by Dan Fletcher
They served under the Chief in the Niger Delta, in the early nineties. Together they raided the Ogoni villages, slaying the four main tribal chiefs, resulting in the Chief’s promotion to General, and Happy to Captain. It mattered nothing to him that they were committing genocide, uprooting people from their land so that the oil could be sold to the multi-nationals. Happy didn’t care either that the Ogoni 9 had been wrongly accused, and hung for his crimes. The Chief orchestrated the whole affair, growing grotesquely fat on the production and sale of oil.
As Kayin walked towards them, Happy spotted him and nudged Ogun. They both looked over and laughed. No doubt at his expense. They were always calling him Nwake’s ‘bitch’. It was so unfair. He didn’t even like the man.
‘He’s here,’ Kayin said, seeing the car arrive before them. Happy remained seated in the guard post whilst the other two men opened the gates for Tunge. He parked the car by the warehouse, relieved to see that the dogs had been put away. He didn’t trust them either after last night. He took the bags from the back of the car and went inside.
Alan heard Tunge come into the corridor and speak to ‘Patience’ as he approached the door, ‘Here’s your stuff and some clean clothes of mine for the prisoners, they probably won’t fit very well but they’ll have to do. We’re going to have to clean them up as best we can. Go and get Happy to help you. He’s in the gatehouse with Ogun. We have to leave in ten minutes. And ask Nwake to come here. He must be hiding somewhere!’
‘Yes sir, I’ll go and find him,’ Patience replied, going off to search for Nwake. He didn’t have to go far. Nwake was hiding in the office pretending to do paperwork.
‘Tunge wants you. He’s in the back,’ Patience said brusquely, heading off to get Happy. Nwake grumbled something about work to do, but set off for the corridor. He found Tunge waiting in the kitchen. Femi must still be asleep. He would have to wake him soon for his shift at the gate-house.
‘What the hell happened last night Nwake? You’re supposed to be in charge here!’ Tunge knew that Happy wouldn’t care, so he vented his anger on someone who would listen. ‘There were seven of you here and they still managed to get outside! How the hell did that happen? Was anybody actually watching them?’
‘They just took Kayin by surprise. God knows how they broke free, but they did, and he wasn’t expecting it,’ Nwake replied, defending the young man.
Deciding recriminations wouldn’t change anything, Tunge changed tact, ‘How are they doing this morning?’
‘The one who got shot is Ok. The bullet went straight through and the wound is clean. He needs crutches, but otherwise he will be fine in a few weeks.’
Tunge doubted that would be an issue, ‘And the other one?’
‘He’s a lot worse. There’s extensive damage to the muscle tissues in his upper arm, and I think there’s infection. I’ve re-dressed his wounds, and done the best I can with what there is,’ replied Nwake.
‘Christ! What can we do about it?’ said Tunge, not wanting to end up with a corpse beside him in the airport, or on the plane for that matter.
‘Nothing, I’m afraid, sir. He needs surgery or he will be scarred for life. He might even lose the arm,’ Nwake replied. Again Tunge thought that was the least of John’s worries.
Patience came back from outside. ‘Happy is on his way sir. He is just relieving himself outside.’
‘Do I really need to know that,’ Tunge replied, ‘let’s get those two ready and in the car. We have to get going. Traffic will be hell this morning down the M4 and we don’t want to miss our flight. My father is expecting us. I’ll wait for you in the car, now hurry up!’
Tunge couldn’t believe the state the two friends were in, when Nwake opened the door to their temporary cell.
‘He’s bloody unconscious for Christ’s sake, and there’s blood dripping off him!’ Tunge shouted, waving his arm in John’s direction.
‘He’ll be fine by the time I’ve cleaned him up and you get to the airport,’ Nwake said optimistically, moving towards John.
Patience squeezed past Tunge and threw a pair of trousers at Alan. ‘Put those on,’ he said pointing his gun at him to emphasise the request.
‘I won’t fit into those,’ Alan replied. The length was fine, but he was at least a couple of sizes larger around the waste.
‘Make them fit! This isn’t a bloody tailor’s. And make it quick if you ever want to see your family again,’ Tunge said.
