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| FLEXSTORIES.COM |
The Hotel bubbled as music blasted from
highly powered surround speakers. Half Unclad
girls paraded the dimly lit bar, looking for
clients to patronize their willing bodies. It was
the perfect way to spend a Friday night, away
highly powered surround speakers. Half Unclad
girls paraded the dimly lit bar, looking for
clients to patronize their willing bodies. It was
the perfect way to spend a Friday night, away
from all the hiding and looking behind his
shoulders. Ahmed smiled as he blended with
the already teeming crowd in the bar. He
walked to the barman and requested for his
favorite beer. While he waited, he turned and
watched as the girls on the iron poles did
their thing, grinding their bodies against the
cold metal and pulling acrobatic stunts to the
sheer amazement of lewd customers. So this
was what his Uncle wanted him to miss? He
hissed and shook his head mockingly.
Collecting his beer after generously tipping the
bar man, he walked to an empty seat in the
far corner of the bar. It was going to be an
evening to remember
Sadly for him, it was going to be his last
evening alive.
“Target green. Visible from this point.
Awaiting orders.” The barman texted Ope, who
was now inside the hotel, begging the
receptionist for a room to spend the night.
“Copy that. Keep target in focus. Wait for my
orders.” Ope texted back.
The barman got the text and immediately
deleted it off his phone.
“Na wa for una o. Just ordinary room una no
fit give person. Shey I tell you say I no go pay
ni?” Ope queried the receptionist.
“No sir, we are fully booked. I am so sorry but
there is nothing I can do.” She replied.
“Shey I sha fit go the bar go take one or two
bottles?” Ope asked.
“Of course sir. Right that way.” The
receptionist said, pointing to the direction of
the bar.
Ope winked at her and she blushed. He made
a mental note to check on her when he was
done with the current mission.
“I am moving in sir. I would like to confirm the
code of this operation sir. Take out or delivery
sir?” Ope said, pressing his left hand into his
left ear.
“I have changed my mind. Deliver him to me
at the Mansion. It has to be a clean job. I will
do the rest.” The General replied.
“Copied.” Ope replied and took out the tiny
white transmitter in his left ear. He crushed
the device witb his boots and entered the bar.
***********************************************
Sophia looked at the General as a smile
beamed across his face. He had never seen
him smile since she was 15. Even when he
promoted her to a lieutenant in his
Corporation, he had a grim look on his face.
“That’s a look one doesn’t get to see every
day sir. What is the secret?” Sophia asked
dropping a glass of cold water on the table by
which he sat.
“Let’s just say, I am going to have my pound
of flesh.” The General replied.
“I thought you said you do not do
desperation. If you kill the boy, is that not
exactly what it is? A desperate act at
revenge?” Sophia questioned.
“I lied.” The General replied and continued.
“Cheers sweetheart.” He finished pushing his
cup of water at her.
She just smiled and blew him a kiss.
She was beginning to get worried about this
man.
*************************************************
Eva yawned and stretched as the rays of the
early morning sun peeped through the slightly
opened curtains. She was completely nak3d as
the duvet fell off her body as she sat up. She
remembered what happened the night before.
She felt good. Just then a shirtless Sean
walked in with a tray which had a warm cup of
coffee and sandwiches.
“Rise and Shine sweetheart.” He said dropping
the tray beside her and kissing her softly on
the forehead.
“Did we?” Eva asked surprised, a look of lust
in her eyes.
“What do you think?” Sean replied and then
continued
“Come on, gobble up. You need your strength.
I will be back. I need to use the gym.” Sean
finished.
Eva watched as Sean went of the bedroom.
She could not stop staring at his perfectly
curved body and his suave. She felt herself
tingle below and she chuckled.
******************************************
“Hey bro, is this seat taken?” Ope said to
Ahmed who was on his third bottle of beer.
“No it’s not. You can have it.” Ahmed replied.
They shook hands. As they pumped and
snapped, Ope lodged a tiny tracker in Ahmed’s
hand. They talked about the country, the
improvement, and the failures. They got round
to the subject of women and how filled the bar
was.
“So what if your wife call you now, wetin you
go do?” Ope asked Ahmed, opening his second
bottle of beer.
“I no get wife o. That is why I come here. All
these girls just dey enter my eyes and I no
know which one I go fit choose sef.” Ahmed
replied.
His eyes darted to and fro the large room,
falling on different pretty girls. He did not
have enough cash to spend.
“You like that yellow one there? Wey get big
yansh and bosoms?” Ope asked
“Ah, na dat one dey my mind since! Brother, u
get eye o.” Ahmed replied smacking his lips.
Ope signaled to the girl and she came over to
their table. She was among one of the hookers
already bought by Ope. She sat on Ahmed’s
laps and began to touch him in places that
drove him crazy. He was on his sixth bottle of
beer and was already drunk. His eyes were
blurred and his utterances were slurred. With
the girl on his left and Ope on his right, he
was guided out of the bar.
