Satans and Shaitans

by Obinna Udenwe

  ‘Father, perhaps it was one of my boys. I am supposed to be working for the Chief on a particular case but it seems one of my boys has double-crossed me to take over the job.’

  ‘The world has turned upside down. How could your own staff do that? But that is the world for you.’ He offered his hand and Kwame took it.

  Kwame laughed. ‘It is not good, right… double-crossing your own boss?’

  ‘No, it’s not good. What is it that you people want here anyway?’

  ‘What did the man who came here look like?’

  ‘I cannot give a full description… they made me leave for a whole day.’

  ‘Why would they make you leave?’

  ‘I don’t know… it was a kind of forensic investigation, the Chief told me. They were very serious.’

  Kwame drove like a mad man to the road junction close to the police station where Leonard was waiting for him. Together they hurried to meet the Evangelist, telling him they had a significant development in the case of his missing daughter.

  The Evangelist was waiting for them when they arrived, pacing to and fro with anticipation. He ushered them into his study and waited for them to begin.

  ‘Sir, I have to warn you that what we are about to suggest may come as a shock, so please, listen patiently,’ Kwame began.

  The Evangelist nodded, and Kwame continued.

  ‘We found a golden clutch pencil at the chapel on Williams Island. Traces of blood and poison were found on it, and we have reason to believe the pencil belonged to Chief Amechi’s son, Donaldo, the artist. We approached the Chief about it but he gave us no information other than to say he would return the pencil to his son. We have not even had the opportunity to speak to the young man.’

  ‘And so? Chief Amechi was my friend. He just died,’ he reminded Kwame.

  ‘Sir, something is not right. I just spoke to the priest at the chapel and he informed me that Chief Amechi went to the chapel with a forensic investigator and sent the priest away. Chief Amechi has made no official report of this, and we were not informed.’ Kwame looked at Leonard, who nodded in agreement. He knew the next revelation would be even more difficult. ‘Furthermore, Sir, we have good reason to believe that Donaldo Amechi was seeing Adeline. Twice they were seen at a café, and we find it difficult to believe that Adeline would have left the house on these two occasions and the night she disappeared without being seen – it seems that your staff are covering up this relationship.’

  Kwame held up a placating hand to the Evangelist who was visibly agitated, and continued, ‘Sir, I went to the Island and saw Donaldo’s hut where he worked on his paintings. Sir, it is possible that he used to take Adeline to this place—’

  ‘What?’ The Evangelist was struggling to remain silent.

  ‘Sir. Please listen to him,’ Leonard pleaded.

  ‘We have no time to waste. Donaldo Amechi has returned to Port Harcourt, less than twenty-four hours since his father was buried. If he indeed was seeing Adeline at the chapel where we found the pencil, it could mean your daughter is in great danger or worse. This forensic investigator could be the key to solving your daughter’s disappearance. But we cannot find him alone.’ Kwame knew he had him. The Evangelist was quiet. Without saying anything he picked up his phone and rang the Police Commissioner.

  ‘Commissioner, we required the services of one of your private forensic investigators recently. Sadly, with the passing of the Chief some details have gone missing – are you aware of any recent requests?’ He paused to hear what the man was saying. Kwame and Leonard saw his forehead furrow.

  ‘The Chief asked for that – yes, that sounds right. Where is he now? Good… Good. Yes, it is important we speak to him. Come right now and see me.’

  Chris Chuba rang off. ‘Chief Amechi called the Commissioner some days back requesting the urgent assistance of a forensic investigator. The Commissioner gave him the name of a man in Enugu.’

  ‘Why did the Chief need the investigator?’

  ‘The Commissioner didn’t ask that. He is on his way.’

  The order to apprehend the forensic investigator from Enugu was given immediately. The Commissioner would never dare refuse the Evangelist anything, especially as his friend Chief Amechi had been instrumental in his becoming commissioner and arranging his transfer to Ebonyi State.

  The policemen ordered to pick up the investigator met Kwame and the Evangelist’s bodyguards at Ishieke junction. The Evangelist had made one thing very clear: the existence of this investigator was not to be revealed to anyone else – he did not want shame brought upon his friend until they were sure. They should take him to an unknown location.

