by Tope Oluwole
In perfect cadence, six military-grade robots climbed out of the hover-limousine, and assembled in a rank. They began moving towards Omoaiye. Omoaiye waited as each robot, about two meters in height, turned to form a row in the sand about a car's length in front of him. Omoaiye stood out of the shadow of the palm tree, and waited until the robots had all come out and stood at attention. Once the last of the robots joined the formation, the first robot extended its thick metal arm out toward Omoaiye, with a three-fingered palm facing up.
Omoaiye looked beyond the robot toward the hover-limousine, and the doors which were now closed. He tensed up and slid his hand inside his secret pocket. His fingers wrapped themselves around the electromagnetic pulse grenade. The robot still stood. Just then, Omoaiye's PDA vibrated.
Omoaiye answered on the second buzz. He saw the multimedia message from Anonymous read, "Take it easy. I just didn't feel like sweating and ruining my favorite agbada. This dreaded virus demands I keep cool to be comfortable. I know you understand." Omoaiye did relax. He then pulled out the media card, and then placed it in the robot's palm. The robot did an about-face and marched back to the line. Again, the hover-limousine doors open, and the robots piled in an orderly fashion.
The hover-limousine left Omoaiye alone with the stars and the sea. Omoaiye prepared to leave when a rustling caught his attention. He spun around, and then focused his gaze at a small group of trees about twenty meters to the left of where he stood. After staring at the trees for some time, Omoaiye raced into the night down the road the hover-limousine had come.
CHAPTER 17
Local Champion
Inspector Morefishco waited a whole thirty minutes before texting Detective Dockery to pick him up at Bar Beach. Morefishco scrambled and slapped at himself where the mosquitoes had made mince meat out of his white and juicy skin. Morefishco quickly reviewed the digital photos on his PDA that he had taken of the masked man in black. He had followed Omoaiye from Dejure Bakery in Ogba where he had also seen Miss Natarajian, Misses Blanc, and a third man in uniform he didn't recognize.
By the time Morefishco, Dockery and Churchwell returned to the police station it was quarter-to-one in the morning. Morefishco stayed in his designated office space with only the light from his workstation display illuminating his life. Dockery and Churchwell stood on either side.
Churchwell started by uploading the video from Professor Blanc's hover-car black box. Dockery then uploaded all the pictures Morefishco had taken of the man in the black mask at Bar Beach. Morefishco examined the silhouette and the clearer images of the man in the black mask.
"I think you have enough for an arrest," Churchwell said. Dockery nodded in agreement.
"The is New Lagos. Before all that, we need to make a trip to Dejure Bakery," Morefishco said. "We do this wrong, and we could have nothing.
CHAPTER 18
Bank Run
Fatima woke up Monday at 5:30 a.m., and then crept out into the living room to see Ingrid still sleeping on the sofa bed module. She wished she could sleep like that. Around the corner of the dining table José lay in full battle dress gear on the couch, with his arms folded and sunglasses on.
The blinds were still closed and already Fatima could see it was going to be another hot day in New Lagos. By ten o'clock, condensation would already begin to form on the sliding door leading to the terrace. The cool air from the central ventilation unit would be sandwiched on one side of the glass against the stinging heat.
"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" Fatima asked.
José shifted his position, and said. "Your friend is not paying me to sleep."
Fatima closed her eyes at his remark. "The bank does not open until nine o'clock, so if you want to rest...or at least you go chop?" José watched Fatima in her housecoat and scarf going into the kitchen. She put a kettle on the stove, then she picked up her PDA from the workplay station and carefully tiptoed around sleeping Ingrid, and then on to the terrace.
At first she was bombarded by the kala-kutu, and kala-kuta of New Lagos. This included the honking of okadas and taxis, the roar of lorries, and the chatter of all the market sellers. A man on a loudspeaker, riding in a van plastered with "Jesus Saves", pleaded for all to repent. He fought for air time with exhortations near and distant of Allahu Akbar.