The Colonel was worried. Ahmed had not
called or texted. He was supposed to check in
every half hour. But three hours had gone by
and he hadn’t heard from him. He decided to
go see for himself. As the Colonel got off the
stairs, he looked left and saw Ahmed been
taken out of the premises. He was shocked.
His gun was not on him. He ran and
screamed. By the time he got to the gate, they
had zoomed off in a waiting car. The Colonel
was furious. He held the gateman by the collar
and threatened to kill him. He wanted to know
where they were taking his nephew to. He was
choking the gateman now, stifling him to
death. Four heavily built bouncers in black
fitting tops and tight pants suddenly appeared
from nowhere. The Colonel eyed them one
after the other. He could take all of them out
conveniently without breaking a sweat.
However, he decided the drama would not be
necessary. He apologized, left the gateman
and went back to his room. He had only one
thing on his mind. Getting Ahmed back.
***************************************
He woke as a bucket of water was splashed on
his face. He tried to adapt his eyes to the
darkness of the dimly lit room. He could see
figures of two men but his vision was blurred.
Gradually he could see the two men. He
recognized one as his friend from the bar the
night before. He didn’t know who the other
man was. He tried to get up from the bed he
was in but discovered that his legs and hands
were tied to the small bed in the middle of the
room. He still had a little hangover but the
current fear he felt had sent a cold shiver
down his spine.
“What…wha.. what.. am…i..doing…here. Wh…
who…who…are…you…people?” Ahmed
stammered as the other man approached him.
“Shhhhhhh. Quiet. The General hates noise.”
The man said.
He gave Ahmed a hard slap to the right side
of his face. Ahmed yelped in pain.
“Did that hurt?” The man asked.
Ahmed kept quiet, his head turned away from
the man. He was sobbing quietly. He was
afraid. He didn’t plan to die like this.
The man bent low and turned Ahmed’s face
back towards him. He squeezed Ahmed’s
cheeks with his thumb and forefinger.
“I said, did that hurt?” He said to Ahmed
menacingly.
Ahmed nodded slowly.
“Good boy. Because what you just experienced
is nothing compared to what is going to
happen to you pretty soon.” He finished and
backed away from Ahmed, heading for the
door and going out.
Ope came to Ahmed and patted his hair
gently.
“I am sorry bro, but I don’t call the shots. See
you in hell.” Ope said and left him.
Ope knocked twice on another door within the
same room and stepped out, locking the door
behind him.
After what seemed like an eternity, the door
that Ope knocked opened and Ahmed almost
poo his pants.
The General strode out of the room gallantly.
He smiled as he approached Ahmed.
“How are you boy?” The General asked looking
down at the scared man tied on the bed.
“Pppp…le…aa…seeee. Ppppleeeaaasssee.”
Ahmed begged.
“I am sorry but that word does not exist in my
dictionary. I need to send your Uncle a
souvenir.” The General said and continued,
“Then I am going to take off every toe, every
finger, pluck out your eyes, your tongue and
dismember you gradually till you die. Now
which toe do I send to your Uncle?” The
General threatened, bringing out a huge sharp
plier.
“I think I will just take the two big toes. Don’t
worry boy, I am quite skilled at this.” The
General finished.
Ahmed wet his pants. The General did not let
that affect him. He cut off Ahmed’s big toes in
swift snaps of the plier. Blood poured from the
wounds. Ahmed shrieked in pain. The
General’s black shirt was stained with blood.
He kept the cut toes on the floor.
“Now, to the main course.” The General said,
snapping the plier in the air.
Ahmed’s cries and shrieks pierced the air and
went through the hallways. No one would hear
him. No
one would help him. The General left him
barely alive and exited the room with his
exhibits. He planned to send them to The
Colonel later. Ahmed was breathing very
slowly. His heart gradually gave way. He died
a slow and painful death.
The Colonel paced the Hotel room, deep in
thought. He was upset, angry but not
disoriented. His original impulse was to react
immediately. Follow the trail Ahmed had laid
down and eventually catch up with the
abductors. He had seriously been
contemplating taking rash action when he got
a delivery. It was a small pocket sized
package with no posting address.
“Who sent this?” The Colonel asked the
delivery boy.
“I have no idea. My job is to deliver what I am
given. Please sign here sir.” The delivery boy
replied.
The Colonel acknowledged receipt and locked
the door as the boy left. He scrutinized the
parcel wrapped in a pretty blue foil. He was
wary. He did not know what it was. Could it
be a bomb? He held the package close to his
ears, expecting the ticking sound of a
countdown timer. He heard nothing. As he
turned the parcel around trying to ascertain
the contents, something caught his eye.
He saw a very faint black ink. It looked like
some form of hurriedly scribbled words. Or
carefully concealed information. He got his
magnifying glasses and read the scribbled
information on the bottom right of the parcel:
“ отмщению ”
“Payback” in Russian.
