by Bill O. A
George lost his grip on his umbrella and bent down to pick it up from the floor. The bullet from the M24 rifle shot passed him that very instant. By the time the historian stood up straight, he saw Toun on the floor holding her bleeding son; he had been right behind George and the bullet struck him.
The ex-Marine immediately knew the implication of what just transpired; his killer was in the airport and has narrowly missed him for the second time. He stood in shock for less than a minute watching as the boy’s mother screamed and asked for help. He ran to her, pushed her aside and went for the wound. He removed his scarf and pressed hard on the bleeding spot.
His time in the military came in handy, but the boy was still losing blood. He knew the kid stood a chance as the shot had hit him on the right side of his chest, but the problem was that no medic seemed to be coming. He kept pressing hard on the spot, hoping airport medical personnel would show up and salvage the situation.
People in the airport started to look up to the floors to guess where the shot could have come from, but the travellers from Bode Williams’ house were more concerned about the health of the boy in their company.
Twenty minutes later four policemen came to the scene, still no medic. They began to ask questions and all George could say was that an Asian made the shot and they should look for him. The senior officer at the scene spread word around through his communication device and the entire security presence in the airport was now on the lookout; entry to and from the large building was now on lockdown.
Frank was surprised he had missed his shot. He froze thinking of what he had done. He tried to aim for a second shot, but George was now blocked by other travellers. He waited hoping he would move or his view would somehow become clearer, but there was no such luck. Five minutes later he gave up. He left the rifle as he had planned to use it in the country just once. He locked the door and shut the window where he had fired his shot through; the young clerk was still tied up. He climbed onto the table and removed the two-foot ceiling board. He was an agile man.
Once in the roof of the structure, he made his way to the end and found a small tunnel that he could barely fit into. He went in and gently went down. At the end of the tunnel he brought out a knife and cut open the plastic wall, to find out where he was outside the airport building. It led to the beginning of the runway. He hadn’t planned to be opposite his escape route. He saw policemen trying to allow some medics to pass their blockage; he shook his head hoping the boy would survive. Seven steps more and he was with a team of European engineers working on a small aircraft; he joined in on their conversation while thinking of what next to do.
News of the gunshot in the airport hitting Taiye spread like wildfire on social media. The country had been celebrating a victory in court largely based on the lost and found boy, and within an hour there was news of his bullet wound, celebration had turned to sadness.
It took the medics closely an hour to get to Taiye; he had lost a lot of blood and was unconscious. Toun and George went with the medical team to the General Hospital in Ikeja which was a twenty-minute drive. At such government hospitals red tape was the norm, but with the mention of Taiye the found twin boy, the chief matron on duty understood the situation. She conducted affairs that led the boy to a hospital bed and a doctor by his side within ten minutes. Toun thanked her God that something was at least right for once.
“We need to remove the bullet and stop the bleeding immediately,” said the attending doctor. “We would need a police report to do this, but based on the circumstances I would stake my license and begin the procedure.”
He gave quick orders to the nurses nearby and the next five minutes saw a group of hospital support staff pushing Taiye’s bed to surgery. Toun had to brace herself; she knew she would never be the same if her son died, but since Bode wasn’t around she just had to manage the situation as it was.
George said some comforting words to her and tried to follow the team of doctors going in for the procedure, but was stopped at the entrance by other staff.
“He will be all right. We have Doctor Nonsu on duty. He has performed countless similar procedures and has over 90% success rate. The boy is just a lucky one.”
George felt comforted, but his mind was keenly at work. He brought out his cell phone and called Special Agent Jack Dillion in far-away California.
Lieutenant Colonel Chuka wasn’t expecting anyone to barge into his office at his barracks in Abuja. He was about to respond when he heard the words ‘the boy has been shot’.
“Who has been shot?” Chuka inquired in a high tone.
“The lost and found boy you have been working on these past days.”
In an instant, the colonel knew Nathan was in the country. He didn’t know how the man did it but he seemed to have his way all the time. His true countrymen would need him on this; he went out of the office with his informant and began to watch the news. Ten minutes later, he called Lagos.
Frank saw that the engineers were done and would soon leave for the reception area for some relaxation. He knew they would get word of what has transpired in the airport and maybe his description was even awaiting these men.
“Why don’t we take it for a spin to see if it is okay?” asked Frank.
“We would love to, but this is an international airport and the cost of fuel would be on us. Never mind, the plane is okay,” replied the shortest European engineer.
“I bet you a thousand dollars you can’t lift this baby in ten minutes’ time.”
The engineer looked surprise at a potential free gift. They weren’t sure what their sudden guest was up too, but a free thousand dollars wasn’t bad at this time.
“Don’t worry guys I will take it for a spin,” said the shortest engineer. “Just take the money from our friend here and wait on the ground. Emeka in the control tower should be able to give me quick clearance. I will be back in a jiffy.”