Out of her housecoat pocket Fatima pulled out Larry's business card. The dust outside was enough to already start sticking to Fatima's teeth. She was forced to put up the external air purifier. Fatima pressed the light blue button at the side of the sliding door. A visible veil of energy enclosed the terrace and once the seal was complete, cool air began to pump into the terrace. It took four minutes before Fatima could breathe without feeling the grit build-up against the insides of her nostrils.
Fatima guessed Larry was probably still asleep so she would just leave a message. Larry's phone rang and rang until his answering service picked up with a pre-recorded message. At the tone, Fatima wasted no time. "Good afternoon Mister Huong, my name is Fatima Blanc. We met at First Bank at Marina last week. I will be in the area this afternoon; maybe you could meet with me...for lunch. I have a matter of high urgency to discuss with you. My wireless PDA is 0809-555-6191. Please call..." The automated system told Fatima she had run out of time. Fatima hung up and contemplated her next move.
Fatima wondered if she had inadvertently led Larry on by suggesting lunch. She had to have him show up. Larry, in Fatima's mind, was the only person she knew who could possibly figure out the map. Fatima prayed Larry would show up, or at least return her call.
CHAPTER 19
Bread Run
Inspector Morefishco strolled into Dejure Bakery from the already baking heat at half past ten. The crowd seemed to bristle, then the buzz conversation turned calmer. Illyana spotted Morefishco in full uniform. Illyana drew her eyes down as Morefishco's eyes caught hers.
Morefishco smiled and took off his hat. He sat on a free smart stool, which adjusted its height so Morefishco's thighs were now at the most comfortable position based on his height and weight. Morefishco scanned the crowd behind him, which revealed a collection of uniformed students, young Nigeria professionals, and refugees, engaging in a combination of eating and pretending to eat. By the time Morefishco turned his head back around to the counter, Natasha was standing in front of him with an apron hiding her well-apportioned blouse and skirt.
"Are you here for the view, or might you want to order something?" Natasha asked.
Morefishco gazed at her name tag then her green eyes and short red hair, held back by glasses. "I hope you don't charge extra for that Natasha," Morefishco replied. Natasha took out her PDA to take the order and didn't reply. Morefishco raised an eyebrow. "So...what do you recommend?"
"What I always recommend when you ask me, something that lights a fire in your ass," Natasha replied.
Morefishco grinned. "What about something that makes me forget to scan your permits to see if they're up to date, as a favor to my buddies at the health ministry?" Morefishco asked.
At this Natasha exhaled and put down her glasses, picked up the menu, tossed it on the counter in front of Morefishco, and then pressed the Specials button on the graphical user interface. Morefishco looked down at the list and decided to have, "Ogi with akara, on the side."
"How much pepe?" Natasha asked Morefishco, with a smirk.
"Not too much," Morefishco replied, and then locked eyes with Natasha. Natasha broke away with the order, and Morefishco watched Natasha as she left. He then pulled out his PDA and placed it on the counter in front of him.
When Illyana returned with orders from the kitchen, Natasha intercepted her, and then picked out a serving from the tray. Morefishco watched as Natasha approach with his meal. Natasha was about to put the plate down, when she saw the PDA and stopped. "Do you want to eat, or play with your computer girlfriend?" Natasha asked.
Morefishco laughed. Before Natasha had put the dish down, Morefishco pressed a button on his PDA and placed it down in front
of himself. "Have you seen this man in here before?" Morefishco asked.
Natasha glanced down at the image on the PDA facing her. It was an image of a man in a black mask, and black attire. "Who is this supposed to be?" Natasha sucked her teeth.
"I was hoping you could solve the mystery for me; save the taxpayers some Afris," Morefishco said.
"Just on the 'net." Natasha lifted her gaze to scan the establishment. She caught the scowls of more than a few customers gazing at her conversation with Morefishco. "He looks like a local champion to me"
Morefishco pulled his dish in front of him. He sighed at the stout aroma of ogi balanced by the spicy scent of the palm-oil-fried akara. "That's what people keep telling me," Morefishco said, "but a local hero doesn't assault women in public."
"I said local champion, not local hero." Natasha wagged her finger.
"What's the difference?" Morefishco shrugged.
