The Man From Lagos

by Bayo Fasinro

  “Whoa, whoa, calm down,” said the young man.

  The doctor came in the room and asked if he was okay.

  “I want to sit up and stand if I can,” Peters asked

  “You have been able to sit up and stand for three days now. Your brain’s desire to live had to catch up to your body’s ability to heal,” she replied.

  It felt good to put his feet down on the floor. He didn’t want to rush anything, so he sat there wiggling his toes and trying to get feeling back in his legs. He knew that if he tried to stand up, he would fall right over. He had been in bed for too long. As he worked on the feeling in his legs, he looked up to see a woman standing in the doorway. He didn’t know how long she had been standing there watching him, but she did so with the crisp self-possession of a doctor in charge.

  “You are looking good, sir. Benjamin tells me that you are making very good progress and your prognosis is looking better.”

  “Can I ask you something?” Peters asked.

  The woman shifted in her place and had the look like she knew this day would come. “First let me help you take a few steps to see if you can. Then you can ask me all the questions you want.”

  Peters had barely stood up and taken a few steps before he launched into what he wanted to know.

  “What is your story? How did you end up here?”

  Her face turned serious. She sat down in the chair in the corner of the room and took a deep breath.

  “My name is Betsy Ceballos. I moved here with my husband Hernán, who was also a doctor. This was ten years ago. We came to open up a clinic.”

  For the next hour, Betsy recounted her and her husband’s story. They had opened up the clinic and things were going fine until one day a patient came in with gunshot wounds. Her husband was coming off a twelve-hour shift and she was there to pick him up; it had been her day off. The part-time doctor they employed had already left for the day. The people who brought in the victim threw money at them to save their friend. They wanted to turn it down, but they were already running the clinic on a shoestring budget and things were very tight; people paid what they could afford, which wasn’t much.

  Her husband couldn’t save the man, but the man’s friends saw how hard he had worked to ease his suffering. They told her husband that if things didn’t work out with the clinic, that he could be their doctor. They gave them more money to help them decide. That same night, she and her husband weighed their options, and they decided to close the clinic. Why struggle each day, they thought, when they could live well and still help people?

  After a year or so, her husband died of a heart attack. She didn’t know what to do. She told the men that she couldn’t do it without her husband. The men refused to release her from the agreement, of course, and threatened to call the authorities on her. She had no choice but to continue. She arranged for her husband’s body to be flown back to Spain, and she would be stuck here until she could figure a way out. They took her passport and told her that if she made trouble, they would burn the house down with her in it. She had been here ever since.

  She went on to tell the story of how the kids ended up at the house. They belonged to the people who were left at her doorstep, injured. Some of those clients were dropped off with a child, and if they got better, they would leave with the child. If the injured succumbed to their wounds, Betsy was stuck with the child. No one ever came for them. She had no heart to kick them out, so she kind of adopted them. She needed help, and the youths were eager to learn whatever she would teach them. They took to it like fish to water.

  Peters was astounded. He had just heard the most amazing story of turning lemons into lemonade. He was sure that after all these years, she could have saved any monies she received and found a way to leave the country. Instead, he thought, she had stayed just for the kids. He had to find a way to get them out of this situation.

  “So, here we are, sir.”

  He was speechless. She and these kids had saved his life.

  “If you’re looking for something to say, I am pretty curious about your story. If you want to share it,” she said, smiling.

  “I came to bury my father. I live in the States,” he said, but didn’t say which one. “Also, everyone keeps calling me sir, but my name is Peters,” he said with a smile. “What part of Spain are you from?”

  “Seville.”

  “Ah, the birthplace of Flamenco,” he replied.

  Betsy looked surprised. “You’ve been there?”

  “No,” he lied.

  “Who are you, Mr. Peters,” she asked with a serious look. “You know that you talk in your sleep? The week after you were taken off the ventilator, you spoke German. The next week it was French, then we had to ventilate you again because of your labored breathing. Then it was Spanish after the ventilator.”

  *

  Peter’s mind immediately drifted to another time someone had told him that he talked in his sleep—sometimes in different languages. It was in his office with Sarah when she was very upset and disappointed about him missing an appointment. In all that time, Sarah never asked him what those nightmares were.

  Now, he would never be able to ever tell her.

  The agency only recruited people who spoke multiple languages. Peters could already speak Yoruba, but he had never learned Igbo or Hausa. Among the agency’s Grays, the fact that a recruit could speak a certain language provided the agency with options of imbedding that person in a number of countries around the world. This allowed any officer to understand the locals, identify danger, and gather information. It was important to keep this ability private and only speak the language if it was needed to get out of tight situations.

  French was the easiest to learn, as it was a required course at the private school Peters had attended in Ikoyi. The teacher (or director, as he wanted to be called), made the class thank him at the end of each day in French. Peters never forgot those words: “Merci beaucoup, Monsieur Le Directeur.”

