by Terry Morgan
CHAPTER 12
Perhaps it was nerves or perhaps his tight fitting black suit, blue silk shirt and wide tie but, despite the air-conditioning, Bishop William of the Disciples of Jesus School of Ibadan was perspiring heavily, his broad forehead shiny with beads of sweat.
"He is a dangerous man, sir. We have heard, first hand, the things he says. To our faces, he has accused us."
At the Presidential villa at Aso Rock in Abuja, newly elected Nigerian President, Hamed Massoud Azazi sat with his hands together in the folds of a grey, wide-sleeved babariga decorated with intricate gold thread.
Azazi was a tall, gaunt and serious man. Elected on the usual promises of dealing with corruption, poverty, education, healthcare and the constant threat of Islamic terrorism, Azazi held an enormous weight of responsibility on his ageing shoulders. But he listened, patiently, looking at and thinking about each of the four Pastors arranged in a line of gilt-edged arm chairs before him.
There was Bishop William in his suit and Pastors Lazarus and Ayo and Father Adebola, the Director of the Church of Our Lord of Mercy and Forgiveness. Unlike William the other three had chosen smart, national dress for their audience rather than their usual Armani suits and ties.
Father Adebola took over. "One minute he is in Lagos, sir. The next he is in South Africa or Europe or America. His private opinions should remain private, sir. But he repeats them wherever he goes. At a time like this we cannot have such a man claiming to speak for all Nigerians. The man will stop at nothing to destroy the state's security and the Church."
"Or the mosques," added Pastor Ayo knowing that Azazi himself was Moslem.
But Azazi was no fool even though he knew the meeting had been arranged for the Pastors by his own brother Zainab Azazi.
And brother Zainab had, in turn, had his arm twisted by a State Governor, known for his enthusiasm for being the bringer of any sort of news related to state security. Delivering bad news to a President was a sign you were his friend and forever on the look-out for risks that might endanger his position and power.
That the State Governor had found a good seat on the Board of the State Security Organisation under the previous President was proof that this creeping strategy worked. What he or brother Zainab didn't know was that the existence of the entire Board was one that President Azazi wanted to do away with completely once he'd found a way.
The President had remained silent throughout, allowing each of them to speak one at a time. But he'd now heard enough and raised his hand.
"I thank you for bringing this to my attention," he said slowly, checking his fingernails and stroking the greying stubble on his chin. "I have two questions."
He paused again, removed his spectacles and directed his intense brown eyes at each of the Pastors in turn. "This man," he said slowly. "Pastor Gabriel Joshua. He is known to me. We have met. I found him to be - what shall I say? - well meaning, enthusiastic, a good talker. Are you saying his enthusiasm is getting the better of him?"
"Oh yes, sir," chimed the squat figure of Pastor Lazarus, red eyes glistening, cheeks blown with distaste. "The man is a fake, sir. Give the devil an inch and he'll be your ruler."
There was a flicker of Presidential amusement at this well-worn joke. "And would you say he has influence over the people he meets during his travels?"
The Pastors looked at one another, unsure who should answer. It was Ayo, but Ayo had forgotten the President's question.
"And there is the arrest warrant, sir."
"Ah yes. I have heard," the President said wearily.
Ayo, encouraged, went on: "And, sir, you should watch his videos. He brings shame on us all. He talks of poverty and corruption. He blames politicians - like you, sir. In fact, sir, I.......I think he may be trying to unseat you - from outside."
President Azazi sat forward, stifling another smile that was trying to break through the leathery texture of his seventy-year old face. "Hmm. Is this not some sort of - what shall I say - professional jealousy? A Pastor with an international following making big dollars? More dollars than you, perhaps?"
"No, no sir," Ayo continued. "He has many square kilometres of land in the north, sir."
"It is not illegal to own land."
"But he also has a private army," Bishop William chipped in.
The President raised an eyebrow but remained relaxed. It was as if he already knew, but none of the visiting Pastors saw this.
"Yes, sir," said Bishop William. "He meets the UK and US governments and talks to many others."
The President decided he'd heard enough. "Thank you, gentlemen. The meeting is over. Thank you for coming. I note your information. We will deal with it accordingly."
One by one the Pastors filed out with nods, bows and curtsies, but a few minutes later when the door had closed and he was alone the President took a mobile phone from his pocket, rang a number, waited and then spoke just five words.
"Martin. We need to talk."