Only one person knew ever used that with him,
The General. Immediately, he feared the worst.
He quickly tore the parcel open. What he saw
broke his heart into a million shreds. The toes,
eyes and heart of Ahmed were neatly arranged
inside the parcel. He fell on the chair, holding
the parcel in his hands. He could not believe
his eyes. Ahmed was dead. He felt like
opening fire on the Corporation. He had had
enough. First it was his only son. And now,
the just took Ahmed. He was done running. He
was done playing nice. He was done being the
victim. He made up his mind. They had taken
too much from him. Marcus was going to pay.
As he remembered all the loss he had suffered
from the hands of the Corporation, anger got
the better of him. He dropped the parcel on
the table in front of him, got up suddenly and
screamed at the top of his lungs.
“Nooooooooooooo!!!!!!”
With clenched fist and his teeth gnashing, he
walked forwards and punched the concrete
walls until his fists bled and the pain became
unbearable. Tears fell freely from his eyes.
Breathing heavily, his chest heaving, he
walked dejectedly back to the couch and sat.
He held his head in his bloodied hands. He
had to do something. He knew the General
was expecting a reaction from him. The
General knew everything about him. The
General taught him many of the things he
knew. There would eventually be a face-off but
when? He continued to think, raking his brain
for any possible subtlety that Marcus would
not see coming.
He found it hard to think. Anger, pain and
sadness made it difficult for him to plan a
proper course of action. He decided to take a
nap. As he lay on the couch, his eyes fell on
Ahmed’s newspaper clippings on the wall. He
began to feel bad all over again. He turned on
the couch, facing the west wall away from the
newspaper clippings.
Suddenly, there was a glint in his eyes. He
had a brain wave. The sadness in his eyes
immediately disappeared and was replaced by
excitement and anticipation.
He got up from the chair and went to the
newspaper clippings on the wall. He had never
given much thought about Ahmed’s obsession
with finding a mystery killer. For all he cared,
The Colonel believed that the slain political
officers were greedy criminals who deserved
their fate. But now, as he studied the clippings
he came to a shocking realization. Ahmed’s
work was actually his ticket to finishing off the
Corporation. He studied the patterns Ahmed
had drawn, improved on the inferences already
suggested and connected the dots Ahmed had
failed to see. He made calls and begged old
friends for favors and access into surveillance
archives. The Colonel traced calls, decrypted
emails and intercepted a few.
With each passing hour, he got closer and
closer to finding the target. He worked like a
maniac, working the phones, asking for favors,
eliminating possibilities. He followed up on
past leads and made reasonable progress.
Ten hours later, he was done. Cans of Coca-
Cola littered the room. He now had eight
different images on the screen of the computer
that he had been working with . One of the
images in the mix shocked him. He could not
believe what he saw.
He took his phone and dialed a number.
“Frankenstein. Its Da Vinci.” The Colonel said.
“You promised never to contact me again.”
Frankenstein replied with a cold voice from
the end of the line.
“Frank, you know I would never come to you if
it was not a matter of immediate attention.
My nephew is dead.” The Colonel said.
“What can I do?” Frank asked
“Remember those blueprints of the Ghosts
organization I gave you six years ago?” The
Colonel asked
“What about it?” Frank said
“I know what a curious mind you have my
friend. I intentionally sparked your curiosity
when I handed you that chip years ago. I gave
you very skinny details just to whet your
appetite. Although you showed no signs, I was
very sure you would dig. I know you have done
extensive work on that Chip. I want to collect
Frank.” The Colonel said.
Seconds went by. Silence. No reply from the
other end. This was a battle of wits. Whoever
speaks first concedes defeat.
Thirteen seconds later, Frank spoke.
“You had me bugged?”
“No my good friend. I had my chip bugged. I
need to collect immediately. How do I get it?”
The Colonel asked impatiently.
“I am going to deliver the Chip to you tonight.
Here is your passkey. Alpha Alpha Singleton
Open Zigabyte zero”
“Thanks Frank. Now we are even.” The Colonel
said.
“If you contact me again Da Vinci, the next
time you wake up will be in hell.” Frank replied
And the line went dead. The Colonel knew that
Frankenstein did not threaten. He promised.
He copied out the passkey that he had just
been given
ALPHA ALPHA SINGLETON OPEN ZIGABYTE
ZERO.
He scribbled the passkey and transcribed:
A A 1 O Z 0.
The Zero meant he had to take the passkey
from the back so he re wrote the key
0 Z O 1 A A.
He folded the paper he wrote the key on,
putting it in the inner pocket of his jean. He
took one last look at his laptop and shook his
head.
The pictures of Eva, Sean, Bruno, Sophia,
Tawo, Shina, Ambrose and the General starred
him in the face. He typed a code to initiate the
self-destruct option to permanently wipe away
all the contents of his computer. When that
was done he took down the newspaper
clippings, burning them in a small tray. He
had everything he needed. He carried his
knapsack and stepped out the hotel.
