Satans and Shaitans

by Obinna Udenwe

  The Evangelist sighed. ‘Those men. Those men. You cannot believe how much I pay those two.’

  ‘Sir, your security men were thoroughly interrogated, but so far we couldn’t find out anything from them. We will also be watching their every move.’

  ‘So this is all there is to it since my daughter went missing on Monday?’

  The men were silent.

  ‘This is rubbish!’

  Chuba rose and walked away without saying another word.

  FOUR

  Thursday, 6th May 2010

  Leonard and Jubril entered the Chubas’ large sitting room in a hurry. Chris Chuba had seen them drive in and came down to receive them. It had been less than fifteen minutes since Leonard had called him to say that they had a good lead.

  Two young men dressed in tight fitting polo shirts were also in the room. Yesterday, Leonard had seen about six bodyguards in the compound but none in the sitting room.

  ‘Sir, we would like Madam to be present,’ he said.

  ‘Sampson! Get Madam,’ Chuba commanded one of his guards, who in turn signalled to his colleague, who rushed upstairs.

  ‘My wife’s been crying. This has really broken her.’ Chuba paused. ‘I too have not been myself since I heard the news.’

  Miss Spencer entered with the nurse and the maids. They stood beside the door leading to the dining room.

  ‘It’s all right, Sir, we are making some progress. We have questioned all your house staff,’ Leonard said, with a sweeping glance at those gathered in the room, ‘and it seems none of them knows much about your daughter’s possible whereabouts.’

  The Evangelist looked at Miss Spencer sceptically.

  Leonard continued. ‘This is the fourth day, but still no one has called for a ransom. We are still thinking that this is not a kidnapping. Now tell us, Sir, we need to know more about your daughter. Her friends, or any one close to her that she could have visited.’

  One of the maids tried to speak but Chuba broke in, silencing her. Miss Spencer had warned them that it would cause them a big problem if they told anyone about Adeline’s relationship with Donaldo. It would make the Evangelist very angry. He had always preached against waywardness, and Adeline was taught to believe in no other person but Jesus Christ, her parents and Miss Spencer.

  ‘See, officer, my daughter rarely left this house… she has everything here. Everything.’

  ‘Are you sure, Sir?’

  ‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous. Of course I am. For heaven’s sake, the girl in question is my daughter. I know her too well. I brought her up in the ways of our Lord.’

  Mrs Chuba came down, followed by the bodyguard. She looked bedraggled, dressed in a brown nightgown with her hair dishevelled and her eyes swollen and red. She sat beside her husband.

  Officer Leonard dipped his hand into his pocket and brought out a letter that Jubril had found in Adeline’s room, assuming it to be written by the girl herself. It seemed she had copied it out and then sent the original, leaving the draft inside one of her novels.

  ‘Sir, is this your daughter’s handwriting?’ He handed the piece of paper to Chuba who looked at it carefully, but was not sure. He gave it to his wife who was sitting quietly on the sofa clutching Adeline’s picture, but she was not sure either. She handed it over to Miss Spencer.

  Miss Spencer knew that it was Adeline’s handwriting. ‘Uhmn. I don’t think so.’

  ‘What do you mean you don’t think so, Spencer?’ the Evangelist barked.

  ‘I can’t be sure, Sir.’ She was worried about what the letter said.

  ‘Then give it back to your boss to read,’ Leonard ordered. Chuba read it. It was a love letter but addressed to no one.

  ‘Sir, do you think your daughter has a boyfriend?’

  Chuba was enraged. ‘Listen to me, Mr Man! My daughter has no boyfriend. Someone must have kidnapped my daughter!’ He was furious and embarrassed by the letter.

  ‘What about the letter?’

  ‘It could be she was just writing a story. This letter isn’t addressed to anyone.’ He looked at Miss Spencer, then at his wife and then back at the letter.

  ‘Sir? I would appreciate it if information is not hidden from us.’ Leonard looked at all the people gathered in the room. ‘If she was kidnapped as you think, her abductors would have made demands by now. I sense something fishy. We cannot pinpoint it because I sense conspiracy. High level conspiracy.’

