by Olanrewaju Odesomi

-Read Episode 1 of this enthralling story [HERE]

-Read Episode 2 of this enthralling story [HERE]

-Read Episode 3 of this enthralling story [HERE]

-Read Episode 4 of this enthralling story [HERE]

     Two Years Ago.

“The boss likes you.” Michael said, looking at Shola.

“Really?” Shola asked. They were on their way home, currently stuck in traffic. Shola’s car was faulty, and so, they were in Michael’s Honda.

“Of course. He told me so himself this morning.”

Shola didn’t reply, just kept watching the traffic ahead.

“You know, he rarely, if ever likes anyone. At least that’s how he acts, or wants us to think.” The danfo in front of them moved a little. Michael did same.

“He likes you too, from what I can see.” Shola countered.

“He does, or so I think.” Michael shrugged.

Michael, already at the job long before Shola was employed, was one of the favourite of the boss. He was the one that followed him to places, and in case of any press conference, it was he that sat with him in front of cameras. Many believed that to be down to Michael been likeable, and outgoing. In fact, everyone liked him, and went out of their ways, sometimes, to even befriend him. He could be extremely charming if he wanted to.

“Big things are about happening, I believe.” Michael said nonchalantly as he manoeuvred around the now sputtering danfo.

“Big things like?”

“Don’t know, as he won’t tell me what they are. But, he seems excited enough for me to believe him.” Michael, too, seemed excited at the prospect of whatever it was that was in the air. Shola only nodded. He was an accountant, and so was not particularly concerned, especially since no one thought to tell him.

“In fact, he told me it is big enough to change the political landscape of the country.”

“You know am apolitical. It’s just not my thing.”

“I know.” Michael said. His voice was drowned by the incessant honk of a tanker beside them. Lots of people swore at him. He continued to honk though. Shola thought he heard Michael say something, lost to the commotion of noises outside. “What?” He asked.

“Am going to be part of whatever is going on. One way or the other, I will.” Michael screamed.

 

       ……………………………………………………..

 

  The eatery was almost deserted when Muna, and Baba Kekere went in, and sat on the first available chair they saw. There were only three other customers left. Both sat, facing each other, with Muna facing outside –  a transparent wall to ceiling which also served as the wall revealed the night life. She told him to order anything he wanted. He nodded, and rubbed his hands against his ankara.

“How’s work?” She asked after he had ordered for a meat pie, and bottle of water. An ice cream was opened in front of Muna.

“He dey go well. Thanks to you.” They both smiled

“We always pay our people well.” She said, her mouth full. “And, I have to say, you do a good job too.” She dipped another spoonful into her mouth. He smiled from the compliment.

“Na just our work o.” He was chewing loudly.

“And how’s the current work going?” She asked with a straight face. He paused, his jawline pronounced, and then swallowed hard. She was now sure they were up to something. She smiled, and acted like she just asked a normal question, and silently attacked the ice cream in front of her. He drank from the bottle, not minding for a straw.

“The boss told me how much of a good job the two of you did. He was really impressed.” She sat erect, and smiled, knowing she was threading a dangerously thin line, and one that could swerve, and dump her, head first, a hundred feet down. She was following her instincts though. He released a deep breath, as his shoulders came up, proudly. He was suddenly at ease, and wanted to impress. She knew he would reveal things now.

“He no hard too much getting you a taxi at the airport. It was as simple as Abc. The hard thing na how we blocked the canal.” He was done with the first meat pie.  He took the other one, and dipped it in his mouth that was wide enough to swallow a baby’s head. Muna tried not to act surprised. So, they blocked the canal to bring about the floods in the first place. She was beginning to admire the mind behind this whole game. Not only the planning, but also, the division in its execution. The only mistake so far was their not planning on her doing this.

“And the current job?” She was sticking her neck out here. If there was none, he might know she was not privy to things as she claimed she was. He paused a bit, and gulped the remaining water.

“We don’t trust Shola, you know.” She said, scrapping the remaining cream in the plastic bowl. If it involves Shola, then, that should make him open up.

“We just dey watch am, until we receive further instructions. Yesterday, we follow am to a woman’s house. Maybe, na him girlfriend self.” She tried not to show her displeasure at that new fact. She nodded instead. They were only tailing him for now, it seems, as she checked her time.

 

“I know.” Michael said. His voice was drowned by the incessant honk of a tanker beside them. Lots of people swore at him. He continued to honk though. Shola thought he heard Michael say something, lost to the commotion of noises outside. “What?” He asked.

—————————————

 

Shola starred at Michael’s features, trying to understand the current turn of events. He couldn’t understand why he would disappear only to appear at this moment in time. Shola had put Bola under stern examination, but she had insisted she couldn’t have been wrong – it was Michael that gave them a ride the last Sunday. What are you up to, Shola asked the smiling face in the picture. His friend’s boyish good looks, accentuated by a week old beard growing on his chin gave no answer.

After he went missing for a week, Michael’s family, and Busola spent a lot of money, and resources in locating him. First, they plastered his face in national newspapers, some, even taking a page, so readers won’t miss it, and also went on television, especially at prime time, when they knew a lot of people would be watching. Yet, no information about his whereabouts surfaced.    Yoruba’s say, a dead child is better than a lost one, so, his disappearance asked too much of his parents, his Mum in particular – she eventually died not too long after. Why would Michael do that consciously, knowing how much it would affect his ageing parents? Shola just couldn’t bring himself to believe Michael would deliberately go off the grid, informing no one, cutting off relationships like that.

