Damilola woke with a start. She listened for a few seconds wondering what was amiss. Her bedside alarm rang again. She slammed it off. Damned menace, she cursed; it had to ring when she was enjoying her sleep. She didn’t have to check to know the time was five thirty a.m.
Reluctantly, she got out of bed. Lazily, she stretched and yawned as she walked to her desk in the room. She powered up her computer and went into the restroom whilst the computer booted. She washed her face, pored over imaginary creases on her face and cupped her breasts. She pursed her lips as she weighed them in her hands. She stayed that way for almost a minute, watching herself.
She returned to the room, the computer screen had come up. It was requesting for her password, she typed it in. The screen dissolved and she was staring at her desktop.
A real utilitarian her computer desktop screen was sparse. It only had few folders she was working on. She moved the cursor of the computer over the folder she named ‘Sodom calling’ right clicked on her mouse and froze. She had meant to delete all the files, her research and everything. Something within her wouldn’t allow her.
She sighed, clicked the desktop to remove the dropdown menu and then, she started her browser. Time to know what was happening in the country. It had been three days since she last read the dailies before leaving home. she read all the reports.
The Punch newspaper and The Guardian had front page stories of a spate of killings that involved federal agents. She scoured the others; Vanguard had the story on page three. The stories she read were the same, more like she was reading a replicated article or one person wrote and sent to three newspapers.
‘Amateurs.’ The word was a cathartic release. There were no photos, just text. ‘Amateurs,’ she said again, this time, intentionally. ‘A little investigation is all the story needs.’ She made a mental note to follow the story and get pictures. Then she remembered.
The editor of the lifestyle magazine she wrote a monthly feature for had asked her to interview his friend in Lagos. She had called to set up the meeting for the next day and had forgotten all about the interview. It was a wonder that she remembered the appointment a day before.
She read some more, jotted down a few details onto her notepad. By the time she was done, it was already a quarter past seven a.m. she got up from the computer, went into the bathroom and to have her bath. She came out of the shower refreshed. Her mojo was back, it was time for her to get into the thick of things again. She started getting dressed.
Feyi drove the car at breakneck speed. He was riding the car like a maniac, and it responded to his every whim. The road was free; the time was already past ten p.m. so the cars on the roads were few. His leg was perpetually on the accelerator as he gunned forward, driving them to their destination.
Tunde had used his seat belt upon entering the car. It was one of his quirks; he always used the seat belt. As he watched Feyi’s maniacal driving, he shut his eyes. Better to feel than to see it. Seeing would only make it look like they would die soon. The feeling part, all he needed to do was enter into a stasis state and he wouldn’t even know what was going on around him.
Neither of them spoke; no words were required. Feyi drove all the way from Victoria Island to Gbagada, and then he slowed the car. He eased the car into the filling station that was opposite the estate and stopped behind a car that was buying fuel.
Tunde eyed Feyi, he had checked the dashboard and seen that the fuel gauge indicated full. The pin had barely left the F letter and he was refuelling. Something snapped inside Tunde. It was either they were going for a very long drive, or they were about changing cars. He sat still and watched Feyi.
Feyi turned off the ignition and open the car door. ‘Please come out,’ he was courteous.
Tunde unfastened his seat belt, and got out of the car. He followed Feyi’s lead, and moved towards the car in front of them. The drive came down, hugged Feyi, beaming like he was just seeing an old secondary school classmate. The passenger door also opened and a light skinned svelte lady about five feet seven inches tall came out of the car.
Tunde was stunned. Not because she was fair to look at nor for her beauty which was just average. He was stunned, because of the size of her breasts. It was as though she had gotten implants. Her body and breasts weren’t proportional. He stared. It was all he could do to keep his jaw from dropping.
She smiled amiably. ‘Glad to meet you too.’ Her hand was extended.
Tunde took it and shook. A pin from the wrist chain she was wearing pricked him and he withdrew his hand immediately. He was not fast enough.
She became apologetic as she heard him wince and pull his hand from her. She rushed to him and caught him just before he started falling backwards.
Feyi and the driver went into action mode, both jumped over the car to help the lady and relieve her of the dead weight that Tunde would soon become.
Tunde knew he had been hit with a lethal dosage of paralytic drug, when he saw that his muscles started shutting down and the girl’s image was going out of focus. They had dosed him with that prick. He felt angered. His anger couldn’t do much for him, he realised. He shut down all his muscles and closed his eyes just before she caught him.
‘That was easy,’ the driver said. ‘Toun, we really need to get you a breast reduction. I hear this dude’s a badass and you took him out in seconds.’ He joked.
The lady – Toun – rolled her eyes. ‘Let’s get him into the car so Feyi can complete his mission. I have a date.’
The driver was distraught. ‘I thought we had something going on back then…’
‘Get over it.’ Her voice was curt.
Feyi’s brow ached. ‘Are you two done fighting? Now help me get this gentleman into the car.’ He grabbed Tunde’s shoulders. The driver grabbed his legs and Toun opened the door. They dumped Tunde on the back seat of the car and Toun shut the door.
‘Pay off the attendant, and take the car to Lekan. He has a job for you.’ Feyi dismissed the driver. ‘As for you, you had better cancelled your date. The chief demands your presence; you know where to find him.’ After delivering his message, Feyi got into the car and drove away. Now to get to the airport on time he thought.
Bayo and Lekan watched as Tunde was bundled into the back of the new car. They saw Feyi give orders to the couple, get into the car and drive away, his package pliant. There should be no problem getting him to the boss, he would only revive after eight hours, or the administration of a certain gas.
Bayo who was behind the wheel turned on the ignition, and drove away. Lekan had a date with the driver. He had to keep it.
Feyi drove to the local airport; he put Tunde’s hand over his shoulder and all but carried the agent. He had to take the stairs; the escalators had been powered down. He cursed. ‘Damned country, can’t things just work right?’ As he grunted and dragged Tunde with him up the stairs, he realised he was an agent of change. Things would soon change in the country.
He dragged the agent with him to the tarmac, produced a phone and called. ‘Where the hell are you?’ He growled panting. Tunde was getting heavier by the second and the man’s size belied his weight. He was heavy.
He waited for a minute before he saw the man approaching him.
‘Must you always bring them in drugged? The man, who was obviously his pilot said. He had come to understand that his questions were rhetorics to the people he worked for.
‘Take it up with the boss,’ Feyi was in a dark mood.
They huddled Tunde into the plane, a light Cessna and Feyi slumped onto the seat beside the pilot’s he hadn’t realized just how heavy Tunde would be.
The pilot got into his seat beside Feyi, conducted all the checks and radioed to the tower that he was about leaving the airport. He was cleared for lift. He slowly taxied the plane from the hangar to the runway, and then prepared for lift off. In less than ten seconds they were up in the air.
Feyi exulted loudly. He had a pathological fear of planes, he would drive if allowed, yet his employer chose that means of transportation and he had no choice but comply.
Tunde opened his eyes slowly, he was groggy. His mind was playing tricks on him. He moved a finger to see if it would respond. It moved. Good, he thought, he moved his hand into his pocket, felt for the button and depressed it. He pulled out his hand. They would locate him, he though, now, he could yield himself to the drug. He slept.