Frank counted the cash and handled over to the other men while he and the engineer got into the aircraft for a quick flight around the airport airspace.
Chapter 46
All Areas, Nigeria
17th July 2015, 3:05 p.m.
“Hello George, I understand you are on your way back to the country with the ghost man. Brad and Alfred with the boys will meet up with you when you land. We haven’t found Nathan yet but everything is under control,” said Jack as he answered his cell phone.
“My good friend, there is good and bad news.”
“What is it?” asked the special agent.
“The ghost man has just been shot.”
“What!” exclaimed the FBI man.
“Well, he is in surgery now. I feel bad about the amount of blood he lost though. I have seen Marines die under such circumstances. The response of the airport medical team was rather poor.”
“I see,” replied Jack. “So what is the good news?”
“Nathan is here in Nigeria. He took the shot, but he somehow missed me.”
“How is that good news?” asked the man in the USA.
“The airport is now on lockdown,” replied George, “and security is looking for an Asian.”
“I think it is best you immediately work with the American asset in the Nigerian Army to catch him there as his kind is easily identifiable in this country.”
“I understand,” replied Jack. “I will start on that immediately. Chuka has been very resourceful in this Nigerian sectional episode. We should have some gains from his inputs.”
“There is one more thing of greater importance,” said George.
“And what can that be?” asked Jack.
“I need Amy in Nigeria as quickly as possible. I need her to touch Taiye while he is still undergoing surgery as his potential death would mean a total waste of time on the success we have achieved in finding him. This curse thing is now part of American history and we are part of it.”
“Okay, what do you have in mind? We do not know the next direct flight to Nigeria as we speak, th
e logistics and planning would take hours, not to speak of the flight time. Truth be told my friend, it might not be possible for her to meet up with the surgical procedure, we can only hope the boy survives.”
“Impossible is not the right word. I remember as a Marine there were prototypes of F-15E with two seats for training and possible versions for combat. My research online en route to the hospital has revealed that the California Air National Guard has some of these F-15E with two seats. I was hoping you could get one more favour from the CIA and have Amy in that training or fighter jet and then have her here in the next five hours. Based on my calculations, the flight time for the F-15 is approximately four hours from California to Lagos.”
“Jesus Christ, George!” exclaimed Jack. “You are talking about one of the fastest jets in American Air force. I don’t think the CIA can pull that kind of stunt within the timelines you suggest.”
“So what can be done?”
“From the top of my head, I understand the State Governor can request for use of these jets under emergencies, but how to explain to him that this is an emergency is the issue,” replied Jack.
“You will have to think of something fast,” countered the historian. “The next five hours and the future of this girl are in our hands.”
“I understand,” replied Jack. “I will send a team to pick her up from school this very instant and take her directly to the California Air National Guard. Once she is in the air, I will contact her parents to explain the situation. Between Bernard of the CIA and the California Governor we should be able to get the two-seater fighter jet in the air towards you. Don’t worry, we will work out everything from Nathan’s angle in Nigeria to sending the girl to you, all in connection with our Nigerian asset. Expect my call in the next forty-five minutes for an update. Just keep your fingers crossed.”
“Thank you, my friend,” said George. “One way or the other, you are now part of this fourth instalment of haptomai and its associated interesting historical occurrence.”
The Murtala Mohammed International Airport was on total lock down. Chuka had sent a platoon of thirty-five men to the airport from an army base just twenty-eight minutes’ drive from the shooting incident. A captain led the team and the operation was fully military to ensure no lapses. Everywhere was being searched and all flights were put on hold till Nathan was found.
Citizens in the airport were a bit apprehensive as a display of military action of such magnitude had not been seen in an international place such as this airport for a long time. Even when the military were in power, their show of force was limited to uprisings and general disturbance of the peace. People were beginning to talk; there was more than meets the eye in all this.
Frank on the other hand had a knife to the throat of the short European engineer who was in the air for a spin with the small aircraft. He had forced the man to fly outside Lagos towards Sao Tome and Principe. The engineer felt very stupid not to have suspected foul play; no one gives a thousand dollars for a spin.
They were close to the twin islands and Nathan saw from the plane’s electronic guidance map they were close to the Ana Chaves Bay.
“Stay over the ocean,” ordered the killer.
The engineer knew he had no other choice so he obeyed. There was a little forestation before the port and Nathan pointed to that area. The man piloting obeyed. By the time the plane was close to land with no visible landing spot, just trees, Nathan sliced the man throat and took over the plane. He had no flying experience, but he had been watching how the man was flying the plane. He took out the man’s belt and tied the plane’s control wheel to a permanent flight direction, then left the cockpit for the back of the plane, ignoring the dead man and his blood. There were three parachutes. He wore one, opened the plane’s exit door and jumped out.
