Below is the list of writers who are participating in this collaboration.

Larry Sun: Chapter One (February 8, 2013)

Frank 3.16: Chapter Two (February 12, 2013)

Redmosquito: Chapter Three (February 16, 2013)

Efemena_xy: Chapter Four (February 20, 2013)

Mazi_Omenuko: Chapter Five (February 24, 2013)

Oahray: Chapter Six (February 28, 2013)

Sigmundfreud: Chapter Seven (March 4, 2013)

Ishilove: Chapter Eight (March 8, 2013)

Uniquexty: Chapter Nine (March 12, 2013)

HumbledbYGrace: Chapter Ten (March 19, 2013)

Frosti: Chapter Eleven (March 23, 2013)

Senbonzakura_kayegoshi: Chapter Twelve (March 27, 2013)

Foxy_Ultimate: Chapter Thirteen (March 31, 2013)

Mynd_44: Chapter Fourteen (April 4, 2013)

This thread is exclusively meant for all the participating writers to post their chapters. Every criticism or praise should be directed to the discussion thread below.

See discussion thread: Nairaland Detection Club

Thanks.

Lucan woke with a start. He could not believe that he had only been dreaming. The dream felt so real. And what had interrupted his slumberous adventure, he could not at the moment fathom. He groaned with disappointment. Not when I was about to save the dream!

His room was strangely silent. He looked around him to find what had woken him but he couldn't see. The room was as silent as the morgue. He was virtually wearing nothing, save for the boxer shorts which covered only the essentials. The underpant imprinted with various monetary insignia: naira, dollar, pound, deutsche mark, yen. It was still dark but his phone was blinking yellow; an evidence that someone had tried to connect with him when he was asleep. He picked the phone up, unlocked it and found five missed calls. The time on the phone showed 3.13am. Who in his right mind would be calling me at this early hour? The roosters have not even begun crowing. No human should naturally be awake at this ungodly time. This was a time meant for goblins and ghosts and spirits carrying their heads and roaming invisibly around the streets. Even some of these evil spirits were known to carry mats around and weeping copiously, the cause of their wails still remained a mystery to even the wisest ones. Lucan not only used to believe in goblins, ghosts and witches, he also believed in the significant myths inherent in omens, portents, herbingers, oracles, evil petrels, black cats, broken mirrors, sudden bolts of lightning in the sky and parliaments of owls, until he realized that the fascinating stories behind most of them were only fabricated superstitions.

Then a strange thought crossed his mind; he wondered if it was a ghost that had called him. Everyone who had used a mobile phone for a long time would have one day answered his phone call and heard silence, and said "Hello" again, assuming that the caller had been distracted by someone on his end or that there was a glitch in the connection. When a third "Hello" drew no reply, we hung up, convinced that the call must have been a wrong number or from a crank, or the result of a technical error in the network. Sometimes, we even received calls from friends' lines and heard strange languages in the process; languages which are spoken in voices totally different from our acquaintances'. This could be a private joke by the caller. Many a time though, people had reported that when they called back their friends, demanding to know why they had been called with strange voices and languages. The friends had usually claim not to have called them at all.

Lucan had read it somewhere that some calls originated with deceased friends or loved ones trying to reach us from Beyond. For some reason, according to this theory, the dead could make your mobile phone ring, but they couldn't easily speak with us from the chasm between existence and extinction; therefore, most of all what we hear were silence or static, or on very rare occasion whispery scraps of words as if from a great distance.

He had also read in another book that years ago, researchers in the paranormal had made recordings on the telephone lines left open between test numbers, operating on the assumption that if the dead could initiate a call, they might also take advantage of an open line specifically set aside to detect their communication.

Lucan knew a lot of things the average man would not know; he knew some odd bits of history. Secrets. The mysteries of alchemy. Scientific curiosities. Like how to power a clock with a potato. You needed a copper peg, a zinc nail, and some wire. A potato-powered clock wouldn't look impressive but it'd work. At least, the book he had read said that it worked. He knew about the secrets of the almost inconspicuous circle on the twenty naira note, and that of the conspicuous green pyramid on the one thousand naira. He also knew what you'd get when you join the forty-sixth word from the beginning of the forty-sixth psalm with the forty-sixth word from the end of it. He knew a lot of cool stuffs, and he prided himself at this rare knowledge.

His retina had adjusted to the darkness and he could now make out the glow of the arrows on the small clock on the table, pointing towards three-thirty.

The phone rang again, and Lucan almost dropped it in fright. It was the same number that had called him minutes ago, he noticed how strange the number appeared, the number didn't register the country's ZIP code. He continued staring at the ringing phone in his hand, not knowing whether to pick the call or ignore it. If he ignored it, Lucan knew that the caller would keep on calling him. And one thing he hated was having his phone constantly ringing, or any other phone for that matter.

He pressed the green button.

He waited. Nothing. Static. Silence. The caller was not speaking.

"Hello," Lucan said solemnly, believing now that a ghost was really calling him. Maybe his dead father had recently bought a SIM card from The Other Side and decided to have a little chat with him directly from the Pearly Gate. His father had died five years ago when hunting with a friend, the friend had thought Lucan's father was an antelope and he had shot his game only to find that the antelope was his own friend. The old man had died with mouth gaped in surprise. Perhaps the dead hunter was still finding it hard to believe that he really possessed a pair of long legs that matched that of an antelope. Lucan decided that if it was really his dead father calling him he would demand to speak with Saint Peter, just to be sure.

"Hello." he said again. No reply. Resigning that his dead father had called him but had been rendered mute, he was about to press the red button when the caller spoke.

"Mr. Lucan?" the voice said. It wasn't his deceased father. This was a voice with which he was completely unfamiliar. He thought he heard a tone of agitation in the voice.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Lucan," the voice said, "You need to come immediately."

"Come to where?" Lucan said, dazed, his speech still thick and his eyes begging for their rightful rest. "Who is this?"

"My name is Chief Koko, and I need your help urgently."

"My help? Why me? I don't know you, I don't know any Chief Koko."

"But I know you. I heard about that crime you easily solved three months ago." Lucan had solved the murder case of a twelve-year-old girl whose mutilated corpse had been found in the bush. The policemen had been stumped and had classified it an unsolved case, among the many such cases they could not unravel, until Lucan got to work on it. Lucan wasn't a detective, he was only a common police officer living his own secluded life. People who personally knew Lucan had watched him with the fascination of a Mathematics teacher whose brightest student had decided to study Yoruba Language in the higher institution. Because they believed that Lucan's niche was far greater than being a policeman. Over any other thing, Lucan enjoyed knotting and unknotting loops. He preferred loosening tightly knitted threads. He believed that it takes a great artful skill to tie a rope perfectly, and it takes a greater skill to untie it.

"I'm sorry Chief Koko, I can't help you. If you desire a crime-solver, call a detective. I'm not a detective, I'm sorry. So, can I go back to bed now? This is past three for God's sake! Can't a man have a little night sleep?"

"You don't understand. You don't understand at all."

"Then make me understand!" his anger was mounting. The caller was becoming as annoying as a stone in a shoe. He could not believe that his dream had been interrupted all because of a senseless call. "Besides, why should I stay awake in the middle of the night to listen to your soap opera? I'm hanging up now."

"A threat has been made on my life. You have to come immediately. I don't want to die, Mr. Lucan, I don't want to die."

Lucan's eyes came instantly awake. This is serious, he thought. The man was evidently weeping.

"What's going on? Where are you?"

Then the man suddenly stopped weeping, his voice became sober. He seemed no more scared, and he spoke resignedly, "I'm afraid it may be too late for you to stop it. No, it's too late now. But you must come, you must come and investigate my death, Mr. Lucan, lest my spirit haunt you for the rest of your life."

"How would I get to you? I'm coming immediately, give me your address."

"You must come, you must come!"

The caller hanged up.

Lucan stared at the phone, he wouldn't have been more surprised if his father had called him and he really spoke with the Saint. He shook his head in wonderment. He checked the number again: 0781831608432. A very strange number indeed. He dialled the number and within seconds he heard what he had expected to hear:

The number you're trying to call does not exist, please check the number and try again. Thank you.

He scoffed in frustration. A number which does not exist had been used to call him. And the caller wasn't a ghost. Ghosts never died twice. But the man who had called him was scared of dying. Lucan was flummoxed at this, and his befuddled mind teemed with questions: Why would a strange man call me with a stranger number? Who is Chief Koko? How did he come about my phone number? Who are those threatening to kill him? All these questions threatened to capsize the fragile boat of his mental equilibrium. He walked around his room in the darkness. He switched on the light but it did not obey. A mouse had eaten through the insulation of a wire leading to the metre reader. He would have to do something about that in the day. He sat down in an armchair for a long time, his hands together in front of his face, fingertips to fingertips, eyes closed but not asleep, as if praying to some benign divinity for light along this darkened tunnel in his dome. But Lucan had long ago, albeit unwillingly, discounted the existence of any supernatural agency.

He was thinking, thinking really deeply.

Trying to find Chief Koko would be as tough as finding a needle in a keg of nails. But what Lucan wasn't aware of was that he was currently living behind the curtain which had fallen on the case of Chief Koko, and there was not just a window after the curtain but a whole new world of amazement beyond.

If he had had a lamp and a genie and one wish, he would have wished himself back to the dream he was having, where he was saving Amina Dasuntu from a burning building. But this mystery placed on his laps was more real than the magic of a hundred lamps, a thousand genii and a hundred thousand wishes.

The hooked atoms were engaging themselves so rapidly in Lucan's mind which set in motion events more baffling than his esteem.

CHAPTER 2

SUBMITTED BY FRANK3.16

A NEW DAY

The ray of light coming directly from the early morning sun almost blinded him when he opened his eyes. He quickly closed them again and shifted his head from the bright light. He looked down his laps; his cell phone was resting between his legs. He picked it up for the sole purpose of knowing what the time was.

7.10am

Lucan had slept off on his arm chair while trying to solve the mystery behind last night’s call. Yet his mind was still blank. Nothing seemed to make sense even up till this morning. He stood up from the chair and headed straight for the bathroom. His back ached from the stress of sitting for too long. He wasn’t used to waking up this late. Normally he would find himself awake at any time before 6.30am. Luckily he was on afternoon shift and wouldn’t need to hurry for work this morning.

He rinsed his mouth with a handful of water, washed his face and lazily walked back into his bedroom without bothering to clean himself with the hand towel that hung on the door. Like his father, Lucan doesn't see the need for a human sized mirror in his room. He doesn't know his father’s reason for not desiring a large mirror but Lucan’s reason was that it elicited the uncomfortable feeling of fear from him, especially at night. The fact was that due to his excess love for stories of mysterious events, Lucan had found out that mirrors could be used for diabolical purposes and the role it played in horror movies does not make it one of his favorite household materials. seeing his image in a big mirror usually makes him think he was with another person in the room. He therefore preferred using a hand size mirror.

The non desire for large mirror wasn’t the only thing Lucan shared with late Mr. Tommy Ode. Both father and son were almost the same height, only that Lucan was just 3inches taller than his father who was 5ft 3inches. Both have broad shoulders, thick pair of legs, light brown complexion and very hair body. An observer wouldn’t suggest that Lucan was an intelligent fellow at first sight. Normally the human eyes would display this trait but Lucan’s eyes were nothing but ordinary. The only special thing about them were his thick eye brows. His nose was small and pointed just as the one his mother had on the photos of her. He never knew her in person. Lucan knew that his main charm wasn’t his looks but his wits and power of conviction. You might not like him at first sight but you will love him after the first interaction.

He picked up the small mirror on his small dressing table. His face needed a shave. He looked around his room, it also needed some cleaning. Well, thank God that Tracy, his girlfriend will be coming around this morning, she will do the house cleaning for him. Speaking of girlfriend, didn’t Tracy give him a beautiful pink dairy last Xmas?

Where did I keep it?

Suddenly his cell phone rang. It was still on the arm chair. He looked at it, could this be the same mysterious caller who had succeeded in keeping his brain cells as busy as Victor Moses on the football pitch?

It was Jack, his former roommate.

“Hi Jack,” he spoke into the phone as he walked into the sitting room in search of the dairy which should be in his library.

“Morning wise one. When will you be leaving for work? I have a new runs I have to confirm today. It is very important.” Jack had stopped being Lucan’s roommate after he got married six months ago. Life had been somewhat lonely for Lucan since Jack left. But recently, Jack had resumed with his normal habit of womanizing and his former home had become his landing base. The 29year old young man who was just a year older than Lucan never ceased to amaze the intelligent police officer.

“Is that why you are calling me this Wednesday morning? Are you not at work?” Lucan replied as he scanned through the rows of books on his shelf. His back still ached; he might have a neck pain today.

“I will make out time for the runs at my break time, let’s say... by 1.30pm. Just drop the key for me.” Jack was the secretary to his boss in a Government organization.

“Aright, I will be leaving by 12pm; you will see the key in the normal place.”

He dropped the phone and stretched his right hand to pick the dairy. He had thought it would be of great use to him when it was given to him as a gift but he had quickly gotten tired of it and dropped it in his Library; a large space where he had built his shelf for his numerous books. This was his favorite spot in his one bedroom apartment. Of course the next was his bed.

078… what country has this code, he thought as he flipped through the pages.

Nothing

Chief Koko… where could you be? Are you dead or alive? Why did you call me with a strange unreachable number?

This strange man had called him for help and right now the only desire he had was just to ensure that he could be of help to the poor soul. He looked around his sitting room helplessly; the lack of answers to this puzzle was about to make his mind explode. He wasn’t sure of how he would feel if anything happened to the strange Chief Koko. He felt responsible for the man’s life, besides it wouldn’t be funny if the poor soul haunts him for not solving the mystery, it could also blame him for his death. He might not believe in ghosts but this soul promised him of its return to haunt him.

The door bell rang and he dropped the dairy and walked up to the door. He was already sure that it was Tracy on the other side. He could do with her presence which was a sure way to relieve tension and relax his brain.

He opened the door and allowed her to come in.

She was the love of his life.

She was wearing a black sleeveless gown he had never seen on her before. It was tight enough to reveal her lovely feminine figure and it flowed from the top stopping just above her knees. What he had for the model he was about to rescue in his dream last night was lust but what he felt now was love.

The first time he had met her was 3 months ago at a gathering where he was being appreciated for his role in solving a complex and impossible murder case. She was with the press. She had approached him when he was alone to let him know how she felt about his feat.

She was beautiful and he knew that she wasn’t the type that would want to date a police officer. Such ladies believed police officers were not romantic and know nothing but aggression and bullying. But something stronger than how she felt for cops had drawn her to him and he wasn’t going to let her go. It turned out that he was right, she didn’t like cops but she liked him.

“Mnnn, still in boxer, I bet you haven’t even brushed your teeth.” She said as she walked into the sitting room. He loved the shape her lips made whenever she talked. The red lips were almost the shape of Angelina Jolie’s and fitted perfectly on her oval face. Her eyes never ceased to amaze him.

Why?

At first glance they might look small but when she decides to open them wide (which she always does) they turn out like those of Cinderella, the cartoon character. She was almost his height and a little bit darker in complexion. She might not be as beautiful as Alicia Keys but they sure have the same head shape. Such head would fit any hair style a woman would put on.

“I woke up late.”

“That’s no excuse; do you know what time it is?” she replied as she turned around to face him. He was still at the door and enjoying the view of her behind. She liked him for such kind of stares.

“Well, I am not doing anything with time, at least not yet.” He replied as he looked at the time on his cell phone, 9.58pm. “Nice dress you’ve got there. But why are u all dressed up and with a body language that says ‘I was just passing by and decided to check on you’. What happened to coming around to stay with me before I leave for work?”

“You like it?” she asked and smiled, then she turned around, “I just bought it yesterday, I knew you would like it.”

He ignored her, “take a look around you, my room needs some cleaning.”

“And your face needs some shaving.” She replied and headed for the TV. “I didn’t dress like this for work; I actually dress for you to see. But I got a call from my boss this morning asking me to join the team somewhere. Something came up.” She looked around, he finger barely touching the TV’s power button, “Sorry you room will be taken care of another day.”

The television screen came up as she switched it on. The newscaster was saying something about a burning house.

Tracy suddenly became excited, “this is the reason why my boss called me this morning, I need to be there to help out my mates.”

“What’s that?” he asked as he concentrated on the blazing house, then he remembered the dream he was having before the strange call woke him up. “Was there a model in that building?” he asked, wondering what was really going on.

“What model? Where did you get that from? Well, that house belongs to a certain Chief Koko, his wife and son were burnt to ashes, nobody has any idea of what caused the fire neither does anybody have the knowledge of Chief Koko’s where about.”