****************************************
Eva and Sean sat on the Veranda of the
penthouse. They had been talking the whole
day. They spoke about their missions, their
fears, what they had been through, how they
felt about the killings. They bonded. They took
a break in the afternoon to have lunch and go
at each other again. It was more explosive
this time as they now had more intensity
between them.
Eva’s head was on Sean’s chest. Her fingers
were picking the smooth hair on his chest. He
caressed the hair on her head. None of them
spoke but the chemistry between them was
evident. Sean wondered why he was so
comfortable with her.
“when do you think all this would end?” Eva
asked out of the blues.
“When would what end?” Sean asked feigning
innocence.
“Go jor. You know what I am talking about.
The Corporation. Will we work for them
forever? I don’t know about you but I think I
am tired of killing people. It used to be fun.
But now, I’m not just into it anymore.” Eva
lamented.
“It is what we signed up for. We have no
choice. Are you ready to live the rest of your
life on the run? Constantly watching your
back? Afraid of even your shadow? The food
you eat? The next person beside you? Is that
what you want? Sean asked.
“I don’t know. I just…” Eva started but was
interrupted by the doorbell.
“Did you call for room service?” Eva asked as
the ringing continued.
“No I didn’t. Let me see what they want.”
Sean said, kissing Eva lightly on the forehead.
Dressed in only his boxer shorts, Sean walked
to the door and peeped in the keyhole. He saw
a man in his early forties looking away from
the door. He wondered what the man wanted.
He looked very harmless.
Sean opened the door.
“Yes, is there something I can help you with?”
Sean asked.
The Colonel launched a fierce and powerful
kick to Sean’s ribcage. Sean spiraled to the
floor, holding his stomach. He was not
expecting such.
Eva heard the crash and ran into the sitting
room. As she entered, the Colonel brought out
two .45 semi-automatic silenced pistols from
his hip and pointed them, one at Eva and one
at Sean on the floor.
“Dad?” Eva said recognizing the man whom
she had only seen in pictures.
“Hello Eva. Our family reunion is long
overdue.”
thought. He was upset, angry but not
disoriented. His original impulse was to react
immediately. Follow the trail Ahmed had laid
down and eventually catch up with the
abductors. He had seriously been
contemplating taking rash action when he got
a delivery. It was a small pocket sized
package with no posting address.
“Who sent this?” The Colonel asked the
delivery boy.
“I have no idea. My job is to deliver what I am
given. Please sign here sir.” The delivery boy
replied.
The Colonel acknowledged receipt and locked
the door as the boy left. He scrutinized the
parcel wrapped in a pretty blue foil. He was
wary. He did not know what it was. Could it
be a bomb? He held the package close to his
ears, expecting the ticking sound of a
countdown timer. He heard nothing. As he
turned the parcel around trying to ascertain
the contents, something caught his eye.
He saw a very faint black ink. It looked like
some form of hurriedly scribbled words. Or
carefully concealed information. He got his
magnifying glasses and read the scribbled
information on the bottom right of the parcel:
“ отмщению ”
“Payback” in Russian.
Only one person knew ever used that with him,
The General. Immediately, he feared the worst.
He quickly tore the parcel open. What he saw
broke his heart into a million shreds. The toes,
eyes and heart of Ahmed were neatly arranged
inside the parcel. He fell on the chair, holding
the parcel in his hands. He could not believe
his eyes. Ahmed was dead. He felt like
opening fire on the Corporation. He had had
enough. First it was his only son. And now,
the just took Ahmed. He was done running. He
was done playing nice. He was done being the
victim. He made up his mind. They had taken
too much from him. Marcus was going to pay.
As he remembered all the loss he had suffered
from the hands of the Corporation, anger got
the better of him. He dropped the parcel on
the table in front of him, got up suddenly and
screamed at the top of his lungs.
“Nooooooooooooo!!!!!!”
With clenched fist and his teeth gnashing, he
walked forwards and punched the concrete
walls until his fists bled and the pain became
unbearable. Tears fell freely from his eyes.
Breathing heavily, his chest heaving, he
walked dejectedly back to the couch and sat.
He held his head in his bloodied hands. He
had to do something. He knew the General
was expecting a reaction from him. The
General knew everything about him. The
General taught him many of the things he
knew. There would eventually be a face-off but
when? He continued to think, raking his brain
for any possible subtlety that Marcus would
not see coming.
He found it hard to think. Anger, pain and
sadness made it difficult for him to plan a
proper course of action. He decided to take a
nap. As he lay on the couch, his eyes fell on
Ahmed’s newspaper clippings on the wall. He
began to feel bad all over again. He turned on
the couch, facing the west wall away from the
newspaper clippings.
Suddenly, there was a glint in his eyes. He
had a brain wave. The sadness in his eyes
immediately disappeared and was replaced by
excitement and anticipation.