Bode got to the hospital. His wife and George were in a waiting room. There were reporters in the hospital already, and so were the police, but more importantly there was also a renowned Nigerian-American surgeon from John Hopkins Hospital who was visiting the country to give free training courses for upcoming surgeons at the federal hospital in the heart of the city.
News had flown round so quick that the doctor had expressed interest in the matter and was taken to where Taiye was having surgery. Although he was already two hours late into the surgery, his depth of experience and input was welcomed. At first, the doctors working on the shot boy didn’t understand what was happening, but one look at the man who was allowed into the theatre, and the three-man doctor team got the message. They halted the procedure and gave a ten-minute update to this lead surgeon.
“We had to do a transfusion to replace the lost blood and stabilize him to extract the bullet,” said Doctor Nonsu. “His vitals immediately improved and afterwards we did a scan to identify where the bullet was. We noticed the bullet didn’t hit any vital organ but slightly tore a major artery that feeds the internal carotid artery. This is causing us some concern as his brain might have been denied some much-needed oxygenated blood between the time he was shot and when he was brought here.”
“That is not much of a problem,” replied the experienced Nigerian-American surgeon. “Have you removed the bullet?”
“Not yet,” replied Nonsu. “But we have stitched the severed artery and there has been noticeable improved activity in his brain via our monitors. Once his vitals reach an acceptable level, we will extract the bullet.”
“I see. What is the improvement rate on his vitals and brain activity since the transfusion and the artery stitch?” asked the John Hopkins man.
“Well, cumulatively we can say about a 35%,” replied Nonsu. “We expect it to improve to 60% before we perform the last part of this surgery.”
“I guess we all wait then and see what transpires,” said the Nigerian-American doctor.
Bode wasn’t going to trade blame with anyone at this moment, he wanted to make sure his wife was in the right frame of mind and that they went through this together.
George kept pacing the small waiting room. He was eagerly awaiting Jack’s call on the one hand and then information from the theatre on the status of the boy’s procedure on the other. He had never been this anxious in the past thirty years of his life. He just kept waiting.
Chapter 47
All Areas, Nigeria
17th July 2015, 7:12 p.m.
Nathan was in a shipping vessel on its way to South Africa. The crew normally made good on their catch by sales to customers in the country of Africa’s greatest statesman in the last century. Over the years, the crew had brought souvenirs of Nelson Mandela whenever they visited on business and their vessel was decorated with them.
Nathan’s parachute had landed at the edge of the forest and it took him over an hour to get to the main road. Seventeen minutes later, he was in a car he had flagged down and was getting close to the port at Ana Chevas Bay.
Once he got to the port, he got talking and was able to negotiate a deal for transport to South Africa. His journalist cover was rock solid. Now he just stood and watched the crew do their stuff. They would be looking for him in Nigeria. He also wondered where the small craft would have crashed, although that didn’t matter at the moment. He just hoped that his shot to the lost-and-found boy wasn’t fatal. It would be a stain on his conscience during this revenge mission of his if he died. After all, that was the same excuse the Marines gave for killing his family mistakenly — an act of self-defence, they called it.
Well, for him two wrongs did make a right. He would have to live with whatever outcome was derived from this Nigerian situation. He would need to lay low in Dubai for the next eight months. Bringing his action to the international scene would alert the Interpol, so he would have to postpone any further offensives towards the targets for some time. It was the only wise thing to do.
Once the Army at the airport were satisfied that the eight Asians in their custody were not the killer, they released them to continue their journey. By this time, Lieutenant Colonel C
huka Chukwu was now in Lagos and had just left the MMA to the General Hospital in Ikeja. He would stop briefly at Sam Ethnan Air Force Base where arrangements had been made to accommodate, one more time, a flight from the USA under special conditions.
Amy had been picked up from school by the FBI eighteen minutes after George and Jack had talked about their plan. She was taken to the Fresno Air National Guard, one of the nine main bases in California. Within fifteen minutes she was taken by chopper where an F-15E was being prepped for take-off by the 144th Fighter Wing. Jack had spoken to the commander and informed him that an approval was on the way and details of what was happening would be shared once some breathing space had been achieved.
Meanwhile, Bernard had called the State Governor and pleaded he use his executive power based on the situation. After talks with the Governor and the commander, both men agreed that an executive approval could not be granted but that the commander should send some jets into the air for routine testing, and that the commander had all the excuses he needed to perform such drills. Once all parties had communicated and reached a consensus, Amy was put in the back seat of an F-15E and the jet went straight into the air en route to Lagos, Nigeria. By Chuka’s timing, the fighter jet should be there in the next hour.
His men were busy chatting with their counterparts in the air force and they wanted to go into the air to welcome the fighter jet, but Chuka discouraged them and told them that time for celebrations would come when Taiye survives. He gave his usual pep talk and left for the hospital where his men will bring the American girl.