He felt a bitter taste in his mouth. He wanted to blame the Chief for calling him with a number that could not be reachable, but then, he still felt guilty. He felt responsible.

And he felt challenged. Challenge was the greatest motivation that drives him to ensure that he finds answers to impossible cases.

Where could Chief Koko be? Is he still alive?

Well, he will start by going to the already burnt down Koko mansion, a clue to solving this case must be somewhere around there.

Suddenly his cell phone rang and he quickly looked at the caller ID. His boss.

“Good morning Sir” he saluted, wondering why his boss would be calling him.

“Officer Ode, Where are you right now?” The caller asked in an authoritative voice.

Lucan felt a more bitter taste in his mouth. Everything about the call sounded like trouble.

“I am at home Sir”

“Come straight to the headquarters immediately. Chief Koko’s body was found dead in a hotel room. Come and tell me what your name and phone number was doing on a piece of paper found near the dead body.”

Lucan wanted to ask if Chief Koko’s cell phone was found in the murder scene but call had already been cut off. His legs felt weak. He was more concerned that Chief Koko who had called him for help was now dead than the fact that his boss sounded like he was in trouble.

He stretched his back, the pain was subsiding. Today was definitely going to be a busy day.

CHAPTER THREE
WOLF
SUBMITTED BY REDMOSQUITO


Chief Koko is the perfect undiluted personification of corruption, corruption so bad that even Abacha looked saintly beside him. Chief Koko has one wife and one son, legally of course. But infact he has up to twelve sugar-girls, seven concubines, eleven ashewos, eight bit*ches, and more children than I can bother to mention. He is like an African Lion, he has a lot of female suggies, but he's only just a one minute man.

He is a high-profile senator, he got the position through rigging and kept that position for up to ten years now, through continuous rigging. But now, fate has caught up with him and he is dead.
His house is burnt down, his many bodyguards too were found in the building along with his wife and son, burnt to ashes all of them.

9:10 a.m, Police Station area G command,

Lucan stands before his boss, sweating and shaking, he knows nothing about this crime yet his name and phone number were found beside Chief Koko’s body. Oh! Did I forget to mention? Chief Koko was found dead today in a hotel, the same one he has lodged in so many times with his many babes. The hotel management heard some thrashings and bangings in his room, but they didn’t bother to investigate. Who can blame them? Chief Koko has a history of getting wild with his ladies in bed, so such noises are a usual part of his sexual frenzy. Rubbish old man. Thank God say death done catch am.

Chief Koko was found this morning, dead, his mouth stuffed with naira and dollar notes, some sort of symbols were cut into his fat exposed belly, his man*hood was found floating in the toilet sink, his eyes were open even in death, he probably witnessed the last moment of his mutilations.

And beside his body was a small piece of white rough paper, nothing special about it, except that on it was scribbled the name and phone number of a common police officer, Officer Lucan Ode.

Officer Lucan stands before Mr Ibe, his boss, a stout man, of round girth, bald head, and this strange twitch in the left corner of his upper lip that always gets real bad when he gets vexed or worried, as he is now.

“Luke! Look here Luke!”, Mr Ibe said to Lucan, trying to keep his voice low. He always calls Lucan “Luke”. And Lucan doesn’t seem to mind, he’s his boss. Mr Ibe paused a while before continuing.

“Luke! Do you know what this means to us? The police force? You’re a well decorated man of this force! Of this Academy! Do you know what this means to us? To me?”

Lucan shifts his gaze from left to right as he stands before his boss, he has nothing to fear, he’s innocent of course, he’s innocent. But that doesn’t mean anything, he is now a suspect in this murder case, whether anybody likes it or not, and he is now scared for himself.

“Sir! I …. I am confused….innocent! I don’t know what it……I …..”, Lucan stammers and his voice later breaks away into silence as he chokes on his own words.

Mr Ibe puts one hand to his head and rubs his bald scalp.

“Luke! Of course you’re innocent! I know that. But you know protocol, you must be investigated and probed. I believe you, I want you to know that. Whoever did this we’re gonna get them and they’re gonna pay big time! But as for now, you just have to play by the rules of the law!”, Mr Ibe smiled a sad smile as he said this words to young Lucan.

Lucan turns his gaze to the floor, he can actually feel fear gripping his heart, confusion, anger. Who wants to do this to me? Why me? I’m just a simple police officer!

Lucan is just being modest, he is no mere Police Officer, he is something far more, something far more important. He has earned the respect and envy and hate of eighty percent of the police detectives in Lagos, he solved a murder case so easily, everyone thought he was there himself. The dexterity with which he solved it, that is what has landed him in this mess, although he does not know it.

Lucan puts his hands to his shoulder, pulls at the uniform, removes his badge and drops it on Mr Ibe’s table. Mr Ibe nods at this act, and lets off another sad smile as Lucan walks out of his office. Lucan walked into that office a Police officer, and now he walks out a suspended Police Officer, like gun absent bullet he now is.

***************************
9:10 a.m ,At Lucan’s apartment.
Something sinister is going on, something subtle and evil is taking place, an evil boy lurks in the shade of this small house.

The boy stands at the corner of Lucan’s apartment, right beside the trash bin. And then he smiles as he drops something into the bin, a yellow card, a trapezoid card, a sim card.

And then he walks away smiling, a hood over his head.

Ayodele walks into his hostel some minutes later, he sways timidly like a geek, his hood shyly put over his small head.

Ayodele is a 300 level student, quite bookish and nerdy. He has zero social life, and always has very good grades, really good grades.

He walks towards his room door, pulls out a spare key from his back pocket, and pushes the head of the key into the keyhole, not the tail as should be done.

He pushes the door open, looks about his dirty room, food all over the place, Mathematics books all over the floor, books on Murder, Law, Love, Death, Genghis khan, Greek Science, Spirituality and all the likes litter the place along with boxers, some pieces of bread, lots of dull coloured clothes and other boy stuffs.

That’s the good thing about private hostels, anybody can afford and maintain a room that is solely his, as long as he has the dough.
He steps to one side of the room, pushes away some stiff boxers to reveal an old battered laptop.

He raises the laptop, presses the ON button, waits a while and then begins to surf the worldwide web, he smiles as he looks over the FOREX statistics of the day, his business is going smoothly, he has made some few thousand dollars today.

He pushes the laptop aside, grabs a sit and seats himself, pulling open his cupboard door, he reveals a series of photos. He grabs a handful of them and begins to flick past. These are pictures of Lucan, these pictures are taken in different locations and different time, one shows Lucan in bed, another shows him brushing his teeth, another shows him in his office, in one he is standing beside a lovely-looking lady, probably his girlfriend. But Ayodele seems to be more interested in one picture, one of a mutilated girl surrounded by some sort of vegetation, not up to twelve years of age she is.

That picture is the same picture that earned Officer Lucan his name, that picture is the same reason he, Ayodele Bolaji, is after Officer Lucan. That picture is the same reason he wants to meddle with this man.

Ayodele looks at this picture for some time, frowns and the throws the stack of photographs back into the cupboard. Before he closes his eyes in his seat, slipping into the world of dreams, a small pistol dangling from his right hand as he sleeps.

CHAPTER FOUR

CIRCLE OF VENGEANCE

SUMBITTED BY EFEMENA_XY


Enoh stared blankly at the wall ahead of her. Her eyes were swollen, puffy and red from crying. She had cried so much she felt completely drained and without a spare drop left within her to shed anymore, not even if she wanted to. Wiping her tear stained cheeks with the back of her hands, she wondered for the umpteenth time, where she had gone wrong. She had done everything within her will power to make things work but it seemed her efforts were all in vain. She had suspected, known intuitively for some time – call it sixth sense – that things were gradually coming apart at the seams, but she couldn’t prove it. Not a thing …until today. Heavens knew she had tried, oh she had! But a leopard they say, never changes its spots, she acknowledged bitterly.

Patience and perseverance. She hated those words with a passion … those same words that had been drummed into her since childhood, her teenage years and even now, as a newly married woman. Yes, she was still a newly wed, wasn’t she? Six months by her standards was still…or rather ought to be, the honeymoon period for newly weds, or so she thought.

She glanced at the pile of clothes neatly stacked in a corner of the room. Strewn carelessly beside them on the floor were some loose bits of change, receipts, scraps of paper adorned with hastily scrawled writings, cigarette lighters, and anything and everything under the sun that could possibly fit into them. He had an annoying habit of leaving his bits and bobs behind. Nothing out of the ordinary, except this time, nothing, absolutely nothing had prepared her for the shock of her discovery.

A few feet away from his bits and pieces scattered carelessly on the floor, lay the two offending items. Items which she regarded with the utmost disgust…the cause of her grief, yet which strengthened her resolve to exact her pound of flesh, ounce for ounce in sweet revenge. She had felt something soft and rubbery which squelched alarmingly in her hands, while upturning his pockets. She had drawn her breath sharply at the sight of two used condoms in her palms, and had quickly dropped them onto the floor, almost as though her palms had been scalded with a piece of hot iron.

Jack’s laundry can wait, she thought venomously as she pulled back the chair from underneath her desk, sat on it and angrily logged onto the net. The others were already there and waiting.

"When a woman wants money more than love, coffers empty and coffins fill…Mrs Enoh Etim"

She sat back and smiled at what she had typed. Within seconds, five (5) smileys and thumbs-up emoticons acknowledged her quote of the day.

**********************************************************************************

Susanna lay curled up in bed, handset clutched closely to her ear as she laughed heartily at the joke made by the caller at the other end of the line.

“You, my dear Suleman, are one very sick man” she grinned cheekily.

“Ah, but you’ve got to have a level of er…sickness in you, to do the sort of job I do m’lady”, he responded heartily. “Besides, talk about pots calling kettles black”, he chided her.

“Uh…huh…I’ll concede to that”, she agreed. “I guess I’m just as sick as you, we’re both sick…but tell me, what gruesome mysteries have you had to unravel today?” she asked.

“Nothing half as gory as you’d like ma’am. Nor anything uniquely out of the ordinary of late – seems like people are dying more from natural causes than ever.”

“Ah, that’s a shame Dr Suleman. I think I’m quite disappointed in you today”, she added.

“Short of me grabbing ‘em off the streets and killing them mysteriously, there’s little I can do. That’s one of the disadvantages of being at the bottom of the pecking order my sweet lady”.

“Humph!” She snorted. “What about that new sensational case that’s been in the news?” she asked. “You know, the one about that senator found dead in a hotel room, while the burnt out bodies of his wife and son were found in his mansion?”

“That’s classified information and you know it! I could loose my job if I discuss that with you, especially as investigations are still underway”, he chided. “You know that anyway m’lady”.

“Ah! But you underestimate yourself again”, she playfully scolded him. “You know as well as I do that they need you more than you need them”.

Susanna was so fascinated with death that she had the local mortician Dr Suleman Ajoke, on speed dial. Suleman was a brilliant mortician and his oddly weird but passionate love for dead bodies and investigating the cause of death, made him a natural in his chosen field of profession. He was more than good; he was the very best and being at the top end of his career, he had proven times without number, to be an indispensable asset to the police department. It was rare to find a woman who shared his passion with equal fervour and times without number; he had often felt that had she not already been married, they both would have been the perfect match made in heaven.

“Yes, you are right as ever my sweet lady”, he drawled “but I’ve got to love you and leave you now as duty calls”, he added.

“Yeah, I’ve got to get off the line too”, she added regretfully. “Nonetheless, take care and don’t be a stranger”.

“I won’t m’lady. Take care too”, he replied blowing her a kiss before cutting off the line.

Susanna smiled contentedly to herself as she got off the bed and casually strolled over to the brightly polished mahogany desk at the corner of the room. Sitting comfortably at her desk, she unlocked her laptop which had been in energy saving mode. Logging into the chat room she typed her quote for the day.

"Prim and proper wives harbour deadly secrets…Mrs Susanna Ibe."

Just like Enoh, she too sat back and smiled at what she had typed and within a few seconds, five (5) smileys and thumbs-up emoticons also acknowledged her quote of the day.

********************************************************************

Click! Click! Click!

The shutters of the fast moving digital camera moved in quick succession.

“No, place your hands on the ledge above you. Yes, that’s it…”

Click! Click!

“Now throw your head back and hug the wall…No! Make it real baby, seduce me, seduce the camera!” he interjected irritably. “You’ve got to make it real baby girl, let me feel your flow, throw your head backwards like this..” He demonstrated, adopting an effeminate pose.

Amina couldn’t help smiling at him. Rotimi a.k.a Ricardo as he preferred to be called was the very epitome of gayness defined. He made no bones about it and was proud to flaunt his stuff to anyone who cared to watch. She had known him for many years and being one of the most sought after photographers in the fashion business, he certainly knew his stuff. It was widely acclaimed that he had the talent to bring a seemingly, boring lifeless image to life. He had first discovered Amina on her way home from school those many years ago and knew from the moment he laid eyes on the tall waiflike teenager that she had the hidden potential to become a mega star. A super model. And his predictions had turned out to be true.

However, it took more than just good looks to make it out in the cut throat, jungle of the fashion business. Any aspiring model needed to have a god father with the right connections in the right places, with an equally deep and fathomless pocket to go with it. It was a hard lesson which Amina learnt very early on in her career…especially if she wanted to climb the slippery ladder to success. There had been powerful men in her life: Senators, politicians, multi-millionaire business men, to name a few, and she discovered that emotion and business never made a good cocktail when mixed. She had been forced to make a couple of hard choices, one of which involved giving up the love of her life in order to pursue her career, she recalled bitterly. She was aware that as long as she retained her youthful looks, she was marketable. Men desired her for her looks; she needed them for her aspirations to climb up to success. It was a hard fact of life that she had learnt to deal with as coolly, calmly and professionally as she could.

“Caress it! Caress it! Make love to it, rub your body sensually along it baby!!” Ricardo’s high pitched voice broke her reverie and snapped her back to reality. She grimaced but turned her back to Ricardo to do his bidding, clinging to the makeshift wall as though she were hanging on for dear life. She rubbed her voluptuous curves teasingly from side to side, against the wall, anything to stop him from getting worked up into a frenzy, she thought.

“That’s it, that’s it baby girl!”

Click…click…click…click

“Now turn around and look into the camera! Be sexy! Be sexy mami! Make love to it!”

Amina felt like a puppet pulled by strings as she complied with his demands.

“Okay, that’s it for today. Well done babes.”

Phew! Finally! She thought in exhaustion, as she slumped gratefully into a nearby chair. The day had seemed especially long and Ricardo in abnormally high spirits. Her body ached, from the two hour slave driven session he had subjected her to, and she wondered ruefully if he had changed his supplier of coke as he appeared to be more strung out than usual. She absently rubbed her tired feet. She was grateful for the black leggings she wore which hid her slightly swollen, yet throbbing ankles. Several sachets of ice packs and a couple of frozen bags of peas placed on them earlier, had worked wonders. She dared not show Ricardo her injury as questions were bound to be asked. Questions she wanted to avoid by all means as she was only too aware that the fewer people who knew she had been in the burning house, the better. She had been fortunate enough to make a lucky escape from the conflagrant mansion unnoticed, and she intended to keep it that way.

“You did good sweet heart”, he said in a calmer tone as he kissed the top of her head before sauntering out of the studio. “See you again, same time tomorrow – and don’t be late this time!”

“I won’t be”, she reassured his disappearing back, thankful to see the last of him for the day.

Picking up her robe from the armrest, she slowly went back to her dressing room. Once there, behind closed doors, she switched on her desktop and logged on to the net, typing her quote of the day:

“Seductive charm may mask lethal intentions. A woman’s charm can be hard to resist but her deceit is impossible to escape…Miss Amina Dasuntu.”

Seconds later, five smileys and thumbs-up emoticons popped up on her screen, acknowledging her quote of the day.

**************************************************************************

Back at her desk, Tracy picked up the file that had been lying on her desk. Within it was a memo addressed to her, detailing what was expected of her, task wise within her team. Her boss had dropped the request off on her table shortly after summoning her back to the office.

She had planned to spend the morning with Lucan, but obviously her head of department had other plans for her. The mysterious death of the unfortunate Chief Koko and the demise of his wife and child had created sensational news and was all over town. This was the sort of stuff that sold papers. It had all the explosive ingredients needed – politics, money, power, scandal and fame. A toxic mix which was bound to cause a few heads to roll as the days went by, she was certain of that.

She had not had time to discuss the case with Lucan as he had been in a hurry to leave home shortly after speaking to his boss on the phone. She knew him well enough to know that all was not well, from the worried expression he had on his face. Nevertheless, he would tell her in good time, when he got back home…she was sure of that.

