by Bayo Fasinro
“Today is Sunday, Akeem. I hope he isn’t expecting me to come to the office on a Sunday.”
“Ah, no, madam,” Akeem replied. “He had suggested Monday morning, if it would be fine with you.”
Now she knew something was wrong. If the plan all along was for her to come on Monday, why the visit to her house on Sunday morning?
Betraying nothing, Sade said, “Okay, I’ll see him on Monday, Akeem. Please tell him that I will call when I’m on my way. Thank you for coming.”
She turned toward the gate, which was opening as if the gateman knew just when to let her back into the compound. He would get extra pocket money this month for his timing. Just like that, she squeezed through the slight opening, and it shut behind her as soon as her body cleared it. Sade went straight to her office. She sat down heavily in the chair and put her hands on her head covering her face. Something was wrong. Were they coming for her as they came for Baba? With no autopsy, they would never know whether he was poisoned or if indeed natural causes took him. Unless, of course, she learned of it from someone who knew a plot existed. They had to find Lanre first, and then they would know more.
Femi appeared in the office doorway. He must have been speeding all the way here and gotten fortunate with traffic. Sundays were funny like that.
“So, what happened with the police?” Not even a good morning or any type of greeting.
Sade said, “They want me to come to the office on Monday. The IG wants to brief me on the investigation about Baba.”
Femi was skeptical. “Why would they come on a Sunday to invite you to come to them on Monday? And who did they send?”
“They sent the assistant IG. Some man named Akeem,” Sade added.
“Ah, I know him,” Femi said.
Akeem Bolaji was well-known in the Nigerian police force. His father and his father’s father were all policemen, as if the word was in the blood. His father, now retired, still had a lot of connections within the force. As for Akeem, he was an ambitious man. He aspired for the top job but had been passed over many times, as each new administration appointed someone else. Normally, the new IG would appoint his staff; Akeem always seemed to survive to keep his post.
For the past ten years, he had never risen above the rank of assistant IG. It was known around the office that the only reason he was still there was because of his father, who greased the right palms for his son to stay on the force. In this country, no one cared how or where they landed. In most places, your pride would not allow you to stay in the same position if you got passed over and over and over. You would leave quietly and look for another position somewhere else. Maybe even in the private sector. But not Akeem. If this was the highest rank he would achieve, Akeem was content. His father was still proud of him and that is all he cared about. His father’s approval. His whole life was based on wearing that uniform every day, just as his father and grandfather had before him. Therefore, the IG would have known that Akeem was the only person who would accept such a trivial errand on a Sunday.
Also, Femi continued to wonder why men from the IG’s office kept coming into their lives at odd moments. He kept thinking back to the scene at the bank with all those policemen who’d just happened to show up at the right time. Something was afoot, and he was bound to find out what it was.
*
Monday morning came. Sade hadn’t slept well the night before. She and Femi had stayed up late Sunday to talk about her meeting with Adama. Femi didn’t trust him and tried to keep Sade from going. She knew she couldn’t refuse to meet him as it would cause even more trouble for her. She had to go. But what was his game? What did he want to tell her? Why couldn’t he have called?
Femi finally came down from his room. It had been too late for him to go home the night before. It was two a.m. by the time they finished hashing out their plan.
“Good morning,” he said as he plopped into the chair on the other side of the office desk. “I still don’t think you should go.”
“Femi, we already talked about it,” she said, not even looking up at him.
“Okay, so we go with the plan then,” he responded. “Do you have what I gave you last night?”
Sade said, “Yes, I’m ready.”
Femi didn’t bother to tell Sade that he had already briefed Kwesi and Niyi. If anything were to happen, they would be nearby and ready to respond. Femi would drive Sade to the IG’s office himself. There would be two other security cars coming with them—one in an advanced position ahead of their car, and another to bring up the rear. They would leave midday, as most people would have arrived at work and be off the roads. The route they would take to Ikoyi would keep them away from the Eko Bridge. If someone or people were going to move against you, it would be on the bridge with no routes of escape. The planned route to Ikoyi would take longer, but it would offer plenty of detours
Sade got into the backseat of the bulletproof Range Rover. She was dressed to impress today. In her Jada outfit, she looked ready to meet with Christine Lagarde at the World Bank. Today’s ensemble was from the House of Deola, and Femi complimented it accurately. He always quizzed her about who she was wearing; since she was a girl, he’d liked to treat her like she was on the red carpet. He respected how she always supported local designers even though she had the means to wear international brands. She always said that it was important to support our people, and she put her money where her thoughts were.
The convoy headed east on Agbonyin Street toward Ilorin Street. The first checkpoint was coming up as the car continued left at Getrich onto Adelabu Street. Femi’s phone beeped in his shirt pocket; Niyi at the first checkpoint, saying no one was following them and the road was clear ahead. Femi kept checking the rearview mirror. As long as he saw the rear security car, he was good. The next checkpoint would be when they reached Herbert Macaulay Way, where Kwesi would be waiting to see the car pass. Niyi had already started on his way to the IG office where he would circle until he saw Femi pull up.