  ‘What if Adeline was abducted by ritual killers? It happens in this country. We… we need to keep every option on the table.’

  ‘Eh!’ Mrs Chuba screamed in anguish at her husband’s words.

  ‘Sir, that is a possibility. But we also know that ritual killers abduct people in the streets. With the information we have from your staff, it seems that Adeline didn’t leave this house to go anywhere.’

  ‘It is clear now that she did.’

  ‘We will find out soon. But ritual killers don’t wake up, take their bath and walk into a wealthy man’s house, risking all the security,’ Leonard looked pointedly at Moses and the other security man and went on, ‘… and kidnap his daughter. There is more to this than meets the eye, Sir.’

  Leonard sensed that he was going to get nothing further from the household and, sighing, made a move to leave. ‘Please, do keep us informed. This will be an extensive investigation, but we cannot investigate thoroughly if information is withheld.’ He shook hands with the Evangelist and as he reached to retrieve the letter, Chuba tore it into shreds.

  Leonard was dumbfounded. ‘Sir, you have just destroyed evidence that could have led us to her. With all due respect, you are obstructing the police from carrying out an investigation that could save your daughter. I can get you arrested for this.’ He was angry, but even he recognized the emptiness of his threat. He turned and beckoned to Jubril. They walked away. The whole house was quiet.

  When the policemen left, Chuba exploded. ‘Rubbish! Rubbish! I can’t have the police thinking that my daughter is wayward just because they have a mere letter. In a matter of seconds, the media would be broadcasting it on air.’ He turned to his staff standing before him. ‘And now, I need a detailed report on who has been coming here and the number of times Adeline has left the house. Where she went to and why.’ With that he headed upstairs to take a shower.

  Sampson and the other bodyguard left the sitting room and went outside.

  ‘Get me a glass of cold water,’ Mrs Chuba demanded once the Evangelist was gone. All the maids rushed out at once. Moses left with the other security man. Miss Spencer came close to her madam. Hugging her, Mrs Chuba sobbed.

  ‘Now, Spencer, tell me about her. Tell me about my daughter.’

  Miss Spencer was in her room, weeping bitterly. Donaldo called her often and she was happy when he called. When everyone had gone to bed, she would bring out Adeline’s portrait and stare at it till her sobs could be heard from upstairs.

  That night, Mrs Chuba sat on her wide matrimonial bed. She had just finished saying her rosary. She had been a Catholic before she married the Evangelist, but her husband hated the rosary, so she only said it when she was in trouble and he was not around.

  The door opened silently and she hid the rosary under her pillow. Her husband entered carrying his Bible.

  ‘Woman, I think I have told you to stop crying. All will be fine.’ He sat on the bed beside her.

  ‘When? The letter the policemen found, it worries me. Was Adeline seeing someone?’

  ‘You are her mother.’

  She stared at her husband with disdain. ‘Oh, Chris. You break my heart with your words.’ She began to cry. The Evangelist ignored her. ‘Nwuzo wrote to someone saying that we never cared for her, that we love evangelical work more than we love her. That… that we placed her in the care of maids and forgot—’

  ‘Her name is Adeline. Stop calling her Nwuzo. I have been telling you this for close to nineteen years now.’

  ‘What happened to my daughter?’ She stared with rh
eumy eyes at her husband. ‘That letter… it worries me. We caused this. If we had stayed here more. Cared more for Nwuzo… Perhaps travelled with her—’

  ‘Please! You are making me feel guilty. She is not dead yet. And her name is Adeline! Stop calling her that local name of yours!’ Chuba stood up angrily and undid his nightrobe.

  ‘How sure are we that she isn’t dead? It’s your fault. Has it ever occurred to you that she might have committed suicide, drowned or something? Has it?’

  ‘My fault? My fault? Oh, don’t make me mad tonight!’

  He paced around the bedroom, scratching his head. He tried to take his mind off the letter and what his wife had said. They had both thought they had given their daughter abundant care, protection and love. But now they knew how wrong they were. If we could have a second chance, he thought, we would make things right. But something deeper than that was bothering him.

  Finally, he lay down on the bed and allowed his mind to drift away, back into the past.