He got up from the chair and went to the
newspaper clippings on the wall. He had never
given much thought about Ahmed’s obsession
with finding a mystery killer. For all he cared,
The Colonel believed that the slain political
officers were greedy criminals who deserved
their fate. But now, as he studied the clippings
he came to a shocking realization. Ahmed’s
work was actually his ticket to finishing off the
Corporation. He studied the patterns Ahmed
had drawn, improved on the inferences already
suggested and connected the dots Ahmed had
failed to see. He made calls and begged old
friends for favors and access into surveillance
archives. The Colonel traced calls, decrypted
emails and intercepted a few.
With each passing hour, he got closer and
closer to finding the target. He worked like a
maniac, working the phones, asking for favors,
eliminating possibilities. He followed up on
past leads and made reasonable progress.
Ten hours later, he was done. Cans of Coca-
Cola littered the room. He now had eight
different images on the screen of the computer
that he had been working with . One of the
images in the mix shocked him. He could not
believe what he saw.
He took his phone and dialed a number.
“Frankenstein. Its Da Vinci.” The Colonel said.
“You promised never to contact me again.”
Frankenstein replied with a cold voice from
the end of the line.
“Frank, you know I would never come to you if
it was not a matter of immediate attention.
My nephew is dead.” The Colonel said.
“What can I do?” Frank asked
“Remember those blueprints of the Ghosts
organization I gave you six years ago?” The
Colonel asked
“What about it?” Frank said
“I know what a curious mind you have my
friend. I intentionally sparked your curiosity
when I handed you that chip years ago. I gave
you very skinny details just to whet your
appetite. Although you showed no signs, I was
very sure you would dig. I know you have done
extensive work on that Chip. I want to collect
Frank.” The Colonel said.
Seconds went by. Silence. No reply from the
other end. This was a battle of wits. Whoever
speaks first concedes defeat.
Thirteen seconds later, Frank spoke.
“You had me bugged?”
“No my good friend. I had my chip bugged. I
need to collect immediately. How do I get it?”
The Colonel asked impatiently.
“I am going to deliver the Chip to you tonight.
Here is your passkey. Alpha Alpha Singleton
Open Zigabyte zero”
“Thanks Frank. Now we are even.” The Colonel
said.
“If you contact me again Da Vinci, the next
time you wake up will be in hell.” Frank replied
And the line went dead. The Colonel knew that
Frankenstein did not threaten. He promised.
He copied out the passkey that he had just
been given
ALPHA ALPHA SINGLETON OPEN ZIGABYTE
ZERO.
He scribbled the passkey and transcribed:
A A 1 O Z 0.
The Zero meant he had to take the passkey
from the back so he re wrote the key
0 Z O 1 A A.
He folded the paper he wrote the key on,
putting it in the inner pocket of his jean. He
took one last look at his laptop and shook his
head.
The pictures of Eva, Sean, Bruno, Sophia,
Tawo, Shina, Ambrose and the General starred
him in the face. He typed a code to initiate the
self-destruct option to permanently wipe away
all the contents of his computer. When that
was done he took down the newspaper
clippings, burning them in a small tray. He
had everything he needed. He carried his
knapsack and stepped out the hotel.
****************************************
Eva and Sean sat on the Veranda of the
penthouse. They had been talking the whole
day. They spoke about their missions, their
fears, what they had been through, how they
felt about the killings. They bonded. They took
a break in the afternoon to have lunch and go
at each other again. It was more explosive
this time as they now had more intensity
between them.
Eva’s head was on Sean’s chest. Her fingers
were picking the smooth hair on his chest. He
caressed the hair on her head. None of them
spoke but the chemistry between them was
evident. Sean wondered why he was so
comfortable with her.
“when do you think all this would end?” Eva
asked out of the blues.
“When would what end?” Sean asked feigning
innocence.
“Go jor. You know what I am talking about.
The Corporation. Will we work for them
forever? I don’t know about you but I think I
am tired of killing people. It used to be fun.
But now, I’m not just into it anymore.” Eva
lamented.
“It is what we signed up for. We have no
choice. Are you ready to live the rest of your
life on the run? Constantly watching your
back? Afraid of even your shadow? The food
you eat? The next person beside you? Is that
what you want? Sean asked.
“I don’t know. I just…” Eva started but was
interrupted by the doorbell.
“Did you call for room service?” Eva asked as
the ringing continued.
“No I didn’t. Let me see what they want.”
Sean said, kissing Eva lightly on the forehead.
Dressed in only his boxer shorts, Sean walked
to the door and peeped in the keyhole. He saw
a man in his early forties looking away from
the door. He wondered what the man wanted.
He looked very harmless.
Sean opened the door.
“Yes, is there something I can help you with?”
Sean asked.
The Colonel launched a fierce and powerful
kick to Sean’s ribcage. Sean spiraled to the
floor, holding his stomach. He was not
expecting such.
Eva heard the crash and ran into the sitting
room. As she entered, the Colonel brought out
two .45 semi-automatic silenced pistols from
his hip and pointed them, one at Eva and one
at Sean on the floor.
