by Tope Oluwole
"Is there somewhere we can talk?" Fatima asked Larry.
"There is a place not far from here, Café Okada. It's not fancy, but the food and service are excellent," Larry said.
"Okay," Fatima said.
Morefishco watched as Miss Natarajian, Misses Blanc, and an Asian man stepped into another wheeled taxi. After giving the taxi a bit of a lead, Morefishco pursued once again.
At Café Okada, Fatima and Ingrid ordered ice cream, explaining that they had a late breakfast. Larry had noodles with peri chicken. At Fatima's request, they had picked a booth inside as far away from the masses as possible. "I know you are a very busy man," Fatima said, "so thank you for meeting with me."
Larry smiled. "So how can I help, Fatima?"
Fatima looked to Ingrid, then beyond, to see if anyone was eavesdropping. Then she began. "We have a map, and I pray you can tell us what it is a map of."
Larry looked dumbfounded. "Why me?" Larry asked.
This time Ingrid responded, "Because you're the only person who hasn't tried to rob, arrest, or kill us since we got this map."
"It has no name, only numbers," Fatima said.
Larry's smile faded and he sat back in his chair. "If it's a classified military document, I will be obligated to report it to my supervisor at the Ministry of Defense."
Fatima and Ingrid recoiled.
"The robots that attacked us just now were military," Ingrid said. "I've seen the same ones when...when I was doing research for the university at Borno State Park."
Fatima added, "They already have the media card with the map, so your superiors may already know." Fatima stopped. Larry took it all in. Fatima watched his boyish feature go sullen. "But I don't want to cause you wahalla with your oga."
"What if your superiors know, but don't want you to know they know?" Ingrid asked. "Did you think of that?"
Fatima bristled at Ingrid's tone.
Larry stared at Ingrid for a moment. "I hadn't thought of that," Larry replied. He took a bite out of his noodles. "Maybe this is over my head."
Fatima put her hand on Larry shoulder. "Listen Larry, I just need to find out how my husband died. The authorities know nothing, and their fingers are eagerly pointing in my direction."
Larry looked up from his noodles and into Fatima's eyes. "I could lose my job, if I help you."
"We could loose our lives, if you don't," Fatima replied.
Larry stared into his noodles for a few moments, and then asked, "What exactly did the robots look like?"
"Tall, with weapons, and they didn't talk," Fatima said. Larry passed her a blank stare.
Ingrid jumped in, "They never spoke, but it was clear they were communicating."
Larry nodded and then pulled out his PDA. "Did they look like this?" Larry slid his PDA over to Fatima and Ingrid. It was an image of a tall, green robot in camouflage markings. Nigeria Army, followed by a serial number, was written in a stencil font, at the bottom of the image.
"That looks like them, right Ingrid?" Fatima asked.
Ingrid looked at the image. "Yes." She looked up at Larry again.
"They are prototypes," Larry replied. "They started...oh, I don't want us to forget why you're here. Eat." Larry pointed to the melted ice cream in front of Fatima and Ingrid. They all laughed. "Well, let me see the map," Larry said.
Fatima reached in her purse, and pulled out a net-paper copy of the map. She pushed the map over to Larry's side of the table. Larry studied the map with his fingertips moving over the terrain features. When he finished up his noodles, Ingrid and Fatima began to squirm as the minutes of silence wore on. Fatima's eyes widened in anticipation when Larry said, "Hmm!" But then he continued studying the map.
From across the street at Café Okada, Morefishco snapped images with the telephoto lens of the cruisers vehicular camera, which he controlled remotely. On the vehicular screen he saw Larry's image front and center. Across the bottom of the display 'Transferring Data' flashed, as a progress bar increased in percentages.
"I'm getting the images now Inspector," Dockery's voice said from the cruiser's speakers. "Churchwell is working with your tech to see if this guy has a record. I doubt it though, he doesn't look the type."
"No he doesn't, does he?" Morefishco said. "Sometimes they don't."
"Well?" Ingrid uttered.
Larry took off his glasses, and leaned into Fatima and Ingrid. "This is definitely a military map," Larry said. "How did you get it?"
