by Bill O. A
Chapter 39
All Areas, Nigeria
8th July 2015, 8:14 p.m.
“We have agreed on an amount. Your input is critical at this stage. There should be no disappointments or failures. I need your assurances that you will convince the radical imams and utilise their followers to initiate and keep this projected crisis alive for at least two weeks.”
“You have my word,” replied the man with a turban and long, grey beard.
Azeem waited for some time before he spoke further. “The killings should be as minimal as possible so that the reconciliation efforts afterwards would not linger. You can concentrate your violence on burning churches and Christian centres.”
“You don’t need to worry. We are accustomed to this kind of request. There are fights in the market every day, so we will just escalate one and start the riot. What is more important is the assured sum we are yet to get. Cash is expected, so it can trickle down this night and all is set for dawn.”
“Of course,” replied Azeem. He signalled to one of his three thugs. The man opened the back of the SUV and brought out three large, ‘Ghana must go’ bags; they are all one thousand naira notes, a total of forty million naira. The radical smiled, opened one of the bags and touched the new naira notes.
“Our people will start work tonight. The two neighbouring states identified will receive our signal to join the crisis as scheduled. You can be sure that the next day we see an ignition of all our faithful brothers in this crisis across the North. The Southerners will have to pay the price to come.”
“Understood,” replied Azeem. “I will have to leave now. Our fate is in your hands.”
“One last thing before you depart,” said the man in charge of the gathering.
“What is it?” asked Azeem.
“You have not told us what this is all about. Our services are normally required during election periods or during census. Why the sudden deviation?”
“The war to dominate the country has taken a new twist,” said Azeem. “You are to do your part and enjoy the corresponding reward. No further question is expected from you.”
The men on the other side remained silent as their visitors left.
“You are sure this man knows what he is saying by claiming he has been in this black van before?” Lieutenant Colonel Chuka inquired.
He had flown with the next flight from Lagos to Abuja to visit an inmate in Kuje Prison serving a life sentence for armed robbery. This was the first break the team had about who owned or operated the black vans with Borno plates.
“Certainly sir,” replied the Deputy Controller of the prison. “I interrogated him myself, but he claims he would only talk to the man that can secure his unconditional release. When I saw he was adamant, I decided to pass across the info within the inter-agency network.”
“That is fine,” replied Chuka. “Where do I talk to him?”
“Please this way, sir. He is already waiting for you in a special room we use for related matters.” Chuka smiled, he knew what that meant. Torture had not been fully eradicated among military and paramilitary forces, so he gave a deaf ear to that part of the conversation.
Twelve minutes later, the lieutenant colonel was sitting in front of a poorly fed man in his late forties.
“So you are the man that will get me out of this place? Allahu Akbar.”
“Let us start with what you know about this vehicle,” said Chuka as he showed a picture of the black van to the criminal.
“I need assurances that I will be set free and taken to the South with a new identity. I cannot rat on my brothers and still stay up North. Inmates are already aware I am out of general population for over five hours, and if I am released within a couple of days from a life sentence, word will spread and people will put things together. My life is still precious to me, you know.”
“What do you know?” screamed Chuka. The man sobered up and began to beg for mercy. “We will talk about your condition after you have given us something concrete, so you better start talking,” Chuka shouted at the man.
“Sometime in 2007, I received a call that some men were needed to pick up some gear for a bank robbery. The money was good but I wasn’t going to be part of the main robbery, just assisting to get the gear from the north-eastern border with Chad. We had three vans, all black. I was in this van.” The criminal pointed and touched the picture Chuka had placed on the table.
“How do you know it was this van?” inquired the lieutenant colonel.
The man in the loosely fitting prison clothing smiled. “The plate number was different from others. It was 111, a strange and rare combination of numbers. It just stuck, and when I saw the picture in the news at the eating area, I knew I was on my way out of here.”
“So you are telling me you helped some yet to be mentioned individuals smuggle arms into the country and that is all?”
“No,” replied the hopeful for freedom man. “We took the gear to a house at Mafa, the building belongs to a late Chief Imam of Borno. His son wasn’t a chip of the old block. I am willing to take you there as my last act before I disappear finally.”
“You must be joking,” replied Chuka. “I have made arrangement for you to be transferred to Ondo State in the south-west with a reduced sentence of ten years, that is what you will get if you can provide an accurate address.”
“I beg master, my future is in your hands, grant me freedom and I will never commit another crime.”
“You have two minutes to make up your mind or I am out of here.”
The convict sighed in disbelief. Close to seven more years behind bars before he would see freedom. What would he do at fifty-five? Well, half a loaf is better than none.
Chuka looked at his watch and stood up. He put his hand forward to pick up the picture on the table when the convict called out an address.
“It is a twin duplex and painted green, the left side belongs to the family while the right side is let out to tenants. The boy should give you all you need about the owners of that black van.”