  Reluctantly, Kwame and Leonard had agreed, and they were now being led down a narrow path, far into a bushy area, by the Evangelist’s guards. After a while, they brought the investigator out of their car, his head covered with a black hood that smelled of sweat and blood. His mouth was stuffed with his own handkerchief. They had tied his hands and feet.

  Kwame was uncomfortable with the treatment. He looked to Leonard who seemed less perturbed. Maybe this is how things are done here, he thought. The main thing was to get answers.

  One of the bodyguards began to speak to the terrified investigator. ‘I don’t know who you are and you don’t know any of us. I want you to know that you have stepped on the toes of very powerful people. You may have done this unknowingly, while carrying out your job, but you may have injured some people. Now tell me, what job did you do for the late Chief Donald Amechi?’

  The forensics expert had heard of the demise of the Chief, and thought nothing of it then, but right there in the bush he wondered if his captors had murdered him. Since the Chief was dead, he needed to tell them the truth, what he had done and what he had seen. So he told them.

  When they had cross-examined the investigator and learnt everything they could, Kwame said, ‘Let us hurry out of here.’

  As soon as the vehicle carrying Kwame drove off, the second car with the investigator inside veered off in another direction. Kwame would never know that one of the bodyguards pulled out his semi-automatic pistol and shot the hooded man in the head at close range.

  Sheikh Mohammed Seko had gone berserk; he had lost almost at the same time his best friend and deputy, and the powerful Chief and Southern ally who had provided him with such a perfect opportunity to gain the wealth and power he so craved. He felt like he was being personally targeted, and he was not going to let anything subvert the plan he had worked so hard on. He knew he had to make a strong statement, one that would show this hidden enemy he could not be stopped.

  That evening, a group of armed men led by the Sheikh drove into the Katsina office of the Department of State Security, their Hilux trucks crashing through the two bolted security gates. The attack was so bold and brazen that they took the security operatives unawares. They shot the gateman and two other guards before they were even able to fire their guns.

  Other security agents ran for cover, but the terrorists jumped down from their trucks and began a shootout with the agents, surrounding the building. They threw flash grenades through the windows and into the courtyard, then mowed down all the State Security staff as they ran out, dazed and blinded.

  Later that night, Shiekh Mohammed Seko sat inside a makeshift tent in the forest camp. A white blanket with the name Jama’atul al-Mujahideen Jihad inscribed boldly on it was used as a backdrop. He made his statement, while one of his soldiers recorded it with a video camera.

  In the name of the Almighty, the most beneficent, the most merciful.

  We the members of Jama’atul al-Mujahideen Jihad – a group that fights to purge Northern Nigeria of the presence of infidels, and show disaffection for the corruption that has swallowed the Nigerian Government – wish to claim with jubilation responsibility for the five attacks that took place today. These attacks were planned and co-ordinated over several months. We were enraged that after we agreed a truce with the Nigerian Government – after they ha
d paid us millions to stop the war while they worked out negotiations – they attacked innocent Muslims in Yobe and Sokoto. And planned to attack the Centre for Islamic Knowledge in Katsina.

  We shall continue our attacks until all infidels leave Northern Nigeria. We shall continue our attacks until the Nigerian Government shows genuine commitment to fighting corruption, starting with the Presidency. The Almighty is our strength.

  The organization’s courier took the message to be uploaded from a secure location and left the camp. Sheikh Seko lay on a mat and smiled to himself.

  We know that we are from God, and the whole world lies in the power of the evil one.

  I John 5:19

  The Holy Bible

  FORTY-FIVE

  Wednesday, 19th May 2010

  The crisis had ripened.

  Since Seko’s video had gone viral, there was widespread panic in Nigeria and neighbouring countries. Opposition parties were criticizing the President for failing to protect them and they called for him to step down. Human rights organizations and anti-terrorist support groups were making statements. Religious leaders from both Muslim and Christian quarters were condemning the attacks and calling on the President to take action. And in the streets there were protests outside the embassies.