Something was wrong. Could Bola be wrong? Or, again, why would Michael reveal himself to his cousin, knowing she might one way or the other recognise him? There were loads of questions fighting for answers in his head. Unfortunately, there were no waiting answers. What’s going on, he asked rhetorically for the millionth time, the silence in his room mocking him. He kept reflecting on the whole thing deep into the night until sleep rescued him momentarily.

 

………………………………………………………

 

Ngozi followed Shola into his office. He not only looked tired, and out of sorts, but also uncharacteristically late. She couldn’t remember ever seeing him come late to work, nor this unkempt. She watched him sit down, and rummage through his desk, and locker, looking for something.

“Are you alright?” She asked him. He nodded, still opening, and closing files on his table. She sat down on one of the two visitors chair. She had little to do, and was curious at to why Shola acted, and looked the way he did. If he knew she was there, he paid little attention, instead, he looked pre-occupied. She thought he even looked more handsome – the haunted look gave his face another dimension, other than the usual clean shaven young looking one she was used to seeing. There was a moustache growing, something he tended to shave off before, and his new stubble was not particularly unappealing.

As always, he seemed unaware of his own charms, or of her own advances. The lines around his mouth were getting more pronounced too, and he looked like he’s missed more than a night’s sleep. He starred at her suddenly, as if now remembering she was there. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but decided against it at the last moment. He stood up, and sat back down immediately. Ngozi watched with unconcealed amazement. What was wrong with Shola?

“Is he around?” Shola was referring to the boss.

“No. He left for the state house this morning.”

“Again?” He frowned, and scratched his stubble. Ngozi nodded. Shola seemed pre occupied with their boss activity these days, always asking at every opportunity he got. It was a surprising change, as Shola used to care little about that fact before. Apart from the accounting part of his job, he seemed not to care much about anything else they did. He rarely asked questions, and made himself far away from the everyday politics that was important to the organisation. She liked the new one though. At least, he’s asking her questions, and shows a bit of curiosity in regards to her work.

“Most of today’s papers all had a sort of paid messages, asking for investigation regarding the Governor’s death. Some people it seems, believe his death was too abrupt, and mysterious to be natural.” She saw his mood change instantly. It went from lost, to pensive in the moment it took for the message to sink in.

“What!” He managed, mouth hanging.

“Yes. They even said they believe it might be political.”  He was rubbing his eyes now. What was wrong with Shola? He surely was not himself, at all, Ngozi thought.  “And they demanded for an independent panel to be set up for the task.” He stopped rubbing his eyes, and opened them. They were red, and a tad puffy.

“Are you alright?” She asked again.

“I am. Or, I think I am.” He yawned. Ngozi wondered if he slept at night at all. His eyes lit up suddenly from their sullenness, as he stood up, pushing his chair back in the process, and half ran out of the office. Ngozi, surprised, followed suit, quickening her steps to catch up. Her mini skirt made it hard to do so, but she did so, barely.

 

——————————————–

 

It was hard being a Governor, without the added burden of the mysterious death of one’s predecessor. He read the papers, and knew what the messages insinuated, albeit subtly – that he murdered the Governor. If not, why else would they ask for an independent body of enquiry. He was not enjoying his role as Governor, at least not yet. After he was sworn in, they’ve had to change all the furnitures in the office, the cars, and even the security details. His advisers believed it was needed for spiritual cleansing, and to guarantee his own safety.

As Governor, he was yet to do anything, except attend to the mess that the former Governor’s death left behind. He thought it was now time to get to work, and now this accusations. There were myriads of files on his desk waiting for his assessment, and signature, but it was hard concentrating. A phone buzzed on his desk. He picked it, and was informed his friend was there to see him. He sighed in relief. He had directed them to always let him in whenever he visits. Maybe he could tell him what to do.

His friend entered, and closed the door after himself. As usual, his three piece suit was pristine, and sleek.

“Your excellency.” He said.

“Don’t patronise me, Isaac.” The Governor replied as he stood up to shake his friend’s hands. They both took their seat.

“Have you seen the papers?” The Governor cut to the chase.

“I did.” Isaac nodded slowly. “It’s political persecution. You’re now the Governor, and believe me, a lot of people will be jealous of you at this point. You have to be careful.”

“I know. I know.” The Governor sat back, and rubbed his temple. “What steps should I take?”

“You really want my advice?”

“Yes, that’s why I asked for you to be here. You’re one of the few I trust.” The Governor leaned towards his friend.

“Reshuffle your cabinet. Believe me, they would still be some Olorunloba’s loyalists amongst them. And these people would never believe you have nothing to do with his death. I can bet it would be one of them behind the messages being peddled around the country.” The Governor couldn’t have nodded faster.  “And, you have to create your own inner caucus – people loyal to you, who would have your back come rain, or shine. Politics is fickle, so you have to be careful. It’s great that you’ve changed lots of things, but you need to do more. And the earlier the better. All these Olorunloba people will never trust you, so don’t trust them. You are the top dog now, and as far as this state is concerned, your decision is supreme.”

“I know I can call on you for great advice, always.” The Governor dropped his pen. He was writing some things down as his friend spoke. “And how’s your NGO? Coalition for…”

“It’s fine. Very fine.” Isaac interjected.