“Dad?” Eva said recognizing the man whom
she had only seen in pictures.
“Hello Eva. Our family reunion is long
overdue.”
Dad? Is this really you?” Eva asked moving
close to her father.
She did not mind the gun that was now
pointed at her temple. She had shock and
surprise written all over her face as she walked
towards her father.
“Stay where you are Eva. We don’t want to
have ourselves a blood bath.” The Colonel
replied not taking his eyes off Sean who was
still on the floor.
Without turning, the Colonel kicked the door
close with his left leg. With the sides of his
eyes he kept an eye on Sean and saw his
daughter moving closer. He gauged the
distance between Eva and him. He fired a
shot.
The bullet shattered the bottle of Vodka on the
table close to Eva. It was a precise shot.
With his eyes still on Sean, he barked:
“I said don’t fucckking move girl!”
Eva froze in her steps. If this man could take
such a shot, she did not want to experience
what it would feel like if he actually aimed at
her. She stooped. The look she saw in his eyes
was one she had never seen before. His eyes
were very red. His face was expressionless.
But somehow she was able to connect with his
countenance. And what she saw there scared
her. Her father was hurting. Her father was
desperate. Her father wanted blood.
“You, get up.” He said to Sean waving the gun
at him and directing him towards Eva.
Sean crawled up from the ground, backing
away from him. He walked backward hitting
his legs against the couch. He was now side
by side with Eva now.
“Good boy.”
“What do you want?” Sean finally asked.
He now realized that whoever this man was he
needed something. And he would not get it if
he killed any of them. Then he had heard Eva
call him dad. He would get back to that much
later but first, he needed to know why this
man had burst into their privacy and
threatened them.
The Colonel turned and had them sit on the
couch. He faced them and sat on the couch
directly opposite them, aiming the guns at
both foreheads.
“I am sure you are wondering why I am here
and what I want. I am going to make it very
simple. I want to talk. Just talk. I want to
drop my guns now. But don’t go having any
ideas.” The Colonel said.
As he finished he nodded at their chests and
they both looked at their chests at the same
time. There was a tiny red infra-red target
marker on their chests. They looked up at the
Colonel.
The Colonel smiled
“I brought a few friends, just in case things
got, you know, a little bit out of control. You
know how stubborn you children usually are.”
He said and continued.
“But trust me; none of you will leave this room
alive if you decide to act funny. All I ask is
that you just listen to me. Give me a few
minutes. Listen to what I have to say. And if
you don’t like it, I walk out. And I will never
bother you again. That simple.” The Colonel
said.
He pressed the cartridge release buttons on
both guns and the cartridges containing the
bullets fell to the ground.
“You see? No guns from me. Now, hear what I
have to say.” The Colonel said.
**************************************
Ambrose touched down in Abuja at exactly
12:30pm the day before he was to resume in
the SPPS. He wanted a feel of the
environment, acclimatize to the weather and
maybe find one or two hotspots to cool off
after a hectic day. He decided against a taxi
and took the bullet train instead. He got on
the train, checked with the coach and dumped
his luggage in the suspender above his seat.
He got the window seat which he always loved
because it granted him ample view of the lush
scenery wherever he went. The speakers above
his head came alive and it was announced
that the train was about to move and the
journey would take twenty minutes. He shifted
in his chair, making himself more comfortable.
There was no one beside him. He closed his
eyes, desperate for a quick nap.
After seven minutes he opened his eyes. He
could not sleep. He felt uneasy. His stomach
rumbled. He got up and made for the toilet.
Just then a man who sat three seats behind
him got up too. He was slim, six feet tall and
wore glasses. He wore a tailored three piece
suit and had a gun inside his inner b---m
pocket. He walked slowly the same way
Ambrose went, towards the toilet.
As Ambrose closed the door behind him, he
quickly put his ears by the toilet door,
listening for footsteps. One of the rules for
every spy was, “Always Study Your
Environment.” Immediately Ambrose entered
the train and sat down, he noticed the man in
the three piece suit come in after him, He
could feel the man’s gaze on him. He knew
something was not right. Another part of him
told him he might just be over reacting. He
drew the conclusion that he had to be careful.
However, now the footsteps drew closer. He
now had no doubts in his mind that this was
the same man. The footsteps were calculated,
slow and precise. They were ordered. He
moved away from the door and waited. There
were three cubicles in the male section. He
was in the last one. The footsteps stooped and
a door opened. Ambrose guessed it was the
first cubicle. He was not too sure. He hated
being unsure. So, he made a deep sound as if
he was having trouble getting his business
done. He waited. A door shut and the
footsteps came again. Slow, calculating and
precise. He approximated the distance from
the first cubicle to the next. The second
cubicle was open so if he was a man in need
of a poo, the footsteps would stop. But it
didn’t. The footsteps continued and stopped
at his door. Ambrose groaned again for effect.
