by Bill O. A
The speakers buzzed into life.
“Gentlemen we are now approaching the African continent, Guinea to be precise. As this is an unscheduled flight and we left in a hurry, the required approvals from five countries have not yet been concluded to enable us enter their airspace. Therefore, we will remain above the ocean and make a curve through the shore area closest to the land borders of these countries and the ocean thus head straight to Lagos. Please note that this diversion will cost us an additional hour, hence ETA is six a.m. Nigerian time.”
The pilot made some pleasantries and assured the passengers that there were refreshments at their beck and call.
George had woken up while Bode was still asleep; the comfort of the adjustable leather seats was quite irresistible for a man who had not slept well the previous night. Femi walked over to George.
“I am really glad you are on this search for the missing boy. I guess it is a win-win situation for everyone.”
“Exactly young man,” replied George. “I am sure the reunion will be grand, but the main task at hand is to find the boy wherever he is.”
Femi nodded in agreement. “I think I can order something to eat for us, while our hosts enjoy their sleep.”
“Excellent idea,” replied George. “Crossing timelines can be tricky on the stomach.”
The businessman stretched his body as he woke up; he had slept for seven hours uninterrupted. He felt refreshed.
“Where are we now?” he inquired.
“An hour away from Murtala Muhammed International Airport,” replied Femi.
George turned to look at the men discussing. “Who really is this man your country named an airport after?”
Bode and Femi stared at the professor.
“He was a former head of state,” replied Bode. “A general in the army who ruled Nigeria for a short time. He tried to style and model his governance after the British Prime Minister, where you could get to a tube station and find the PM just standing with the crowd. One fateful day, as he was been chauffeured to his office without any form of security, he was gunned down in his car in an aborted coup d’état. That vehicle is in our National Museum in the state where we will land.”
“He was known to be a very disciplined officer and commanded a lot of respect from his colleagues, subordinates and contemporaries,” said Femi.
“Yes, he was,” said Bode. “But like all the military dictators before and after him, force was used in acquiring power, and that will always be the flipside of his reign, whether he wanted power or not.”
“Interesting,” said George. “It seems the military has had more time on the number one seat than civilians.”
“That would soon end,” said Bode. “We have had five general elections since the end of military rule and it has been sustainable. No interruptions from anywhere. From the looks of things, we the civilians are in charge of our future.”
“Well said,” replied George. “But most of these leaders are either former dictators, ex-military men or from a military family, like the good man that died in power from some strange ailment. What was his name again?” asked the ex-Marine.
“His Excellency was Musa Yar’Adua,” replied Femi. “He won the elections and came into power. It wasn’t tied to compensating his late military brother. The people felt he was right for the job, politically, ethnically and religiously.”
George felt a heated argument building up, so he intelligently swayed the discussion.
“The USA also had past retired military men who have ruled the country, so it isn’t really new to hear of a former soldier becoming a politician and later the president.”
Bode smiled, he raised his left hand and looked at his watch. “Gentlemen, we are twenty minutes from the airport. I am sure the captain will announce something soon. I’d better order a quick breakfast on this rather important and very expensive flight.”
“Enjoy it all till the last minute, huh?”
Femi laughed at the professor’s joke.
The speakers came alive again.
“I am sorry gentlemen. Although we are five minutes away from Murtala Mohammed International Airport, we cannot land the plane as scheduled. There seems to be some VIP movement at the airport. We have been directed to touch down at the closest international airport. I will hover around in circles for a while, and see what other possible outcomes can emerge. Our apologies, this is quite unprecedented for us.”
“What does he mean by VIP movement?” asked George.
“The drama is actually starting right here in Nigerian skies,” sighed the sexagenarian.
“Anything can be happening on the ground,” replied Bode. “I suggest you call the colonel now and see if he is around and how he can help. The closest international airport is in Port Harcourt and that is another hour away from here.”
“I will definitely make the call,” said George as he picked the handset on his classy seat and tried to make it work. He wasn’t used to the technology so he called the air hostess to help him out.
“Hi. I need to make a call to someone on the ground. How does this work?”
“Oh, I see,” said the young lady. “Let me just set it up for you.”
Two minutes later, George was waiting for an answer from the phone ringing on the other side.
“Hello. Hello?” George could hear the voice of a stern man.
“Yeah hello,” replied the professor. “My name is George Holmes. Bernard said I should call you when I get to Nigeria.”
“Of course, I have been monitoring your flight. The President came on a working visit to Lagos. He has been here since Thursday last week and will depart this morning for the capital, hence the tight security presence in the airport. I am sure your pilot has been informed of his disapproval to land.”
“Yes, he has,” replied George. “And that is why I am calling.”
“That is not a problem,” responded the ranking officer. “I have made arrangements with my colleagues in the air force for you to use their runway. They actually have a base that shares a border with the MMA. Can you connect me with the pilot so I can give him instructions where to direct your flight?”