  Evangelist Chris Chuba recalled how Chief Donald Amechi had approached him one evening, just as the sun was setting. He had been sitting in the gazebo, watching asha birds weave their nests on the branches of gmelina trees, his King James Bible lying beside him. The Chief, a tall striking man, came into the garden and walked straight to where he was sitting. They shook hands firmly, locked their fingers and gently released them while making a clicking sound with the thumb and the forefinger.

  The Chief stared him straight in the eyes. Chuba looked away, fearing the bad news the visitor bore.

  ‘The sacrifice is being delayed—’

  The Evangelist interrupted. ‘I know. Do you think it is easy?’

  ‘I know it is not easy. You are listed in Forbes as the wealthiest God’s messenger alive. You command respect. Your fame stretches to the horizon. All these gifts were bestowed on you by the Sacred Order of the Universal Forces. What you possess in fame, fortune and success, surpasses that of the President of the United States. There is no country in the world where hundreds of thousands of people of various religions do not lie at your feet to receive your miracles and wonders… all this, the Sacred Order did for you. What does the Order ask in return?’ Amechi came close to him to emphasize his point. He whispered but his voice was still deep and rich. ‘A sacrifice, but not a yearly sacrifice like small occult groups request. The Order requests a solemn sacrifice every seven years from you. Seven years, Evangelist. Seven years. This is another seventh year. Is it too much to ask? That you give your daughter, is it too much to ask?’

  Tears came to the Evangelist’s eyes. ‘My Lord, it is but a little sacrifice.’ His heart disagreed with him. ‘But my heart is heavy. She is the only one that I have.’ He looked at the tree before him, at the birds flying freely into the air, calling to each other. Oh, how he wanted to be as free as those birds, but his soul had been sold years ago and in return he had what only a handful of men had had, since the creation of the world.

  Chief Amechi spoke again. ‘Brother. What will be, will be. Wait no longer or you will dance to the music. That is the message from the Universal Temple. My duty is to deliver it, brother.’ He smiled and turned to leave.

  Evangelist Chuba stared at his friend as he walked away. Whenever he brought messages of this kind, the Chief never exchanged pleasantries or discussed other business.

  FIVE

  Friday, 7th May 2010

  Ever since Adeline had gone missing, days had turned into nights in Donaldo’s life. He’d stopped eating and when he managed to take anything, he ate only a little. He talked to no one, not even to Madam Vero, the housekeeper.

  Madam Vero was worried. She had no idea what was wrong with him. He was hiding so many things from her – including the beautiful girl he had once mentioned to her. Indeed, she did not even know that this beautiful girl was the Chubas’ missing daughter.

  Donaldo had not dreamt of Adeline since she disappeared, though he desperately wanted to. He missed her like a mother would miss a dead infant. He felt her all around him. Always. But then, Adeline’s lovely face began to vanish from his memory, confused with other, darker images. Yet, at other times, it would be so clear and defined that he would almost go mad. Donaldo would feel Adeline’s presence and fear would grip him and constrict his breathing.

  Donaldo was in his room, filled with pain and loss and fear, when three jeeps sped into the compound and parked in front of his father’s mansion. Six bodyguards – hefty men, openly carrying pistols – jumped out of the front and rear jeeps. A thickset man got out of the passenger side of the middle vehicle and opened the rear door – Chris Chuba emerged clutching a Bible by his side.

  Donaldo’s father, Chief Donald Amechi, came out of the house to meet the Evangelist. They didn’t exchange greetings but hurried into the Chief’s library and locked the door behind them.

  ‘Peace and love, brother.’

  ‘It is an honour to have you.’ Chief Amechi held his friend’s hand. ‘You are overwhelmed, my friend.’

  ‘You have no idea, Donald.’

  The Chief released the Evangelist’s hand, walked round his imposing desk and sat down on his swivel chair. ‘Sit. Sit,’ he said.

  Chuba sat, placing his Bible on the desk. The Chief looked at the Bible and said nothing.

  ‘I am confused, Donald. I should have heard something by now.’

  ‘Me too. Now I have news about the men sent to do the will of the Sacred Order.’