Ingrid was about to respond, but Fatima interjected. "It was from my husband."
"Where did your husband get it from?" Larry asked.
Fatima was silent, so Ingrid took over. "We worked together as researchers at Maiduguri University, on communicable diseases," Ingrid said. "So what can you tell us about the map?"
"It could be a location in the North...judging by the type of vegetation, or lack of. I won't know for sure, until I run some queries.
Fatima sucked her teeth.
"I'm sorry," Larry said, "but this map isn't coded for a reason." Larry ran his finger along the bottom of the map where the coordinates should have been. "Although I have military clearance to access the satellite maps, I'm not a military man, so I can't tell you much by just looking at it."
Fatima nodded. "You are right. I am sorry."
"It's okay," Larry said, "I want to help." After a short silence, Larry reached for the map. "Can I take this?" Larry held the net-paper in his hand and re-rolled it the way he had received it.
Morefishco zoomed in on the net-paper Larry held, as best he could, and snapped away with the camera.
"Yes," Fatima said. "We have a copy."
"Good, keep it in a safe place," Larry said. "Let's plan on meeting again once I have more information."
"How can we be sure you won't just tell your oga what you found out and have us arrested?" Ingrid asked.
"You'll just have to believe Fatima's trust in me is correct," Larry said.
Morefishco watched as Fatima and Ingrid came out of Café Okada, and stood by the curb. "He's in the system?" Morefishco asked.
Churchwell replied. "Yes. Even your technician was surprised."
"Really? For what, jay walking?" Morefishco asked.
"We don't know," Churchwell replied. "The file is restricted. We just found that he was in the system. His name is Larry Huong. A spider-search against global search engines and social networks pulled up quite some information though."
"Anything criminal?" Morefishco asked.
"No, just some stuff he might not want to see on the news," Churchwell said.
"Hmm..." Morefishco rubbed the side of his face. He watched Fatima hail a taxi, then Larry bid Fatima and Ingrid farewell as they climbed in. "And nothing on the other two, right?" Morefishco asked.
"Sorry man," Dockery said.
"Thanks," Morefishco said, and then ended the transmission. He got out of the police cruiser and strolled over to Larry Huong.
"Larry Huong?" Morefishco said. Larry began to turn colors. His mouth hung open, but nothing came out. Morefishco stared at Larry. "That's you, right?"
"Do...do I know you?" Larry asked.
"Inspector Morefishco, F-I-I-B." Morefishco flashed Larry his identification crest. "We need to talk."
CHAPTER 23
Back At The Bakery
"That Inspector came looking for you!" Olga said, bringing Omoaiye a plate of amala, pepe stew, with goat meat. Olga could swear she saw Omoaiye salivating through his mask. She placed the food in his special thermal container, that not only kept the food hot, but leak-proof, waterproof, and bulletproof. It was designed for the military. However, Dejure Bakery's clientele included not only veterans, but folks that had to eat on the gun.
Omoaiye grabbed the container which was about the size of a pineapple and placed it in his secret pocket. The pocket expanded to accommodate his space-age lunch box. He wouldn't eat it until later, in one of his favorite perches, high above the kala-kutu and kala-kuta of New Lagos.
> "Natasha does not want you to return," Olga said, wiping the wet on her apron and looking down at nothing in particular.
Omoaiye nodded and then slithered out the back entrance, as he always did.
It was just past closing at midnight for Dejure Bakery, when Omoaiye scaled the five-story building next door and proceeded up the fire escape. Near the railing of the top floor, Omoaiye froze. He looked to his left as if he heard something.
A monkey flashed its eyes and then scrambled down the fire escape, leaving Omoaiye with the hot summer breeze and the night noise of traffic and market sellers.
Omoaiye flung his dinner pack onto the roof ahead of him. Immediately, a flash of fire erupted from where the pack vanished over the roof-line. Omoaiye lost his balance, and fell over the fifth-floor railing. On reflex, he flung two electromagnetic pulse grenades up and above himself, and then slipped down to the terrace.
The blinding flash disabled two military-grade robots. They crashed to the fifth floor terrace, putting two large cracks in the terrazzo floor.