  The President responded to force with force. The JRF attacked the Centre for Islamic Knowledge in Kafurzan, searching the entire compound and holding everyone, including the teachers, staff and the Almajiri. The children were questioned about their teachers. Everything was turned upside down, but they found no weapons, and no evidence of terrorist activity. Afraid of the uproar that would be caused, they planted heavy weapons in the buildings and arrested men, innocent Muslims, who had come to worship at the mosque, parading them on national television as part of a ‘potentially huge clandestine terrorist cell’.

  Dr Bode Clark sent out messages to those Senators and members of the House of Representatives – it was time to impeach the President, and no one needed much convincing.

  Evangelist Chuba drove with Kwame to the chapel to meet Officer Leonard and some of his police officers there. Chuba sat on the low wall outside the chapel and watched as the old priest fumed. ‘You must allow me to take away the Eucharist. You have no respect for Christ, Jesus. You will go to hellfire, all of you.’ He had called the Bishop and the Bishop’s secretary was on his way.

  Two bodyguards with shovels dug up the altar, exactly where the forensics expert had confessed to finding the body. He had confirmed that they had not touched the body, as the Chief had said he would have it removed at a later time, but he had no idea what the Chief had planned to do.

  One of the shovels hit something.

  ‘Easy… easy, please,’ Leonard ordered. Everyone moved forward. The man with the shovel used it to scrape away some red soil. And then they saw it. Evangelist Chuba knew it was his daughter, despite her state. He said nothing, but stared in shock as tears rolled down his cheeks. Kwame came forward and touched his shoulder, making the Evangelist snap back to the present moment. He swiftly turned away, leaned over and was sick.

  Two medical experts came with the Police Commissioner and collected specimens. The remains were collected into a bodybag and sealed. Kwame showed them Donaldo’s hut. They shut the area off, as Chuba’s guard led the distraught man away.

  Kwame walked to the Chief’s mansion and rang the bell. He heard the flap flap flap sound of slippers as someone came to answer the door. She wore a yellow blouse made of Ankara patterned with tiny stars. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she looked like she had aged since his last visit.

  ‘Hello, I am—’

  ‘I know, I remember you,’ Madam Vero interrupted, ‘come in.’ Then Leonard appeared and both men entered the spacious sitting room together for the first time.

  Kwame said, ‘I am sorry about your loss.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘We are sorry to come at this difficult time, but we want you to help us, Ma.’

  ‘How?’ Madam Vero was burning with fear inside of her.

  ‘We are still investigating Adeline, the Chuba girl,’ Kwame said. He stared into the woman’s eyes.

  ‘I told you what I know, which is not much. She was a very sweet but quiet girl.’

  ‘You are very close to Donaldo, right?’

  ‘Like a mother to him, since his poor mother died,’ Madam Vero said, looking sad. ‘Why do you ask about Donaldo?’

  ‘Was he having a relationship with Adeline Chuba?’

  Madam Vero was stunned by the question. She began to rub the back of her hand. ‘No, I don’t know. I am confused.’

  ‘What are you confused about?’ Leonard asked.

  ‘Donaldo is a quiet person. He doesn’t cause trouble. He has very few friends, and never had a girlfriend. You have to understand, if he knew anything about Adeline, he would have said so. He is a good boy. Anyway, her father would never allow her a boyfriend. Everyone is saying she was kidnapped, that must be it.’ She was rambling now and she knew it, but her nerves had taken over. She kept reliving what she had overheard between Donaldo and his father.

  Kwame and Leonard looked at each other. ‘You see this pencil.’ Kwame produced the golden pencil from his pocket. ‘We found it at the altar of the chapel here on the Island. We found poison and blood on it. We suspect it was used to murder someone. Miss Adeline Chuba.’ Kwame waited for a response, but she was quiet. ‘We found a grave at the altar. Around where we found this pencil. Chief Amechi found the body before he died, he had an investigator dig it up. So, you see, the evidence is overwhelming. If you want to help Donaldo, you must co-operate. Now tell us, why did Donaldo come home before his father died?’