‘So they’re ok then?’ said Alan, unbuckling his belt and sliding it out from the loops in his jeans. He realised he would need it to try and hold his new pair of trousers together at the waist.
‘We can discuss that later Mr Shorey. Let’s just say that for now time is of the essence and if we don’t move quickly then they might be at risk. So I suggest you ask fewer questions and hurry up,’ Tunge replied. ‘Nwake I’ll need you to drive us to the airport and bring my car back here.’
Finally he turned to Patience before striding from the room, ‘Dress him when Nwake’s finished, I’ll be waiting in the car, I have a phone call to make regarding Mr Shorey’s family’s well-being.’
Patience had no problem fitting the pair of slacks over John’s immobile legs, Tunge being a few sizes larger. He lifted him upright and buttoned his bandaged arm inside a short-sleeved blue cotton shirt. Finally Patience finished the look with one of Tunge’s navy-blue blazers. He hauled John to his feet by his elbows, the pain causing him to wake and shout out in protest.
‘Just come with me,’ Patience said, leading him past Happy, who pointed his gun at Alan from the doorway.
‘You too,’ Happy said, motioning with the pistol.
Alan walked out into the corridor behind his supported friend as they were led to the car, with Nwake trailing behind. The friends were pushed unceremoniously into the back of the car between Happy and Patience, while Nwake jumped in the front passenger seat next to Tunge.
‘Have a good journey,’ Femi said, smiling at Tunge as he closed Nwake’s door for him.
It didn’t deserve a reply. Tunge sped out of the compound, nearly taking Femi’s foot with him. Femi was just glad to see them all go. It was always crazy when Happy was around.
CHAPTER FORTY
Traffic was very heavy as they left London on the motorway towards Heathrow, all of it coming the other way. Their side was completely clear. In his anxiety Tunge had forgotten that everybody would be commuting into the city, not out of it. They arrived at the airport a full two and a half hours before the flight.
‘Right, you lot stay in the car while I go and get the tickets. I have to collect them at the desk. Make sure you don’t go wandering off,’ instructed Tunge, leaving the others and heading for the terminal. He found the British Airways desk and returned twenty minutes later. John was still unconscious, and Alan was trying to support him. Not very talkative, the other two were busy brooding.
‘Right, everything’s fine, we might as well get something to eat while we’re waiting,’ Tunge said, turning to face Happy, ‘Here’s some money, go and see what you can find.’ Happy sneezed over Tunge’s sleeve as he held out the money towards him.
‘For Christ’s sake! Watch what you’re doing,’ Tunge yelled, getting his handkerchief from his blazer to wipe the phlegm off.
‘It’s your fault I have this bloody cold anyway you bloody idiot. If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be here,’ shouted Happy, finally letting go.
‘Sorry?’ said Tunge, taken aback by the outburst.
‘You heard me! If you weren’t such a spoilt brat none of this would have happened in the first place! Why did you have the cocaine in your home, eh? For you and your white trash bitches no doubt! You don’t deserve to carry the name Akintola.’ Years of pent up feelings were flooding out and Happy couldn’t stop them. He sneezed again, ‘God damn it!’
‘How dare you speak to me like that? One more word from you and you are finished. Dead! Do you understand me? Dead! Just one word and you will cease to exist!
’ screamed Tunge.
Happy blew as hard as he could into the piece of toilet roll he was holding. Trying to add insult to injury, he didn’t reply.
‘I said do you understand? Now you better apologise,’ demanded Tunge.
Apologise? Not bloody likely. ‘Let us leave it to your father to decide!’ he shouted, too angry to care now whether the Chief backed his son or not, he would take his chances.
Tunge realised he wasn’t going to get any better for the moment, ‘Fine! If you want it that way! Now go and get us something to eat.’
Happy stared at him, tempted to finish him there and then and take his chances, disappear in London. Easy enough to do and the Chief would probably never find him. After what seemed like an eternity to Tunge under his unblinking gaze, Happy opened the door and got out the car. Far too proud to ask Tunge for money, he strode off purposefully towards the terminal.