“Certainly, my friend, and thank you.”
Chapter 35
South Western Nigeria
7th July 2015, 6:35 a.m.
The main door of the jet opened and the four passengers began to disembark.
“I have to admit, this man is influential,” said Bode. “I have never heard of such immediate authority from mid-level military personnel. Only generals can pull a stunt like this.”
George knew instantly there were more revelations to come.
The party was met by immigration and customs officials. Lieutenant Colonel Chuka Chukwu had made arrangements for their entry into the country to be official and documented; all protocol was to be duly observed. The arrivals had their passports stamped and luggage scanned before leaving the borrowed airport officials.
“You are welcome to the Sam Ethnan Air Force Base.” Chukwu watched his visitors keenly.
“Thank you so much for assisting us. My name is Bode Williams.”
“I know who you are Mr Williams. I believe an update is proper at this time.”
It was not yet fully dawn and this military man wanted to get down to details. George on the other hand was unperturbed; he just went with the flow.
“While you guys were in the air, I began my groundwork based on the combined information and intelligence received from the FBI and CIA. The first thing I did was to contact some of my ‘boys’ in four key data collection points, which are the Nigeria Immigration Service (NIS), the Federal Road Safety Commission (FRSC), the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) and the National Identity Management Commission (NIMC). All other collection bodies rely on data captured by these agencies, and as luck would have it, my team worked overnight and was able to gather data from year 2000 till date. I have already sent the links of the agency websites and a list of corresponding IDs and passwor
ds to access hidden files. The FBI will be using the same technology the Bureau of Consular Affairs in the USA used in finding Nathan. The only problem with this approach is we are talking about a combined data of about two hundred and fifty million names and biometrics. Some are obviously duplicated across agencies, and there seems to be no way to filter them, that is why we just stuck to the time frame from when the twins were born till date. You will also have to send pictures of Kenny from birth till date, probably on a six-month interval. Please sort and send these to the FBI once they are ready.”
Bode and George were perplexed.
“It is a good thing you had a sound sleep on the plane,” said the professor.
“You can say that again,” replied Bode. “So we just wait for that right?”
“No, we don’t,” responded the ranking officer. “I have made contact with the media and we are going to broadcast the story of the missing boy to all Nigerians, putting a finder’s fee to whoever can give us valid information which will lead to the location and return of the boy. I am hoping you, the millionaire father, would be ready to present an amount.”
“Certainly,” replied Bode. “How much do you have in mind?”
“The question really is, how much are you willing to offer to have your lost son back,” replied Lieutenant Colonel Chuka. He gave a signal to a corporal dressed in civilian clothing to conclude that part of the transaction.
“To make sure that all our efforts yield results, we will engage the services of a private detective to dig into this matter and give us answers to what actually happened and also search for the boy. He should have left for the north-western part of the country where the twins were born, but I felt our ex-Marine here would like some excitement, so your new team sir, leaves this evening.”
George’s body language changed; he was interested in this kind of thing.
“As you are obviously Caucasian, my colleagues over there in the north will provide you with military security. We don’t want to have another kidnap case on our hands within this brouhaha.”
Bode was overwhelmed; this was not a boardroom discussion. He just kept quiet as the lieutenant colonel dished it all out.
“That sounds fine to me,” said George. “I am sure the Williams family can entertain me in the interim.”
“Actually, you will be going to Sheraton Hotel here in Ikeja, a team of experts and concerned individuals await you. Our intelligence community is intrigued by this discovery and we want to understand what transpired.”
“Don’t worry sir, you will blend in perfectly. Some of the finest minds are ready to engage you in a bid to unravel this mystery.”
“Honey you startled me, and why are you back so early? You flight was meant to arrive about…” Toun noticed her husband’s demeanour. “What is it? Just tell me. Where is Kenny?”
“He is all right, and he is upstairs. I think you would need to sit down to hear what I have to say.”
Toun understood there was something amiss, she left what she was doing and went with him into the living room.
“Okay, I will sit down.” She saw the look on Bode’s face, sat and waited earnestly for what he had to say.
“Taiye is alive.”
Toun didn’t understand immediately and it took her one minute to respond.
“Honey, what are you trying to say? Taiye is gone. We lost him to the hospital fire. Please don’t start something funny, you are beginning to scare me.”
“Relax baby girl, I will tell you everything.”
George walked into the Inner Crockpot meeting room of the Sheraton Hotel. Top officers from key security agencies were seated; a major general from the army, an air marshal of the Air Force and a vice admiral from the Navy. Chairing the meeting was the Junior Minister of Defence, whilst others were representatives from the Department of State Security (DSS), the Police, Immigration and the Nigerian Security and Civil Defence Corps (NSCDC).
These men only wanted one thing; how did a baby survive such an enormous fire. It had become clear since the FBI released the information that the fire wasn’t an accident but arson, and the lives lost were unnecessary.
