Lightseekers

by Femi Kayode

  As soon as I enter my telephone number, Chika and I say our thanks and rush out.

  ‘What now?’ Chika asks as we jump into the Land Cruiser.

  ‘I need to see Godwin’s room.’

  ACT THREE

  light waves change direction when they pass from one medium to another

  SCHEMES AND SIGNS

  John Paul is calm as he sits across from the flustered branch manager of one of the Port Harcourt branches of the National Bank.

  ‘This is highly unusual.’ The manager shakes his head.

  ‘It’s my money,’ John Paul says calmly, pushing my glasses up the bridge of his nose.

  ‘Yes, of course, it’s your money, but we’re a small branch.’

  ‘I am not withdrawing the cash now; all I am doing is buying US dollars from you and transferring them to a domiciliary account.’

  ‘Yes, but you are transferring the funds to another account in the name of this –’ He checks the papers on his desk, ‘John Paul Afini-Clark. That means you’re closing your account. The regulations have changed a lot for FOREX. To buy that amount of USD, we have to apply for –’

  ‘Spare me your process, please. We both have a choice, I either withdraw all my cash right now, all 28 million naira of it, and go buy dollars on the black market, or you do what I ask and make a hefty commission.’

  The possibility of losing a customer and bonus is unacceptable. ‘I’ll see what I can do, sir.’

  John Paul stands and is gathering the identification papers he brought to validate his request for meeting the branch manager.

  ‘If you don’t mind my asking, sir, what should I say is the purpose of such a transaction?’

  John Paul does not miss a beat. ‘A business transaction with Amaso Dabara. You want to look him up?’

  The manager sputters and assures John Paul there would be no need for that. His hands are shaking when he returns John Paul’s handshake.

  The visits to the next two banks go the same way. The only difference is that he requests euros at one and British sterling at the last.

  That evening, rather than go to a cybercafe to post messages from Alfurquran’s Facebook page and @NoOtherGodbutJesus Twitter account, John Paul breaks routine. He posts instead from his room, using his laptop and a smartphone with a brand-new SIM card from a wireless hotspot.

  He had paid a lot of money to the salesperson at the cell phone company to overlook his lack of identification as he registered his SIM card under the name Amaso Dabara, and I had taken the salesperson’s inability to recognise the name as a good sign.

  A very good sign indeed.

  THE ORIGIN OF BURN

  A call to Ikime was all it took to get into Godwin’s room. Back in the States, I would have had to fill forms in quadruplicate to get access to a crime scene. The police, the lawyer for the suspect – if there is an indication of foul play – and the prosecution might insist on being present. The keys to the room would most likely be in some vault, encased in an evidence bag with a long list attached of all the people who have had access to it.

  At TSU however, the police in Okriki have not even been notified of Godwin’s death. Campus Security are still preparing the report, which will be finalised when Dr Okaro determines the cause of death, and this will then be sent to the police who may or may not request further investigation. Should Godwin’s parents insist that there is foul play, the police will write a formal request to the university and only then will they be allowed on to the university campus to conduct investigations.

  All this is explained to Chika and me as Johnny, the Campus Security official on duty, pulls out the key to Godwin’s room from his pocket as casually as he would the keys to his own house. He is an amiable fellow who talked non-stop as he rode with us in the Land Cruiser because the university’s transport division had no car to spare.

  ‘We all saw it coming,’ he says as he opens the door.

  ‘That’s what everyone keeps saying,’ Chika mumbles drily.

  ‘The boy was trouble from day one. We knew he was selling drugs even when he was a jambite, but no one had proof. Even before the Okriki thing happened, the boy was gone. High every day. Skipping classes. Causing trouble at parties. Everyone was quite happy when he moved off campus until the Okriki thing happened and then he had to come back here.’

  I dare say Emeka and would not call the necklace killing of their sons a ‘thing’ but I remain quiet as Johnny opens the door. I’ve always disliked too much talk around me when entering a crime scene.

  ‘The lock has not been fixed properly,’ Johnny says, as he struggles to open the door. ‘It’s quite a mess in here. Our Oga said no one should touch anything until the report for the police is complete.’

  Only sensible thing anyone has done so far, I think as Johnny finally gets the door open.

  The stench hits us hard, but I try not to let it bother me as I stand at the doorway and look around.

  Disorganised crime scene.

  Cigarette butts in makeshift ashtrays, bottles of beer in the corner of the small room and lots of empty bottles of what looks like cough syrup. Codeine-based. An open bottle of locally produced gin is on the floor next to the single bed. The edge of the bed is charred from the burning. Dirty clothes on the floor and what looks like dried vomit close to the side of the bed.

  ‘It was a good thing people saw the smoke coming from his window,’ Johnny says. ‘If they had gone by the smell alone, everyone would have assumed he was smoking weed or something.’

  ‘The students broke the door to get in?’ I ask as I look around.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But you used a key …’

  ‘The hall supervisor fixed it himself. He said he didn’t want the room burgled.’

  Why students would steal from a room where another student just lost his life is beyond me. Chika and I walk outside and peer at the door. Indeed, there’s a sign of breakage and the crooked lock shows crude straightening to allow the key to work.