"A local champion is half angel, half devil," Natasha replied. Morefishco frowned in confusion. "Like a...Robin Hood," Natasha said.
"Well if he's Robin Hood, I'm the Sheriff," Morefishco said. "He's a murder suspect...and dangerous, so if you know..."
Natasha cut Morefishco off. "He didn't do it in here, so It's not my business," Natasha replied. "Now, if you don't mind, I'll get back to my business."
Morefishco whipped out one of his digital cards. "Well, if he does become your business, you let me know, okay?" Morefishco placed the card toward Natasha's apron pocket. Natasha intercepted it with lightning speed. She tossed Morefishco's card beneath the counter without looking, then walked away. "Enjoy your meal," Natasha said.
Morefishco enjoyed half of his meal before getting up. "Nature calls," he said loud enough to be heard within earshot. As he passed, patrons either avoided direct eye contact with Morefishco, or gave him their meanest scowl. Morefishco entered the clean and menthol-scented bathroom at the end of the aisle.
Morefishco got down on his hunches and checked no one was in any of the stalls. When he saw nothing he got back up, and then noticed a glimmer on the other side of the last stall. Morefishco looked around the end of the stall to see the sunlight flicker through the small window. Morefishco smiled and put on his Visionaries and then inspected the window sill which came down to his chin. The majority of the artifacts were cobwebs and their victims, but on the edge of the window itself, was a piece of dark-colored fabric which caught the light. Morefishco got an evidence bag out of his utility pouch. Then with a micro-grappler, he peeled the fibers off the edge of the window.
CHAPTER 20
Send In The Robots
A long, black hover limousine landed on the roof of an office building across from Fatima's flat. Five, military-grade robots stood in front of the limousine, with one at its side. A gloved hand pulled a cigar out of the dark of the car. "Get that map, and be discreet," a male voice said.
José led Fatima and Ingrid out of Fatima's flat, and the three headed out into the late morning sauna. In vain they tried their best not to inhale any road dust from okadas zipping by them. Market sellers lined the streets selling newspapers, water, plantains, and toiletries, watches, slippers, and other wosi-wosi. If it was portable; if it was profitable, the market sellers carried it.
At the junction, Fatima held Ingrid's hand as a mother holds a child's, still new to the perils of the big city. José waved down a hover-taxi, but Fatima dismissed it. "I'm not rich o!"
Ingrid dug into her handbag but couldn't quite see into it due to the glare, so she turned away from the street backing the sun. Out of nowhere, a heavy duty robot snatched Ingrid's bag and took off up the street.
Before Ingrid yelled, "Help!", José was already after the robot on foot. Meanwhile Fatima spun around and grabbed Ingrid as a wheeled taxi slowed towards the curb. Ingrid looked up to see Fatima dragging her to the side of the taxi. As Fatima reached for the taxi door, a military-grade robot hand pinched her wrist. "Arrgh!" Fatima knees buckled. Ingrid lost her balance and fell to the ground. Fatima could hear gunfire in the distance, but didn't know from which direction. The robot that had taken Ingrid's bag returned around the block, and then tossed Ingrid back her bag as she struggled to get up.
Meanwhile the military-grade robot grasping Fatima, began searching her body with its free hand. When Fatima attempted to move in protest, the robot applied more pressure, causing her to scream. "Please o! I beg!"
Just then, huffing and puffing, José returned around the corner. He dropped his auto-pistols, and then pulled up both of his submachine guns. With the robot with sanitation markings in José's sights, he began firing. Ignoring Fatima, the robot turned on José. Out of its right arm an electrical charge reached out and shocked José unconscious. As José fell, both submachine guns continued to fire over the screams of Ingrid and Fatima.
The military-grade robot holding Fatima pulled its fingers out of her brassiere, and with it, her Bit-Cash card and a media card. The robot scanned both cards by placing them against its head. The robot then returned the Bit-Cash card, and then disappeared around the corner. The robot with sanitation markings began to follow the military-grade robot, when it stopped and turned around. Ingrid stood in shock as Fatima regained her senses. Fatima pulled Ingrid off the sidewalk, and then shoved her into a waiting taxi.
