Satans and Shaitans

by Obinna Udenwe

  ‘What?’ Donaldo’s eyes widened. How could God be so kind and merciful?

  ‘Oh… walahi, I swear, I know wetin I talk. E beta pass gun self. Kajiko!’

  Donaldo’s whole body tensed and his breathing quickened. The weight of what he was proposing began to dawn on him. ‘You are sure that it kills in three minutes?’

  ‘Haba! You e doubt me? If I e enter your body. If say na small small, e go still kill the persin.’

  Donaldo thought about it, then said, ‘You get am? The poison, you get am here?’

  ‘Haba oga, wetin you go carry am do if I sell am give you?’

  ‘Do you have it? You get am?’

  ‘Yes. I get am here.’

  ‘Let me see it.’

  The Hausa man eyed the young man. Then his eyes wandered to the Volkswagen Bug. He turned and rummaged in his leather bag and brought out a tiny container. He handed it to Donaldo who stared at the contents, his heart beating like a drum.

  ‘How much?’

  The next day, Donaldo met with Adeline and they discussed the pregnancy again. He told her that he had changed his mind and he would find a professional to arrange everything. ‘It will take just a short time,’ he told her. I have made enquiries.’ But it was a lie. He knew nothing about abortion. All he knew was that if she agreed, he would travel to town and then make enquiries. He wanted her to just give her consent, to save them both from a far more dangerous fate. ‘Please, Adeline, consider our future. We are still too young.’

  Adeline sobbed, desperately hurt by his change of heart. ‘I cannot kill the baby. You are mad, Donaldo! You said you loved me! Remember that? How can you ask me to do this?’

  He tried to touch her but she turned and ran.

  ‘Adeline! Adeline!’

  She ran without looking back.

  ‘Please come back!’

  He feared that he might not see her again. He knew then that there was only one solution.

  THIRTY

  Monday, 3rd May 2010

  It was around 8pm.

  Adeline and Donaldo walked down the rugged path leading to the hut. The leaves that fell from the dogoyaro trees were damp and the soil was wet from the drizzle that had stopped only minutes earlier. The breeze could set a man’s heart on fire and it caused her milk-coloured dress to cling to her slim, dark body.

  As she walked, the fillet holding back her hair glittered in the moonlight and her ponytail swayed from side to side as they walked down the path she had become so used to.

  They said nothing to each other as they walked. Thoughts hung in their hearts. She had refused to respond to his calls after their last meeting, until at last she had agreed to meet him. But it was not the same. It was as if the sound of the bush pigeons prevented them from talking as they used to, as if it prevented them from holding hands like they used to. And if it were not for the beautiful songs of a nightingale, it would have seemed as if they walked through the valley of death.

  Donaldo stared at her. She was quivering because of the cold and he was tempted to offer his jacket. But, no, not tonight, he thought.

  ‘Have you made up your mind, my sweet?’ he asked. She turned to him ready to reply but a frog in the nearby pond croaked and she said nothing. The crickets chirruped continuously, filling the air as if beckoning on the night.

  ‘Do not look at me as if you have never seen me before.’

  ‘I’m not.’ She looked away.

  ‘Now, you tell me… what’s your final decision?’ he asked. He stopped abruptly and thrust his hands in his pockets.

  Adeline spoke up. ‘I never believed in love, but you taught me to. I never knew what it was, but you coached me. You gave me what my parents couldn’t. But I can’t do what you ask of me. It’s absurd to think of it.’

  ‘Please, darling. Think of my future, our future. I’m going to be a world famous artist, and the next heir to this wonderful island. Then we can have as many children as we wish, we can be free. But your decision now is risking all that. You know how much I long for this future of ours to come true. I have dreamt about this future with you ever since we met. I never told you, but my father knows about us. I am afraid of him. I can’t allow him to know about this baby, he will try to hurt us. With your decision, you force me down a path I don’t want to take.’

  His voice shocked her; it was different, ominous. She was scared by what she could see in his eyes, which used to be so lovely.

