The Man From Lagos

by Bayo Fasinro

  “We will kill them all, I promise you. I promise you, Idowu—” she said, using his first name for the first time—“she will not have died in vain.”

  *

  They spent the rest of the night swapping stories. Her education and training with Baba impressed Peters. She said she didn’t want to get married yet, and kids were not even a thought in her head. Her main focus was on helping their father run his business and keeping everything running. Peters felt his chest warming—that same feeling of ease he’d experienced in Mr. Vue’s company. He realized that he not only liked who his sister had become, but he respected her. He felt less alone. This wasn’t the way he’d wanted to meet his sister again, but if this was what brought them back together, then so be it.

  It was late by the time they had gone through each other’s history. Peters stood up and said he needed to get some sleep. They embraced again and promised to talk more in the morning. And with that, he walked up to his room, happy to finally be home.

  Chapter 38

  Short Breaths

  It was the day before Baba and Sarah’s killers were going to be brought to justice. Idowu Peters was unusually calm. He had slept very well the night before. His talk with his sister helped him answer a lot of questions that he’d had about his father and also how his sister’s life had taken such a different course. He was sad that his father was gone, but Peters was here now. His closure would be revenge.

  When Peters walked downstairs to find something to eat, he could hear someone singing softly in the kitchen. He assumed it was Kemi, but when he walked in, he saw that it was his sister standing next to the stove cooking up some breakfast. Peters could make out some onions and other vegetables in the pan. All he knew is that it smelled delicious.

  “Good morning, sis.”

  “Morning. How did you sleep?” she said, not looking up from what she was cooking.

  “Good, very good,” he said.

  He was going to ask what she was making but decided against it. Whatever it was, he was eating it. He made some tea and headed to the dining area, leaving her to her culinary experiment. Femi was already at the table along with two other men.

  “Good morning, Idowu, how was your sleep?” Femi asked, rising to shake Peters’s hand.

  The two other men both stood up and introduced themselves, too.

  “Good morning, my name is Kwesi,” the first man said. Peters noticed he had very small hands and a scar on his right cheek that had little bumps running up and down it.

  “Good morning, my name is Niyi.”

  “Good morning to you both. My name is Idowu Peters,” he said with a smile, while noticing a missing fingertip from Niyi’s left index finger.

  These guys must have an even more interesting background than mine, Peters thought. It was like meeting brothers-in-arms. They looked and carried themselves like battle-tested members of Femi’s team. He knew of them, but it was finally good to see them in person. Just then, Sade walked in with plates and utensils and some glasses. He asked her if she needed any help, but she quickly set the stuff on the table and walked back toward the kitchen. The men all took the cue and each grabbed a plate and knives and forks. Everyone got a glass and set it next to himself. Just as they had set the table, Sade walked in again carrying a big plate of Nigerian salad. She set it down in the middle of the table and left the room again to retrieve carafes of differently colored juices. We were all thinking the same thing as Sade went in and out of the kitchen.

  Femi finally said it out loud: “Where is Kemi?” he asked Sade as she finally sat down.

  “I gave her today and tomorrow off,” she said. “I want no one to disturb us. We have a lot to do today.”

  And with that, they all started taking turns serving themselves. Instead of the usual boiled eggs that came in a Nigerian salad, Sade had replaced them with scrambled eggs. They all ate for a good ten minutes before anyone spoke, as if knowing this would be their last normal meal—possibly forever, depending on what happened the next day. At last, Sade put her fork down and looked directly at Femi.

  “How are the arrangements?”

  “Everything is in place,” he said. “Niyi will take Dada on his way back from Ogbomosho. There is heavy construction work on the A1 by Ibadan. That is where we plan to separate his security vehicles and take him once his car gets to E1.”

  Peters was impressed. It was a solid plan so far. Once Dada was taken, he would be brought to the warehouse in Apapa. That was where they were going to bring them—if any of them survived. They would be watched and kept separate from their mobiles. One of them—or perhaps all of them—were in bed with Adama, the IG, and therefore with the entire standing army of Lagos police. The plan for Adama was already in motion. Femi has assumed that one of the snakes would reveal themselves, and Adama had been first to strike. His fate was already sealed.

  Next was Chioma. Recent intel revealed that he was indeed going to his new building in Yaba. The plan was to take him on that visit while he was in the service elevator. It would be easy to immobilize the building manager escorting him and remove Chioma through the car park in the building’s lower level. Contacts had confirmed that his men never followed him around his building inspections. So, Kwesi would be driving a van waiting there, and this strike had a high probability of success.

  Everyone looked around, and there were no concerns so far.

  Next was Alhaji Kumari. The plan to intercept the Elewa seller was in place. “Our man will patronize the lady right before she reaches his street. A distraction is planned; during that time, we will put something in the beans. He is likely to perish, but we will not be able to confirm it right away. The newspapers will confirm his death to us. If we don’t hear anything in three days, we will devise another plan to take him. It is not ideal because we will have lost the element of surprise, but we might just blow up his whole house if needed.”