He was facing the door preparing for the
worst. He looked around the toilet and the
only thing he could see was a towel. He took
it and folded it in two. The door had a tiny
knob with no key hole. Even air would have a
hard time peeping through.
The knob turned and the door opened
outwards.
Ambrose kicked the door with all the strength
he could muster. The door hit the man on his
face and the gun fell off his hand. Ambrose
rushed towards him before the man could
regain his composure. He rained blows on the
man’s face and upper body.
He tied the towel around the man’s neck,
shutting the air out of him. The man gasped
for breath. Ambrose dragged him into the
toilet and put his head by the window. The
train was moving very fast. Trees and forests
were everywhere. There was a tunnel coming
up in the far distance. In a matter of seconds,
the man’s body would be headless if not
dragged back into the train.
“Who sent you?!!!” Ambrose barked, pinning
the man’s legs to the wall, his head and
shoulders outside the window. He strangled
the man tighter. The man coughed. He did not
reply.
“I said, who sent you!?” Ambrose shouted
again punching the man in the face.
The tunnel was visible now. If Ambrose did
not drag the man inside, the man would die.
He would not have any clue about who sent
him. He decided to let the man die.
“You brought this on yourself.” Ambrose said
pushing the man’s body farther out.
The man got this strength from nowhere, freed
his legs and hit Ambrose’s g---n with his knee
cap. He felt the choking hold on his neck
loosen, so he punched Ambrose on the face
and quickly pulled himself back into the toilet.
Immediately, the train entered the tunnel.
Both men panted and looked at each other
with cold stares.
The man was first to speak.
“My name is Special Agent Ken. You just
passed your interview.” The man said panting
and bringing out a badge from his pocket. He
threw it at Ambrose. Ambrose ran his hands
through the gold crest of the elephants on his
badge. It was genuine.
“What interview?” Ambrose asked.
“What you had at the Capitol was just a
courtesy visit. This WAS the interview.”
Special Agent Ken replied.
“One of us could have been killed! What sort of
crazy people am I working with?” Ambrose
said, standing up. The man got up too.
“This is my job. I have been interviewing
members for the SPPS for eight years. Let’s
just say, I like to gamble with my life.” Agent
Ken said.
Ambrose was about to retort when the
speakers above them came alive.
“We have two minutes before we reach
Gwarimpa. Please get ready.”
“Time to go.” Agent Ken said.
They cleaned up themselves and went back to
their seats.
“What have I gotten myself into?” Ambrose
wondered.
As they got off the train he got a message on
his phone.
“Code Red. Abort Mission.”
It was from Sophia.
To be continued.
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close to her father.
She did not mind the gun that was now
pointed at her temple. She had shock and
surprise written all over her face as she walked
towards her father.
“Stay where you are Eva. We don’t want to
have ourselves a blood bath.” The Colonel
replied not taking his eyes off Sean who was
still on the floor.
Without turning, the Colonel kicked the door
close with his left leg. With the sides of his
eyes he kept an eye on Sean and saw his
daughter moving closer. He gauged the
distance between Eva and him. He fired a
shot.
The bullet shattered the bottle of Vodka on the
table close to Eva. It was a precise shot.
With his eyes still on Sean, he barked:
“I said don’t fucckking move girl!”
Eva froze in her steps. If this man could take
such a shot, she did not want to experience
what it would feel like if he actually aimed at
her. She stooped. The look she saw in his eyes
was one she had never seen before. His eyes
were very red. His face was expressionless.
But somehow she was able to connect with his
countenance. And what she saw there scared
her. Her father was hurting. Her father was
desperate. Her father wanted blood.
“You, get up.” He said to Sean waving the gun
at him and directing him towards Eva.
Sean crawled up from the ground, backing
away from him. He walked backward hitting
his legs against the couch. He was now side
by side with Eva now.
“Good boy.”
“What do you want?” Sean finally asked.
He now realized that whoever this man was he
needed something. And he would not get it if
he killed any of them. Then he had heard Eva
call him dad. He would get back to that much
later but first, he needed to know why this
man had burst into their privacy and
threatened them.
The Colonel turned and had them sit on the
couch. He faced them and sat on the couch
directly opposite them, aiming the guns at
both foreheads.
“I am sure you are wondering why I am here
and what I want. I am going to make it very
simple. I want to talk. Just talk. I want to
drop my guns now. But don’t go having any
ideas.” The Colonel said.
As he finished he nodded at their chests and
they both looked at their chests at the same
time. There was a tiny red infra-red target
marker on their chests. They looked up at the
Colonel.
The Colonel smiled
“I brought a few friends, just in case things
got, you know, a little bit out of control. You
know how stubborn you children usually are.”
He said and continued.
“But trust me; none of you will leave this room
alive if you decide to act funny. All I ask is
that you just listen to me. Give me a few
minutes. Listen to what I have to say. And if
you don’t like it, I walk out. And I will never
bother you again. That simple.” The Colonel
said.