  She shook her head. ‘I am sorry, but you’re being selfish. Why don’t we talk about our future together? Why do you want me to suffer now because… because—’

  ‘Adeline, it is not what you think. My father is evil. He will kill me. He will kill us!’ He came closer, but she stepped back.

  ‘I can’t do it. It is better for my baby to die in his hands. No! I cannot. I know I’m young. Inexperienced. I know the problems we are going to face. But please, let’s face them together like one strong body. Like you always promised me.’ She began to cry. It was for their future, he had said. But she knew it was because of his ambitions as an artist. Because of his father.

  He approached her again and this time she came forward until they stood an inch apart. His hands were still in his pockets.

  ‘Donaldo.’

  Just as the vibrations of the crickets increased, she fell on his lean body and buried her head in his broad shoulders, her hands flung around his neck. Insects provided love rhythms with their noise. Even the leaves gave out a sweet muffling sound. The moonlight glimmered more brightly, so bright that she could easily see the drawings he had left outside on the table.

  It was then that he drew her face to his and kissed her softly. And as she opened up her lips to savour the kisses, to return the sweet kisses she could not resist – she felt it. It was only a sting, but it had gone deep.

  ‘What was that?’

  She pulled away from his embrace. The pencil with the needle attached was in his hand – it had pierced her neck.

  ‘What was that? What did you do to me?’ Then the poison hit her. Her hands clutched his jacket as she started to fall like a piece of cloth thrown from a tall building.

  She struggled to keep hold of him. ‘Why? Why are you doing this?’ She stared at him, shock and confusion in her eyes. He just stared back in fear.

  ‘But… but I love you. I always told you I… I did,’ she said, feeling herself weaken as the poison took effect. She slumped to the ground but still clung on to Donaldo’s ankle.

  Then silence came. The leaves became calm. The bullfrogs went to sleep. Darkness enveloped the world as the moon retired slowly.

  ‘I love you, Donaldo,’ she whispered, until finally her grip loosened completely and she stopped breathing, her eyes staring vacantly.

  He felt goose bumps all over his flesh.

  ‘I love you too. Adeline, I love you so much. But you are stubborn… you won’t understand. I do not want to ruin my future. I am afraid of my father, Adeline,’ he cried, if only she knew why she must die. He fell on his knees beside her long black legs.

  The leaves howled in disbelief. The clutch pencil was still in his hand and he gripped it tightly. A bird gave out a loud startling screech; the heavens growled and commanded the clouds to produce a sudden lightning bolt which was followed by a clap of thunder that silenced the insects. It was as if rains were waiting to start, but nothing happened. Everywhere became very quiet again. The world fell silent like a graveyard at midnight.

  With a trembling hand, Donaldo closed Adeline’s eyelids. Then he thought about his next problem, the disposal of her body. Which would be the greatest crime of all.

  SECTION III

  FRUIT OF EVIL

  … no murderer ever left the scene of a crime without leaving some physical evidence of his crime behind him.

  A Taste of Death

  P. D. James

  THIRTY-ONE

  Friday, 7th May 2010

  Donaldo was roused from his thoughts by a knock on the door. He had
been remembering how he had met and fallen in love with Adeline and how she had died. His face was covered in tears and he hurriedly wiped them away with his bed sheet.

  Madam Vero opened the door. She knew he had been crying.

  ‘What is it, my son? What is it?’

  She came to him and touched his forehead with the back of her hand. She touched his cheek and his neck. ‘Are you all right? What is bothering you, Donaldo? Please tell me.’

  He managed to smile. ‘I am fine,’ he said.

  Madam Vero wasn’t convinced, but she shrugged and said, ‘Your father wants to see you downstairs.’

  Chief Donald Amechi’s library was large, full of hundreds of books, mostly old books on medicine and psychology, science, the humanities and art. The walls were covered with framed photographs and memorabilia from the Chief’s sporting years in England, Italy and Spain all those years ago. A cabinet contained all the medals he had won and three silver trophies. They looked resplendent; it was these trophies that Donaldo would always come to look at. He admired his father’s success despite his wicked heart.