Right before the car made its way onto the Third Mainland Bridge heading toward the Ikoyi exit, Femi’s phone beeped again. That was Kwesi confirming that he saw nothing bad ahead. He would follow the trailing car, but not too close, as Femi didn’t want to make it seem like a convoy of cars moving on the street. Kwesi would peel off on a side street but would find a way to join them as soon as he could. By the time the car hit Osborne road, Femi noticed Kwesi’s Land Cruiser in the left lane back about two car lengths behind.
Traveling this way, Femi and Sade finally reached the IG office off Awolowo Road. The building was just to the left of the Westwood Hotel Ikoyi. The only people who ever had a reason to be at this building were the police themselves, criminals, and those invited for interviews. Femi pulled up to the front of the building; Sade had been unusually quiet throughout the whole trip.
She asked for a minute before she disembarked. She started dialing on her phone, so Femi took this opportunity to stretch his legs. He got out and shut the car door behind him. He moved around to the front of the car and leaned against the hood. Kwesi and Niyi wouldn’t be joining him by the car. They were around but not noticeable to anyone. Femi turned around to check to see if Sade was done with her phone call.
Who is she calling at this time? She looked worried as she moved the phone from her ear and opened the back door.
“Okay, let us go,” she said, with a tone that betrayed her true feelings.
He had never seen her act like this. Before they moved from the car and up the front steps that led into the building, Sade came close to Femi, turned her back to the building and possible prying eyes, and dropped her phone in his hand. She looked directly at him and startled Femi with what she said next.
“I called my brother in the States.”
“Your brother?” Femi said sounding surprised.
Femi knew that she hadn’t seen him for years and wondered why would she be calling him now.
“Hold this phone and don’t let it out of your sight pl
ease,” she said.
Femi didn’t respond. He just turned around and opened the passenger door acting as if he left something inside. Sade didn’t see him open the back of the phone to remove the SIM card. Femi put the phone back inside his pocket but put the SIM card between the front seat and the center console. He was sharp today.
Chapter 30
Odi
The Adisa Balogun Police Headquarters Building was a twelve-story tall glass structure. Before you ever reached the front main doors, you had to ascend three sections of steps. This had to be by design, since the architects surely did not want the front door of a building like this so close to the street. Security guards inside the building had time to see who was approaching.
Femi and Sade reached the front desk and were given two visitor badges by the guard. He also pushed a visitor log book toward them.
“Please make sure your signature and the time are legible for our records,” he said.
Femi signed his name after Sade. They then made their way through the metal detectors and toward the elevators that were around the corner to the right of the guard’s desk. As they waited for the elevator that would take them up to the twelfth floor, a security agent approached them.
“Hello sir and madam, my name is Nabil from the IG office. I’m here to escort you up, as a courtesy.”
Femi and Sade just nodded and turned to face the elevator doors. It seemed like forever for an elevator to become available. Sade couldn’t help but notice the marble and glass everywhere. Her heels sent echoes in all directions, and the elevator’s chime sounded as loud as a church bell. It was probably programmed that way to ensure that the guards’ desk knew when to look alert in case it was the IG himself coming down.
Sade, Femi, and Nabil rode up in silence. There was no music playing inside the elevator, but there was a small camera in the top right corner that most people would miss. Femi didn’t look directly at it but both he and Sade caught a glimpse of it as soon as they walked inside. Most likely, the IG had a bank of CCTV screens in his office, where he could watch everyone and everything happening in his building like a minor god.
The elevator’s sound of arrival was hardly more than a whisper. Its doors opened into a reception area. There was a reception desk to the right and also one to the left. Femi wondered why this floor would have two reception desks, but Nabil led his guests to the right and didn’t stop at either desk. The receptionist didn’t even look up from her monitor. Everyone already knew who they were.
Nabil strode down a long hallway. Every five feet was another office door—glass, with wood-grain furniture inside. Some were spacious and some seemed like they could only hold two people. There were no open spaces. Yet Sade could feel eyes on her. She tried to look straight ahead as she walked, but she snuck an occasional glance; each office’s occupant seemed to stop whatever they were doing to look up and stare.
She wasn’t supposed to be nervous. She hadn’t done anything wrong. She was there to be briefed, not charged. But she was on the IG’s turf and had no other protection except for Femi.
They finally reached the end of the hall and an office without a window. A plaque on the dense wood said Inspector-General of Police in large black letters.
Nabil knocked softly.
“Yes, come in,” said the voice behind the door.
Nabil gave us a last once-over before leading Sade and Femi into the IG’s sanctum. The first thing to grab your attention as you entered was the larger-than-life portrait of the IG himself, flanked by portraits of Nigeria’s president and chief justice. Femi and Sade glanced at each other. The IG didn’t seem to notice as his head was down trying to look busy. He finally looked up and smiled.