Not that she needed him to tell her anyway, she already knew what was going on behind the scenes - infact, more than he could ever fathom. Smiling secretly to herself, she unlocked her desktop and logged on to the net, going straight to the blinking online chat room.

“Our insatiable greed destroys livelihoods and lives…Tracy Oluwami.”

Nothing. No response nor acknowledgement received. She looked closely at the members present. Yes, they were there, all five of them online – so why the silence? She wondered to herself.

She typed her quote of the day again. One agonizing minute later, five smileys and thumb-up emoticons popped up on her screen. She exhaled her breadth in relief. She had unknowingly held it for the full minute, heart thumping wildly against her chest as she had awaited their responses.

********************************************************************************

While Enoh, Susanna, Amina and Tracy watched their screens closely, a final deadly message appeared, in slow motion:

“Hate filled children take the ultimate revenge…[size=14pt]The One, Madam K. [/size]”

***********************************************************************

Lucan sat in his car outside the police station deflated. There were so many questions swarming through his mind, questions he had no immediate answers to. He was aware he was being set up for a crime he knew nothing about, but the question was why? Who could hate him so much as to frame him for such an atrocity? Oh yes, there were people out there, perpetrators of heinous crimes now safely behind bars thanks to him, that probably wanted him off the face of the earth….but that was normal though, wasn't it? One of the downsides of being a police officer – and a good one at that.

No, this wasn't some random criminal out there, with old scores to settle after him. His gut feeling told him it was much closer to home. Someone who was probably a lot closer to him than he aware of and the realisation made the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end. For some inexplicable reason, he felt he was being watched, his every movement being monitored. There was definitely more to this than met the eyes, and he had to tread with caution here.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he recalled the dream he had last night. Now he wasn't an overtly superstitious person but it was highly unlikely that a mere dream would transcend from the realms of fantasy into the world of reality. He must have been there, but how? How did he get there and even more baffling, how did he get out? Did he receive a knock on the head? Was he suffering from amnesia? Temporary memory loss, perhaps?

He reached into his trouser pocket and whipped out his phone. Time to call in a few favours, he thought to himself as he punched out a number on the keypad and listened to the dialling tone patiently.

“Hello?” enquired a deep, timbre rich voice at the other end of the line.

“David, my guy…long time”, he greeted.

“Ah! Lucan bros!” the other voice lightened up in excitement on recognizing his friend’s voice. “So you finally remembered me eh? How’ve you been keeping man?” he asked cheerfully.

“Man, I’m in one big pile of $h!t and it’s getting bigger by the moment.”

“What is it bros?” David enquired. “Level with me man”, he persuaded.

“Two words. Senator Koko”.

“Ah! You’ve been dropped right in that $h!t then?” he asked as the realization dawned on him that his friend was being set up.

“Yeah man. We’ve got to meet. Boss’s got my badge and weapon. I’m on suspended leave as we speak right now.”

“No problem. Your place or mine?”

“Yours”, he responded as he remembered his ex-flat mate and friend Jack Etim, had called earlier that morning informing him that he would be using his flat for his latest “runz” as he so eloquently put it, by 12noon. Sometimes, Jack really did baffle him. Newly married to one of the most beautiful ladies ever, and yet barely six months later, was back on the game as though he were still wild and free. But that wasn’t his problem. He had more pressing concerns on his mind right now which needed to be sorted out.

“Half an hour okay by you?” he asked his friend.

“Sure. See you then man”, David confirmed before the line clicked dead.

David Akporodia was one of Lucan’s closet friends. Their friendship went as far back as their primary school days. Both had similar career aspirations and had opted to join the police force. David however, was more of a non-combat-behind-the-desk sort of officer, choosing to work behind the scenes; while Lucan on the other hand preferred to be on the beat, spending most of his working days out in the open, away from the confines of stringent office rules and thankfully, in a job that did have some element of combat / physical activities.

David was a brilliant lab technician with the forensic department and many a time, his astute abilities and insight had helped Lucan unravel complex and seemingly unsolvable mysterious cases. He instinctively knew that if anyone could help make sense of the mind boggling perplexity that threatened to consume him, it would be no one other than his friend David. Turning on the ignition switch, he slipped in his favourite R’n B track to calm his frayed nerves, as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the main road.

Thirty minutes later, he pulled up in front of a well tended set of duplex buildings, boasting of rich greenery and well tended gardens, even in the middle of the harsh November dry season. Turning off the ignition switch, he picked up his jacket as he stepped out the car, carefully locking it before heading towards David’s home. His friend having heard Lucan pull up at the driveway, was already at the front door waiting to receive him. They shook hands and clasped each other warmly in greeting as they both walked back into his home.

“Good to see you man.” David greeted.

“Yeah, you too man.”

Lucan smiled at his friend, as they both walked in after David closed the front door behind them. His home was neat and tidy… a bit too neat for a bachelor. But then again, David had always been a cleanliness freak, unlike his friend. Lucan grimaced inwardly as he recalled the tip he’d left his flat in that morning as Tracy had declined cleaning it up for him, and he had been in a rush to get to the office after his superintendent boss, Mr Ibe, had summoned him. Oh well, Jack would just have to make do with his flat the way it was, and hopefully, clean it up once he was done with his “runz” – another faceless girl, no doubt.

Lucan declined his friend’s offer of a drink, opting instead to have a glass of water as he sat down at David’s table, covered with sheets of paper. His friend no doubt had probably been working when he called him on the phone, even on his day off.

“Okay, hit me with it. What’ve you got?” David asked him.

“Right, now here’s the thing. I get this weird dream I’m in a burning building alone. Not sure how I got there, but as I try to escape, there’s this beautiful damsel in distress - a well known celebrity model.”

“Uh..huh” David nodded, encouraging him to go on.

“But just as I’m about to rescue her, I wake up and find myself back at my own pad. Now it turns out that I had been woken up by a strange number and a caller – Chief Koko. I’m asked to investigate his impending death and the number I was called by doesn’t even exist. Not traceable.”

“No number is untraceable Lucan”, his friend interjects. “But continue please…”

“There’s not much else to it, man. That’s about it.”

“Okay, but did you get any visitors, telephone calls perhaps?”

Lucan frowned slightly, his thick eyebrows nearly touching each other as he recalled the morning’s events.

“Not really. My girl Tracy came over to see me. Was planning on spending the morning with me but got called back to work by her boss. Then I get called or rather ordered by an irate Mr Ibe to bring my backside straight to the office. The rest as you know is history.”

David remained silent for a couple of minutes, mulling over the information Lucan had just given him.

“What are you thinking of man?” Lucan pressed him, when he couldn’t bear the silence any longer.

“Have you been back to your flat since then?” David asked him.

“No.”

“Okay, here are my thoughts on this. Please don’t take it the wrong way man. I’ve had my suspicions in the past but that’s what they’ve only ever been. Didn’t want to alarm you then, but going by what you’ve told me, it’s all beginning to make sense to me.”

“What is, man?” Lucan could feel his impatience with his friend brimming to the surface.

“Tracy.”

“WHAT??!!”

“You heard me. Tracy”, his friend repeated.

“What the frigging hell are you on about??!!” Lucan exploded.

“Think about it” his friend replied calmly. “You probably know as well as I do that you’re being set up by someone really close to you, someone with some inside information on your activities.”

“You high on cheap crack or something David?” his friend asked angrily.

“There’s also been rumours going around the office that the Boss’s got the hots for your girl. At the time, I just put it down to idle gossip and nothing more” he continued, as though he hadn’t heard Lucan. “Plus we all know that the boss is no angel nor has no qualms to supplementing his impending retirement funds. With an expensive wife as his, one wonders where he gets the money from to fund her excesses, especially as she doesn’t work”, he added.

Lucan had suddenly gone still, listening attentively to his friend. Crazy as it sounded, he could see the logic in David’s line of thought.

“You’ve proven time without number that you’re one hell of an upright police officer, one who knows his beans and is on top of his game. Chief Koko had his fingers in every pie of corruption, plus a long list of enemies, a list longer than the Mile 2 highway itself. Now the way I see it, our boss must have had some dealings with Chief Koko, something went wrong along the line and to cover his a$$, decided it was best to frame you for it…rather than taking the risk of you exposing him.”

“That’s pure madness man! But what has all of this got to do with Tracy?” he asked, not really wanting to know the answer, even though he’d already guessed what David’s response would be.

“One word, man. Informant.”

Lucan sighed in resignation. “So, I’m just a mere pawn in the game of chess here”, he added.

“Yes.” David conceded. “But somehow, I think that this is just the beginning of a long nightmare for you my friend. There is a lot more to this than meets the eye. This is where you’ve got to get your act together and find out what’s really going on, man. You’ve gotta beat them at their own game, else you’ll be going down for a very long time.”

Those words rang in his mind over and over again as he drove back to his flat. Jack had better be done with his runz by the time he got back, he thought grimly. If Tracy was indeed involved with Mr Ibe in this, then they must have an accomplice with them. Someone who had planted the “evidence” of his “guilt” at the scene of the crime. He most certainly was going to find that out, and find out, he must.

He had agreed to meet up with David later that evening, hopefully with a bit more information or clues to the jigsaw puzzle he found himself in.

The net was closing in on him and he had to act fast.

*************************************************

Back at his flat a couple of hours later, he lay on his back staring at the ceiling, with a plan slowly forming in his mind. It was a long shot in the dark but what other choice did he have? If he managed to pull this off, it might put him one step ahead of his detractors. He picked up his phone and switched it on. He had deliberately switched it off earlier. Three missed calls, all from Tracy. He decided to call her back.

“Hello babes”, he forced himself to sound cheerful, on hearing her voice at the other end of the line.

“Lucan! Where’ve you been man? I tried calling you a couple of times, but each time it went straight to you voicemail. Did you get any of my messages?” she asked.

“Sorry babes, my battery bailed out on me. I’ve just fully charged it and am returning your calls.”

“Ah! That’s okay then”, she replied, sounding relieved. “So how did it go at the office today with your boss?” she inquired.

“Nothing much, I’ve been taken off duty pending further investigations”, he replied dryly.

“You’ve been suspended??!!” she asked incredulously. “Why??”

Lucan smiled grimly to himself. She had unknowingly bitten the bait and fallen for his trap. He never mentioned the word suspended to her.

“I’ll tell you all about it when you come over this evening”

“I can’t. I’m working. There’s a lot going on with the Koko case that my head of department wants me to get good coverage on.”

Lucan sighed deeply into the phone. “Babes, you know how much I love my job. Being taken off duty is killing me slowly here. I don’t wanna go down the depression path babes. Stay with me tonight babes, I need you”, he pleaded. “Bring your laptop along with you too. I promise I’ll be as quiet as a mouse while you work”, he added.

Tracy hesitated and Lucan capitalized on it. “I’ll even cook you dinner too”, he persuaded.

“Okay. You’ve got me. I’ll be there by seven o’clock”.

“Make it six. I don’t wanna be alone.”

She chuckled on hearing that. “Okay then, six o’clock it is”, she relented. “Boy but you are one persuasive guy, I tell you”, she added jokingly.

“Deal. See you then” he replied, before cutting off the call.

Lucan glanced at his watch. 1700 hours. He had an hour to get ready for Tracy’s visit. He picked up his car keys and headed for the door. He looked back at his messy flat and scowled. It’ll have to wait. Right now, there was something he had to do before her arrival.

****************************************************
Exactly one hour later, he heard a soft knock at his door. Swinging the door open, he beheld the sight of his girl looking more stunning than he’d ever seen her. Her low cut dress showed off her shapely curves in a way that really turned him on.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she gave him long slow kiss on the lips.

“Hello baby”, she greeted him.

“Hmmm. You look delicious ma’am” he responded, looking at her approvingly. She really was a temptress, but he had to stay focused tonight, of all nights. “I just might have you for dinner instead, Tracy”.

She laughed coyly at his joke as she walked into his flat as he closed the door behind her. “Uh…uh…not so fast tiger”, she admonished him. “Remember I’ve got lots of work to do first? And besides, judging by the smell of what’s coming out from your kitchen, looks like I’m in for a real treat tonight”

He smiled at her observation. “Yes, baby girl…and I”, he added placing his palm on his chest, “am a man of my words. I promise to be as quite as a mouse while you work, and would wine and dine you once you’re through, baby.”

“Ah! And who says chivalry died with the twenty first century man, eh?” She joked as she placed her laptop casing on his table, unzipped it and proceeded to set up her laptop on his desk.

“Probably a concept from some frustrated, die hard feminist, perhaps?” he joked.

“Ha! Careful there Lucan, I love feminists. Nevertheless, what magic have you worked on your flat today? It’s so clean, I almost didn’t recognize it. Was beginning to think I’d stepped into the wrong flat or something” she added, as she sat down at his desk and switched on her laptop.

He adopted the most pained expression he could muster. “Tracy, Tracy, you break my heart woman. You really do!”

She laughed heartily at his joke. “I do apologize, most kind sir”, she teased.

“Apology accepted ma’am. But seriously, I’m glad you’re here with me tonight. Thanks for dropping by” he added.

“No need to thank me Lucan. I’m glad I could make it, to spend the night with you too.”

Two hours later, seated at David’s desk, Lucan watched his friend closely as he hacked into Tracy’s laptop.

“ I've just got to admit it, but you are good at this” he said in admiration, as his friend gained access to the contents of Tracy’s hard drive. “Ever thought of changing careers? Maybe becoming a professional hacker or something?” he teased.

“Nah, I'm conservative enough to prefer having a regular day time job. Besides, the excitement would kill me off in a couple of years.”

Lucan smiled dryly at his friend’s joke.

“You still haven’t told me how you managed to prise off the dragon lady’s laptop from her though”, David asked, with fingers flying madly over the keypads.

“Let’s just say the combined effect of a well prepared meal laced with a couple of sleeping pills has got her sleeping like a baby”, Lucan stated unemotionally. “She’ll be completely out of it for a good couple of hours. Besides, that girl works too damn hard for her own good. T’is better she sleeps it off.”

David grunted in response. Suddenly he sat up excitedly in his seat.

“Lucan, is Tracy a member of any chat forum?” he asked.

“No, none that I'm aware of, why?”

“Take a look at this”, he asked pushing the laptop slightly towards Lucan.

Lucan bent forwards, peering at the screen in front of him. “The Avengers…what’s that all about?”

“Not sure, but looking at the chat history, I’ll say this is an all female forum, or at least, this thread is” he said, as he scrolled through the chat history. “What do you notice?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary…a couple of idle women having a good moan about their lot?” he asked, slightly bored.

“No man, look closely”, David prodded him. “Look at their names and tell me what they all seem to have in common.”

“Holy $h!t!!!” Lucan suddenly exclaimed. “I’ll be damned!!”

“Exactly.” David nodded in agreement. “This seems to be an association of highly vexed and pissed off women - women who are well connected. The name ‘Avengers’ says it all”, he added. “Enoh Etim…that’s Jack’s wife, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Lucan acknowledged. “Let me guess, she’s found out about Jack’s escapades or runz as he chooses to call it.”

“Spot on. Now look at the next name there. Amina Dasuntu. Well known celebrity, often spotted on the arms of Senator, Chief Koko. No need to guess she must have been one of his numerous spurned lovers.”

“With a good motive to finish him off”, Lucan added.

“Exactly.” David read out the next name on the list. “Susanna Ibe.”

“The boss’s wife?” Lucan asked in amazement? “How does she fit into this?”

David studied his friend for a full minute before replying quietly. “Same scenario as Jack’s wife”, he added. “Probably found out that your Tracy’s doing a number on her man, but unfortunately, Tracy isn't aware that Susanna’s in on her game.”

Lucan immediately felt a sense of foreboding descend on him. His mouth suddenly went dry as he struggled to voice out his words. “If that’s the case, then why on earth is Tracy on that forum to start with? What’s there for her to be peeved about? The other women there have good reasons for theirs, but Tracy?”

David had been scrolling down the chat thread while Lucan spoke. Suddenly he stopped, eyes widening at what he read.

“Lucan. Tracy’s life is danger. She’s been marked for extinction.”





A minute later, both friends had dashed out of the house, sprinting towards Lucan’s car as though running for dear life. Once in, Lucan kicked started the engine and sped off like a demented soul, foot firmly pressed down on the accelerator as they both raced back to his flat.

David seat belt securely fastened, began to explain his logic to Lucan.

“Each of those women had a quote against their names. Now to the ordinary eye, they appear to be harmless inspirational quotes of the day, but they aren’t. Those are barely veiled threats of what they intend to do. For each quote made, an acknowledgement from the other members was received within five seconds. A kind of ‘sisterhood pact’, he explained.