CHAPTER 21
The Black Mask
Morefishco, Dockery and Churchwell arrived in a police cruiser just in time to see Fatima and Ingrid close the door to their wheeled taxi cab.
"Hey Morefishco, man, isn't that..." Dockery started.
"I see them. Get out and secure the area," Morefishco said.
"With what?" Churchwell asked as she stepped out of the police cruiser's front passenger seat.
Morefishco commanded the vehicular computer. "Trunk release." Dockery stepped out of the backseat, and around to the trunk of the police cruiser. Inside the trunk Dockery found two combat batons. Dockery grabbed them, and then shook them in the rear-view camera.
"Are you for real?" Dockery yelled. "You see all this damage?" Dockery waved the batons at the carnage the robots and José had caused.
"And you aren't going to add any to it," Morefishco said. "My turf, my rules." With that Morefishco screeched off after the taxi cab.
Churchwell and Dockery stared at their batons, then at each other. They were interrupted by weapons fire ricocheting off the side of an abandoned suya shack behind them. Churchwell took a defensive position behind the suya shack, and spied two robots sprinting at the end of the block.
The military-grade robot with the media card and the sanitation robot carrying José on its back, turned into an alley. They began to scale the side of the building. When they reached the roof, they joined five other robots in front of a black hover-limousine.
Dockery and Churchwell made it around the corner in pursuit of the robots, just in time to see them disappear over the top of the building.
"What, what now?" Dockery turned to Churchwell.
Churchwell snickered, "You're out of shape." She compressed her police baton and clipped it to her utility belt, then began climbing the stairs of the fire escape. "Come on!"
Dockery shook his head, and then watched Churchwell rise upward. He compressed and clipped his police baton.
Back on the roof of the building, a gloved hand came out of the rear window of the hover-limousine. The lead robot placed the media card in it, after prostrating. The hand returned into the darkness of the limousine. "Excellent!" A male voice said a moment later. "Never send a boy to do a robot's job. Dispose of him."
Churchwell and Dockery reached the roof, just in time to see the hover-limousine race off into the sky. Dockery pulled a disc out of his pocket, and threw it at the hover-limousine. The disc attached itself to the underbody of the vehicle.
"Quick thinking," Churchwell said.
"Nah," Dockery replied. "I just wasn't looking forward to us getting our asses whupped by a couple of robots."
CHAPTER 22
Back
At The Ranch
By the time the taxi arrived at the bank, Fatima and Ingrid had managed to freshen up so that they wouldn't draw any suspicion. It was already past noon and the sun was scorching. "Thank God for A-C," Fatima said to Ingrid, while she paid the taxi driver.
"What did you tell him?" Ingrid asked.
"I didn't say a time," Fatima replied. "I am hoping that lunch means twelve."
"How's your hand?" Ingrid asked, staring at Fatima's swollen wrist.
"Not good," Fatima said.
"Let me see." Ingrid reached for Fatima's hand.
"I beg o!" Fatima pulled back, and hid her hand.
Fatima took a quick view of the bank entrance. She saw beggars, market sellers, and passersby, but no Larry.
Morefishco stayed a few car lengths back and watched the wheeled taxi pull over and drop the two women. He was tempted to flick on the lights and sirens, and arrest them, but he decided to wait to see what might develop.
"Maybe he's already inside." Fatima led Ingrid to the Bit-Cash machine in the foyer of the bank. On the other side of the two-way glass were two men in business suits, who looked relieved to be in the air conditioning, and a red-faced Larry.
Fatima smiled once their eyes met. Larry's frown became a smile. Larry looked as Fatima remembered him: short-sleeve shirt with dark, pinstriped slacks. Fatima scurried up to Larry, then courtesied. "I am happy you came."
Larry wasn't able to keep himself from blushing. "Your message sounded urgent," Larry said, and then glanced past Fatima at Ingrid.
Fatima caught Larry's glance. Fatima turned to face Ingrid. "Hi," Ingrid replied with a tentative wave. Larry nodded and smiled, and then looked back to Fatima.
