm tree, at close to midnight. The weather was warm and the waves virtually dead, with just the gurgle of the breakwater to keep him company. Omoaiye could smell the salt in the sea breeze, and started out toward the black road awaiting his benefactor.
Moments later a hover-limousine cruised to the curb. Omoaiye wouldn't have know it had arrived if he hadn't been staring at it. The rear doors slid open, folded inwards, and then slid out of view.