As usual Patience stayed silent, loving every minute of it. He didn’t care either way, so it was all sport as far as he was concerned. He was actually finding it difficult to keep a straight face. Tunge almost caught him smirking in the rear view mirror.
Tunge waited for the adrenalin to stop pumping through his veins, before turning to Alan.
‘I have to make a couple of phone calls to ensure your family’s safety, one just before we board the plane and another when we land. If you try to make a run for it, or alert the police, their deaths will be on your hands. So try to do the right thing and they won’t get hurt,’ Tunge said, hoping Alan would believe him.
‘You better not touch a hair on their heads or I’ll find you, wherever you are,’ shouted Alan.
‘Now calm down Mr Shorey, as long as you co-operate, and do what we say, then no-one will get hurt,’ said Tunge.
‘Why don’t you just let us go? You’ve got your bloody money haven’t you? He needs a hospital. Just look at him for Christ’s sake!’ Alan screamed, pointing vigorously at John.
‘You should have thought about the consequences before you stole the cocaine Mr Shorey. Now can I take it I have your co-operation?’ he said, almost politely. Confident Alan had taken the bait.
‘Yes, for fucks sake! Just don’t hurt them,’ replied Alan. ‘I’ll do whatever you ask, just don’t hurt them please,’ he said, begging for the first time.
‘Excellent Mr Shorey, if we can all be civilized then I can’t see any problem. They’ll be released without harm. Just stay calm and follow our instructions.’ Tunge stared ahead at the parking lot. ‘Now if they ask at the check-in what happened, just say you had an unfortunate car accident a couple of days ago, but have to get to an important meeting. Make sure you sound convincing, your daughters’ lives depend on it!’
‘I said OK didn’t I, you bloody tosser,’ replied Alan.
‘Now, now, Mr Shorey, one more little outburst like that and I may have to cancel our flight. You do know what that means don’t you?’ said Tunge calmly, the tables completely turned.
Not trusting himself to speak Alan just nodded.
‘Good Mr Shorey, now just remember to behave,’ he said, convinced that Alan meant it.
Happy trundled back from the concourse, carrying an assortment of pastries, and coffee in Styrofoam cups.
‘You better wake him up and get him to drink some coffee,’ Tunge said.
Patience grabbed John by the collar with one hand, and shook him roughly, causing him to stir slightly but not wake up. So Patience slapped him hard across the face, causing him to wake with a start.
‘What the hell?’ said John, his eyes blinking to adjust to the light.
‘Drink this,’ instructed Patience, pushing the steaming cup to his lips. John sipped at the rank tasting coffee in a reflex action. As he drank more, the caffeine slowly helped to revive his senses, and he started to take in his surroundings.
‘What are we doing at the airport?’ said John, turning to Alan wide eyed.
‘I don’t know mate but we’ve got to go along with it for now, they’ve got the girls,’ Alan replied under his breath.
‘Shit! You haven’t hurt them have you?’ cried John.
‘Not yet Mr Simonds. As I was telling Mr Shorey, as long as you do everything I ask, when I ask you to do it, then nobody needs to get hurt. Their fate is in your hands. Now shut up, I’m trying to eat,’ Tunge replied.
They ate and drank the rest in silence, neither Alan nor John wishing to risk harm coming to their loved ones. They were both lost in equally disturbing thoughts. Happy was the last to finish, he really didn’t want to eat, but he was starving. He couldn’t wait to taste proper food again, yam and rice with gari-gari sauce. A spicy chilli sauce so strong it gave most of these weak westerners severe indigestion.
Tunge shoved their waste into the bag when they were finished, and looked at the dash, 9.14am. They might as well make a move to the check in. He resisted the urge to cross himself.
‘Right then, keep close and everybody try to look relaxed. You help him,’ Tunge said, looking at Patience in the rear view mirror, ‘and don’t forget to leave your weapons with Nwake.’ Nwake got out ready to take over the driver’s position, relieved that he would be on his own for the journey back to Tilbury.