Occupants began peering out of their windows. Two more military-grade robots pursued Omoaiye to the fourth floor, while he scurried down the fire escape. The clanging of metal appendages behind Omoaiye rang in the neighborhood air like a rock concert. More occupants of the building poked their heads out of windows. Omoaiye threw a stink bomb into each window he passed, deterring anyone who might have wanted to exercise their freedom of observation. They rewarded Omoaiye with a motley of obscenities.
By the time Omoaiye reached the bottom of the second floor, two more robots were waiting for him. Omoaiye whipped out another EMP grenade, but one of the robots slapped it out of his grasp before he could activate it.
Omoaiye heard the other two robots descending from above him. He ran in the direction the bush valley of Ogba neighborhood, in hopes of evading the robots there.
To his left, Omoaiye spied his dinner pack. He then threw four smoke grenades around him, while using the targeting scopes in his goggles to home in on the pack. Omoaiye made a dash for the container in four quick bounds, scooping it up like a rugby ball. The robots, however, weren't so easily fooled. Omoaiye raced through the backyard of the complex of flats, scaled its wall into the adjacent house, and then flip onto roof. The robots were hot on his heels.
A row of machine guns popped out of the roof about ten meters in front of him, and Omoaiye was surrounded by the wail of alarms. Omoaiye dove to the side of the roof-line. The large caliber gunfire howled through the night sky, and Omoaiye could see sparks fly as one of the robots pursuing him was torn to bits. Hanging off the edge of the roof, he heard a meguard yell, "Teeeef!"
Omoaiye looked down the dark depth, two stories below him, that most certainly ended in a cold concrete slab of death. He began swaying and swinging himself, building momentum. On his third swing, a metal appendage grabbed Omoaiye by the arm, and pulled him back onto the roof.
The robot slammed Omoaiye on the ground, where he could see the destroyed rooftop machine gun, and the remains of one of the now three robots. Omoaiye looked back to see the robots converging on him with red eyes aflame. Still, they hadn't drawn any weapons, and Omoaiye wondered why. He could now feel the ache in his ribs. He slowly got up, and then began walking backwards toward the opposite edge of the roof.
The robots marched forward as Omoaiye backed out of roof space. Out of nowhere, projectiles whistled into the space between Omoaiye and the robots. The resulting explosion blew the robots back about a meter, causing superficial damage. However the blast launched Omoaiye clean off the roof, and landed him in the trailer of an oncoming carcass lorry on the street below.
CHAPTER 24
Pieces
"Do I need a lawyer?" Larry Huong asked. He was half asking Inspector Morefishco, standing across from him, and half asking himself. His white shirt now had brown sweat stains at the armpits.
Morefishco raised his hands "Do you want a lawyer?" A portable mini air conditioner blew across his arm, giving him goosebumps. Morefishco watched the perspiration beading up on Larry's forehead and upper lip. "I mean, it's your right. But you're not under arrest. We're just shooting the breeze."
"May I go now?" Larry asked.
"Oh sure," Morefishco replied, "I'm just unclear on a couple of things." Morefishco picked up the piece of net-paper in front of him, and tapped on it twice with his index finger. "You said you were helping Misses Blanc find out who killed her husband?"
Larry shook his head. "No. I said she gave me the map to help her find out who killed her husband."
"Really, but..." Morefishco whisked his finger across the net-paper a few times to scroll to previous notes. "you said you just met her yesterday? Is that right?"
"Yes," Larry said.
"So why would you help a woman, with three kids, you just met yesterday Larry?" Morefishco put down the net-paper in front of him and stared at Larry. "That's what I don't get?"
"I felt...It was the right thing to do," Larry said.
"And you're sure you didn't know her before yesterday?" Morefishco asked.
"No."
"You do seem like a nice guy," Morefishco said.
"I do have to return to my office," Larry said. "My oga will be expecting me."
"Don't worry." Morefishco smiled. "I'll write you a note. But you won't need it. I'm just wrapping this up. Thank you for your cooperation. I'll also have one of my deputies give you a ride back to your office."