  That might be something he’d say in his sleep, or maybe worse, something about a particular mission in Nice. It was supposed to be an easy extraction—but of course it almost cost Peters his life. What he didn’t know at the time was that it was not a sanctioned mission, but rather a personal one for someone high up the food chain.

  The girl was about fifteen years old. She had been kidnapped from the US by her father, even though there was a court order giving her parents joint custody. This person must have called in all the markers they had to get the agency to use one of its agents for an extraction. Peters’ mission was, ostensibly, to protect the interests of the United States of America. He wasn’t sure how this protected America’s interests, but this question was above his pay grade. His only job was to get back in one piece—him and his principal.

  This was the mission that convinced Peters that it was time to get out of the Agency if there was any chance of a normal life, because while he was busy risking his life for a favor, his mother had fallen ill and he hadn’t been around to rush to the hospital. After the dust settled, he took stock. Kids were part of the plan, but each mission had a chance to kill that plan. Too many close calls. He could plan for contingencies, but something always came up. His job required constant, real-time improvisation. On the other hand, he wanted marriage. He wanted to clean gutters twice a year, mow the lawn every week during the summer, not live out of a suitcase and prowl around in foreign countries ready for an ambush at all times. The longer he stayed, the more his odds of realizing his dream were diminished. So he had decided that mission was the last time he’d speak French on the job.

  *

  Peters snapped back to reality. He didn’t know how to respond; he was out of practice covering for himself. “I took languages as electives at the university.”

  The look on her face said she didn’t believe a word of it. She didn’t say what he had uttered in those languages, either. But she seemed to be casting about for a change of subject, as she couldn’t have missed his discomfort
. In fact, by the look on her face, she had seen everything about him. Maybe she even knew about Sarah. Peters was already wearing a paper gown, but suddenly felt even more naked.

  “Thank you for telling me your story,” he said. “I didn’t mean for you to share that much, Betsy.”

  “I have no secrets, Mr. Peters. I just want a better life for these young people. A better life and more opportunities.” She looked relieved to be talking about something else. “Your sister has been calling every day, just so you know. The night you were dropped off, she also dropped off a large duffel bag.”

  She pointed to it on a chair behind him.

  “It was too much. Please thank her for the thought, but I cannot accept it. Invite her to count it when you bring it back to her,” Betsy said, with a hint of regret.

  Whatever was in that bag either scared her or she knew it would change her life in ways she didn’t want it to. Before he could reach for it, Betsy added, “I’ll let you rest. If you want to use the phone, I left one by the window for you.”

  *

  Betsy left the room to make a phone call, one of many she had made since Peters had arrived. No one noticed her slipping into another room on the other side of the house for privacy. This call would be her last update. She pulled out a mobile phone and pressed the redial button.

  “This is House 47,” Betsy said quietly into the handset.

  After a few moments of listening to whomever was on the other end, Betsy replied, “He has healed from his injuries—he will live. His sister will be coming soon to pick him up. And now that I’ve fulfilled my end of the agreement, I’d like to leave this place now and return home.”

  *

  The food had given Peters some strength. He put both hands on the bed and leaned forward to stand. He didn’t experience any dizziness, so he stood up straight and took some steps. So far so good. The rest of the way was easy. He first went over to the bag Betsy had pointed out. He opened it and saw why it had inspired fear. It had to be almost fifty million naira in the bag.

  Why would Betsy turn it down? This was Sade’s way of letting her know that they should do everything she can to save him. They all certainly earned it; but maybe Betsy remembered the strings attached to the agreement that had tied her to this country in the first place.

  He would not be taking the bag back to Sade. Betsy would just have to find a way to use it for the house and kids.

  He walked over to the phone and dialed his sister’s number. His time here was done: she would come under the cover of darkness to take him home.

  Chapter 44

  Adopted Family

  Idowu Peters walked out of the same room he had been carried into almost a month ago. It felt good to leave on his own two feet. He had changed into some clothes Sade had brought: his own shirt and jeans, packed from the bedroom in the family estate.

  In the kitchen, he met his saviors all sitting around a small dining table having what looked like rice and beans with some fried fish. They all looked up when he entered. Betsy stood and walked at his elbow, just in case. One of the kids he’d hardly seen got up and made him a plate of food and put it in front of an empty chair. He added a fork and also a glass to Idowu’s setting, smiling at his guest’s appreciativeness. Everyone was quiet but looking right at him, boldly satisfied with their work in bringing him back to life.

  This debt he could never repay. But from the looks on their faces, he would never have to.

  Peters had gotten to know the two kids he interacted with the most: Chief Resident Benjamin and the surgical nurse, Alexa. The two didn’t know about Peters’ interrogation skills, which he used skillfully on them. He had been able to find out that they both lived in the same oil-rich delta region with their fathers but had never come into contact with each other until ending up here. Peters wondered what their fathers could be involved in that made their children into targets. Who were those men working for, and what were they doing here? The kids also never mentioned or hinted about the presence or whereabouts of their mothers, which Peters found odd. He made a mental note to look into this once he got back to the States. That would mean another call to Tyson.