  Donaldo tapped on the door quietly and entered.

  ‘Good evening, Sir?’

  ‘I heard you’ve not been all right.’

  ‘I am fine, Sir.’ He sat down and stared at the medals.

  ‘Your forehead has lines. You are ageing, son. What’s bothering you? Is it about going to Italy?’

  ‘No, Chief. I am fine. I am looking forward to it.’

  Chief Donald Amechi was surprised at his son’s change of heart. He smiled warmly; everything was falling into place.

  ‘You will leave soon then. In the meantime I have arranged for you to work in Port Harcourt. It is a short residency before you leave, to make the change easier on you.’

  This announcement took Donaldo by surprise. He had been keen to leave ever since the news broke out about Adeline going missing. ‘I didn’t know there was going to be a change of plan.’

  ‘It’s fine. Listen, you are going to be making big money. Plus royalties from any of your works sold. Everything is here.’ He touched a big brown envelope on his desk. ‘Our family lawyer will be here tomorrow to give you all the details.’

  ‘All right.’ Donaldo did not sound very happy.

  ‘Donaldo? Your work is the best on the international market right now. The whole world is watching you. You have an agency to represent you now. They are waiting to see you… in fact, as I speak, they are asking: “Who is Donaldo?” It’s time to release you to the world. I have kept them waiting for so long… so long, son… you will enjoy this.’ Chief Amechi’s eyes glowed. ‘You will be like Rembrandt, Michelangelo. Can’t you see?’

  ‘I want to be me. I don’t want to be like anyone else.’

  His father just smiled.

  That evening, just before darkness began to cast its shadow, a car drove into the Chubas’ compound. Before the man seated in the back got out, the Evangelist was already downstairs, ready to welcome him. The two men hurried to embrace each other and walked over to the gazebo. Chris Chuba was still wearing the outfit he had worn to visit Chief Amechi earlier in the day. Professor Yerima Musa was dressed in an Armani suit, black shoes and wearing spectacles. They sat down.

  ‘I am delighted that you have come, brother. You cannot imagine how hard these past days have been for me.’

  ‘Oh, I understand, I understand. It is a terrible shame… what has happened is so dreadful.’

  ‘Thank you for your concern. How was your trip?’

  ‘It was fine.’

  ‘And London?’

  ‘Fine. London is fine.’

  The Evangelist looked around before leaning closer to the Professor. ‘My brother, I am confused. Who would dare to act against any one of us? And to take my daughter after she has been requested. There is something worrisome here.’

  ‘I hear that the patience of the Brotherhood is running out. I hope we find Adeline before then.’

  The Evangelist flinched at the mention of his daughter’s name. Fear and guilt engulfed him. ‘Professor Musa, sincerely speaking, I do not know what to do. I swear I know nothing about this.’

  ‘Uhmn.’ The Professor nodded.

  ‘The day we got the news about her disappearance, you know, we thought our contact had kidnapped her like we ordered. I had travelled to Canada as instructed to give them the chance to snatch her. Then when I came back I found out that there had been a car accident. The men died. The hand of fate is working against me. Now, she is missing. And my fear is that the Brotherhood will think I know where my daughter is. The Universal Temple will think I have hidden my daughter.’

  The Professor waited a while, then responded in a gruff voice, ‘The Tais knows more than you do. They are aware that you would never go against the Brotherhood in anyway. The Universal Temple is aware of your unflinching loyalty. Do not worry, Evangelist. But you have to hurry.’

  ‘Thank you so much, brother. Thank you,’ the Evangelist said, relieved.

  ‘That is why I have come. If there is anything I can do to assist, please tell me.’

  ‘Professor, Chief Donald Amechi suggested we hire a private detective. He has made the contact.’

  ‘The disappearance of your daughter is a setback that occurred at the worst possible time. The sacrifice must not delay for long. So the Chief’s suggestion is a good one. We must hurry, Evangelist.’

  ‘The Nigerian Police Force are the worst investigators in the world.’