  I look down the corridor. The building is relatively quiet at this time of the day, since most of the students are in class or exam halls.

  Chika is still bent over, examining the lock. ‘We can’t confirm if the door was tampered with before the students forced it open.’

  ‘I know. We would’ve been able to guess if there were two sets of forced entry if the lock had not been fixed.’ I keep my irritation in check as I don’t want to set the amiable Johnny on his guard.

  Chika straightens up from inspecting the door. ‘The good news is that the place was sealed.’

  ‘And the bad?’

  ‘We have to go back in there.’

  We both suck in our breaths and enter Godwin’s room again.

  Chika brings out some naira notes from his wallet and gives them to Johnny, who is looking around like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

  ‘Don’t worry about us, my brother. Try and eat something, then come back in about an hour or so.’

  Johnny collects the money. ‘Here’s my number. Call me when you’re done.’

  Chika saves the number on his phone with a broad, fake smile of thanks.

  As soon as Johnny disappears, we get to work.

  The roof is covered in greyish ash. An indication that there was no burning flame or at least no large one that would have caused more and blacker smoke to fill the room. The wall facing the door has a window, also covered in grey soot. I turn to the door and look back at the window.

  ‘There’s a draft coming from the door,’ I say aloud. ‘It blew the smoke to this side, and the smoke that couldn’t get out of this window gathered on the wall. See how dense the soot is on this side of the room?’

  Chika nods and bends towards the bed with a frown. I join him to peer at the worn mattress. The midpoint of the soft foam is burnt right through and I can see the metal springs of the bed through the hole. If Godwin was holding a burning cigarette, his height and the length of his arms should confirm this po
int as the source of the burn. I lean closer to the mattress. Something is not quite right.

  ‘What?’ Chika asks, following my gaze.

  ‘The mattress is made of synthetic foam.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Look here,’ I point to the most severely burned part. ‘Can you see the intensity of how it burned here compared to the edges?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You see the fire burned the mattress right through here but nowhere else?’

  ‘So?’

  ‘The intensity of the burn reduces as it spreads out … Look here and here …’ I point to the edges of the burn. ‘When a synthetic material is exposed to fire, it burns quickly and keeps spreading, but here that’s not the case.’

  ‘Maybe Godwin’s body stopped the spread of the fire.’

  ‘Ordinarily, that would make sense, but a cigarette tip is not a fire. It is combustible with synthetic fibre like foam, but it can’t burn hot enough to drill a hole through the mattress before it spreads out.’

  ‘I get you. It should first heat up the mattress and then start spreading to the sides and depth of the bed.’

  ‘An even, steady rate, not a fast spread.’

  Chika peers closer to where the burn hole reveals the steel springs in the mattress. ‘Unless something made the heat burn fast …’

  ‘Something was poured on this spot that accelerated the fire but was not strong enough to sustain an even spread.’

  ‘Not petrol or kerosene?’

  ‘No. The smell doesn’t indicate that. Something milder.’ I lean in till my nose is inches from the mattress and sniff, attempting to register a smell other than the stench in the room. That’s when I spot the suitcase through the hole and the network of springs. It is stashed underneath the bed, towards the headboard, so it’s not visible through the burn hole, except at an angle. Unfortunately, this is the area closest to the dried vomit, and it takes enormous willpower and covered noses to pull out the suitcase.

  It is padlocked and untouched, and the dust on it shows it’s been a while since it’s been disturbed. Its position under the bed also saved it from the soot coating every surface in the room.

  Chika and I look at each other.

  ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ I ask.

  ‘Let’s do it.’

  I look around for something to break the lock, but Chika is ahead of me. He goes to the small reading table and finds a paperclip. I’ve seen this done in movies and have even asked my colleagues at the SFPD if it was possible. They assured me it was mostly creative licence and few locks can open with a straightened paperclip. ‘It must be a terrible, cheap lock to open that easily,’ they told me.

  Well, either Godwin has used a cheap lock, or Chika really knows how to pick one because we are looking at the contents of the suitcase in less than ninety seconds.

  Some clothes, pornographic magazines, a bag of weed and DVDs, which from the covers, I assume are the live-action versions of the magazines. Since I don’t have any gloves, I use my middle finger in order to be as undisruptive as possible. I see some papers and slide them out to read quickly. Correspondence from the school authorities over suspicion of dealing in narcotics and then handwritten rebuttals of the allegations in different drafts. I hand these over to Chika and go back to the suitcase.

  When I’ve confirmed that my finger won’t encounter anything slimy or liquid, I feel around beneath the magazines, papers, et cetera. I pause when I touch something hard.

  ‘What is it?’ Chika asks, seeing my frown and the way my body goes still.

  Slowly, I pull out what I immediately recognise as a .45 automatic.

  SMOKE

  The handgun is safely hidden in the Land Cruiser and we make our faces deadpan when Johnny returns, his own smile broad. It’s clear from the strain on his lower shirt buttons that he has put Chika’s largesse to good use.

  We drop him off at the Campus Security office and hightail it towards Okriki.

  ‘We can’t tell the Registrar, right?’ Chika asks, driving faster than he should on university grounds.