“But Tracy’s wasn’t acknowledged within the five second time frame. She must have known something was amiss hence she typed it in again. A full minute passed before she received her acknowledgement, meaning she’s been marked.” David added.

“Yes, but that doesn’t explain the last quote from The One, or rather Madam K.” Lucan injected.

“We’re yet to establish who or what Madam K is. Suffice to say, that person appears to be the matron, the driving force behind those women. Someone extremely powerful and well connected. Tracy, boss Ibe and a mysterious third part were used to set you up. At the same time, Ibe and Tracy are both being set up too.”

“Lucan, there’s one more bit. A key holder to the entire mystery…there is a silent player in all this. Remember for each quote sent by the girls, five acknowledgements were received. So far, we know of Enoh, Susanna, Tracy, Amina and Madam K. Who is the fifth person?”

Lucan clenched the steering wheel in a deathlike grip, while he gritted his teeth in frustration. “Whoever is behind this, all of this… is one clever and devious person” he acknowledged.

“Yes. You, Tracy and Boss Ibe are mere pawns in a deadly game of chess here.”




Two minutes later, both friends were bounding up the stairs to Lucan’s flat. On reaching the front door, they discovered it was unlocked and slightly ajar. A feeling of dread descended on Lucan as he kicked the door open and rushed inside, straight to the bedroom. Tracy’s lifeless body lay on the bed, looking peaceful, as though she were just sleeping. As though from a far distance, Lucan heard his voice cry out in pain, as he gathered her towards him, clasping her tightly to his chest as he wept uncontrollably.

CHAPTER FIVE

HUNTED

SUBMITTED BY MAZI_OMENUKO

Lucan was locked up at the police cell after he and David called in the murder and made an official statement.

He was now a full-blown suspect in a series of murder cases, with evidences all pointing towards him. The first murder case had his name and phone number at the murder scene. It didn't really border him that much. He was suspended just for his division to save face. He was to be recalled if and when it was finally proved beyond reasonable doubt that he had no connection with the crime. This new development, this new unfortunate incident was a devilish twist that would surely ruin his career, if not his life.


His boss, Mr ibe had acknowledged his innocence earlier when he was about to strip him of his badge. It was mere formality, just to observe protocols, not until this recent turn of events.

He remembered Chief Koko's last words on the phone:

"I'm afraid it may be too late for you to stop it. No, it's too late now. But you must come, you must come and investigate my death, Mr. Lucan, least my spirit haunts you for the rest of your life".

Is Chief Koko's spirit already haunting him?

As he sat in his lonely cell, he thought about the sudden twist of events that had turned his life to a nightmare.

Barely 24 hours ago, his life was smooth and enviable. Now, all of sudden, his life was upside down, with him being deeply involved in two successive murder cases.

A few days after Tracy's murder, Lucan was charged to court as new evidence had come to light. The pathology unit headed by the renown mortician, Dr. Suleman had concluded their autopsy. It was a glaring result. Traces of zolpidem was found in her bloodstream. It was common knowledge that Zolpidem was an anti depressant used as a mild sedative to treat insomnia. An overdose could lead to coma, and subsequent death. The pathology unit came to this unanimous conclusion.

It was Dr. Suleman that carried out most of the autopsy, he had knowingly ignored the small needle hole found on her neck.
The police department will never doubt a conclusion made by the very best mortician; Dr Suleman Ajoke.

Suleman recognised the corpse immediately it was brought in. Susanna had described her perfectly. There was no mistaken that the body that lay on table was that of Tracy. He took a long look at the autopsy report he just prepared. It was perfect, his reputation was going to sell this, the police department would swallow it hook, line and sinker; above all, Susanna would be impressed.

She might even agree for them to make out again. It will satisfy his insatiable appetite for her fine soft body which he finds irresistible.
___________________

David walked into the corridor of Lucan's cell and demanded the guard to open up for him to enter.

The guard looked at him strangely like stepping into that cell will endanger David's life. David threw a sad look on him before he finally obliged and opened the door.

Lucan looked dejected as he perched on a pavement at the extreme of his small cell. David felt pity for him. His case didn't look good. His file had been marked as a case of possible serial killer. He had two murder cases directly linked to him, with strong evidences; the latest happened in his room.

The prosecution department had a solid case against him. For a case to be proved beyond all reasonable doubt, there had to be an intent. The prosecution office directly linked Lucan to the first murder, and Tracy as a journalist doing her innocent investigation on the murder of chief koko. Lucan was going to be painted as the devil who lured Tracy to his abode and murdered her in cold blood. The intent and purpose was foolproof. So was the evidence against him.

Somehow, through an anonymous tip, the police department had found a sim card and some other items on Lucan's trash bin. Investigations revealed that the number on the sim card had been used severally to contact Chief Koko, another victim of the suspects.

An earlier search of Lucan's apartment yielded positive results as a packet of the drug, Zolpidem, was found. This was the same drug whose traces was reported to be found in Tracy's bloodstream.

Another evidence that the prosecution was going to build their case on was the belonging of the murder victim, her laptop, being in possession of the suspect.

Then there was the autopsy done by the highly respected Dr. Suleman. He was a respected mortician, and the jury will have no other excuse not to hang Lucan.

It would take a defence attorney forever to plead his innocence.

It was an open-close case.

David had gone through the case file, which was marked as classified. At first, no one was willing to grant him access to Lucan's case file. He wondered why this case was surrounded with so many loose ends. An anonymous caller tipped the police of the sim card in Lucan's trash can, someone purposely wrote Lucan's name on a piece of paper beside chief koko's mutilated body.

Something was really wrong somewhere.

But Lucan had an alibi, one that holds water. He was with David at the time of the death of the second victim. The mortician had predicted, rather correctly, the time of death. He was exploring the victim's laptop at that point with lucan by his side.

Unless Lucan had a twin brother, or a ghost imposter, then he was as sure as hell that Lucan did not commit the murder. Lucan was his closest friend, and he was not going to abandon him now that he needed him most.

But his help to Lucan must be unofficial. He must have to work below the radar. It was an un-written rule that the police department collaborates with the prosecutors and state attorneys in any crime case. He might be seen as a mole or an accomplice if it was observed that he was working to prove Lucan's innocence.

As he watched his friend Lucan perch at the extreme of a lonely cell that faithful day, he was touched and felt remorse for his once a powerful detective friend who solved mysterious cases like he was a god.

The hunter has become the hunted.

He sat at the only sit inside the cell. His friend Lucan looked up and tried to smile. He knew it was just a front, his friend was troubled and scared;

Really scared!

"How are you holding up?" He asked his friend Lucan.

"Fine. I've had better days."

"They fixed first hearing on the 17th of next month,"
David informed his friend who now looked dejected.

He had seen him clutch on the lifeless body of Tracy and cried non-stop until he had to call in the case. It was hard to tell if he was mourning Tracy or his a'r's'e that has been locked up for a week now. He had tried earlier to post bail for him, but the judge had insisted that they need to prove beyond reasonable doubt that the suspect was not at risk to himself and others before he would be granted bail.

"Your barrister and I are working hard to get you out of this mess," David added and Lucan nodded his head.

Lucan was acting cold, let it not be that he had given up on himself, David thought to himself.

He tried to cheer his friend up, informed him of the latest happenings around; how his favourite club, Inter Milan was performing wonders at the European Champions League, but Lucan was still depressed. His effort to cheer up his friend was futile as David gave up and decided to leave his friend to sober up. He would return next time, maybe by then, he will be ready to talk.

"I will check back next time", he had announced as he stood up to take his leave.

"We were going to get married next two months".

The cold voice of Lucan echoed in the empty cell.
David looked back and met his friend's gaze locked in his. It was a sad look, a look of frustration and depression mixed together. It was obvious his friend was more worried about his dead girlfriend than his freedom.

Did he know the amount of s.h.it he was in?

"Lucan, I will do my best to get you out of here, try to focus and worry about yourself now, its important that you focus". He said as he walked out of the cell.

____________________________

4 pm - Ayodele's Apartment

The geek has been glued to his laptop for 8 straight hours now. Juggling between his Forex platform, The Guardian Newspaper website and his mail box, refreshing the pages at each instance.

He was loosing heavily on the Forex market, something that seldom happens. He loves winning and had refused to quit the market until he recovers the funds he lost to the bears this morning; he kept loosing.

His main reason of staying glued to his laptop wasn't the forex market, it was a mail he was expecting: a mail from the mysterious woman.

Ayodele had his assignment from the mysterious woman complete. He termed her 'mysterious' as the woman has remained anonymous all through their dealings. Its always mails, phone calls with encrypted lines and distorted voice.
His assignments where done excellently. He recalled as he dropped the sim card into Lucan's trash can after using the sim card to establish several links with chief koko and lucan's line. It was an easy thing to do; with the little electronic gadgets his pals from india sent to him, he could toy with people's lines and make calls with numbers no one had ever seen or heard of.

His last assignment for the mysterious lady was a risky and dangerous one. The lady had instructed her, via mail, to proceed and eliminate Tracy. He didn't know how that will affect the end game. He didn't see it as a needed move, but it seems the mysterious lady had plans. So he didn't hesitate, he had to do her bidding or face the wrath: like he did face before.
He didn't want to remember the bitter encounter he faced in the hands of the mysterious lady for refusing to do her biding.

He had monitored Tracy for 2 days before he traced her to Lucan's apartment that faithful day. He didn't have a plan, but he came along with his killer bag. The bag contained all the stuffs needed to carry out such an operation: his pistol, a knife, hand gloves, syringe and different bottles of syrup poisonous drugs, including the deadly cyanide solution.

His only concern was that Lucan was in the apartment. There was no instruction to harm him, so he considered what will be the best approach. But things became easier when lucan left the apartment moments later with a laptop. He waited for some minutes before slipping into the apartment. He picked the lock perfectly and let himself in. He had met Tracy sleeping peacefully on the bed. It was evident that she was either drunk, or too tired from excess sex. There was no need for the gun, he used the syringe, drew up some cynide solution from one of the bottles using the syringe and slowly plunged it into her neck.

Then he left the apartment.

It was a huge success. He smiled to himself as he recounted his exploits.

Soon, he started having the urge: the same urge he had anytime he is satisfied with a work well done. There was only one way to satisfy the urge. He reached out to one of the drawers, opened it and brought out a tube of mary-kay beauty cream. He does not apply cream on his body, the lotion was there for one purpose; the urge.

He applied the cream graciously on his palms, unbuttoned his trousers, moved his pants down and reached for his manhood. He stroke it until it was hard enough, then with his cream-wet hand, he did what he knows how to do best.
The feeling was the same, the scent of the mary-kay cream was feminine enough. Who needs a woman when you can relieve yourself of the urge.

He cleaned up himself after satisfying the urge, then lay on his bed and slept off.

Few minutes later, while he slept, a message entered his inbox.

______________________________

Dr. Suleman paced around his house. He was surprised Susanna had not called for the last two days. Just a week ago, she was calling every hour to drop in a description or to get a reassurance that he would carry out the task.

This was not the first time Susanna called for a favour. He loves doing her biding, he couldn't say no to the only female in the world who understood him perfectly, and who shared in his passion for dead bodies.

She had called her a week ago and asked for what she described as a small favour. She had informed him that the body of a young girl was going to be brought to his lab for investigation. He didn't border to ask how she knew about that. She gave her all the details of the young girl: hair colour, full lips, large eye balls like cinderella's, 5ft, 4inch, colour and all the minute details most of which he didn't need. She also gave him a name: Tracy Oluwami.

The corpse did arrive as speculated by Susanna. It was accompanied by a host of other police officers like they were accompanying a governor to a state ceremony. They had dispersed thereafter, but two of the officers remained outside his lab. They waited on him as if he was a surgeon operating on their patient who may recover and spring back to life any moment from now.

She's dead gaddammiit!!!

Couldn't they just go and let him do his work!
One of the two police officers was desperate as he paced around the vicinity of his lab. He peeped in through the window once in a while as if to ensure he wasn't doing anything funny to the dead girl. His looks were so cold as he did this. The other officer once in a while tried to console him but it seems not to be working.

Finally, he had to go out and dismiss them.
"She is not in a labour room," he had told them.
"She's dead."
He informed them that he had drawn up blood and fluid samples from the corpse and it will take hours for a comprehensive report to be prepared.

He did draw out blood samples, and samples of spit from her mouth. He prepared the samples and with the help of his lab assistant, he started off the autopsy in ernest.
The real report showed large dosage of potassium cyanide in his blood sample. She was seriously overdosed with the cyanide to the tone of 3 grams (3000 milli grams). As little as 100 milli grams would have done the job perfectly. He also saw few traces of zolpidem in the blood stream, as little as 0.5mg. It was very mild, and he was sure she took them as an anti depressant to enhance sleep.

He saw the visible syringe wound on her neck, from which the cyanide was delivered. It was still fresh, and few milligram of the poison still clogged underneath the neck skin.
Whoever did this was a professional. He had plunged the syringe directly into the major artery supplying oxygen rich blood into the brain. The potassium cyanide, apart from being a lethargic poison, was a strong reducing agent. It releases hydrogen cyanide into the body system which immediately reacts with all the oxygen in the blood stream, reducing them. This lack of oxygen sends the body into internal convulsion, as all the internal organs most sensitive to low oxygen supply packs up: the brain shuts down immediately; the lungs collapses and the central nervous system ceases to function. Death occurs in a matter of seconds.

As usual, he prepared a comprehensive report, putting all the details there in. He indicated that Tracy Oluwami died of a strong dossage of cyanide administered through her neck to a major artery. He specified the dossage administered and was able to guess correctly, the time of death.
He also mentioned of traces of zolpadem that couldn't be of any harmful effect.

He finished his report, stamped and signed it, then filed this report in a secret file cabinet in his office.

Then he prepared a second report, this was the one he was going to submit to the police homicide department.

Susanna had not briefed him on the reason for this favour she had asked him to do, so he adjusted the second report, leaning it towards suicide. He reported an over dosage of sleeping pill. He assumed it would be understandable that the victim may have overdosed on sleeping pills unknowingly.
He finished this shabby report and glanced through it again. There was a column left unfilled.

Possible time of death:

Of what use is this column in a possible suicide case? He thought to himself. But he needed to fill it up. He thought of the time he indicated on his previous report. If the victim took excess sleeping pills, then it will take few hours for it to set down her system, first to a coma, then to death.
He added an hour and half to the previous correctly predicted time, and added this to the new report. Who will care to check on the time of death of a suicide case.

The loud ring of his phone brought him back to reality. He checked the caller:

Susanna!

"Darling me, I have been expecting your call," he tried to tease her. "You made me sleep beside my phone with an eye open."

"Sorry, there where some few things I needed to arrange." Susanna replied.

The voice at the other end didn't sound as jovial as the Susanna he knew. Something was worrying her. She sounded gloomy and very formal.

"I did exactly as you requested my lady," he added, just to ensure she wasn't mad at him.

"I know, and that's the reason I called. There is a small loose end which you didn't fix." She said coldly. She really seemed troubled, he asked what it was.

"What loose end are you talking about?" He was sure he did a nice job.

"The dosage you indicated is not enough to cause fatal effect." She informed him.

How did she know about that? There was something Susanna wasn't telling him. She must have had a mole or accomplice at the police department. He did include the dosage of zopidem at the report, but he wasn't clinical to increase it to fatal quantity. After all, like he had assumed, it was a suicide case. So no one would pay attention to such detail.

"It would have really helped if you gave me an insight into this particular case. I didn't consider the dosage a vital information." He informed her.

"It is." She insisted, "and the less you know about the details, the better for we both."

Dr. Suleman sighed heavily. He loves being clinical in his reports. He had notice the dosage was small, but he thought Susanna just wanted the report so as to cover up something and close the case to avoid further investigation.

"There is another thing." She said coldly.

Now what is it this time around!

"The time of death you indicated." She concluded.

_____________________________

Susanna paced around her room after she ended the call with Dr Suleman. Her laptop was open, and very soon, Madam k will make an update. She has to get things ready before that. There are some loose ends that needs to be tightened.

Dr Suleman was right. She should have disclosed some vital info to him. But the instruction given to her was simple and straightforward.
She dare not incur the wrath of Madam k.

_____________________________

David was glancing at Lucan's case file in his hands. He had photocopied its contents after getting his first access to it. He carefully glanced at the contents again;

The autopsy report.
The report by the search party that searched Lucan's apartment.
The sworn statement by Tracy's boss, showing that Tracy was doing a follow up on Chief koko's murder.
The receipt of Tracy's laptop.
And some other documents.

He glanced through the autopsy signed by Dr Suleman again.
He was going to investigate this independently. Lucan was his friend and he will be damned if he let him hang for a crime he didn't commit.