  Professor Musa laughed a little. He moved nearer to the Evangelist and whispered, ‘Our enemies have her. Perhaps the late Alhaji’s friends planned this. She will come back to you, which is why I agree with Chief Donald that we need a foreign detective.’

  The Evangelist frowned. He saw his life dangling from a thread. He could see the hand of the clock of his life ticking away.

  Donaldo Amechi was rummaging through his belongings searching for his gold-coated clutch pencil. He couldn’t recall what he had done with it after he had killed Adeline. He sat on the bed and cast his mind back to the moment. He could see Adeline’s body crumple to the ground still holding on to his jacket. He remembered that at that time he still had the pencil in his hand – but where was it? Then he hurried back to the hut to search for it.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Saturday, 8th May 2010

  Around 4pm, a tall, dark, good looking man, dressed in a very expensive blue suit, walked into the Shoprite mall in Abuja. He wore a silver watch and black shoes that had been well shined, glistening in the mall’s artificial light. There were a few young men dressed in private security uniforms whose duty it was to look for shoplifters and one or two armed police at the car park gate. There were no bomb detectors at the gate or at the entrance to the mall. A few minutes after he entered the busy shopping centre, he made his way with difficulty through the crowds and stood in the middle of the mall, surrounded by shoppers – mostly women, children and young people. He began to recite to himself, his mouth moving slowly. Then his hand slipped into his suit jacket and he screamed from the top of his voice, ‘Allahu akbar!’ The explosion occurred.

  The martyr was blown high up to the ceiling of the mall and shredded into pieces. The explosion shook the foundations of the building and people were thrown with great force against walls, windows, columns and their fellow human beings. Shops were engulfed in flames. Then for some seconds the whole place was calm, until a huge pillar cracked and gave way, and the beams, the ceiling and the roof came crashing down. Over a hundred people were lying on the floor, unconscious in pools of blood. More than a thousand others began to wail in panic, knocking each other down as they made their way out of the blazing shops and the tumbling building, screaming the name of God in various languages.

  Just as the news went viral all over the world that the massive shopping mall in the capital of Nigeria had been attacked, Evangelist Chris Chuba, unaware, paced in his garden, his hands behind his back, his head bowed in worry. That morning
, he had had a meeting with the Commissioner of Police and discovered that the police hadn’t made any headway. A young officer had suggested that he employ diabolic means.

  The Evangelist recalled what the officer had said. ‘Sir, we have tried all means and we do not have any idea about the whereabouts of your daughter… we do not know what happened to her, whether she is dead or alive. So, I suggest that we go see Baba.’

  ‘Who is Baba?’ the Police Commissioner had asked.

  ‘He is a powerful diviner in Ijebu Ode—’

  ‘Officer Ajeore, stop! Chris Chuba is a man of God!’ the Commissioner interrupted.

  ‘But Commissioner, Sir. I am not saying he should go… I can travel to Ijebu Ode for him. I will do the consultations for him. If she is still alive, we will know. If she is dead, Sir, we will know…’ Everyone was silent. The Evangelist was thinking about it, but he was worried they would doubt his faith if he consented. He had often heard of Ijebu Ode and the might of the powers of the diviners there.

  ‘If she is alive, Baba will tell us where she is. And how to find her.’

  ‘Thanks, officer. But I think God will take charge,’ Evangelist Chuba said.

  ‘As you wish, Sir.’

  The officers saluted and left.

  Turning to face the Commissioner the Evangelist said, ‘I am thinking of employing a private detective.’

  ‘That isn’t a bad idea, Sir. But I think my men have covered everything.’

  ‘I am aware. But I am still not satisfied, I must do more.’

  ‘Very well. You can always direct the detective to come to us for information. We will always be ready to assist. There is a good private investigating firm in Lagos. I can give you the details.’

  ‘No, there is no need for that. I am sending for someone from Ghana.’

  ‘Ghana?’ The Commissioner laughed. ‘Are they better than us? What do Ghanaians know? I thought you were going to say somewhere like the United States.’