by Bill O. A
“You better cooperate with us or I will arrest you for aiding and abetting an international criminal.”
The manager froze at the mention of an arrest.
“Well, we can always bend the rules. If I may ask, what or who are you looking for?”
“We suspect a man has lodged in your hotel in the past three days. We need to go through your records to confirm if our suspect is lodged in this hotel,” replied Jack.
“That is fine. Please, this way leads to the back office,” said the hotel manager.
“I will like you to concentrate on guests that came in alone, single occupants, okay?” Jack was getting ready to receive a positive response; he knew they almost had their man, they just needed to be extra serious when handling matters.
“We have seventeen guests that fit that profile. Would you like to see their names?” asked Peter, the hotel accountant.
“Sure, let me have a look. None of these names are familiar. Manager, can you tell me which of these seventeen names are not in their rooms presently?” asked Jack.
“Let me see,” said the hotel manager. He sat on a chair and started working on the computer in front of him. “We have four, sir. Rooms 16A, 23C, 34A and 52B.”
“Okay, get the master key. We are visiting those rooms now.”
Jack’s assistant had been outside working with the third agent. His radio rang.
“Yes sir. There is still no sign of the suspect,” responded Andy.
“Leave Pascal outside and come in, we need to sweep some rooms now. Meet me by the elevator.”
Brad returned to their operational base and was being filled in on the current happenings by Agent Ken.
“Where is Sophie now?” asked Brad.
“Jack told her to join him at the hotel, so she is en route that direction.”
“Since we are not sure who the suspect is or where he is, I think it’s best to maintain the status quo. Go back to the bar with Agent Resse and maintain your invisible presence. I will be leaving to meet Jack and his team at the suspect’s hotel.”
Isaac knew there was no way he would go into the hotel; he had to change plans swiftly. He had lost his rifle but not his killing sense. He would have to attack tonight and leave town before the cops get a strong hold of his presence.
He turned on the Google Maps app on his cell phone and typed in an address. It would take him twenty-five minutes by car to get to Tom’s house.
“Sir, I believe we should be lucky with the third room. The first two rooms proved negative,” commented Agent Andy.
“One can never tell, you know,” replied Jack.
The hotel manager opened Room 34A and the three men went in. On the desk facing the bed was a map of the city. Jack knew that very instance they were in the right room.
“Andy, please radio Pascal. Inform him to let us know when the suspect enters the hotel. We have a lot of work to do here.”
“Roger that sir.”
Andy opened the closet and found two bags. He brought them out and opened the first bag. An M24 rifle was revealed. It had been dismantled to fit the appropriate pouches in the bag.
“Sir, you would like to see this.”
Jack left the table where the map was and went to the bed where the rifle bag was placed.
“Can you open that casing?” asked Jack.
Andy opened the casing and they found M24 bullets in it.
“Look sir, the bullets are numbered on their bases. We have five, six, seven, eight and nine.”
“Put the bag back. Place everything as they were. Our man will soon return, then we will catch him,” said Agent Jack.
Chapter 11
San Francisco, California
27th June 2015, 10:00 a.m.
“Grandpa, do we have Greek blood in our family’s bloodline?”
Felix was petrified the night of Amy’s fifteenth birthday. He couldn’t understand why she was seeing ghosts yet he wasn’t; ever since that day, he slept with the lights on.
“Boy, to be honest with you, the last trace of our ancestors in the family tree is just about twenty-five generations from your dad. You, Amy and your cousins will make the twenty-sixth,” replied David.
“Does that equate to three thousand years?” asked Felix.
“No, it doesn’t. In fact, it’s roughly about a thousand years. The time before then is lost,” replied David. “No trace whatsoever. You see, our history has crossed many cultures but reassuringly, our race has always been European for the past thousand years, and we have remained in Europe. My grandfather moved from Spain to the USA in June 1911. He was a scientist interested in the meteorite that struck the Earth from space in Columbia County, Wisconsin. The research took a while so he bought a house close by and settled down. Five months later, he was married to my grandmother and the rest is now history.”
Donald walked into the living room. David and Felix turned their attention to him.
“So, there is some probability that our lineage does have Greek in it?”
“Yes, but you cannot rule out Jessica’s bloodline.”
“I don’t think we should dwell on the issue of bloodline or no bloodline. We need to find the ghost man,” said David.
“There is still no news from George or the private detective,” said Donald, who spoke with little conviction. “I believe they need a week to search through some sophisticated police software.
“I think we should all wait till then. I really need to speak to George.” David was getting impatient.
Professor George thought of how he would inform the Joneses of recent events concerning him. This news would certainly kill the morale he had built in them. Losing him at this vital stage of the quest would be a big blow, as no twenty-first century historian could match his knowledge and knowhow of haptomai. He called Agent Alfred.
“Hey, morning, I don’t see your colleague’s car outside. I hope the invincible wall is on.”