Chuka nodded in understanding. “You will be in solitary confinement henceforth. The authorities will move you once we apprehend this man in Mafa.”
He walked out and tossed a bottle of gin at the disappointed convict.
About two hours later, a team made up of State Secret Service agents and the army laid siege on the green house in Mafa. Movement within the premises was skeletal and intel confirmed that the late imam’s son wasn’t home yet. The team decided to wait, while Chuka coordinated things remotely from the capital city.
“We are good to go my friend, everything is set. It was some hard work, but I have managed to pull through based on the obvious.”
“Wonderful,” exclaimed Alhaji. He adjusted himself in his office seat and spoke more calmly to Azeem on the phone. “I have always known there would be a way,” said the billionaire. “My flight will touch down tomorrow morning and we can review the preparedness of these individual squads before noon and push them to start. I know it is risky but that is the only option we have now. The riots would be their supporting cover, so they should be able to deliver.”
“I hope you are right Alhaji. The sudden rush is making me uncomfortable.”
“Do not fret, any embarrassment will be bought off. Their key action is the main ingredient, and from what our coordinator has planned, it should easy for the men due to their experience. I am sure we would be fine.”
“Okay I will wait things out,” replied Azeem. “What of the Bode Williams angle, how do you plan to sort that out? The earlier we call him to order the better. It would be wise he calls off the reward and work according to our dictates. The national attention on this boy’s matter is growing by the day, so it would be good to nip it in the bud.”
“You are right, I would have invited him to the capital but this first operation takes precedence. If we are dead then there is no one to deal with, I suggest we preserve and lengthen our lives first before we think of enrichi
ng it please. Mr Williams and his lost son will be a thing of the past once we are back from the shrine of the east god.”
“I agree,” replied Azeem. “Please arrive safely tomorrow. Your presence will boost the men’s ego. Have a good night.”
A dark blue 2009 Honda Accord salon car popularly called ‘Evil Spirit’ drove up the gates of the green house. The man the team had been waiting for was now home. He blared his horn twice and someone from the house came to open the gates. He parked the car, greeted his help and they both went into the house.
In that instant, the team decided to make their move; six team members jumped the fence with their assault rifles and approached the house. The leader signalled to the two men beside him and they went for the door, one kick and they were in. The occupants of the house were surprised and immediately read the situation.
“On the floor! On the floor!” screamed the security agents, but no one moved.
The occupants just stared coldly at these armed agents, the team leader responded by aiming his rifle at the late imam’s son but the man just raised his right hand squeezed his fist and turned his thumb downwards.
The bomb went off immediately shattering the entire building. Everyone inside the house was now dead.
Chapter 40
All Areas, Nigeria
9th July 2015, 7:30 a.m.
Alhaji stepped out of the Kaduna International Airport where his private jet had landed and was watching for signs of social disorder. Everything seemed calm and peaceful. His Islamic radicals must have restricted their violence to key popular sites; he would definitely get an update from Azeem immediately he made contact and assumed command of the operation. He put on his dark sunglasses as the intensity of the sunlight and heat got to him. Eight minutes later and with one leap, he was in his SUV accompanied by his regular security detail.
Seventeen minutes later, he sat across a boardroom-like table and stared at the men with him.
“Can someone please tell me what is going on? My drive here revealed nothing but absolute peace. What of the religious crisis that should have kicked off?”
“I needed you to be here so that I can explain things to you personally,” replied Azeem. “The people have taken our money and not acted accordingly. There is this general understanding that as long as Sai Baba is in power, the unity, peace and sanctity of the country cannot be traded by the mere desire of individuals like us.”
Alhaji was shocked; he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“It seems the President’s personal integrity has a great stronghold over our people, more than envisaged,” said Azeem. “They don’t just want to respond to us or our cronies anymore. This is a watershed to our way of doing things.”
Alhaji looked up into the well-crafted plaster of Paris ceiling and gasped for air. He exhaled heavily and looked at everyone around the boardroom table.
“Are you saying that education and enlightenment via the Internet has stolen our show? We made sure that quality of education was at it poorest so that we the elite indirectly controlled the people of the North.”
“My friends, obsoleteness stares us in the face. If this former general remains in power for the next eight years with his undisputed integrity and outstanding reputation, we might as well forget about any potential economic muscle via political or religious shenanigans. Our end as leaders in this region is near.”
He immediately braced himself and addressed his men. “I think we should concentrate on the task ahead. I will fly immediately to Lagos to settle with Bode Williams. We just have to have him on our side whichever way possible. While that is going on, I expect you and these men to build a new strategy devoid of using the radicals or social unrest, but rather based on pure criminal instinct. You have two days to find a solution that will identify, adopt and extract our main ingredients. I hope you understand me.”
“Certainly, my old friend, but if I may ask, what are you going to tell Mr Williams? I hope you don’t plan to reveal the true nature of things.”
