Through the half-drawn curtains of one of the suites in Sheraton Hotel, Ikeja, the night sky looked turbulent. Menacing white lines traced irregular trails across the heavens at increasingly frequent intervals, the flashes accompanied by the crashing of thunder. It seemed the very elements themselves had deemed it fit to provide the lights and camera to complement the action Yaya had in mind.
During the day, a frame of the incumbent executive Governor of Lagos state could be seen hanging dignified over a massive smart TV screen in the lounge area. Another portrait sat beside it, this one of a tall, lean, dark-skinned man, with a cocky smile bordering on a sneer.
Tonight, however, the suite was unlit, with the half-light from the window providing sole illumination, both images hanging invisible against the wall, silent witnesses to the events about to transpire.
A slow moan, a weak cough, then a struggle as the man instinctively strained against his bonds upon gaining consciousness.
‘He’s awake now, boss’’, came a high voice in the dark.
A brief silence, the shuffling of bodies, and the near quiet of bare feet ruffling unhurriedly through the rug. The struggling man had gone completely still, seeming to sense Yaya's proximity.
“Welcome back” he drawled. “You had sweet dreams, no doubt’’. The tone was mocking.
Yaya snapped his finger twice in rapid succession. Another shuffle, and then heavy steps came to a stop behind the chair holding the man captive.
Chigo blinked several times as the sack came off his head. He was still feeling groggy, the aftereffects of the drug that had been administered to a blood vessel in his neck region only a few hours ago.
Or was it days ago?
He focused on the sight of Yaya looming over him, and behind him, a partial view of the angry night sky with lightning occasionally splitting the dark canvas. He could not hear the sounds coming from the road somewhere just outside, as the glass was completely soundproof. But he could be reasonably certain that it was raining heavily outside. He took a nervous gulp as his sights once again came to rest on his captor.
“I will go straight to the point, Chigo”, Yaya began slowly. “You must be wondering why you have been brought here’’, he waved his right hand vaguely, then began pacing slowly around the room, never too far from his captive, speaking slowly, deliberately so that the force of every verb and adjective would be felt.
Yaya’s voice dropped lower. “You will be allowed to return to your home as soon as we are finished with this interrogation. I have a simple question to ask before we begin, however’’. A meaningful pause. “Have you observed any abnormalities over the past three months, anything you think should be brought to my attention, anything of importance?”
An edgy silence permeated the atmosphere.
Yaya gave a tiny cough, then he continued pacing.
“I will assume I am communicating with a living being and will rehash my inquiry’’. He repeated the question verbatim.
A subdued half-muttering. Inaudible stammers.
‘‘What did you say”, Yaya asked softly.
‘‘I…I have nothing to confess Yaya, please let me go’’.
Yaya’s voice took on a mocking edge. “Ahh… I had no idea I was a priest. Since you have made me one, I suppose I’ll grudgingly accept your confession’’.
“No, no! That was not what I meant! I have nothing of any importance to bring to your notice. But I can assure you that I certainly will if anything comes up. Now please…’’
Yaya cut him off sharply. “Did you provide the Scarlets with any details of the package you were entrusted to deliver two months ago?”
The lightning flashing had become more frequent now, casting shadows in the suite. In the light of a particularly bright streak, Yaya observed a deep fear spring from the depths of Chigo’s eyes at his words.
“No!” came the exclaimed reply.
“Only two persons were privy to the movement and the delivery.’’ In a mocking tone, he continued. ‘‘Why do I find it strange that a few hours after your last delivery, the briefcase goes missing in a coordinated attack by one of the most dangerous gangs in the city?!’’
Yaya’s voice was rising with each syllable, having a corresponding effect on Chigo, who was fearfully shaking his head in denial at the inferred accusation.
‘‘No! I swear on the lives of my children! I kept the matter confidential. Just as you specifically requested!’’
“Then I suppose the smallie who brought the package to me somehow had the insight to plan it all in advance, eh?!” Yaya roared.
He had stopped pacing now and stood overtopping his captive.
‘‘I am not a man of many words”, he breathed heavily. “Better for you to confess now, so we find an arrangement that can see you do a light reformatory penance for your sins.’’
“I swear….!’’ The man trailed off.
Another double finger-snap from Yaya and a second heavyset man emerged from the shadows, the half-light catching thin, silvery glints from some metal in his hand. He moved to stand directly behind Chigo, who had been fastened securely to the chair.
The captive, sensing what was coming next, began trembling violently in his bonds. Yaya listened to his pleas for a few more seconds, then left the room.
The torturer said nothing as he began his grim work. He’d been instructed by Yaya to not leave pummel marks, black eyes, or any other such sign of physical violence. He aimed to draw blood, however. From the parts usually hidden beneath clothing.