  In short, he would have to think about this one. No need to give Tyson any hope that he was inching back into his old role again. Or maybe it might be best to just let this go—home beckoned.

  “What’s on the menu today?” he asked. “I hope not soup.”

  Alexa burst out in laughter. He started laughing, too, but didn’t realize that tears were also rolling down his cheeks. The laughter stopped. They just stared, not knowing what to say or how to comfort their patient. It was too late. Idowu put his head in his hands and cried some more. Betsy stood up and walked over to him and put her hand on his back.

  “It’s okay, Mr. Peters. You’ve been through a lot these past weeks,” she said softly. “We are all just happy that you are alive and well and can join us for dinner.”

  The kids all murmured some type of encouragement and congratulatory words. They were all very happy to see their patient get better. Every doctor and their team always welcomed success; it offset the pain of their profession. It was what they went home and talked about at night to their spouses, their partners, and their friends. Not a big house or an expensive car, but the life they were able to save that day. That was probably why Idowu got so emotional at the table, just looking at all of them so happy that he was alive. He wiped his face and laughed at himself.

  A knock on the door interrupted the moment. Sade was expected. They all knew what that meant; Idowu’s time with them was over. He had gotten to know each of them through their brief interactions each day he was recovering. He knew their stories and their interests, and it was hard to leave this sense of temporary family. He wondered what would happen to all of them after he left. Betsy had mentioned to him that she didn’t know how long she could keep this up, as she was getting up in years and was going to look for an out sooner rather than later, hoping to return to Spain and be close to where her husband was buried. They all deserved so much more than what life was offering them. Betsy stood up and walked to the door to open it. She smiled as Sade walked in, followed by Femi. Idowu shot up and embraced his sister for what seemed like days—they held onto each other, relieved.

  Idowu then shook Femi’s hand, but then grabbed him and hugged him also.

  “Come in, both of you. I’m not ready to leave yet. I want us to eat as a family.”

  Yes, they were now family to him. He didn’t know that he’d have to come halfway around the world to find people about whom he would care so deeply. Everyone inside this small, off-the-beaten-path home was his family now. He was no longer alone.

  “Sade, did you bring my phone with you?”

  She produced it from her pocket and handed it over.

  “I want to take a picture of you all.”

  They all came around and stood next to each other. Idowu took several pictures with them all smiling. He then asked Sade to take a picture with him in it. A couple of them, why not? After those were done, he wanted a picture with each of them individually. When they were done with the photo shoot, Idowu hugged each one of them and thanked them again for what they had done. He was not ready to leave. He told each of them that he hoped to see them again, but not in the same condition that brought him here.

  Sade was looking at Betsy, and they were most likely thinking the same thing. Peters shouldn’t make a promise like that, as they probably wouldn’t see each other again—ever. Yet he wished them luck in their studies and told them that they were the best medical staff that he would probably ever meet, unless their paths crossed again.

  He saved Betsy for last. He held both her hands. “I’m sorry about your husband, Betsy. I hope one day you will be able to be close to him in Spain. You have done a wonderful job with these kids, and I wish you and them nothing but success and Godspeed.”

  Her eyes glistened. Idowu hugged her again and kissed her on the cheek. He looked at all of th
em one last time and headed for the door.

  “We hope to see you again, Mr. Peters. But not the way we first met you,” she added.

  And with that, Idowu followed Sade and Femi out the door and into the waiting car. Femi put the car in reverse and backed out to the main road. They turned left on Olajuwon Street and were off.

  *

  No one spoke on the way to the estate. Idowu was tired and fell asleep at some point during the ride home. He didn’t wake up until they were inside the compound when Sade shook him awake. He opened his eyes and smiled. He didn’t think he would see this place again.

  They all walked in and Sade and he went to her office. Femi made a detour toward the kitchen.

  Idowu sat down heavily into the chair like a man who had just completed a long journey and was finally back at basecamp. He leaned back and closed his eyes. All he could think of was Betsy and the kids—as though by leaving, he had left something important undone. When Femi came back into the room holding two bottles of Heineken, Idowu sat up and received his with gratitude. They clinked bottles, understanding each other.

  “Cheers, Femi,” Idowu said to him. He took a long pull and almost emptied the bottle. He had missed having a Heineken. “So, what did I miss?”

  Sade said, “Dada is dead, Chioma is dead, we got word that Kumari succumbed three days after we hit him at his house, and of course you know that Mama Kojo is still looking for the other half of her face in hell.”

  She ticked off the names with a hint of satisfaction and closure in her voice. It felt like a huge weight was lifted off her shoulders. She had been willing to work with the council, she said, willing to convince them that she was not going to make changes to the structure that she was inheriting from Baba. They didn’t give her a chance—they killed her father instead and came after her and her brother. It was a costly miscalculation on their part. She pursued the only rational choice available to her.