“You need to calm down, Professor. They take routine drives round the streets looking out for any leads. They will soon be back,” replied Alfred. “And we also have a direct view of your house. The cameras installed are state of the art.”
“I know, but I am more comfortable if they are around. No one can fully understand the mind of a freak.”
“You can be rest assured that everything is under control.”
Amy needed to get to Sandra’s house before heading to Baker Beach. Her things were in her beach bag and she strolled with beautiful strides. Her cell phone rang it was Sandra.
“Hello Amy. Where are you now?”
“I am just a few blocks from your house. Is your beach stuff ready?”
“You bet I am all ready. My mum will drop us off. We can then get a cab home after the day.”
“Okay, seems we are set then.”
The beach was crowded as usual.
“What a lovely sunny day to lie down and get tanned,” Sandra giggled to Amy.
“Did you get the sunscreen lotion my mum suggested?” asked Amy.
“Yes, I did. It is right here in my beach bag.”
The girls were having a swell time. They took a quick swim in the water and returned to their canopy.
“Why don’t I apply lotion on your back first, then you help me with mine afterwards?” asked Amy.
“Okay. I will just lie down here.”
Jeff had been ogling at the girls for some time; he couldn’t keep his eyes off Amy’s body. He saw they were chilling under the sun and getting some tan, so he walked towards them.
“Hello. My name is Jeff Newton.”
The girls responded. “Hi.”
“My folks and I moved into town two months ago, so I really don’t have friends.”
“We can show you the town, if you like,” replied Amy.
“Whoa, that will be great!”
Sandra suddenly joined the conversation. “I think it is best you look somewhere else for your friendship, as you can see, this is a private canopy.”
Jeff got the message, he wasn’t wanted here. “All right, anytime you are free just give me a call. My number is…” replied Jeff.
Harry Peterside drove by George’s house. He was about to park but changed his mind when he noticed that two men were studying the street from their car. They looked like Feds but he couldn’t tell. He continued driving and went four houses after George’s. He began to look at the men through his rear-view mirror; they were obviously involved in some kind of surveillance. He decided to call the professor to make sure everything was all right.
“They are the FBI,” George said into the phone. “Something has come up suddenly. Please come into the house we need to talk.”
“I will be with you shortly,” replied Harry.
“You shouldn’t have scared him away. Why would you do that?” asked Amy
“You must be joking. Have you already forgotten what we are up against? You don’t need any distractions now. Once the curse has been lifted, you can have all the boyfriends you want but right now, you stick with the plan.”
“There was no mention of me not being allowed to flirt,” said Amy.
“I think coming to the beach was a bad idea,” responded Sandra. “I thought a change of scenery will help you but I guess I was wrong. “Can we leave now?”
“I planned three hours at the beach, and that is what it’s going to be. So get some lotion and wait it out,” replied Amy.
On their way home both girls were all smiles and laughed at jokes shared. Sandra dropped off first then the cab took Amy home.
“Are you saying some freak killer is after you?”
Harry was all attentive now. “Because of a military action that happened close to forty-something years ago? You were still a kid by all standards.”
“Revenge has no boundary, my dear friend. So I am live bait waiting to be caught.”
“You need to tell Agent Alfred to change the duo outside. I could read them like a book.”
“It must be your training, a regular guy wouldn’t even notice.”
“Yeah, right. It might be my training but this killer has taken out four victims already, you don’t get that perfect without some training. I think the men outside should go. Ask for some experienced men if you are going to play ball. We can’t have you dead. What will that poor girl do if you are not in the equation?”
“I understand you perfectly well. I will work something out with Alfred.”
Chapter 12
Nigeria’s Capital City
5th July 2015, 2:15 p.m.
“The President took over power just over a month ago. He hasn’t appointed his cabinet yet. You will need to wait for a substantive minister to be appointed before we revisit your oil mining license,” said the director of the Ministry of Petroleum Resources.
He was being tactful. He knew Alhaji was right about his company’s license. They had been prospecting under OPL 147 for the past four years and great strides had been achieved; it was time to upgrade the operation and present an OML to Alhaji.
“I know how much I spent ensuring the President’s party was successful in the northern part of the country during the just-concluded elections. Never in the history of this nation has a sitting president lost his incumbency. I took a risk and won, now it is time for me to be rewarded. I need my OML right away.”
“You are an experienced businessman, without the minister’s approval we cannot do anything. From my perspective, I suggest you get the northern leaders to persuade His Excellency to make good his promise to the people and form a government right away. The citizens have great hope for this administration.”
“This is not what I planned. You promised me a smooth sail throughout this process, why all this meandering? I secured a loan from Citi Bank making 60% of my part in the secret joint venture I have with the sixth Duke of Westminster. I don’t think Gerald Grosvenor will be pleased with the pace used in executing the project. You know how long oilfields take to get prepared. I give you a month to resolve this license issue,” emphasized Alhaji.
“I will do everything within my power to bring a permanent solution to this, sir,” replied the director.