Slowly, more tools came out of the small bag he’d come in with. The low-set table behind a window facing the north wing of the hotel suite clanked with the intensity of scalpel and the keenness of steel.
Chigo was well-tied, and his tremors did nothing to prevent the inevitable. The knife worked its way amongst his clothes, baring his chest and forearms. Like a lamb, he was, weak, helpless, and ready for slaughter.
The screams began.
Arnold stepped into the study area of the suite, taking care to shut the door behind him. Yaya faced the window, his back to the door.
“Any honest verbal proceeds from this grisly business, Arnold?”
“None, boss. I bled him good in all the proper places’’.
A long pause. Yaya turned to face his lieutenant. Arnold’s face and shirt were spattered with blood, a testimony of the gruesome interrogation recently concluded.
“It appears that we are mistaken. But we certainly cannot be. All evidence points overwhelmingly to this. He was the only one in the know, the one best placed to commit such a well-timed treachery’’.
“What then do we do, boss? He won’t confess. And we can’t kill him’’.
‘‘No, we can’t. But we can monitor him. Such a commitment to falsehood in the face of bodily torture, to me smacks of blackmail”. His next words were almost a whisper, even though they carried well in the small quiet room. ‘‘What about his family…?”
Arnold’s eyes widened in surprise, but he masked his emotions quickly.
‘‘Are you implying that the Scarlets are holding his family hostage in exchange for his good faith?’’ he asked.
Curious.
Yaya closely observed the form of his henchman.
‘‘There is that possibility,” he said slowly. “Get the man looking normal again and drive him home in his car. You can confirm our suspicions when you get to his home. But be careful. The Stadium and its environs are not our territory”.
“Understood, boss”.
Arnold left the way he’d come, leaving Yaya staring thoughtfully at the ornate door that had just been silently drawn shut. Yaya remained in this position for almost two minutes, before moving to take a seat on a fine blue-black settee with flowery patterns.
Now fully relaxed, Yaya brought out his smartphone, scrolled through his lengthy contact list, and dialed Money. It took a few tries, but Yaya was patient tonight. On the seventh ring, a sultry female voice came on the line.
“Ummm… Yaya…’’
“It’s currently Ramadan. Can’t you even wait till it ends before you continue?”
“You don’t feed me, Yaya. You can’t tell me how to live’’, came the snapped reply.
“Fine, fine. But it’s your fault you won’t allow me spoil you. Lean on me, I tell you.’’
‘Don’t tell me you’re calling me at this ungodly hour to tell me of your perverted falsehoods.’’
“I need you to shadow someone for me. Down to the time and locale. Just shadow and report without engaging. I need it done tonight.’’
The line went silent for a bit on the other end, and then Money’s voice came on once more.
‘‘I have informed my client of the need for the pause in transaction. Where are my tools? What is the intel?”
“Fantastic! Now listen carefully…”
The black Acura sedan slowed to a smooth, quiet halt at the front gates of the elegant building.
The car's windows were tinted midnight black, masking the identity of the individuals within, both of whom were oblivious to the silent engine of yet another black car parked deep in the shadows on an adjacent street.
The keened-eyed driver of this other car took in the details, quietly slipping out of the driver’s seat.
Money left the door half-open, as the noise would surely be heard so close to the house. Slowly, she began to creep towards the house, taking care to stick to the shadows.
A few meters from the house, she heard its gates slide open, and then close. Moving lightly on her feet, she shuffled to a better vantage point and then waited. When she was sure Arnold had to be somewhere deep in the building carrying out Yaya’s instructions, she walked to the entrance and gave a short knock. A hatch came open almost immediately. The guards would be on high alert after the untimely arrival of the landlord.
Money spoke raising a hand to her mouth, bringing to view a silver ring, the twin to Yaya’s black gem. The one thing that bound her indefinitely to him.
Two minutes later, she was driving out of the estate, unchallenged by the security guards. A flattering face did have a few advantages, Money mused.
“Big trouble’’, she muttered under her breath as her mind relaxed, allowing her mind to ponder the results of her bloodless operation that night.
Worry and discomfort bloomed in Arnold’s mind as he walked past the guards, out of the manse, as suddenly the tiny tattoo inked into the small of his back began to itch uncomfortably. The tattoo was an abomination for a member of the Black Crew, a death sentence if discovered for sure. It had been the reason why he had been able to survive for so long in the gang.
Now, something unnatural had happened here.
Since he did not believe in coincidences, his mind began nervously flipping through a number of possibilities, each one wilder than the last. He finally settled on sending two messages to the two most powerful individuals in his lengthy contact list.
The first text read, “I feel an itch. I think Yaya is onto us’’.
The reply came seconds later.
He sent a second text.
Family not intact.
Again a swift response.
I see. Return to base immediately. I have another job for you.
Arnold’s heart began to thump.