He proceeded to the police data base department. He wanted to check the original of Lucan's file to see if their was any new document or evidence that has been added to it.
The office keeper was not around. But a new police recruit was there. If the office keeper was around, he would not have allowed David access to the files. He had a strict order from a high ranking boss never to let anyone near that file.

The new recruit innocently allowed David access to the file. As David scanned through it, he noticed something odd. No new file was added, but a new autopsy report had been added. The old one was no longer their, and the new one was backdated to bear the date of the previous one.
Inside this new report, lies some information that was not in line with the one he had;

The dosage of zolpidem in Tracy's blood stream has been increased tremendously.

Time of death has been adjusted too.

He took the new file and photocopied its contents and replaced them.

_____________________________

Close of work, Dr Suleman's office;

A new intern was mopping the office, a normal ritual before close of work. The Dr had gone and ordered him to lock up. He noticed a drawer he had not seen before just behind one of the walls. He opened it and saw a file. Out of curiosity, he opened the file. There was an autopsy report. The name Tracy Olwuami was boldly written. He scanned through it briefly. Then, out of curiosity, he photocopied it and replace the file. He was going to study it later. He needed documents to attach to his report after his 6 months internship. His lecturers were going to ask for specimens of such reports to prove he actually did the internship.

He neatly folded the duplicate of the autopsy into his bag, finished up his mopping, locked the office and left.

[size=14pt]phew![/size]

CHAPTER SIX

THE SOUND OF ONE HAND

SUBMITTED BY OAHRAY


Sharon took a final sip of her malta guinness drink and tossed the empty can towards the waste bin that stood open about five metres away, just by the door to her chambers.

"Bullseye!" she exclaimed as the can landed inside it, settling comfortably among the pieces of crumpled paper. Hitting the target was not unusual but she congratulated herself with some applause anyway. Even in her tightest of schedules, she never missed her daily malt drink or the can-tossing ritual that followed it if a waste bin was nearby.

This time, she was far from being busy. Infact, she was bored already. She had not planned to come today but for the call from David earlier in the day.

She had met David for the first time when she was working on one of her cases. He had been of immense help to her more than she had expected. She was grateful. That was almost two years ago. They had, since then, moved on from acquaintance zone but never really crossing into something more than just friendship.

She liked his wizardry in technology especially his expertise with computers and the ease with which he manipulated them to get whatever he wanted. In turn, he was impressed with her vast knowledge of facts and figures. It was not unconnected to the fact that she had an eye for details. That was where it ended. They were just friends.

Her eyes reverted for the upteenth time back to the front page of the national daily she had bought on her way to her office.

[size=24pt]WHO KILLED CHIEF KOKO?[/size]

•"WE ARE ON TOP OF IT" -Police.

•DOUBLE TROUBLE! Lover found dead in suspect's home:
"She was murdered" -Police

Sharon had not taken much interest in the Chief Koko case until the call from David. He wanted her to represent his friend in court. He had recently found some evidence about which he could not talk on phone and they had arranged to meet at her office.

She skimmed through as if searching for something.
Lucan... She remembered him well from the murder case of the 12year old girl. She had followed that case with keen interest because the victim was a child. When Lucan got cross-examined, she had marveled at the thoroughness of his investigation. With everything he had uncovered, the defendant's guilt was no longer in doubt. Victory for justice, she thought. The Nigerian Police Force had some credibility afterall.

"She's young and pretty." Sharon thought to herself as she studied the picture of the latest victim, Miss Tracy Oluwami.

Just as she set to reading again the story under Tracy's picture, there was a knock on the door and someone said "hello". It was David's voice. She glanced at her watch, it read 4:55pm.

"Come in" she said softly. She looked at the figure that walked in. He had not changed at all since she last set her eyes on him some months ago. He looked smart in his black t-shirt and dark-blue denim trousers.

"David Akporodia the great!" she hailed, beaming with smiles and extending her right hand for a shake.

"Sharon Ojemen of facts and figures! Oh, sorry, Barrister Sharon Ojemen." He paused and shook the offered hand, eyeing her slim figure in the grey trouser suit. "You look great".

"Oh, thank you sir, you are far too kind. You do not look bad yourself. Have your seat"

They spent the next thirty minutes talking about the Chief Koko case, with David telling him everything Lucan had told him, from his dream to his suspension from the police force.

"He's innocent." David concluded his narration.

"I know." she assured him with a sweet smile.

"How would you know that?"

"Becaaaause... I am his lawyer." she replied, tongue in cheek. "Alright, this is a very complicated case with more questions than answers. His dream is weird enough, but even worse is the strange number. How could the late Chief have called him with a non-existent number?"

"That's easy" David cut in. "It is called 'call-spoofing'. Anyone with knowledge of telecoms should be able to pull it off with an internet connection or specially designed gadgets and apps."

"Hmmm... Why would a person who knows he is about to be murdered and needs urgent help spend his time trying to veil his caller identity?" she asked after some thought.

"Ok, I considered that too and here's what I think. In the face of imminent death, Chief Koko could not have made a spoofed call. Whoever called Lucan as the Senator is the same person as the killer who wrote Lucan's name and number on the paper found on his corpse."

She nodded her understanding and asked about Tracy's death. As David narrated his adventure with Lucan the evening Tracy died, Sharon scribbled furiously on her legal pad.

"I see. Tracy was a journalist working on the murder of Chief Koko in which her lover was fíngered. If Lucan is guilty of the Senator's murder, it makes sense that he would want to silence her and pass it off as an overdose of sleeping pills. A strong motive, David" she submitted.

"I know, but besides the fact that Lucan was with me at the time of her death, there's something fishy." David explained as he brought out Lucan's case file.
"I'd be in trouble if I'm caught with these. You see these two reports? They are different autopsy reports of the same death. This one was released first" He continued as he pointed to a sheet of paper.
"The clear difference shows that Lucan is being framed"

"We'd go see Lucan tomorrow. I think the Avenger part of the story does not have any strong backing. It could as well be a harmless forum, with her coincidental death fueling your conviction. I'm not saying you are wrong, but in the absence of evidence supporting your suspicions, we'd work on Mr Ibe and the mortician as main suspects, okay?"

"Alright, until I get proof, that is." David agreed.

"Wait..." Sharon was staring thoughfully at the notes she had scribbled.

"What?" David asked.

"I think there is one person we overlooked"

"Who?"

__________________________
* * * * * * * * * *
__________________________

The wall clock chimed 5 o'clock when Jack opened the door to his home and stepped in.

"Sweetheart I'm home."

There was no answer.

He could hear the sound of his wife singing in the shower.

"Sweetheart..."

"Yes" came the curt reply. She had been giving him the cold treatment for some days now, and with guilt stabbing at him, he wondered if she was beginning to suspect him.

"I'm back sugar, how would you like a back scrub from a professional?" He asked in the naughtiest voice he could muster.

"No, I'd soon be out!"

Strange, he thought to himself as he walked into their bedroom and collapsed on the bed with his suit still on. Enoh had never rejected a back scrub offer before. On every such occassion, they had ended up making love in the bathtub. On a good day, thinking about it alone was enough to send blood racing down towards his 'nature's gift to women' as he often tagged it. Not today. Too many thoughts chased each other on his mind.

Could it be she had found out somehow?

Lucan...

He knew Lucan couldn't have killed Tracy, he loved her too much. To think it was on the same day he had used Lucan's apartment for his 'away match'. He let his mind wander some days back.

Lucan had agreed to let him use his apartment for his rendezvous. Knowing how untidy Lucan could let his apartment be at times, Jack had decided to go clean it up before bringing his new catch.

It was some ten minutes after 9am when he got to Lucan's apartment. As he got out of his car, he saw a boy about to throw something into the waste bin.

He liked the image his imagination created -the nonchalance in humans, beautifully captured by this smiling passer-by leaving the road to toss waste in another person's bin without a care in the world. He was going to make a portrait drawing of it later. He would have no problem recreating the face accurately from his memory. He was that good. However, he had a problem remembering clothes.

He had quickly brought out his mobile phone and taken a shot just before the boy covered his face with his jacket's hood and walked away. With his 41megapixel Nokia 808 PureView camera, capturing images from a distance was not a problem. It's camera quality was the sole reason he had bought it. The rest of the day had gone fine and his lady had blown his mind with her expert moves. He knew he would want a repeat performance later.

His mind wandered back to the present. Lucan in jail... What if the detectives managed to link him to the murder with his presence in Lucan's apartment? In a bid to extricate himself from the mess, he would have to expose his serial infidelity. He shuddered.

He took off his clothes, wrapped his towel around himself and headed for the bathroom. He met Enoh just coming out.

"Baby, we need to talk." he told her.

"Okay." she replied as she walked past him into their room.

As Enoh creamed up, she heard the familiar alert from her laptop and reached for it. On the screen were the words:

"When a puppet fails to serve it's purpose well, it is soon discarded" -Mrs Susanna Ibe.

"Beauty is skin deep, but deadly secrets are sealed up in the bones" -Miss Amina Dasuntu.

"When hatred begins a countdown to 6ft below, nothing else counts" -Mrs Enoh Etim.

"Escaping what must be is the picture of a dog chasing its tail" -The One, Madam K.

She had seen them before and they all had 4 smileys and thumbs-up emoticons.

There was a fifth post, the one that had just entered. She had never seen this member write anything before. Asking questions about the member was strictly forbidden by Madam K. It was an unwritten rule, this member was always the first to thumb up a post. If not, no one else dared to, not even Madam K. Confused, Enoh looked at the post again.

"Chasing shadows is the sound of one hand clapping." -Him.

_____________________
* * * * * * * * * *
_____________________


Sharon took off her sunglasses and walked into the mortuary building. She was glad she was finally leaving the fiery glare of the sun. It was just a few minutes after 10am, yet the sun had no mercy. She wondered why the weather had been excessively hot of recent. She knew March was usually the hottest month of the year, but this was November. Global warming perhaps?

Her mind wandered some hours back, to Lucan. She had visited Lucan with David that morning. Just a few days in prison and he looked a far cry from the man that had impressed her with his testimony in a court case.

She knew he was not guilty, she was sure of it. However, his was a complicated case. She had seen the hurt in his eyes, and felt the pain in his voice when he talked about Tracy. It had made her determined to do her best for justice sake, and well, her job too.

Something about Lucan bothered her though. His words... "I owe it to Tracy... I owe it to her to get convicted, but for a commited crime."

"Come off it man." David had rebuked him. "It was not your fault and you know it."

Maybe David did not read anything into his words, or maybe there was nothing to read into it. It just made Sharon uneasy and she had no idea why.

Sharon sighed her relief at seeing someone. The mortuary premises looked deserted, she had noticed. Well it was understandable, a mortuary wasn't exactly the coolest place to hang out.

"Good morning sir." she greeted. He looked younger than she was, but it did not matter. Her polite mode was fully active as it always was in times like this.

"Good morning..." he looked up and added "ma'am".

She scanned him quickly, he had a badge on, she could see he was an intern not a full staff.

"I'd like to see Dr Suleman. He's the mortician here, right?"

"Em... Yes, actually more of a pathologist or coroner. Anything the matter?"

"Oh no, not at all. I am a lawyer working on a case and I might need the help of an expert."

He looked at her again and wished he could help her. He had a thing for pretty ladies.

A man walked out with a limp from inside where he had been waiting. His eyes looked teary. The intern saw him but ignored him.

"I'm not sure he'd be coming today, but if it's rather urgent and the help you need doesn't require official endorsement, I'd be glad to help. I'm an intern here."

"You are far too kind sir. I think I should check back later." She said turning to leave.

"Alright then, have a nice day." he smiled before turning to face the man who had been asking to search for his missing sister.

"I'm sorry sir, I am not allowed to show you any body. You'd have to wait till the doctor comes or come back later." the young intern said dryly. This was no lady and he was not interested in being nice to him.

"Please sir this is urgent. She has been missing for some days now." the man pleaded in a voice laced with thick yoruba accent.

"Sorry, I can't help you sir." the intern was firm.

"Okay, I will come back later."

The man walked out through the gate. With no one outside, his limp was gone. He knew his stuff. Little wonder he was reserved for more complicated tasks and Ayodele sent on minor ones that did not require publicity. He put on a pair of sunglasses and reached for his mobile phone. When the person on the other end picked up, he cleared his throat and with a voice devoid of any accent, uttered just two words.

"Rain check."

_____________________
* * * * * * * * * *
_____________________

Lucan shifted uncomfortably. It was 8:30pm and he had been sitting on the bare floor of his cell for hours. The hardness of the cold concrete floor was beginning to hurt.

He had met his lawyer for the first time that morning. She had promised to try her best to clear his name. That was not what he wanted.

He knew one thing. If he was going to be convicted, it was only going to be for something he was truly guilty of. He knew what he had to do. He walked to the metal protector sealing his cell and called the jailer. The jailer was on a solo shift in Lucan's section of the prison that night.

"Wetin?" the jailer asked with a scowl as he walked towards Lucan.

"Please I need to drink water"

"See this one o. I resemble your servant, or are you a learner? Shey them put you for cell make you dey drink water?" He hissed and turned to walk away.

In a split second Lucan grabbed him through the protector and before the jailer could react, dealt a blow to the back of his head with the edge of his open hand. Lucan knew the exact spot to hit. He had learned how to knockout an opponent by hitting him, not hard enough to cause death, just below the Occipital ridge at the back of the head.

The guard collapsed on the floor near the protector without as much as a scream. Lucan found the keys attached to his belt, opened the gate and pulled the unconscious body in.

Five minutes later, Lucan stepped out of his cell wearing the jailer's outfit. He locked the gate but left the key in the keyhole so the unconscious man could free himself when he regained consciousness.

It was easy to walk to the prison's main entrance without any suspicion. They all thought he was a jailer and responded to his greetings.

Rage possessed his thoughts. He had only one plan. He was going to find Tracy's killer and kill him too, then turn himself in to be arrested and tried. He would plead guilty and after getting hanged, he would find and beat Chief Koko to a pulp wherever he was in the spirit world, if it truly existed.

With eyes bloodshot, Lucan walked calmly into the darkness outside.

CHAPTER 7
DÉJÀ VU
Penthouse, Castro Hotel
17:46hours
Amina Dasuntu sat curled up in the warm bath, lounging, while she sipped her freshly made papaya juice. Her beauty secret was simple. Fresh fruit juices daily, Shea butter cream after bath and a mash of papaya on her face weekly. She smiled at the image in the mirror facing her; the cosmetic industry is the greatest scam in the world. Of course she uses some of the lotions and products she advertises but she had never left her basics.
The photo shoot had been tiring but it was well worth it and she is glad she’s done with it. The deal covered her stay @ the penthouse for an extra week. She was already billed for the H&H calendar photo shoot next week in London, one of the three black models to be featured and after that, the Paris fashion week. The perks of being a Supermodel; half of her job is just showing up!
Her path to fame had not been rosy. She had climbed the ladder of fame and success on the back of compromise; had sacrificed friendship and love and wondered if she will ever be lucky again. At 29, though 27 officially, she had started giving serious thought to settling down.
Chief Koko had been one of many; she was getting tired of his escapades and the perpetual scandals that followed him about like a plague before his death. She had begged Tracy the last time she was caught with him; when the drunken old man had lost it and groped her breast at a public function. Someone caught it on tape and Tracy had made arrangement to pay the guy off and stifled the news from been published.
Chief bought her a house at Osborne road to apologize. She had accepted the gift quite alright but not the conditions attached. Amina Dasuntu will not be the “kept woman” of any man. She had gone to his mansion as invited to discuss those terms. She had escaped the fire by a whisker.
An anonymous message warned her to leave the premises immediately and not wait for the Chief. She was baffled as the text disappeared immediately she read it and she had wasted time searching her inbox to no avail. Chief had been unreachable and the driver was not picking his calls.
She scampered off when she heard wailing and sprained her ankle in the process. Tracy’s death came as a shock; Chief’s had been a welcome relief.