Surveying the occupants of the car, Tunge thought that looking relaxed wasn’t going to be easy. Happy looked like he was wired, and the two prisoners looked like the walking wounded. Wondering again why an accident of birth had given him this life, Tunge reluctantly opened his door. The strength seemed to drain out of him for a second, and he had to hold onto it for support.
Gathering himself, he waited for the others to get out, looking at the rain soaked sky. When would he be able to do what he wanted? Just once would be nice.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Karen eyed the group suspiciously as they approached the check in desk. Two of them looked like they were recently hit by a train, and they all looked like they hadn’t slept for at least a week. Alarm bells were ringing. She looked around searching for her supervisor. He was probably having a cigarette break again. He was never there when she needed him.
It was Karen’s second day on her own at the check-in-desk, and she still wasn’t confident dealing with the public. Some of who were so strange, and these certainly looked like the strangest yet. She scanned the row of desks for her boss, but couldn’t find him anywhere.
‘Good morning,’ Tunge said, startling her. They had covered the ground quicker than she expected.
‘Uh...good morning sir, travelling to Lagos?’ she said, slipping in to her routine for the time being.
Tunge looked pointedly at the large screen above her head, that said ‘LAGOS’, and put their passports and tickets on the counter.
She checked their details through the system, everything appeared to be in order, their group booking was reserved yesterday.
‘Just hand luggage?’
Tunge looked at the empty floor around him, and then back at her, ‘Yes, do you see any suitcases?’
‘No need to be rude sir! Just doing my job! Now did you pack those bags yourself?’ she said, trying to remain polite.
Tunge decided it was easier to give the normal response, ‘Yes I did.’
‘What both of them?’ she said, enjoying her moment.
‘Of course not both of them, only one of them’s mine. The other one’s his,’ he said, pointing at Patience.
Patience nodded dumbly and presented his bag.
‘Did you pack that yourself sir?’ repeated Karen. He nodded again. ‘Is that man fit to travel, he looks like he’s half-asleep?’ Karen said, looking at John who had been partially hidden by Patience, before he stepped forward.
‘He’s fine, just took a few too many painkillers that’s all. They’ll wear off in a bit. We were in a terrible accident the day before yesterday, nearly killed us,’ said Alan.
‘Are you sure sir? He doesn’t look very well at all,’ she replied, noticing a spot of blood coming through his shirt. ‘Can’t you travel in a few weeks,
when he’s fully recovered?’
‘No, unfortunately we’ve got an important meeting to get to, been planning it for months and no way to reschedule. This deal is the making or breaking of our firm.’ Alan wasn’t strictly lying to her, just bending the truth a little.
‘Is it really that important?’ she said, looking at John dubiously.
‘Yes, we’re talking hundreds of thousands of pounds here darling, not a few quid,’ Alan said, doing his best to sound convincing.
‘Really?’ she said, eyes widening. Money was one thing that did impress Karen. She dreamt of meeting a rich businessman, who would take her on one of the flights she sold tickets for, but couldn’t afford.
‘Yes really. I’ll let you know how we got on when we come back if you like?’ said Alan, trying to charm her.
She looked at his wedding ring, always the way, bloody bastards. ‘That won’t be necessary, sir. Here are you boarding passes, it’s gate number 27 and the flight boards at ten o’clock, thirty minutes before the flight,’ she said, turning her attention back to Tunge.
‘Thank you very much,’ he replied, glad that the first hurdle was over with, now for security.
To Tunge’s surprise it went without a hitch. The security personnel were chatting amongst themselves and hardly seemed to notice them. They did the usual checks and scanned the bags, but didn’t seem to care that John was supported by Patience most of the time, apart from the few steps through the metal detectors. They must have thought it was an orderly with his patient, off somewhere expensive to get treatment.
In just over ten minutes they were through to the foyer. Tunge felt his knees go weak with relief. They found five seats together near the boarding gate, Patience dropped John into the seat unceremoniously, the impact jarred his arm, and he moaned loudly.
A man sitting across from them looked up from his newspaper. Taking one look at Patience he buried his head back into it, pretending not to notice them. Nobody else was paying them any attention. Patience took his seat beside John, letting him slump against his shoulder as he drifted off into unconsciousness.