They wanted first-hand information how this could be true, given the fact that records showed otherwise. Was the fire a cover-up for a much grander plan? All the intelligence bodies in Nigeria were highly interested in the matter; the sheer brutality was disturbing, no compassion whatsoever for human lives. It was truly a matter that left men sleepless.
“Professor George Holmes, please take a seat. We have been waiting for you.”
The ex-Marine moved quickly and made himself comfortable.
“We understand you have been airborne for a while and would love to rest, but as you are well aware, this reappearance of the dead is filled with conundrum, so we need you to just go straight to the answer for us. Is this boy alive and if so, how can that be?”
All eyes were on him; he took a deep breath and released it in small gasps. He then began the story and journey that had led him to the giant of Africa.
Chapter 36
All Areas, Nigeria
7th July 2015, 7:12 p.m.
“Sorry George, but my wife insisted she see you and get reassurance that Taiye is indeed alive.”
The professor looked at the woman and smiled; that was all he did, he just smiled.
“I have to board now,” said George. “The flight to Kaduna is about three hours and we still have to connect with our military security. I hear my kind are easy targets for the kidnapping business over there in the north.”
“You will be fine,” replied Bode. “Just make sure you call and give us an update every day.”
“You can bet I will.”
The historian heard his name and saw the private detective standing at the entrance of the hallway. He said his goodbyes and went to his co-traveller. Twenty minutes later, they were in the air.
“I understand you just came into the country this morning,” said the detective.
“That is correct,” replied George. “And by the way, we haven’t been formally introduced. I am George Holmes.” He stretched out his hand for a handshake.
“Oh, that is true, I am Efosa Uwa.”
They both shook hands and began to talk in a friendlier way.
“Gentlemen, the Vice President has joined the conference.” The Junior Minister of Defence spoke with his usual air of authority. “Silence please. I will take the lead and update him accordingly.”
“This is going to be interesting.”
The same meeting room at the Sheraton where George had been in the early hours of the day was now an ad hoc office for the arson 2000 case. Aso Rock had heard of the sheer loss of lives in the guise to kidnap a child; the country’s leaders were interested in what could necessitate such a high level of human collateral damage.
“Your Excellency, thank you for joining us. As all agencies are aware, we have confirmed the raison d’etre of this child’s current existence. It is largely based on mysticism or should I say spiritual stuff. This is not quite new to us here in Nigeria but the scale of the matter is disturbing and we have to admit, some doubts do exist as to the reliability of the source of the information. That notwithstanding, we will pursue the matter to a logical conclusion to establish if this fire was really an accident or arson.
As we speak, our military is working with key intelligence agencies in the USA to search for the boy via data collection. We have his twin brother who is a perfect replica of his brother, and we believe we must have captured his data one way or the other.
There are also other avenues we are supporting to consolidate our search. From the look of things, the next seven days will reveal a lot about the authenticity of the current status of the boy.”
“That seems fine,” replied His Excellency. “Now can I have an update about the files you sent me on the border crisis between the country and Republic of Benin.”
“Certainly sir, our agents have…”
“Azeem
, you cannot be calling me at ten minutes to midnight.” Alhaji woke up to the ringing of his cell phone and screamed into his mobile device. “We just left each other at the hospital some hours ago. What could possibly be going on?”
“We have a major set-back my friend.”
“I am listening,” replied the oil magnate.
“Our coordinator has been stabbed in the neck by his wife.”
Alhaji sat up quickly, as he knew the implication of this action.
“What happened?” he inquired.
“It seems she found some undeleted love messages in his mobile phone from another woman. He is currently in the theatre undergoing surgery. I understand the wound is deep and if he survives, he might be in the hospital for some time, something to do with nerve repair.”
“This is a very unfavourable situation,” replied Alhaji. “What do we do know?”
“I think we should take over this operation personally and kick start events as initially planned. We can amend things as they unfold. I will have to be in the north-west tomorrow. I am sure our man under the knife can help with contact details of the teams he has put in place, but this is hoping he can at least communicate with hand signs after he is stabilised post-surgery. We really should hope he survives as this whole thing relies heavily on his initial efforts.”
“I understand the situation,” replied Alhaji. “Time has always been a crucial element in this thing. In the event our man is no longer useful to us, how long will it take you to arrange another team?”
“Well ceteris paribus. This man of ours had a week to arrange his men. He is very experienced and resourceful, especially in the region we plan to operate. The second-best option has to be recalled from an operation in Morroco. He will need to study the environment, a golden hello, and time to build a new plan. I say three weeks at best.”
“That doesn’t seem to be an option,” replied Alhaji. “I think I will agree with you on this one, go to Kaduna and visit this man undergoing surgery. Pull all the strings you can to make contact with him and retrieve the information we need. Once that is done, I will join you and we can both handle things from then on.”