She saw the flashing light of her phone and noticed she’s been lazing in the bath for 3hours. She did not bother to pick, she was not expecting anybody important. The warm water soothed her and her sprained ankle hurts less….
Something on the TV caught her eye. She was watching soap on NLTV but lost interest mid-way. Now the popular TV show “Making*A*Difference” was being aired. She saw her and shivered. She increased the volume as the host was introducing her guest:
“We have with us today the delectable socialite, politician, philanthropist, mother and friend; a woman known worldwide for championing the cause of women and advocating for the fundamental rights of the citizens of this great country. Please welcome Honorable Catherine Adams”
“Thank you very much for such an elaborate introduction Moyo; I am only doing what comes naturally to me. Women have been relegated for so long in this country and people like you are beacons of hope for generations to come” Catherine Adams effused
Moyo continued “Am sure Honorable you’ve been concerned about the spate of killings that has rocked the state and the nation at large?”
Her countenance changed and she seem sad before she replied “concern is an understatement; these issues are distressing! Especially the death of the young and brilliant Tracy Oluwami; a promising young woman whose life was cut short. And don’t forget the Senator Koko, a serving and respected Man of this country….
Amina sat up suddenly distressed. She had not linked the deaths before; how could she have been stupid!
Tracy was the only one she shared her ordeal of Chief’s burning mansion with; someone else knew she was seeing Chief. Someone that has helped push her career to lime-light…and those of several others.
She dressed up quickly. She had not lived her life ‘through the looking glass’. She picked her car keys and took a cursory look at the room and noticed her phone again. She picked it up and noticed six missed calls from Susannah and Enoh. “What do they want this time?” she muttered. She logged on the internet and posted her quote of the day.
“Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive” …Amina Dasuntu
She did not wait for reply and rushed out of the room.
******************************************************************************
Beyond the walls
21:10 hours
Lucan’s eyes darted to and fro as he made his way through the dark alley. Low lives and delinquents litter the street like dirt, not minding the trash house of humans awaiting their lot he just emerged from. A dog’s incessant barking interrupts the vamoosing sounds of vehicles from a highway close by.
His mind raced as his eyes scanned ahead of him. He fitted well with the environment; the jailer’s cloth was like that of a premium road side beggar; people pass by unless they have something to offer.
He had been out for about 30minutes, he surmised, and he had no doubt everyman on the force will soon be looking for him. He had figured out some things while he was in the cell. The call was not from the Chief. He was too connected to think of a pawn like him and David had told him of ways that could have been done. The Chief died shortly after the call, which meant the killer was taunting him and wanted to lure him to the case. That also explained why his name and number was at the scene. Heck! Nobody kills someone and leave a business card.
He ran images and patterns through his mind but came up with nothing. Everything pointed to Tracy and yet he had nothing to go on with.
“Tracy…” he called her name and sighed. He’s yet to figure out why she died; or how. He had a feeling what he will find out will not be pleasant. He sighed again. He found 700naira in the jailer’s pocket. He will have to get a phone and more money.
His mind was clearer than the path that lay ahead of him; tonight darkness is an ally.
******************************************************************************
Morgue, Central Hospital.
21:15 hours
He walked stealthily into the basement of the morgue and let himself into the morgue. He was activated 24hours ago and had been waiting for about an hour. The message was simple but he understood.
“Let it rain”…He checked again to be sure the deal was still on. He had been on the tail of the mortician for a week and knows his predilection for night work. He admire him; the mortician, and felt a twinge of anxiety about the impending event. The smell of chloroform and death filled the air and had a calming effect on him. He approached the door with his bag of tricks clutched under his arm underneath a cleaner’s overall. He heard the clattering of metals and was temporarily distracted; he struck his left foot and held his breath to hold his cry. The man was already at work.
What was that superstition again? Left, bad luck; right, good luck? He smiled “Superstition is the religion of feeble minds” he quoted Burke under his breath and he opened the door.
****************************************************************************
Lucan alighted a few meters from the central hospital and made his way towards the morgue. The mortician knew something, he was sure. What he was not sure of was how easy it will be to get it out of him and how far he was willing to go. The man will not scare easily but he definitely will get it out of him.
He was close to the morgue, he could tell; the smell was turning his gut. He turned the knob and it opened. He paused, that was easy, he thought. He could feel his heart galloping as he stepped into the hallway. It was a reception area and was sparsely furnished and poorly lit. No point in being extravagant for the dead he thought. He walked towards another door that was partly opened and the image that welcomed him took him aback.
Right before him was the mortician astride a female body on a stretcher. There was blood the mortician’s back; fresh. The body was warm. He guessed the death had occurred within the hour, give or take 15minutes. Intuitively, he knew the death had to do with Tracy; someone had made sure no amount of torture will make him talk, ever.
He looked around searching for clues. He noticed the opened compartment and empty inner cabinet. Then he saw it. Close to the wheel was a token, hidden by the wheel cover. He picked it up to examine it closely but heard sounds approaching from outside. An alarm went off in his brain. He must not be found here.
He quickly slipped out of the door into the dimly lit reception area and hid behind the door, heart pounding and his whole body tense, poised to strike. The door opened with creaking sound, slowly, as if the intruder was ambivalent about coming in.
The night cleaner sauntered in, wheeling his trolley, with earphones plugged into his ears. Lucan relaxed and allowed himself a deep breath. The music filtered out from the cleaner’s earphone and Lucan could hear 9ice’s song ∫Gongo aso, otiso, ewo ‘le ewo enu oko∫….he slipped quietly out of the door and into the night.
He was about 50 paces away when he heard shouts and hurried feet. He didn’t look back
*****************************************************************************
Lucan half ran/half walked away from the Morgue; his mind outpacing his legs, as he worked theories from all angles. He was late getting there, Damn it! Thirty minutes and he would have caught the killer, who possibly is Tracy’s killer. Now he has nothing and is back to square one, except the token in his pocket. He noticed he was exhausted and panting and the gnawing pangs of hunger had become unbearable. He had five hundred naira left from the jailer’s money and saw a food canteen ahead. A police siren wailed close by and he felt jittery. He is a man of law on the run from the law, how time changes things.
“Tracy…what have you been up to?” He spoke out loud.
“Guy, watch where you dey go o!” A man shouted at him. He mumbled thanks and crossed the road to the other side. The food can wait.
.****************************************************************************
Tracy’s apartment.
22:14hours
His arm hurt but there was still an assignment to be completed this night. He slipped into Tracy’s apartment. The room was as he had left it the last time and he went straight to her bathroom. He liked the place; the feminine fragrance reminds him of home and his mother. This lady sure knew how to live life, he thought.
The house was a serviced apartment and very private. Several other adjoining flats were around but everyone minded their business. The pain brought him back to life and he went through her drug cabinet to get a pain killer. He was about to swallow the tablet when he heard the sound of a key turning in the door.
****************************************************************************
Lucan opened the door with Tracy’s spare key which she kept barely buried in the middle flower pot. He stepped in and memories flooded him, he felt weak and almost collapsed. He held the wall for support as he moved slowly towards the sofa.
He sensed a presence and felt unsettled. He took such things serious. It has saved his life more than once. His alertness went up several notches. He did not know what to look for but he was sure something here will lead him closer to unraveling the mystery.
His eyes scanned the shelf and settled on the pink diary. He had a copy of that and she had promised to tell him its significance someday. He walked towards the shelf and a flurry of movement caught his eye; he was not fast enough. He felt a blow and passed out.
***************************************************************************
Amina slowly eased her RAV4 into the driveway. The car was just 6months old; a gift from the business Mogul who owns the Castro hotel. She sat in the car thinking; she was overstepping her boundary. Perhaps she should just go to the police and tell them what she knew. It was a long shot. She had no proof to substantiate any allegation but she guessed all the proof she needed will be in Tracy’s pink diary. Each of them had a duplicate and they often take it out on occasion. The other was for keeps, and never out of sight. In it they have numbers not stored on phones or any other place. They contain information that kept the “BODY” going.
She was still contemplating when she noticed a building was on fire. She heard a car zooming off on her far right and looked again at the house on the left. She panicked. It was Tracy’s apartment. The event that followed happened as if she was programmed. She jumped out of her car and ran towards the apartment. It was dark but the window glowed in the darkness as she approached. She heard an explosion and recoiled, temporarily. The door was jammed and she pounded on it as she shouted for help but there was no one in sight. The fire was spreading and the curtains were golden yellow. She noticed a smoke outlet at the back and approached it. She covered her eyes with her shawl and dived in.
******************************************************************************
Police headquarters, Briefing room
04:04 hours
“Focus guys!”
Voice thundered out of the wispy mouth of Asst. Chief Inspector Jaiye Brown, known as JayB for short. The briefing room acoustics amplified his deep rich voice as sound travel back and forth on the walls and around the 11 people in the room. He smiled, he had their attention now, the call to summon the tag-team came in 30minutes ago and they all had to be awakened from their sleep or whatever they were doing.
JayB is the arm of the law; a professional to the core who played strictly by the rules which had seen him sidelined several times, perhaps a quality that made him the best man for this assignment. Not that it bothered him; not even the side comment of being “all brawn and no brain”. Brawn he was alright but underestimate his brain at your own peril.
The call came from the Minister of internal affairs, a close friend of his; the death of Chief Koko had unsettled the polity. A major power shake was imminent and the police was perceived to be dawdling. They had bypassed Chief Inspector Ibe and that sent a clear message; he was no longer in the good books of the powers that be. He mused at his summation, perhaps it was time to step-up.
“Am sure you have all heard detective Lucan escaped from his cell last night” he barked out as he looked into their eyes one by one and could feel their anticipation, he has earned it. As Assistant Chief of police and after 22years of unblemished record he has some clout about him; and if he had danced a few political tunes could have been chief inspector himself.
“What you have not heard” he paused for effect “is that it is my job, our jooobbb! is to find his ar*ss and haul him back to his cell”. Murmurs from the breath of the officers as they rambled incomprehensibly “I don’t care for your sentiments about his guilt or not” he barked out again “what I do care about…” “Is the rule of law!” they all chorused as if rehearsed.
“Last night…” he continued as he delivered the information like an enigmatic professor
“….the reputable Dr. Suleiman was found dead in his lab, few hours after Lucan’s escape”
He raised his hand to stifle the bouts of murmur about to escape from their mouth.
“I don’t believe in coincidence or chance happenings; I believe in proof and evidence. If there is a connection between these events, our job is to find it”.
His eyes roved till they settled on David who was hunched over on the desk taking note.
“The faster we get answers, the better for all of us!”
“Now detective Lucan needs no introduction, we are all aware of his achievements and capabilities; he is to be brought in alive. Force should be used only when necessary; remember he is one of us; we have dined and wined with him; rubbed his shoulders and patted his back. He will be expecting us and is probably a step ahead”. He scanned the room again checking if his message sank in “plainclothes are already at his apartment just in case he surface and his file is been tooth-combed by internal affairs”
“Inspector David!” David glanced up from his note to see the upturned nose of JayB breathing on his head “you are in charge of forensics and you report directly to me” “yessir!” came the curt reply from him as he closed the note. “You are to go with your team to the Lab and see what we can get from Dr. Suleiman…or whatever is left of him”.
“Inspector Samuel!” He called out to the dark skinny man on his far left fiddling with his phone. Samuel Akpan has been the head of communications for 5years now. He hardly seat elsewhere or look up from his phone but can reel out the whole meeting without pausing for breath.
“You will be in charge of COMMS as usual and will report directly to me”
“Any question?” He asked with a sardonic smile. “None; we reconvene in 24hrs!”
*****************************************************************************
Morgue, Central Hospital
05:00 hours
The light was bright for an early morning and the whole place buzzed as hospital staffs and Police mingled. David was troubled and he could barely hide it. Not that the task at hand was unsettling but his thoughts were on the events of the last 8hours. He expected Lucan to have called, but there has been no word from him. He had waited up since he picked the news of his escape on the internal frequency and was shocked when the call came from JayB to report @ 04:00 hrs. He was not cleared for that level of information but his superior is on leave and he was not recalled; another nagging thing on his mind.
He adjusted his spectacles as he focused on the scene before his eyes. He was trained abroad in crime scene forensics during his attachment with the Metropolitan Police Service in London and the words of Dr. Letterman rang in his ears. “Every crime scene tells a story, you don’t want to add your own”.
He shook hands with the director of the hospital who filled him in on the background.
The alarm was raised by the night cleaner; no, he didn’t see or hear anything. He alerted the security immediately. He will be available for questioning if needed.
“Gloves” he said, as he extended his hand to one of the two assistants that followed him. He quickly put it on as he walked closer to the body of the mortician. He checked the doors, no sign of a forced entry. The door would have been locked; nobody does what he had in front of him with the door open.
Scan of the room revealed an opened compartment and a scattered inner cabinet on the wall. He motioned to Nuhu to capture those as he clicked away on the body.
“I will need an inventory of the items in the lab and a quick check if anything is missing”
There were two bodies in a rather grotesque pose for the dead, David observed. The mortician was astride a female body on a stretcher with his hairy b#utt exposed. A closer look at the female revealed a light complexioned beauty in her mid thirties, with a gash on the side of her head; probably from a RTA. She was cleaned up and looked as if she was resting in peace.
David shifted his attention to the mortician, ignoring the noise of the crowd growing outside as the daybreaks.
He was wearing a white singlet stained on the right side with blood, extending to the back, around the mid chest. His head nestled comfortably between the cushion of the female’s b/r/e/*ast. Over his head was a transparent bag with the usual warning of the risk of asphyxiation and to be kept away from children.
This was no child. Dr Suleiman was 47 and what he was doing with the bag was not child’s play.
“What do you think Charles?” he spoke to the assistant without removing his eyes from the bodies.
“Autoerotic asphyxiation Sir” Charles responded.
“I won’t bet on the auto” he said calmly.
“I think the killer met him in a compromising position and added the bag as a twist. He was probably in the office waiting for him”. “Get a list of everybody with access to this lab in the last week, heck! Make it 2weeks”he paused as something caught his eye “Coordinate with OPs to get them interviewed and get the ID of the woman”
He noticed the blood was thicker at the back and instinctively checked the floor; it was moped clean but a dot or two of blood stained the trolley. He pointed it out to his assistant who got to work immediately on the sample.
The doctor fought back and probably stabbed his killer. He probably got an artery or a big vein due to the jet of blood on the thick part. Remarkable, for a man in that position. If not for that, it would have been assumed his death was accidental; an autoerotic asphyxiation of a necrophilic. He made a mental note to go over the details of the other murders.
“I wonder what started first” blurted out Charles “was he a mortician because he was necrophilic or he developed it after?”
David forced a smile. It will be worthwhile to go over Dr. Suleiman’s phone record, something he will bring up at the briefing with Samuel Akpan.
“I wonder what we will find when we take a closer look; you don’t do this kind of job without having one or two loose nuts up there” He checked his watch and noticed he had been there for 90minutes.
“Let’s finish and get out of here” he said as he turned his focus back to the body
The mouth was wide open and the bag closed the space between him and air. He saw the eyes staring into space with tiny deep blue veins underneath the clear white conjunctiva. The darker part of his eyes bulged and he could almost feel the anguish of the last moment. Dr. Suleiman had seen a death he was not familiar with; his own.
******************************************************************************
The Den
07:00hours
Ayodele laid calmly on his bed as he reflected over the events of last night; the mortician and Lucan. He had come home and released himself; it was intense just like his day .His armhad stopped throbbing and the pain was a reminder now. He had been caught off guard by the mortician and the man had stabbed him with a scalpel; a lucky shot at that. His mind went back to the superstition and he quickly discarded it. People get punished when they are careless. He was careless, period.
He had been hiding in the reception when the mortician came in through his private door and checked if the door was locked from outside; his usual practice. He waited till he heard the clattering of metals before he entered.
He saw the mortician plunging away between the dead woman’s thigh and the image of his fantasy came to him. He crept silently behind him and covered the face and tightened the bag before he could react. The mortician was a thin man with lithe body. He had struggled to remove the bag and suddenly went limp. He had relaxed his grip a little and felt a stab in his arm, the blade deflected downward by his clavicle; the bastard had aimed for his neck. He had held on for 5mins…he knew he needed just 3 but just to be sure. He had pressed his arm to the mortician’s back to stop the bleeding. He made sure he was dead and ransacked the room for the document which he found in the cabinet. He left no print, he was sure; not that the police were that competent but he hated being sloppy.
He was high on adrenaline and forgot the pain in his hand momentarily. The bag dropped when he picked it up with his injured hand and his paraphernalia scattered on the floor. He had painstakingly picked them with one hand and cleaned drops of blood on the tiled floor with his handkerchief.
He had hurried to Tracy’s apartment to get the pink diary and all was well until he heard the turning key and saw Lucan walked in. He was surprised and excited. He was not a match for Lucan in a fair fight; he is not that delusional, he chuckled.
The blow was meant for the back of his head but he caught his temple instead. He had searched his pocket out of curiosity and found the token. That had shocked him; he didn’t realize it was missing. He had taken the pink dairy and left Lucan with his trademark; he set the place on fire.
The buzzing of the phone jolted him out of his reverie. He checked the new message: “stormy weather”
******************************************************************************
Police headquarters
08:00 hours
Chief inspector Ibe was livid! A meeting of such significance had held under his command without him being informed. He puffed and his breathing was almost grunting. He picked up his phone and called his secretary.
“Get JayB into my office immediately!” he bellowed.
“Sir, he has not reported in morning” she calming replied.
“Just tell him to come to my office immediately you see him” he barked back and slammed the phone. “Jesus Christ! What insubordination!!” He picked his phone and called his wife.
**************************************************************************
“David here” he replied as he picked the call at first ring. “Okay”… “No problem”.
“That was the MD of central hospital. The woman in the tango was Felicia Ambrose. She died in a road traffic accident 2 days ago and she has just been ID’d by her husband” he informed his assistants.
“They don’t want the tryst in the news and I think it’s better for all concerned”.
“How is the interview at OPs going Charles?” he asked
“They started an hour ago; we will be informed as soon as they get something” Charles replied.
“Get the phone logs of…” he was cut off by the ringing of his phone.
“Hello” He answered curtly. He listened for a while and then replied “thank you very much, we will be there shortly”
“Another fire, boys; this thing is beginning to have a pattern. No body at the scene this time; let’s go”
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Osborne road
08:00 hours
Lucan’s consciousness crept back slowly; he felt his head was heavy and throbbing and his vision, blurry. He was tired but could perceive the smell of plantain and fish stew close by. He salivated as his stomach churned. His thinking was clouded.
He remembered he was at Tracy’s apartment and he was walking to her shelf when he felt something hard on his head. Faintly, he had seen a first familiar image over his head; someone from his past. That passed rather quickly. He remembered feeling intense heat, and choked…had faintly heard a persistent knock on the door and muffled scream; as dark clouds approached him…then darkness.
Then a dragging sensation, as if he was being moved. He had felt relief as the heat dissipated and his chest tightness reduced. Then the other image appeared; déjà vu. The face emerged from the dark cloud above his head; it was his dream. The dimensional boundary was broken and at that moment, he could not tell the difference…then the dragging again and darkness.
He opened his eyes slowly and a grandfather clock stood before his eyes. He followed the pendulum for a while...as he wondered when the dream will end. He allowed his eyes explore further…sitting a few inches away from him, was the woman of his dream.
END OF CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER EIGHT

SMOKE SCREEN

SUBMITTED BY ISHILOVE

He blinked, twice. The image before him did not dissolve. The same unforgettable features, same posture, same. . . EVERYTHING. God, he thought, I must have hit my head harder than I thought. Now I am seeing Amina Dasuntu in my hallucinations.