  Mama Kojo was next. The plan called for everyone to be available for this last grab. Once Niyi transported and secured Dada, he was to meet the rest of the team on the side street west of the club. Kwesi would have dropped Chioma off at the Apapa warehouse; it would be closed Sunday as all the workers were given the day off with pay. He would then drive the van to the alley beside Mama Kojo’s club.

  “Niyi will enter the club,” Femi said. “He will take care to disrupt the kitchen staff. Kwesi and I will be stationed outside the club and will breach from the back door, which leads to the elevator to the penthouse. There will be men I’ve pulled from the other business locations—which will still be protected, don’t worry—and they will be with us inside the club. Their mission is to make their way to the second and third floors to prevent the staff and security men from reaching the penthouse. A car will enter the parking ramp with three men posing as VIP guests. Once inside the garage, they will come back around and neutralize the guards at the garage entrance. They will replace them to prevent anyone from wondering where the guards went and suspecting anything is amiss. The plan is set. May God keep us all safe.”

  Femi looked over to Peters and asked what he thought.

  “I like it. I will make my way into the club to have a look around before I meet you by the car.”

  It was a go, then. Peters’s background and training were coming in handy even though the group didn’t know the half of what he was capable of.

  “I’m coming along also,” Sade added to everyone’s surprise.

  Femi’s expression betrayed concern and dismay. No one in his job would be happy to have civilians like Sade on a run like this one. She could get hurt.

  Just as he opened his mouth to object, Sade spoke over him.

  “I’ll be careful, I promise. I used to shoot guns at a mate’s country estate during my university days in England—I’ll be fine. I’ll stay back. I just want to see her dead, either by my hand or yours.”

  “Okay,” Femi grumbled, “but you get the small gun! It will do the least damage if you hit one of us instead.” H
e burst out with laughter. Everyone had a good guffaw at her expense. It immediately lightened the mood—even Sade looked calmer.

  Femi went around the room and asked if everyone understood what they were supposed to do. Heads nodded, and with that, he, Kwesi, and Niyi said their goodbyes and started toward the door. Peters stood up also and shook Femi’s hand.

  “Good luck tomorrow.”

  “Good luck to us all. We will finish this Sunday, once and for all,” Femi concluded.

  *

  Idowu and Sade Peters spent the rest of the day catching up. He talked more about Sarah and how she so wanted kids.

  “She would have been a great mother. I’m thinking about adopting a couple of kids. I will look into it when I get back,” he said, looking at his sister. “I hope you can come to the States one day and meet them.”

  A smile came to Sade’s face. She seemed genuinely happy that her brother was thinking about still having kids, even if it was through adoption.

  “You will be a good father. I wish I had met Sarah, Idowu. She sounds like she was a great woman who made you happy.”

  They ate dinner quietly and said goodnight after chatting for a few more hours. They both knew a big day lay ahead of them and wanted to get as much rest as possible.

  Chapter 39

  Up For It

  Sunday arrived, meaning different things to different people. Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord. But not today for Sade. Not today for Peters. This was their day. They had both suffered a great loss and wanted those people who brought it on to pay dearly, perhaps with their lives.

  Peters came down first. He walked into the office and took in the space. So, this was where his father sat each day, he thought to himself. There were pictures of his kids and wives all over the place—Sade had changed very little. There were no pictures of Peters and his mother, though. The omission saddened him.

  He approached a picture of Baba’s last day at the bank. His father was shaking the hand of the bank president while holding a plaque to commemorate his retirement. Besides the security at the house’s main gate, there wasn’t much else that would advertise Baba as a man who had been wealthy beyond imagining. No gold sculptures, no ostentatious chair, nothing that would alert any visitors that he had done incongruously well for himself. Just a simple office with a large oak desk—most likely flown in or maybe built here—a comfortable seat, and a large TV on the wall opposite his desk.

  Peters didn’t notice how long Sade had been standing in the doorway.

  The hard sole of her shoe knocked on the floor as she stepped into the room. He turned to see her looking at him with a smile on her face. She was happy—not for what was coming later today, but that her brother was here with her and she had finally gotten to see him again.

  “Everything happens for a reason, doesn’t it?” she said.

  “This is just a sad everything,” he replied, “but yes.”

  “How did you sleep?”

  “Surprisingly well, thank you,” he said and gave her a big hug.

  “You hungry?”

  “Yes, I’m starved,” he said. And with that, they went to the kitchen to make themselves some breakfast.

  Sade was a good cook. She was self-sufficient and didn’t need to be taken care of. The staff had been there to tend to Baba, but if they were off, Sade had always been just fine.

  Peters and Sade made small talk over breakfast until neither one of them could ignore the mission any longer. They covered again their plan to be monitoring things from home base until it was time to move in separate cars to the club to meet Femi and the team. Sade would head to the market and slip away at some point to switch cars; she expected to be followed based on her suspicions about the IG keeping tabs on her. That was the part that worried her the most—the part where she’d give any tail the slip. She knew a move against her was coming; it was just a matter of when. Peters, in the meantime, would go shopping at a mall in Lagos close to the club. He knew exactly how to wear a disguise and would have no problem losing a tail. He didn’t tell the team of his skills, but Sade knew he’d worked for Homeland Security in the States, and on her assurance, Femi trusted that he would arrive at the club when he was supposed to.