Larry's body relaxed a bit. Morefishco nodded. "Now, let say I get you helping Misses Blanc. Why help Miss Natarajian?"
"Who," Larry replied.
"The other woman with Misses Blanc," Morefishco said.
"Ingrid?" Larry asked.
"Yes," Morefishco said. "Why help Ingrid?"
Larry paused for a moment. "I didn't say I was helping her?"
"No, you didn't," Morefishco said. "And you don't know what this is a map to?" Morefishco double-tapped on the net-paper, and then showed Larry a copy of the map he had received from Fatima.
"No," Larry said. "I have not had the opportunity to analyze it."
"You said I could leave whenever I wanted, correct?" Larry asked.
Morefishco leaned back in his chair. "Yes."
"I would like to leave now," Larry said.
"Sure," Morefishco said.
"Thank You," Larry replied.
Morefishco got up and then rapped his knuckles on the one-way glass of the interrogation room.
Churchwell and Dockery entered the interrogation room moments later.
"Please take Mister Huong back to work," Morefishco said.
Larry hesitated to rise. Morefishco nodded to signal it was okay to do so. "Here." Morefishco pulled one of his digital business cards out of his pocket and handed it to Larry. "Here's your note, just in case."
"Thank you Inspector," Larry said.
"No. Thank you," Morefishco replied.
Churchwell, Larry, and Dockery exited the interrogation room, and headed to the car park, while Morefishco went back to his office. On his desk was a lab report. Morefishco whisked through the mundane, until he found what he was looking for. "Fiber origin: U.S. Military."
Morefishco called up Chief Ibrahim. Ibrahim picked up on the first ring and greeted Morefishco in Hausa.
"Chief Ibrahim," Morefishco cut him off. "It's Morefishco."
"Ah, sorry Inspector," Chief Ibrahim replied. "Are you close to catching your man?"
"Maybe. I have a fabric sample coming to you by UPS," Morefishco said. "When you get it, I want you to have your lab guys compare it with any salvageable fibers from the crash you can find that aren't burned to hell. And message me the report."
Chief Ibrahim was silent for a few seconds, and Morefishco could swear he could hear Ibrahim seething. Finally, Chief Ibrahim replied, "I will have my lab man perform the analysis, and get the report to you."
Morefishco looked at his work display with photos of Miss Natarajian and the masked man at the Lag
os Terminus. Next to them was an image of video from Blanc's hover-car. "Gotcha!"
"Inspector!" A call came in over the audio-link at Morefishco's display.
"What is it?" Morefishco replied.
"Disturbance in Ikeja, sa," a male dispatcher answered.
Morefishco rolled his eyes. "Can you be a little more specific?"
"Sorry sa, but witnesses reported seeing a masked man in black at the scene," the officer replied.
"Why didn't you say so!" Morefishco grabbed his hat and ran out of his office, and right into Dockery and Churchwell, knocking his hat off his head.
"You two got back pretty fast," Morefishco said. "I may have to see about getting you on the payroll."
"Inspector..." Dockery started, but Morefishco cut him off.
"That local champion turned up in Ikeja," Morefishco said, and continued towards down the hall. "Let's go!"
As Morefishco drove the police cruiser on Ikorodu Road, he voice-activated the sirens while the windows were still in the process of sliding up. "What?" Morefishco asked.
"I said, we never made it to Mister Huong's office," Churchwell said.
Morefishco's eyes widened. "What happened?"
"Yeah, well, we were about to put him in the cruiser when a black hover-limo, like we saw the other day at the bank, pulled up..." Dockery said.
"What?" Morefishco said. "You got jacked of a citizen in our custody?
"When they pulled up beside us, Huong said the man in the back seat was his boss." Dockery said. "Bodyguards stepped out, not counting the driver. They all looked like cyborgs."
"So you let him go because you got scared?" Morefishco asked. "Is that how they do police work in Bostonia?"
"Here!" Churchwell handed Morefishco a digital card. Morefishco took it and read it. "He said in case you had any more questions."
Morefishco read the card and then looked up at Dockery and Churchwell.
"I take it back. It was good you didn't challenge him too much. It would have brought more questions than I would have liked to answer," Morefishco said.