  The woman was quiet for a while. Kwame wanted to know if the man had confronted his son after he found the grave. Madam Vero said he’d come back a day before his father died to collect some things. The men looked at each other.

  ‘What happened then?’ Kwame asked.

  Madam Vero was getting angry. She fidgeted. And her lips trembled. ‘Nothing happened.’

  Leonard said to her, ‘Ge m nti, listen to me. If you’re hiding information from us, and Donaldo is found guilty, you will be charged with obstructing the course of justice and as an accomplice. I am sure you know what that means.’

  Madam Vero nodded.

  ‘So tell me what happened the day Donaldo returned. Before the Chief died.’

  Madam Vero began to sob.

  ‘Listen, Madam,’ Leonard cut in, softening his tone, ‘what if another person killed Miss Adeline, then framed your boy. Placed his pencil at the altar. You never can tell. Tell us what happened.’

  ‘Chief summoned Donaldo. I was asked to go upstairs. They wanted to talk in the study… he’d told me.’

  ‘Did he always ask you to go out if they wanted to talk?’

  ‘No. I am like Donaldo’s mother. I was never asked to leave if they wanted to talk. Not even when other visitors came. I was surprised… I heard their voices from upstairs. They were shouting. Donaldo never used to shout back at his father. He was afraid of Chief. I came and eavesdropped. Please don’t tell Donaldo.’

  Kwame nodded. He knew then that the woman loved the young man deep within her.

  ‘Then the next morning Chief was dead. It was strange, I thought. Chief was healthy the previous night. If he was sick that night, he would have called me up—’

  ‘What did you hear that night?’ Leonard asked.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘You said you eavesdropped,’ Kwame pushed.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So, what did you hear?’

  Madam Vero sighed. ‘A long time ago he came back once feeling happy. He told me he’d met a girl. But he never told me who she was.’

  ‘You now think it might be the Chuba girl?’

  ‘His father thought so, and suspected he’d killed her. I heard Chief accuse Donaldo.’ She hesitated. ‘That was all I heard.’

  Kwame suspected she knew more. ‘Sh
ow us to his room,’ hesaid, standing. Madam Vero hesitated. Leonard grabbed her elbow and she came along. She knew it was pointless to demand a search warrant from the Nigerian Police.

  They searched the room. They found bottles of paint, chemicals for mixing paint, clothes. They found many artworks, finished and unfinished, drawing sheets, paper of all kinds and colours.

  They broke open his locked drawer. And there was Adeline’s novel, Envy by Sandra Brown – it had her name and signature written on it. There were two sheets of paper inside the novel, letters. Leonard looked at them and recognized the writing from the letter the Evangelist had torn up. The men looked at each other.

  ‘Madam Vero, have you seen what we have found? Donaldo had something going on with Adeline Chuba.’ Kwame showed her the book and the letters.

  ‘I never knew,’ she responded. ‘I swear to God! That girl does not go anywhere without one of her household staff. It would be impossible for her to have a relationship with Donaldo in secret.’

  ‘It means someone in the Chubas’ home knew about Adeline and Donaldo,’ Leonard said to Kwame. Kwame thought of Miss Spencer.

  FORTY-SIX

  At the Chubas’ residence, everyone was devastated. Even the maids did not bother preparing food, because no one wanted to eat. They sat on stools along the corridor leading to the kitchen. The Evangelist was in the sitting room, talking with the Police Commissioner and some of his friends. Mrs Chuba was in her room weeping. Miss Spencer was finally telling her about Donaldo – most of the stories were lies. She was making them up to clear herself and the other staff.

  The men in the sitting room went quiet when Kwame and Leonard came in. They greeted the men, but when they got no response, they sat down.

  ‘How did it go?’ the Commissioner asked.

  ‘Sir, the evidence confirms Adeline’s relationship with Donaldo,’ Officer Leonard said, ‘and we believe he murdered her.’ Tears formed in the Evangelist’s eyes. He thought about his friend, Chief Donald Amechi.