  ‘Tell Ikime we found a gun in Godwin’s room? Heck, no! Not until we can confirm that it is Godwin’s.’

  ‘How will we do that?’

  ‘There must be some kind of record of sale, or reports of it being stolen …’

  My voice trails off as Chika shakes his head in the way that has become all too familiar.

  ‘Oga, I’ve told you to forget all those American protocols you’re used to. Where does one start to trace a firearm around here? Could easily have been smuggled across the border, or stolen from the police. The police themselves might well have recovered it from armed robbers and sold it on the black market. That’s a wild goose chase at best.’

  I turn to him. ‘Speaking of the police, am I the only one that finds it strange that Godwin dies immediately after we confront Omereji about their involvement in Momoh’s death?’

  ‘I don’t know what you were looking for, but a lot of things didn’t add up in that room.’

  ‘The whole scene was staged; everything placed precisely to give the impression of an accident.’

  ‘And you think the police might be responsible?’

  ‘At this point, I’m open to all sorts of possibilities, but it’s not adding up. Why now?’

  ‘Because you’re on to them? You linked their motivation to silence Kevin with their negligence in the Momoh case.’

  ‘Tamuno said he went to the police with his statement, meaning the police knew from the outset that someone had made a connection between Momoh’s death and the mob action. It just doesn’t add up.’ I let out an exasperated breath.

  ‘You think Godwin might have been the one who fired the gun and not Winston as he claimed?’ Chika asks, his eyes fixed on the road.

  ‘That’s a possibility. But it’s also possible Godwin stole the gun after the crowd came down on the three boys.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘There’s no way of knowing for sure now, but if Godwin fired the gun and then screamed for help, it certainly points to premeditation. He’d have counted on the reaction of the townspeople to do just that.’

  ‘You’re saying he screamed knowing the crowd would come, round up the boys and kill them?’

  ‘Well, maybe not kill them, but at least cause a distraction or do serious harm. Outsourced violence.’

  Chika thinks on my words for a moment, then nods. ‘Makes sense. With the string of robberies at Okriki and the town setting up its own vigilante group to protect itself, a foiled armed robbery attempt in the daytime would certainly not have gone unpunished.’

  ‘Thing is, somehow I don’t see Godwin coming up with an idea like that.’

  ‘Me neither.’

  I am glad someone else sees this. ‘He seemed more like the sort of person who acted on a whim and the drugs wouldn’t have helped him with the careful planning such a scheme would have required.’

  We are now on the road that will take us past where the boys were killed, the police station and Madam Landlady’s compound.

  ‘I feel like we’re missing something, like someone is pulling strings,’ I muse aloud.

  ‘Perhaps his drug supplier?’

  ‘Maybe. And besides, what sort of supplier uses a drug dealer with a habit, unless the dependency is all part of the plan? Whatever the case, if Godwin only just became a liability that had to be eliminated, what changed in the last few days?’

  ‘He spoke to us,’ Chika replied, the picture starting to make sense to him.

  ‘Yes, and if there’s a murderer on the loose who killed Godwin because he spoke to us …’

  ‘Then we are in danger.’

  ‘Yes. Which is why we need the police on our side.’

  ‘Assuming it’s not the police themselves …’ Chika says wryly.

  ‘Only one way to find out.’ I whip out my cell phone and tap. ‘Gimme a second.’

  Salome picks up on the first ring. ‘Are
you okay?’

  ‘I need your help.’

  I quickly explain everything from the discovery of the gun in Godwin’s apartment to our suspicion that it could be the same one that had alerted the people of Okriki to an alleged robbery on the day the three were executed.

  ‘Now, as to why I’m calling … I need to talk to the Inspector about this, but with the way we left things the last time –’

  ‘You’re sure this gun may be connected to the killing of those boys?’ Salome asks.

  ‘I have my suspicions.’

  ‘Perhaps that would mean other parties are involved besides the current accused standing trial?’

  I think quickly. Of course, Salome would be interested in anything that lessens the culpability of her townspeople in the killings. And by extension, so should the Inspector.

  ‘I can’t answer that if I don’t know the role of the gun in the whole thing.’

  There is silence on the other side. If it’s true that she’s being helpful because of her interest in knowing what pushed the people of Okriki over the edge, I am hoping she will get me the access I need.

  ‘You want me to ask Mike to check it out for you?’ Salome asks.

  ‘Yes, but he said the case was closed.’

  ‘Nonsense.’ I picture her dismissive wave of bejewelled fingers. ‘A case is only closed as long as there’s no new discovery. You go on there. Leave Mike to me.’

  ‘Who was that?’ Chika asks when I hang up.

  ‘Salome. I need her to speak with Omereji ahead of our arrival.’ The Okriki Police Station looms into view in the distance.

  ‘I am not sure you want to do that.’

  ‘Why? She can get us access to Omereji, they are cousins.’

  ‘Small world.’ His sarcasm is evident but his face is unreadable.

  ‘I am sure she can help us to get him –’

  ‘To what? Help themselves?’

  ‘Salome has not given me any reason to –’

  ‘Oga, I think you’re trusting this friend too much.’