“A subtle anticipated dialogue will be created while I am in the air,” replied Alhaji. “After all he is a businessman. I was thinking of enticing him with the Bodo-Bonny road project as the sole materials supplier, but from the look of things I don’t think we can control anything that significant at the federal level anymore. I will have to present him personal cash. I have a fifty-million-dollar equity holding with a Swiss company that manufactures designer watches. I am sure a transfer of title will persuade him to see the reality of things and conform. We don’t know the extent this investigation has gotten to and what the police or related agencies know, it is always best to play safe and avoid embarrassing moments. Once goodwill is eroded, corporate entities always find it difficult to come back to former operating levels. Just do your part and make sure you have the ingredients before the weekend is up. The new plan is to refresh the contract with the chief priest under the ‘quintessence’ terms by this coming Monday night.”
“We have already sent word out to related contacts for the best approach under the circumstances,” said Azeem. “The next two days will see me and the teams reviewing which option to adopt. Please proceed to Lagos and close this fifteen-year-old matter once and for all. It is too ugly an incident.”
Alhaji stood while nodding his head in agreement. He brought out his mobile phone and began to dial a number. He tried to walk with confidence but deciphering the current development left him staggering all the way to the exit. His call connected, he was being synced with the voicemail of Bode Williams.
A punch in the stomach followed by an uppercut, threw the convict from solitary confinement onto the floor in the special room. He groaned in pain and looked up at the lieutenant colonel.
“Why didn’t you tell us those men in the green house at Mafa were secessionists? Boko Haram insurgents are being dealt with in a different way from mere armed robbers. Now I have six men dead because of your lack of proper information.”
“You gave me a good deal, I told all I knew. I can never work for terrorist in any guise. They told me they were robbers and they had a bank job to do. What else do you want from a simple smuggler like me?”
Chuka looked at the man on the floor. “Okay. I understand you were a low-level individual in their scheme of things, but you should have something more for me than an address. Who drove the van that day and how did you get connected to these men? I need something rock solid from you.”
The convict managed to sit up and rest his back on the wall of the special room. “You see what I have to say must guarantee my freedom with a million naira to help me relocate from the country. I cannot spill that much and still stay in Nigeria. I need absolute assurances.”
“Go on,” replied the lieutenant colonel. “If what you say can help our investigation and bring it to a logical end, then some special arrangements can be made for you. All right, speak up.”
“Three months after the arms were smuggled into the country, I received a call from one of the men in that activity. I was surprised he had my number, so we fixed a meeting in a local café and got talking. He needed me for a more advanced smuggling job. He told me how they had worked for this prominent man way back in 2000 and helped him abduct a set of twin girls from a primary school in Kaduna and that these men pay very good cash. He said he was leaving armed robbery and concentrating on other lucrative forms of crime. I asked him what the package was, but he insisted on my full cooperation before he disclosed any further. When he said the operation will be in the South, I lost interest and stopped communication with him.”
The lieutenant colonel’s face lighted up in anticipation. “Where is this man that invited you for this job?” inquired Chuka.
“I haven’t heard any assurances yet,” replied the convict.
“The truth is we can’t just set you free. We will move you to the best prisons in the country. Kirikiri in Lagos will serve you well. Your name will change and your sentence will be reduced to five years,
meaning you will actually stay inside those walls for slightly over three years. In the interim your wife will get five hundred thousand naira and a quiet rented apartment in the outskirts of Lagos in preparation for the completion of your sentence. We will send out word for you to be taken care of properly while inside and visits from your wife, both conjugal and social, will be permitted to ease your suffering. Considering where you are now, this can be classified a vacation.”
The criminal’s demeanour changed, hope was at last restored.
“How do I know you will keep your end of the bargain?”
Chuka stepped forward and released the handcuffs on the criminal’s hands; the convict raised his hands in a manner of expressing liberation. As they came down, he heard the words, “You will sleep in a clean cell in Lagos today. Your life as you know it changes this very moment. All you have to do is give us concrete evidence where this kidnapper is.”
“He runs a bureau de change in Kaduna during non-operational periods. His place of work is at Barnawa Phase 1 in the southern region of that state, and he is popularly known as Kazeem Concept. You will find his number in my stored items with the records department here in the prisons. Hopefully the warders haven’t messed with them in the hope that a lifer like me would die in this place.”
Chuka tapped him on the shoulders and held his hands leading him out of the special room; he felt there was a great light at the end of the tunnel.
Chapter 41
All Areas, Nigeria
9th July 2015, 11:21 a.m.
Frank Fields joined the crowd of journalists in front of Bode Williams’ house off Bourdillon Road, Ikoyi Lagos. He was a perfect fit; with a camera, small recording device and other paraphernalia no one thought otherwise of his intentions. He was simply trying to get the latest news, just like his colleagues waiting by the gate of this suddenly prominent Nigerian family.