Alhaji got up and went for the exit. He had two police escorts permanently with him and a four-man team for his vehicle protection unit. Alhaji’s motorcade was made up of three vehicles. They drove out of the building and headed to the central business district. He had another meeting with Azeem; they had seen each other as recently as mid-February that year.
The Transcorp Hilton is the most luxurious five-star hotel in Nigeria’s capital city. It is the playing ground for politicians and elite businessmen; major decisions are agreed late in the night amongst leading politicians and their affiliates there.
Azeem was seated in the lounge facing the reception and bar area.
“You can wait here while I talk to my friend,” Alhaji said to his escorts.
“Azeem, always a pleasure to see you.”
“Likewise, my friend,” replied the architect.
Alhaji was seated and eager to hear what latest information Azeem had for him.
“I am sorry my friend, but these are not good times. Solomon the SAN is dead, barely three weeks after Eze died. These men still had up to five and four years respectively left on their contract with the east god, and like us they refused to become worshippers.”
Alhaji sat calmly; he couldn’t be seen panicking in public.
“What can be done? I can’t just drop dead. I have a family and business to take care of,” lamented Alhaji.
“How many years do you have left?” asked Azeem.
“Two years,” replied Alhaji.
“As you can see, we are sitting ducks for the east god to toil with,” commented Azeem.
“I think we shouldn’t wait for a couple of months to expiration before we renew,” suggested Alhaji.
“Are you ready to kill another set of twins?” asked Azeem.
“I don’t think the ritual will demand that much for a renewal,” replied Alhaji.
“You better wake up. The east god has been struggling to remain in existence. The gods even offered a sweet deal but no, we turned down the gods. Now you want to go back for a renewal and you think the gods will be fair to you,” said Azeem, who was now furious. He didn’t believe Alhaji would speak so childishly.
“Okay, so what do we do now?” asked Alhaji.
“We visit the chief priest and plead for liberal terms of renewal.”
“I see, that sounds fine. I will arrange my private jet for the trip. When do you think we should go?” asked Alhaji.
“The manner in which the potency of the gods is failing, I suggest we leave tomorrow morning.”
“Excellent. I will catch you at the VIP area in the airport tomorrow.”
Azeem nodded and rose to his feet. He shook hands one more time and headed for the restaurant. Alhaji brought out his mobile phone and began to make calls. He needed a flawless trip tomorrow; he could always rely on his personal assistant to sort and arrange things.
“Gentlemen, I think you will need to re-park the cars properly. I want them off the highway.”
Alhaji was used to the terrain. He knew his entrance and exit points seamlessly.
“Okay, sir. We will do just that.”
Azeem led the way as the older customer. Alhaji had gotten himself a satellite phone for times like this, just in case the need arose.
“Azeem, do you always take chocolate to the chief priest whenever you visit?” Alhaji was waiting for a response.
“Anything to please the man,” replied Azeem. “You know how scarce items like this are in this area, I am sure this will be the elixir for a favourable discussion.”
“I really don’t think this is the right time for humour,” commented Alhaji. “These are serious issues that await us and I think we should be thinking of what to say when we get ther
e.”
“Look Alhaji, it is the old coven pathway. We are almost there.”
“Two jolly friends. You are always welcome to the shrine of the east god, but before you go about your business, I have a story to tell you. Have you ever heard of the story of Damon and Pythias?” asked the chief priest. “It is a story from ancient Greece. The story goes thus…”
The chief priest looked intensely at his visitors and continued with his story.
“Damon and Pythias grew up in Sicily and had always been best friends. One day, they decided to visit a neighbouring city. During their visit, Pythias said some negative things about the king of the city. The king became angry, arrested Pythias and planned to have him killed. Pythias pleaded with the king and said he needed to see his family to tell them of his misfortune and say his final goodbyes, but the king laughed it off saying Pythias would not return to be killed. But then Damon chipped in and said he would stay behind and take Pythias’ place till he returns, and that if he doesn’t then the king can have his head instead. The king was shocked; he couldn’t believe what he had heard, so he agreed to Damon’s request.
Pythias left and was expected to return within one month. He arrived home and made good his plans to see his family. He said his goodbyes and began his return to be killed. During his return journey, his ship was attacked by pirates who threw him overboard despite his pleas to be allowed to complete his journey back to the city. Pythias swam to shore. He was in a terrible situation; he had no resources for transportation to the king’s palace, so he began to run as fast as he could so his friend, Damon, would not be killed in his stead.
On the day for his execution, the king instructed his guards to prepare to kill Damon. He was unperturbed, feeling confident his friend would come for him. As Damon was about to be executed, Pythias ran into the palace, looking filthy and dressed in rags from his swimming and running, and he had no shoes on. He cried out.
‘I have come back! Let Damon go, I am prepared to be killed now,’ he said as he approached the executioners to be exchanged for the beheading. The king was impressed by this great friendship and didn’t kill Pythias after all; instead he kept Damon and Pythias in the palace so they could give him sound advice.”