  Chuba’s heart began to beat fast as soon as he heard this. He leaned forward, his arms on the desk.

  Chief Donald Amechi said, ‘They are dead. The men are all dead.’

  ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Assassinated?’

  ‘No. They were involved in an accident along the Enugu–Abakaliki expressway. A trailer carrying cement hit their vehicle and they overturned into a ditch. I got the news this morning.’

  ‘And Adeline?’ Chuba asked.

  Chief Amechi shook his head. ‘There was no sign of her. It seems this occurred before they were able to carry out the assignment.’

  Evangelist Chris Chuba’s world came crumbling down. He stood. He began to sweat. His suit added to his discomfort.

  ‘Turn on the air-conditioner. Please.’

  The Chief stood and turned on the machine. The Evangelist began to pace about the room, saying repeatedly, ‘Oh my God’.

  ‘It means that your daughter is alive. Somewhere.’

  There was a mixture of relief and sadness in the Evangelist’s heart. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He quickly sat down again. He wiped his forehead with his arm, using the sleeve of his jacket.

  ‘Chief Donald… help me. Help your friend. What do I do now?’

  The Chief stammered. ‘I – I am as confused as you are. The men died on their way. Yet Adeline is missing. So where is she? I have asked myself this question a million times, Chris. Where is she? I do not know what to tell you. Honestly, I do not know.’

  ‘God!’ Chris Chuba inhaled deeply. The tears in his eyes stung him. He knew that a great punishment, a great painful chastisement, awaited him in just a few days if the sacrifice wasn’t performed.

  ‘Chris. You must find her—’

  Chuba stood in frustration. ‘How do I do that? Tell me, how do I do that?’

  ‘What are the police doing?’

  ‘Nothing. They are a bunch of idiots… ignorant, unintelligent fools.’

  The Chief was silent. Chuba’s right foot tapped the tiled floor repeatedly.

  ‘The Nigerian Police are fools. Fools!’

  ‘Calm down, Chris. Please, sit.’

  After a minute, Chuba sat back down.

  ‘I have an idea. We will need to send for a private investigator.’

  ‘A private investigator? From where? What will he do that the police haven’t done?’

  ‘We will send for one from outside Nigeria. I know of a man in Ghana called Kwame. He is very good. Trained
in the US. Very, very good, Chris. We must act fast, whatever it costs to get this man here in a few days we must do it. Otherwise, eeh,’ the Chief shook his head in defeat, ‘otherwise, your head is on the line. Not just your head, Chris, you will be shamed.’

  That same morning, inside a large fenced compound, a 1988 Toyota Corolla was parked in front of a large building. A big man with fine combed bushy hair and a clean shaven face was standing beside the Sheikh, who was looking through the driver’s open window. Musa was behind the wheel of the Toyota. Occasionally a gentle breeze blew and made them shiver.

  ‘Do you understand all Shedrack said, Musa?’ the Sheikh asked.

  ‘Yes, my Sheikh.’ The young man’s heart was pounding like a pestle against a mortar.

  ‘Tell me what he said.’

  ‘He said, Sir, that when… when I drive into the university… my university… that I should find my way to the library and drive very fast into the building. He said that as soon as the car hits the building I should touch this wire, the red one to this black one connected to the device.’ Musa indicated to the wires as he talked. ‘Then all will be done.’

  ‘It is finished.’ The Sheikh beamed with joy. The dashboard of the car had been unscrewed the day before and the powerful Improvised Explosive Device built by Shedrack Obong had been carefully planted inside.

  ‘Shedrack,’ the Sheikh called, ‘this will work?’

  ‘Haba, Sheikh, after our training in Yemen, I have consolidated my knowledge with further research. I am an engineer, and our brothers sent me for special technical training.’ He looked into the eyes of the Sheikh and said, ‘I know a lot that you do not know. It is my duty to build and plant this. I won’t fail.’

  The Sheikh took both of Shedrack’s hands. ‘If this succeeds, insha’Allah, I will reward you beyond your imagination, Shedrack.’

  Musa smiled as he listened, but just then the Sheikh saw Musa’s mouth quiver.