  *

  The plan to grab Dada was not without risk and frustration. Every city in Nigeria had its own heartbeat—and the route to and from Ogbomosho was no different. Ogbomosho is a city in Oyo State, southwestern Nigeria, which was accessible from various highways and roads. The majority of travelers preferred to use the A1 for their journey, but it was no guarantee that this would be the one Dada chose. Every other weekend he visited his mistress, and sometimes he chose the A122 to avoid the A1.

  This was a typical A1 scene: traffic, chaos, overloaded lorries dashing in and out of lanes, hawkers plying their trade anywhere they saw a potential customer. It wasn’t uncommon to see one of them being accidentally run over, or perhaps the aftermath, a line of cars whose drivers gawk at a sheet-covered body alongside the road. This happened daily because there was never a shortage of hawkers and food vendors. One could eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner just from what was offered through the car window. If it could be named, the hawkers sold it—fruit, water, books, DVDs, pastries, and more. People looked for creative ways to earn their daily bread.

  Niyi had dispatched men at various checkpoints along the A1 which Dada had to pass on his usual route home. Their reconnaissance the past few weeks showed that Dada sometimes altered his route, however. This was the weekend that there was a chance he would follow the A122 home.

  Niyi was prepared for anything and made sure he was waiting in Ibadan just where the A122 connected to the A1. As his men who were stationed along the A1 reported that they hadn’t seen Dada pass any of the checkpoints, Niyi knew that his assumption was correct today. Niyi and the rest of his team were waiting in two Land Cruisers just off the side of the road by a filling station just before the roundabout onto the E1/A1 heading toward Lagos.

  They picked up Dada’s car and security detail—following close but not detectable. Once they reached their marked point, they made their move to separate his car from his security. Once separated, Niyi and his men went into action. One car sped ahead and cut off the car carrying Dada. Niyi had activated the phone-jamming signal which would prevent any occupants from calling for help or describing the attackers. Dada’s driver reacted as expected and pushed the car to a side road. The timing was perfect. His car was brought to a sudden stop at a staged car accident. Dada’s fate was sealed. The driver and Dada offered no resistance as Niyi and his men showed they meant business with the hardware that they brandished.

  The driver offered no resistance but begged for his life as he was slow-walked towards the bush while Dada was bundled into one of the cars and sped off. The sound of a lone gunshot meant the driver would be talking to no one—ever.

  Dada started talking almost right away—encouraged by repeated hits to his body and head. Niyi wanted answers now as to why his boss’s Oga was dead.

  “It wasn’t me O’!” Dada screamed as blood streamed out of a deep cut on his left side of his head.

  “Who else is involved?” Niyi shouted from the front passenger seat. “You better talk and talk fast before I kill you and throw you out of the car!”

  “It was the other members of the council that planned this O’—not me! Please don’t kill me, I beg! I didn’t want any part of it, but they did this on their own…” Dada’s breathing was fast and shallow.

  “What about the IG? How was he involved?” Niyi sensed that Dada was in bad shape and he had to get answers before he either passed out or died from his wounds.

  Dada’s response was barely audible. He began to slip into unconsciousness.

  “IG was going to take Baba’s place as head of the council… Mama Kojo had gone to him for guidance on how to handle our problem of getting rid of him. He was the one who gave us the green light to move on Baba if we agreed that he would head the council
but on friendlier terms, which cost less than Baba was charging us.”

  Dada slumped in his seat.

  Niyi didn’t know if he was dead or just out. He didn’t care either way. His fate was sealed and would be handled at the warehouse—one down, three to go. The plan was starting well. He called Femi to deliver his report.

  *

  The noon hour came. Kwesi was next to report in.

  His team had encountered a slight problem at the building. Chioma had fought hard against being taken, so the team had to use force to get him in the van. He continued to struggle and fight back. It was a reasonable act—most people know that when kidnappers struck, the chances of survival are so small that it is necessary to fight for one’s life. All Chioma kept shouting was that it wasn’t him. He put up a good fight for such a little man, and he kept repeating that he had voted against the council moving against Baba and he was looking for the best time to warn him. Kwesi wasn’t having any of it and grew even more angry the more Chioma resisted. Finally, Kwesi had enough and shot him point blank in the head.

  Two down—two to go.

  Sade and Peters shed no tears. The death was a necessary result of the day, and Kwesi already had a plan to dispose of the body. Chioma’s phone was also destroyed and the broken parts left in the parking structure at the bottom of the building. If anyone was tracking him, the signal would end there.

  *

  Finally, Femi delivered news of Kumari.

  His man was able to intercept the beans seller, and it went off without any problems. After continuing on her route, the seller was invited into Kumari’s complex and indeed came out with an empty container. She left the neighborhood immediately afterward, confirming that she had indeed sold everything that she had brought in. When she arrived at home, she would be visited by Femi’s men and relocated immediately. It would come at great expense—she had a large family—but no one would be left behind. But when she understood the danger, she would have to agree.