Dauda had seen Jericho fall. It was now time to conquer. His team’s Israelite guts and soldiery obedience to his tactics had brought them here; to the edge of football paradise, as they saw it.

They didn’t now need an extra Achilles heel. They didn’t need the distraction of their coach being detained and tried for murder. They didn’t need the stain of their club being linked with a murder. They didn’t deserve to lose their coach just before the most important game of their season. So, he kept his secret. It would hurt him, but it wouldn’t kill. I’ll be alright, he thought.

Nadia’s car was just in front of them now. He watched with pride as she joked with a sergeant and pressed her car doors open with a remote. He loved seeing how good his daughter was having it. He had never been one for Gender Olympics, but he liked how the male domination in her line of work wasn’t written on her face, or her attitude to work. Clearly not on her pay-check either. At least the jet black Toyota Yaris they were now settling into said so. His precious first fruit was doing just fine, and he loved to see it!
****
Milford’s eyes scanned every corner in the airport. He hid behind his sunshades and face cap, hoping he would find Nadia before football fans could recognize him. He heard that star-struck Nigerians’ requests at airports could be anything. Anything at all. From an autograph, to a selfie, to cash, or even babies. And even though those he met at the Muritala Mohammed Airport had been somewhat civil, he wasn’t ready to stretch his luck.

His heart kicked when he found his petite sister waving at him from the Arrival Lounge. She looked every bit the police inspector she was. So much that it almost startled him. Maybe that was why he hadn’t recognized her immediately he got to the Arrivals. But then again, he hadn’t guessed she was into elderly men. Who’s the old hunk? He thought.
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