The ‘hallucination’ spoke up. ”Hello Lucan, how do you feel now?”

The man on the floor blinked again. This particular hallucination was proving to be very vivid. “I’ve had better days,” Lucan rasped through a throat that felt like it had been years since it had been lubricated with water. Raw and parched.

Amina cocked her head. “Do you make it a habit of passing out in burning houses?”

At the mention of ‘burning houses’, the memory came flooding back. So it hadn’t been a dream!, he thought animatedly, his mind beginning to clear. He had being in Tracy’s apartment, her pink diary in his mind, when out of the blues a blow had knocked him to the land of dreams. He hadn’t had the chance to avoid the attacker because he had being caught unawares.

He sat up quickly, and wished he hadn’t. The pain in his head bloomed and the throbbing quadrupled like as if some demented drummers stationed in his head had gone a beating frenzy.

“Arrrgh!” Lucan cried out, cradling his pounding head. He was so going to make minced meat out of the son-of-a-biatch who had done this to him, he vowed. Unruffled, his rescuer continued to stare at him like he was some sort of bedraggled rodent the family pet had dragged into the living room. And he felt every bit like one.

Abruptly, she got up and left the room. After barely a minute, she re-entered, bearing a bottle of table water and a pack of pain killers. She crossed over to where he sat hunched like an old man, and dropped them at his feet.

“Here”, she said indifferently, “take these painkillers. It will do you some good”.
He gratefully grabbed the pack, took two tablets and swallowed them without water. The bitterness of the pills helped in clearing the last bits of fog still hanging around his line of sight. Lucan waited until the pills sailed past his constricted throat before he opened the bottle of table water and downed the contents in three huge gulps. Water never tasted so great.

“So you are . . . or should I say, were Tracy’s boyfriend?” Amina said, arching one elegant eyebrow. “You don’t look like a killer.”

He didn’t look like a killer, but he sure felt like killing someone right now. However, Lucan ignored her statement and asked the first question that had been on his mind from the very instant his head had begun to clear. “Why did you bring me here?”

She chuckled derisively and said “Would you rather I had left you to roast?”

The painkillers had already begun to work. The pain in his head was subsiding and he didn’t feel so disoriented anymore. The police man in him kicked in. Time to take charge of the situation.

He shook his head gingerly, careful not to stir the drummers who were beginning to quieten. “I am grateful that you were there to rescue me, and if not for you, I’d probably be an unidentifiable piece of charred meat stuck to the ground in Tracy’s apartment”.

“You got that right,” Amina muttered under her breath.

Lucan pretended not to hear and continued. “But you see, I really have to know because there are so many things going on right now that are begging for answers, and I don’t need any more mysteries.”

Amina looked down at her hands, debating on just how much Lucan knew and how much information she should divulge. While she was preoccupied with her musings, Lucan found himself admiring her features despite himself. God, but was she beautiful! Smooth silky, skin that looked, and he felt sure, tasted, like pure chocolate, legs that just went on forever, slim elegant body that featured prominently in many men’s fantasies, a high bosom, trim waistline and long eyelashes that veiled oval eyes that were currently studying neat, well-manicured finger nails.

Amina knew he was staring at her but she was not bothered. She was used to being ogled. What concerned her now was how she was going to pump information from him without letting him know he was been manipulated. There was too much at stake. Just too much.

She looked and caught him overtly staring at her. She looked into his open, honest face and suddenly knew that she could trust him.

Okay, here goes nothing. She sighed wearily, looked down at her hands again and began to talk.

*******************************************
Meanwhile, at the fire scene . . .

David stood in the centre of what used to be Tracy’s cosy living room. It was difficult to believe that it was once habitable because all that was left of Tracy’s apartment were mounds of smouldering debris. The firemen that had been called to put out the fire had radioed in that they were stuck in traffic. It seemed Nigerians didn’t, or had stubbornly refused to appreciate the urgency of the wailing siren. Then later the fire engine had suddenly malfunctioned two blocks from where the house merrily blazed away. When they had finally arrived at the scene of the fire, the building had been totally consumed.

This was such a darned big mess. David sighed and stepped forward. Something hot crunched loudly under his feet. He jumped and quickly moved away.

“Steady there, Dave” a tech digging through piles of charred rubble warned. He nodded his thanks and continued treading cautiously amidst the ruins. First the Koko Mansion had been gutted, the entire Koko family wiped out in the flames. Now Tracy’s apartment had followed suit. Thankfully no life had been lost in this one. What could the late journalist have kept in her house that warranted this sort of destruction? Did the evil brains behind this havoc burn down the abodes of their victims to hide evidence? Or was it just out of pure malice? Kill and burn; it was becoming the signature of the murderers. Dave’s head spun with questions whose answers were proving elusive.

“Sir”, a junior officer interrupted his thoughts. He was holding a something in his hand. “Look what we found”. He held it up for Dave’s inspection.

Dave looked at the object, wondering why it looked hauntingly familiar. Suddenly it all clicked.

He gasped.

Madam K sat quietly while the make-up artist put finishing touches to her face. She could see her reflection on the shiny mirror a few feet from where she sat. She was due to make an appearance in less than ten minutes.

The artist was doing a wonderful job. Her expert touch had hidden all the traces of blemishes and pock marks that etched her face and neck. It was important that she looked her best at all times because she had an image to maintain.

Ah, yes, image. That was all it was all about, wasn’t it? When it all boiled down to the nitty gritty of matters, it was all about keeping appearances. The real puppet masters of the world were those who wielded their power silently. They controlled nations, economies of the world and dictated at which pace the lives of people moved. Silently. From behind screens made out of the webs of people’s ignorance.

Whenever she was in front of the camera, she did her best to appear the benevolent, philanthropic mother figure that people looked up to and were inspired by. She sponsored scholarships, helped people with great potential, like Amina Dasuntu in their various careers and set up businesses for others. She smiled brightly and gave ‘sincere’, moving speeches that had starry eyed people jump to their feet and clap with all their might.

The artist said respectfully, “please turn your head this way, ma.” Madam K obliged.

They had no idea the kind of power she wielded. Very few people knew. She and ‘Him’ were going to deliver the surprise package very soon, and o what a day it would be!!

Yes, the man known as ‘Him’. Madam K shivered. Now that was a man. He was THE man. Sometimes she loved him, other times she feared and hated him with so much passion that she wished she could just take a knife and slice him open. It would be interesting knowing what made such cold a heart tick. But she dared not. He would find out before she acted, and then crush her the way one would crush a disgusting flying cockroach. {SPLAT, you’re dead!}

She saw what he did to those who crossed him. She had tried to warn that fool Koko, but his greed had blinded him to the obvious dangers of crossing THE MAN.

‘Him’.

The Avengers only knew the sixth member as ‘Him’. It was best they didn’t know. Those who knew too much ended up six feet below. Like Tracy. Too bad, she had liked the girl but she had gotten too big for her shoes. Too much ambition can get you killed, The Man often sang in her ears. Politics is a dangerous game. Power on the left hand, death on the right.

Another member of the Avengers was going to pay for her stupidity. What is with these young people of nowadays? You couldn’t give them a simple assignment and have the confidence that it would be carried out perfectly. Annoying. Time to show them that this was no longer a game.

Pawns. They were all pawns in the chessboard of manipulation. When you outlived your usefulness, you would be knocked out in the blink of an eye. It all went beyond stoopid quotes on an internet forum. No, that was just another smoke screen. It was a lot bigger than their tiny minds could possibly comprehend. ‘My people perish for lack of knowledge’, so said the Good Book. AMEN, SOMEBODY!

Madam K smiled to herself. Appearances. The worst kind of enemy is the enemy you aren’t aware of. The shadow. Now you see it, now you don’t.

Someone knocked softly on the door. “Come in!” she called out cheerfully.

The director of ‘Extraordinary People’ poked his head into the room. “Are you set, ma? We are on in two.”

Madam K smiled and said, “Larry, you will have to beg my makeup sisi to release me. She has been poking my face for hours”.

They all laughed. That was her, ever the jovial matron, lifter up of dry spirits. Appearances. If only they knew. Madam K smiled some more.
“Okay, ma, you are good to go”, the makeup artist said, dropping her foundation puff she held.

She got up and made a few adjustments to her attire. Okay. Showtime.

The very Honourable Catherine Adams took a deep breath and walked out of the room into the studio where bright lights and the camera waited.

********************************************

The area where Mr Ibe lived is one of those GRA areas that abound the country. High, electrified fences, big gates and villainous faced security men who glare at you if you try to peep into the compound when the gate is open because a vehicle is being driven out. Everybody minds their own business; ‘to your tents, o ye neighbours’ is their motto. It is for these reasons that no one can be exactly sure of what happened at the Ibe residence on the night of the 8th.

During questioning, the housekeeper who had stayed a bit later than usual claimed Mr Ibe had come in, hopping mad. He had not even acknowledged the keeper’s nervous greetings, but had stumbled round the house yelling his wife’s name. He had finally located his wife in the guest bedroom and a shouting match had ensued.

From what the keeper had been able to gather from the raised voices, Ibe had been accusing Susanna of something and she had counter accused him of something else. The names ‘Dr Suleman’, ‘Tracy’, and words like ‘adulterer’, ‘bi/tch’, ‘pervert’, ‘maniac’, ‘murderer’, ‘betrayed’ and a host of other fancy words which the housekeeper, who was just a humble primary school certificate holder, had not been able to understand had flown around ceaselessly. However, two words which had made a great impression on the keeper’s confused mind was ‘limpu noodool’’.

“Limp noodle??” the officer questioning the dazed woman asked, pausing in his scribbling.

“Yes, limpu noodool” the keeper confirmed. The madam had called oga those exact words. A knowing look crept into the officer’s visage and the second officer present nodded, as if acknowledging something.

Why had those words stuck in her mind? the officer asked the keeper.

Well, the words had started the rain of blows. The keeper vividly recalled Mr Ibe’s shocked silence, followed by a sharp sound that could only be a very hot slap. She couldn’t be too sure because she had been eavesdropping and hadn’t wanted to be caught. So immediately the she had heard the slap-sound, she had vamoosed from the door. Even as she was fleeing, she had received a call that her little son who was ill had been rushed to the clinic so she had left the premises without witnessing the conclusion of the fight.

Had she noticed anything strange in the compound while leaving?

No, there hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary. She had left the house in a panic immediately she received the call. The only person left behind in the compound had been the new gardener.

The new gardener? Mr Ibe and his wife had not been gardening people, the officer stated flatly.

The keeper wiped her eyes, blew her nose and shrugged. That is what he had told her earlier in the day. The man had gone to introduce himself to madam. He told madam that oga had sent him and she could call oga to confirm. Madam, who had seemed preoccupied all day had nodded absently and told him to wait for oga outside the compound. He hadn’t left, but had opted to hang around in the compound.

Could she describe this gardener?

Well, his features were generally nondescript. The only thing worthy of note was that he had a pronounced limp on his right leg and he spoke with a thick Yoruba accent.

Had he done any gardening in the compound?
No, but he said he was going to resume the following day. Why, she had even overhead him telling someone on the phone that the rain was going to fall by 9.00 pm.

The officer looked up. “Did you say 9.00pm?” he asked the woman sharply.

“Yes, 9.00pm. I am very sure. I no go school because of condition but I dey remember things well well. The man tok sey ‘the rain falls by give or take, 9.00pm’ ”

“Okay, I see”, the officer said grimly. "Please continue."

She had left the compound by 8.05 pm, and that was all she knew. She was shocked to learn that Mr Ibe had killed his wife, and his wife had in turn killed him! What was the world turning to?? Mr Ibe had loved his wife and the housekeeper knew they would have made up eventually. What had gotten into the both of them??

When the distraught housekeeper had left the questioning room, the second officer turned to the detective who had conducted the questioning and said:

“This case is beginning to scare me. It seems everyone involved with this Koko case is getting bumped off, mehn.”

His colleague nodded. “The strange thing is the coroner, judging from the stage of rigor mortis in the bodies placed the time of deaths at about 9.00 pm. That, to me, is more than coincidence”.

“Damn straight. It also got me wondering, you know, how Susanna was able to shoot her husband in the face, with a knife stuck in her chest. It just doesn’t add up!”

“I don’t believe they killed each other, despite the weapons that were found in their hands.”

They were silent for a while, each lost in his own thoughts, and then the second officer spoke up. “What do you think Mr Ibe and Susan were arguing about?”

His colleague shrugged his shoulder. “Beats me. From what that woman said,” referring to the housekeeper “it seems Dr Suleman was the bone of contention. That Suleman character always gave me the creeps whenever I came across him, so I wonder what a woman like Susan would have been doing with him. They were most likely having an affair, and perhaps something more sinister. He was the head mortician in the clinic, while she was the Chief’s wife. It’s all very fishy and it stinks to high heavens”. He paused to light a stick of cigarette he had dug out of his breast pocket. The second officer looked at the cigarette, irritated.

“That thing is going to kill you, you know.”

“Something’s gotta kill man.”

“Your case is hopeless”.

“So I’ve been told”

The man took a deep drag and exhaled.

“Everything doesn’t add up. Like in said, I don’t believe those two killed themselves.”

“Me neither,” the second man concurred. He waved away the smoke which his colleague had blown his direction with exasperation. “Will you cut that out!” he snapped.

And then: “At least no one can blame Lucan for this one. Not unless he suddenly developed super human powers and stabbed Susanna with the IV stand.”

The men sniggered.

“How is he, by the way?”

“Don’t know. Haven’t heard anything from that end”.

The men chatted on, trying to make connections in a case that was proving to be more complicated than the most complicated jigsaw puzzle. . .

Forty eight hours previously . . .

Osborne Road.

Lucan yawned and stretched. He looked round the plush apartment and marvelled. He was not a materialistic guy, but he couldn’t help but admire the beauty of Amina Dasuntu’s abode. Wall to wall carpeting of plush Arabian rugs, cream coloured leather chairs, drapes that looked so exotic that they gave the whole place an almost dreamlike setting.

Lucan shook his head. These were all products of filthy lucre. His mind still reeled from all Amina had disclosed to him. It seemed the game was more complicated than everyone imagined, but what he still couldn’t fathom was why he, Lucan Ode, of all the police officers in the country, was chosen to be the scape goat in all these. And to imagine that his beloved Tracy had all being a part of it filled him with bitter sorrow.