Nabil took this as his cue and straightened up like he was addressing the President of Nigeria himself.
“Sir,” he said confidently. “Madam Sade Peters and Mr. Femi Aja.” He then turned and disappeared from the office.
IG Adama stood and came around his large glass desk. He shook Sade’s hand first, smiling. “Welcome.” He then turned to Femi and shook his hand, but his smile dissolved into a more serious expression that didn’t merit an explicit greeting. He motioned his two guests to the two black leather chairs stationed in front of his desk. As they took their seats, he walked over to a file cabinet and selected a file to bring back to his seat.
Sade figured the file contained information about his investigation into her father’s death. As she waited for the IG to speak, she took in the rest of the office. There was a red leather couch and a rug that looked Persian and expensive. Family pictures on a semicircular table behind his executive chair—three boys and one girl, plus numerous relatives. A fan turned overhead so slow she couldn’t even feel the breeze. Sade noticed what could be a mini-fridge behind his chair to his right and wondered what it was stocked with. She hoped he would offer them something cold, but so far, no offer was forthcoming.
Adama cleared his throat. “We have uncovered some information about the investigation that I wanted to share with you right away.” He opened the folder.
This better be good, Sade thought.
“Madam, you were served coffee on the day of your bank visit, correct?”
Sade’s heart sank. She had suspected foul play, and with this statement, she braced herself for confirmation. “Yes, we were.”
“Do you remember who served you?”
Sade already felt this style of questioning to be tedious and a waste of time. Just give us the full report, she thought to herself.
“I figured that it was a bank employee who brought in the tea and water. I didn’t know her,” she replied.
Adama looked directly at Sade as if studying her answer carefully. His flair for drama seemed to imply something deeper, but he wasn’t done with his performance yet.
“So, as I understand it correctly, she put the tray down and left the room.”
Sade didn’t know if it was a question or a statement. She ignored it.
“Did she serve anyone in the room?”
“No,” Sade said.
She was irritated but didn’t want to seem so. She crossed her legs in the other direction and relaxed. She was ready for him today. He didn’t know her, but he was about to find out that she was not just an old friend’s little girl.
“We conclude that your father was poisoned by someone in the room,” said Adama. By his look, he seemed to mean Sade herself.
Femi sat up straight in disbelief. He was so loyal, she thought. He was sincerely insulted that this man might be accusing her of killing Baba by poisoning him with tea. This was a serious accusation, and she felt Femi’s need to defend her. Just as he was going to register his protest, Sade stood up from her chair, and with the sternest voice anyone on her staff had ever heard from her, said, “Femi, we are leaving.”
As Femi rose to join her at the door, Adama shot to his feet.
It was too late. Femi and Sade’s plan was already in motion. They knew the IG would provide an opening, but not this early in their meeting. The IG’s protest and attempt to cool the temperature were meaningless.
“Madam, I’m sorry,” he said as he motioned for her to sit back down in her chair. “I am just going with what we know.”
Sade knew that if she didn’t leave at this moment, the IG had the power and personnel to detain her indefinitely. She and Femi couldn’t allow time for him to think, if their plan was to work. Sade intuited the need to act so insulted that her reaction had the power to throw him off. So she first paused at the small table by the doors, and after a few seconds with her back turned to him, strode out of his office and toward the elevators.
Femi was already behind her, surely prepared for anything. They’d reached the elevator bank, and by then, she didn’t think the IG would make a scene. He wouldn’t know what to expect, and wouldn’t want to look like a fool in front of his staff. The elevator doors opened and they both stepped in.
As they rode down, neither one of them spoke a wo
rd at first. Sade finally turned to Femi to speak. But before she could say a word, he grabbed her wrist and squeezed it. He whispered in her ear for her to stay silent, and she immediately turned toward the doors, saying nothing for the rest of the ride.
They both stepped out and walked briskly toward the exits.
They didn’t even bother to return the visitor badges. They hurried down the stairs and into the waiting Range Rover which was still parked where Femi had left it. Sade got into the front seat this time as Femi started the engine and pulled away, heading east on Awolowo Road even before he put on his seatbelt.
Chapter 31
Fear
Femi pushed the car as fast as he could through traffic. Midday traffic was picking up, but Femi didn’t slow down. When he slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting a street vendor, Sade grabbed the dash.
“Femi, slow down please!”
But Femi was still in flight mode as he weaved through traffic like they had the whole police force behind them. He wasn’t talking much as he concentrated on evading any memory of that hour in the police headquarters; any other driver would have killed at least three people today and crashed into the TraleLine Oil Tanker merging onto the Third Mainland Bridge. Femi finally slowed down as the car made its way toward the Carter Bridge on the way onto Ring Road.
He said, “Sade, they are coming for you and we have to get you out of the country fast.”
They both knew that all the signs pointed to Mama Kojo’s hand in this. She was flexing her reach, and with the IG’s being a relative on her mother’s side, she must have felt he was an ally in the effort to get Sade out of the picture.