He pressed the cartridge release buttons on
both guns and the cartridges containing the
bullets fell to the ground.
“You see? No guns from me. Now, hear what I
have to say.” The Colonel said.
**************************************
Ambrose touched down in Abuja at exactly
12:30pm the day before he was to resume in
the SPPS. He wanted a feel of the
environment, acclimatize to the weather and
maybe find one or two hotspots to cool off
after a hectic day. He decided against a taxi
and took the bullet train instead. He got on
the train, checked with the coach and dumped
his luggage in the suspender above his seat.
He got the window seat which he always loved
because it granted him ample view of the lush
scenery wherever he went. The speakers above
his head came alive and it was announced
that the train was about to move and the
journey would take twenty minutes. He shifted
in his chair, making himself more comfortable.
There was no one beside him. He closed his
eyes, desperate for a quick nap.
After seven minutes he opened his eyes. He
could not sleep. He felt uneasy. His stomach
rumbled. He got up and made for the toilet.
Just then a man who sat three seats behind
him got up too. He was slim, six feet tall and
wore glasses. He wore a tailored three piece
suit and had a gun inside his inner b---m
pocket. He walked slowly the same way
Ambrose went, towards the toilet.
As Ambrose closed the door behind him, he
quickly put his ears by the toilet door,
listening for footsteps. One of the rules for
every spy was, “Always Study Your
Environment.” Immediately Ambrose entered
the train and sat down, he noticed the man in
the three piece suit come in after him, He
could feel the man’s gaze on him. He knew
something was not right. Another part of him
told him he might just be over reacting. He
drew the conclusion that he had to be careful.
However, now the footsteps drew closer. He
now had no doubts in his mind that this was
the same man. The footsteps were calculated,
slow and precise. They were ordered. He
moved away from the door and waited. There
were three cubicles in the male section. He
was in the last one. The footsteps stooped and
a door opened. Ambrose guessed it was the
first cubicle. He was not too sure. He hated
being unsure. So, he made a deep sound as if
he was having trouble getting his business
done. He waited. A door shut and the
footsteps came again. Slow, calculating and
precise. He approximated the distance from
the first cubicle to the next. The second
cubicle was open so if he was a man in need
of a poo, the footsteps would stop. But it
didn’t. The footsteps continued and stopped
at his door. Ambrose groaned again for effect.
He was facing the door preparing for the
worst. He looked around the toilet and the
only thing he could see was a towel. He took
it and folded it in two. The door had a tiny
knob with no key hole. Even air would have a
hard time peeping through.
The knob turned and the door opened
outwards.
Ambrose kicked the door with all the strength
he could muster. The door hit the man on his
face and the gun fell off his hand. Ambrose
rushed towards him before the man could
regain his composure. He rained blows on the
man’s face and upper body.
He tied the towel around the man’s neck,
shutting the air out of him. The man gasped
for breath. Ambrose dragged him into the
toilet and put his head by the window. The
train was moving very fast. Trees and forests
were everywhere. There was a tunnel coming
up in the far distance. In a matter of seconds,
the man’s body would be headless if not
dragged back into the train.
“Who sent you?!!!” Ambrose barked, pinning
the man’s legs to the wall, his head and
shoulders outside the window. He strangled
the man tighter. The man coughed. He did not
reply.
“I said, who sent you!?” Ambrose shouted
again punching the man in the face.
The tunnel was visible now. If Ambrose did
not drag the man inside, the man would die.
He would not have any clue about who sent
him. He decided to let the man die.
“You brought this on yourself.” Ambrose said
pushing the man’s body farther out.
The man got this strength from nowhere, freed
his legs and hit Ambrose’s g---n with his knee
cap. He felt the choking hold on his neck
loosen, so he punched Ambrose on the face
and quickly pulled himself back into the toilet.
Immediately, the train entered the tunnel.
Both men panted and looked at each other
with cold stares.
The man was first to speak.
“My name is Special Agent Ken. You just
passed your interview.” The man said panting
and bringing out a badge from his pocket. He
threw it at Ambrose. Ambrose ran his hands
through the gold crest of the elephants on his
badge. It was genuine.
“What interview?” Ambrose asked.
“What you had at the Capitol was just a
courtesy visit. This WAS the interview.”
Special Agent Ken replied.
“One of us could have been killed! What sort of
crazy people am I working with?” Ambrose
said, standing up. The man got up too.
“This is my job. I have been interviewing
members for the SPPS for eight years. Let’s
just say, I like to gamble with my life.” Agent
Ken said.
Ambrose was about to retort when the
speakers above them came alive.
“We have two minutes before we reach
Gwarimpa. Please get ready.”
“Time to go.” Agent Ken said.
They cleaned up themselves and went back to
their seats.
“What have I gotten myself into?” Ambrose
wondered.
As they got off the train he got a message on
his phone.
“Code Red. Abort Mission.”
It was from Sophia.
To be continued.
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