A sound interrupted his ponderings. It came from just outside the window. It was a peculiar sound. He would have dismissed it as one of the night sounds one often imagined one heard once in a while, but his neck still ached from the blow his head had received, and this time he wasn’t going to put anything to chance.

He wondered what was taking Amina so long. She had excused herself to go get dinner, but that seemed like hours ago.

He tried to relax but he couldn’t get his body to cooperate. That eerie sense of foreboding that had being with him these past few days was getting stronger by the minute and his nerves were stretched thin.

The door into the sitting room opened, and he jumped. Amina walked in bearing a tray of boiled plantain and fish stew. God, he really needed to relax. He was becoming paranoid.
“Sorry I took so long” she apologised, “I had to boil fresh plantains because the first batch was soggy”. She set down the tray on the dining table, and as she did, Lucan heard the sound again. Okay, this was definitely not his imagination. It was time to follow his instinct. Following his instincts had saved him several times in the past and these critical times were not the time to ignore them. A warning bell, deep down in his psyche started clanging. His heart quickened and an unexplainable feeling of urgency possessed him.

He quickly got up from where he sat and crossed to where Amina stood setting the table. She looked up when he grabbed her hand, a question on her lips but the question died when she saw the intense look on his face.

Lucan motioned for her to keep silent and, stealthily, like two cats on the trail of a tiresome rat, they crept out of the living room.


********************************************

JACK ETIM’S HOUSE

Enoh Etim stood over her husband’s personal computer and stared at the image on the screen. It was the image of a young boy wearing a jacket with a hood, throwing something into the trash can by the side of a building. The camera hadn’t captured the building in detail, but the building looked familiar. She couldn’t place it, but she was sure she had seen the building before.

However, it wasn’t the building that arrested her attention but the boy, who looked to be in his early twenties. She didn’t know why he had drawn her attention, but she had an almost overwhelming feeling that it was important she found out who he was. Very important. . .
********************************************

Osborne Road

Amina led Lucan through the building, the back entrance, her destination. She had to almost bite her tongue in an effort to keep herself from blurting out the questions that whirled through her mind, the prominent being, exactly what, or who they were running from. It seemed trouble dogged Lucan wherever he went.

They got to back entrance and Amina fumbled with the door lock. Her hands were trembling so much that they slipped twice before they could get a firm grip.

The sound of the tumblers giving way was almost abnormally loud in the stillness of the house. Finally, the door slid open and they stepped out.

Lucan felt exposed. He suddenly had the urge to step back into the house but he pushed it aside.

They made it as far as the centre of the open back yard when a shot rang out. He felt something graze his cheek and embed itself in the fence a few feet from where they stood.

“SOMEBODY IS SHOOTING AT US! GET DOWN!!!” he yelled.

Amina screamed. Another shot rang out, this time it missed them completely and slammed harmlessly into the door through which they had exited the building.

“DUCK AND ROLL!!” Lucan shouted and threw himself on top of Amina. Together they rolled on the concrete floor.

“Up!” he breathed into her terrified face. Without waiting to see if she understood him, he dragged the weeping Amina from the floor and ran towards the open back door of the building. They had to be in constant motion so that the shooter wouldn’t have a lock on them.

He didn’t fear for his life because he had been fired at several times during the course of his career, but Amina was a civilian and she wouldn’t know how to manoeuvre her body in this kind of situation. The most important thing right now was they had to get back in the house because being in the open had made them easy prey for the shooter.

Amina felt the rush of hot air on her cheeks as a bullet whizzed by and buried itself in only God knows where. Dear God, she couldn’t believe she was being shot at. This was a nightmare!

Suddenly, they were at the entrance of the house. Lucan pushed Amina through the open door and just as he stepped past the threshold after, he felt something like a hot hammer slam into the back of his skull. He heard someone scream, and then

Darkness.

Dr Kabon Tijani was having a very slow night at work. How he hated night shifts. He was supposed to work afternoon that day but his scumfaced slime ball of a colleague who had nicknamed himself ‘Phrenology Guru’, or PYGURU for short, had pulled a fast one on him and he had found himself working the graveyard shift.

God, he despised Pyguru with a passion that bordered on mania. Almost everyone in the clinic did. That sneaky little assshole was going to find himself at the receiving end of a beating one of these days. He would personally make sure of that.

Kabon yawned. This was going to be a very boring night, he thought.

How very wrong he was.

********************************************
Under the cover of darkness, the shooter cursed. The bullet that had just felled Lucan was meant for Miss Dasuntu. This was bad. Very bad. He would have to go into the house to finish her off.

When he stepped out of his hiding place, the light from an open window illuminated his face. If Sharon could see him, she would have identified him as the man who had being in the mortuary in search of his missing sister, while Mr Ibe’s housekeeper would have sworn he was the new gardener who showed up at the Ibe residence two days later.

As this man of many identities ran towards the open back door where Lucan lay, he suddenly heard a dog barking somewhere and someone began pounding on the main gate into the compound.

He turned and fled.

********************************************

He was getting ready to begin his ward rounds when his phone rang. He dug into his pocket and fished out the vibrating phone.

Well well well, who do we have here? So she remembered him today? He found himself grinning like an excited school boy. He composed himself and cleared his throat before pressing the ‘answer’ button. In the deepest, ‘James Bond’-est voice he could muster, he said into the mouthpiece “hello?”

The woman at the other end screamed into his ears, making him wince and pull the phone away.

“KABON, I NEED YOU!”


********************************************

Dr Tijani looked at the bleeding man before him and knew he had to get him to the clinic very fast. He had been surprised when Amina had called asking for his help. He had grabbed his car keys and driven like a mad man to the house address she had given him, thinking she had broken a leg or something.

He had been totally unprepared for the scene he met.

Police men were everywhere, while some people, security men, he assumed, stood in groups whispering. What the hell was going on??

He had ignored them and walked to the front
door and been intercepted by a mean looking officer. He had been trying to explain his mission to the house when Amina walked up to them, explained to the officer who he was and pulled him to where Lucan laid in a pool of his own blood.

His professional training kicking in, he hadn’t asked questions but had immediately examined the fallen man. His pulse was very weak and dropping rapidly. He had been shot through the head.

He shifted the head and saw an exit wound just at the top of the left ear. Good, it showed the bullet hadn’t lodged itself inside. Though the wound looked bad, it was a miracle the man was still alive

“We have to get him to the clinic immediately”, he said grimly. “I don’t know if he will even make it we have to try”.

With the help of the policemen, the dying Lucan was loaded into a makeshift ambulance and driven like a Formula one race car to Dr Tijani’s clinic.

While the vehicle barelled its way through the night traffic, Kabon did his best to make the patient comfortable. Amina sat opposite them, silent and dazed. Despite the circumstances, she still looked as beautiful as the last time they had been together. Who the patient was to her and what she was doing surrounded by policemen who seemed more interested in the patient than in finding the supposed robber {he assumed a robbery gone wrong was the reason why the man he was attending to had been shot} were questions that would have to wait.

Just as they were about to drive into the clinic, Kabon noticed that the patient had stopped breathing. He touched the base of his neck. No pulse.

The man was dead.

Dr Tijani gritted his teeth and cursed. No, not tonight!

H
e jumped out of the vehicle and ignoring Amina’s startled enquiries, he ran into the clinic and yelled for the nurses.

“Emergency!”, he shouted. The nurses on duty immediately rushed to his side.

“The patient is in the vehicle outside. Get him an IV into him and put him on oxygen. You”, he pointed to a wide eyed nurse, “prepare the AED.” He continued to bark instructions like a drill commander and the nurses scampered around to keep up with him.

In no time, everything was ready. That was one of the advantages of working in a private, well equipped hospital.

Lucan was wheeled in and they gathered around him. Just as the doctor was about to start resuscitation, the door burst open and a wild eyed man flew in.

“Hello doctor”, he said breathlessly. “I am Detective David Akporodia of the Nig…”

“Save it!” Tijani snapped “we don’t have time for that. Now step aside let me do my job.” What was it with these people, he thought indignantly.

The policeman shut his mouth and quickly stepped aside.

Kabon took the paddles and shoved them into the patient’s chest, the anterior electrode on the right, below the clavicle, and the apex electrode on his left, just below and to the left of the pectoral muscle.

He reached across the body and flipped the switch. The screen of the AED came to life.
Flat grey lines ran across the screen. As he expected, it was a flatline. Shiit.

No matter, he would still try.

“Clear!” he shouted.

“Clear” the nurse responded.

The nurse flicked a switch and 200 joules of electricity coursed through Lucan’s chest. The ventricles in Lucan’s heart trembled and tried to contract. More juice was needed.

“Again, clear”

“Clear.”

The nurse waited three seconds for the AED to recharge, and then hit the switch.

Lucan’s muscles reacted. His body jumped violently.

“Hit it again!”

“Clear!”

The nurse flipped the switch again and this time Lucan’s body absorbed the electricity and gave only a tiny jerk. Good.

God, please let him live , Kabon prayed

“Check the contacts”, Tijani said urgently.

The nurse looked at the heart monitor. There was some tentative cardiac activity.

Kabon bent down, quickly removed the gas mask covering Lucan’s airways and gave the man mouth to mouth. After a few puffs of air, he straightened up and said

“Clear!”

“Clear”.

The switch was thumbed again. Lucan’s body didn’t react. The doctor and the nurses present looked at the heart monitor again.

The flatline had started jerking.

Everyone present, including the policeman called David held their breaths. You could almost cut the silence in the room with a knife.

The monitor started beeping, sluggishly at first, then picked up, fast.

Lucan Ode was back.



End of chapter 8...

CHAPTER NINE
THE SPIDER'S WEB.
SUBMITTED BY UNIQUEXTY

Amina woke with a start. She had a moment of disorientation before she realized that she was in the ICU, sitting in a chair beside Lucan's bed. The windows in the room were all locked and the plastic curtain that served as the door blocked out all the light from the hallway. Amina leaned forward, looking at her watch in the glow of monitors, and saw that it was seven in the morning. She was very sure that missed calls would grace her phone, which she could not even give account of. Richardo was sure going to give her stone for bread. He respected appointments and she just disrespected one. That was the least of her concerns. She had missed her update for the previous day.

Amina sat up in her chair, wincing as her spine adjusted to a position that did not resemble a C. She pressed her fingers to Lucan's wrist, though the rhythmic beat of his heart, along with every in and out of breath, was announced by the machines. Amina had no idea if Lucan coud feel herb touch or even knew she was there, but it made her feel better to have the contact. He looked excellent in those hospital apparels.

Lucan was a fugitive and Amina knew that she was not expected to be seen around him, at least, not if she still valued and appreciated her career. She thought of the previous night, when Lucan had been brought in. The circumstances surrounding the shots lingered in her heart. Lucan had braced her life at the expense of his. Amina knew that the machine that made such quality men had long broken down. It pricked her heart that of all men, Lucan was that man.

Back in that burning house, she had wanted to hate Lucan on sight for no other reason than he was the type of man you'd just hate on sight: Broad shoulders, thick pair of legs, Light brown complexion and very hairy body. For the average lady, Lucan was prince charming, but Amina was far above average.

She really had no reason for haven stayed back at the hospital. Lucan was in good hands. The nurses and doctors were down the hallway. Policemen as many as she could count, surrounded the building. Four kept guard by the door.

The vinyl curtain slid back, squeaking on the rail. Amanda, one of the ICU nurses, flashed Amina a smile as she put Lucan's chart on the bed.
" Had a good night? " Amanda asked. She bustled around the room, checking the leads, making sure the IV was running.
" Good night? You can't imagine." Amina flashed a faint smile. " How's he coming up?"
" Better than I personally expected. Dr. Kabon will soon come around to check him up."
" Alright then. I'll just go and see him before going home."
" He's on ward round. Guess you might not find him settled."
" Thats okay. I'll be on my way then. I'll drop by later."

The four policemen stationed outside the room tipped their hats to Amina as she left the room. She could feel their eyes on her as she walked down the hall - not only because they thought she was attractive, but because they knew she was a model. The pressmen that were sleeping away laziness all sprang forth on her appearance. It took the efforts of the policemen to restore order. The last thing that they wanted was confusion. Experience has taught them that confusion is a breeding ground for crime. Amina maintained a straight face as she walked out, towards her new tinted glassed Toyota Camry.

She froze as she approached the car. Someone had taken one of the wipers of her vehicle. She looked around and noticed something. Was it a coincidence, mistake or a deliberate act? Her fears were confirmed when she opened the car and found a note on the driver's seat. It read "How good does it feel, having him alive" A thumb-down, sealed the note. Her heart somersaulted. This was doom. She could feel her weight giving away. It was no other person than who she knew it was. The Thumb - down was speaking for itself. When the leg of the rat is trapped in the Bible, it learns the anthems of the gods.


************************************************************************************************************************************************************** David could still see the pains on Lucan's face as he held tracy and wept. Coming to his house had refreshed the memories. Sharon had insisted on coming. If she was going to do this case, then she had to know what was to know.

" Over here......." something caught her attention and she went to the sofa and picked up what looked like a small book from the edges of the sofa.
" Whats that? " David asked, joining her.
" Looks like a diary."
" Whats in it?"
" You're in a better position to know. Numbers that looks similar to phone numbers, and figures that I can't make out."
" Let me take a look " David demanded. Sharon handed him the pink diary.
" Wow! Look what's written on the cover.... Y C A R T. " He shot her a look and their gaze locked. " Do you see what I see? He asked
" Yea. Reading it from the back, it says TRACY."

*****************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Enoh was glued to the screen of the laptop. She had copied the picture to her own laptop. She knew this building and something told her that this picture meant something. Looking at it alone gave her the assurance.
"You like the picture?" It was Jack. Enoh's chest locked. How long had be been standing behind her? He placed his hands on her shoulders.
"Darling, why are you jumpy?"
"Nothing." She replied coldly.
"Ah ah. Baby, don't be like this on me. What have i done to deserve this treatment from................." She stood up, packed her laptop and walked away. Jack slapped his thighs furiously. This was badder than he thought. What was wrong with her? He rested on the table, thumb nail in mouth. Just then, a thought struck his mind. It was obvious she liked the picture. The way she was staring at it was very strange. He was going to start drawing the portrait and maybe give it to her as a gift. That thought made him smile. He slapped his in excitement. Enoh always appreciated his art works.

*****************************************************************************************************************************************************************

She read the message again. " Thunder and Lightening." This kind of alert was not the type that bothered Madam K. It was the sender. When he coughs, people around him catches cold. Madam K understood the gravity of the earthquake for HIM to send her this kind of message.

She drove into the glass house and found nothing. Just as she expected. He only showed himself when he was sure that she came alone. She came down from her car, adjusted her veil and sun shades.

Gallantly and confidently, she walked into the inner chambers of the glass house.

" Hi!" It was HIM. From where he had emanated from, she couldn't explain. But that was none of her business. The text message was.

He looked better from the last time they had met. His beards were newly shaved, muscles more enhanced and pronounced. The evil scar on his shoulder was visible on his sleeveless brown polo. Black jean was his favourite.
" You look good." Madam K complimented and he smiled, revealing a set of brown teeth that complemented his dark skin.
" Let's get to business." Those smiles were no more as he sat down.
" I got your text."
" Yea. The samples from the blood found at Dr. Suleman's office was positive." He said. Madam K smiled but did not say anything, so he continued. "Mistakes are not tolerated. He needs to be awarded scores"
" Appropriately too. I got a mail on my way down here. Take a look." She put on her laptop and revealed the picture Enoh had forwarded to her. He looked at it and locked glances with Madam K. "The die is cast" he said, just as his cell phone rang. He picked it still looking into Madam K's eyes and answered.


*****************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Tope smiled to himself as he added water to the rice on fire. Working at the local Mortuary had turned out to be more fun than he expected. Things were turning out really dramatic and he loved being part of the actors. Why did Dr. Suleman produce two copies of the lab result? Two results with different information? His H.O.D was really going to be happy with him when he presents a report of his internship training.

The tap on the door distracted him. As usual, his lodge mate's never allowed a meal pass without dropping by to book their package. Tope was very sure it was one of them when he went to the door. But the face that met him was that of Mrs. Bukola Ajoke.
Mrs Bukola Ajoke? she was not the type of woman who made appearances without reason. Tope knew this theory. For the weeks he had worked with Dr. Suleman, his wife only came around once when, from what he gathered, she had come to obtain information on the lady who was using her husband. The source of her informations was a top secret. She was highly influential and possessed a thick Aura. Standing before Tope now, he knew she did not come for nothing, as it was the first time she was stepping foot on his door mouth.