‘That was Baghdad 2005. Media has it, it was a stint military operation. No one tried to investigate. Classified…’ Nickel texted; ‘Is the woman still alive?’ Agnes replied the text.
‘The 2nd image is Angela Vrataski. Alibi—L.A aspiring actress gone without a trace. IRL serving as ultimate seducer for the C. I. A in gaining intelligence from top politicians in rival countries, business moguls, scientific minds. Has the ability of persuasion, irresistible beauty and extreme level of pheromones. Has skin condition of melting skin which requires high load of ‘cosmetics’ to keep up. Currently under capture of Japanese military; evident from the photo, after a mission gone south’ Nickel texted once more, ignoring Agnes’ text or question. Agnes went back to watching the previous video again as doubt occupied her mind and memory. Was it Fake…? Video FX…? Or the real deal?

This was too much to be true. How could such operation be secret till now? She asked. Or was Nickel really CharlieUFO? She rested on another theory while scrolling through the chats to take a look at the images once more. She stopped at the image of the blonde woman kneeling to Japanese soldiers whose skin was melting. Alex Nickel must have a whole new definition of ‘beauty’, Agnes thought, unable to stand the sight of the photo.
She scrolled back to the current chat to see another video again. Without wasting time, she played it. Unlike the previous one, the recording on this was clearer in picture quality as if to testify it was in line with the year the recording was made. 2014; technology had gotten better then.

Like its predecessor, the video had a muted audio but the background featured a livelier mood than the previous that had a hostile one. The recording took place in a bedroom, well furnished with a scent Agnes could perceive from where she was. A middle aged bald headed, well-dressed Japanese man in grey beard led a woman inside. It was the blonde woman in the picture, only here she was the absolute definition of all Nickel had texted. But Nickel couldn’t have gotten everything right for he failed to add; sophisticated. Agnes wondered which Nigerian lady could compare with the lady.
Just like the lady, the Japanese man was sophisticated; a thing which featured more in his dressing than their age bracket as he looked more of a bureaucrat than a common wealthy man. The man invited the lady straight to the expensive mattress but the lady sensing something wrong or that she was being recorded, declined. She didn’t want to look cheap or too desperate. She instead invited the Asian to sit with her on the 3 sitter chair far from the bed, to which the man accepted rather too happily.
Taking it upon herself, the lady drew herself closer to the Asian, allowing her breasts rub his chest. The man found himself too elated. He couldn’t wait for the next stage, but the lady was in no rush, she instead opted to starting a conversation. The Asian had no choice, he agreed. It was all he was doing in the recording, obliging to whatever the lady requested. It was like he had no control of himself or a personality at all. The lady found it irritating though as each time she had to bend her head, rub her forehead, hit her forehead or shake her head. One couldn’t blame her though, the conversation took the entirety of the video to which the Asian spent all time talking, laughing, being happy and agreeing.

It couldn’t have been more irritating but if the lady had exercised a little patience for which she was less than likely to, her eyes wouldn’t have bled out due to her hurry; or perhaps, due to the lack of it.
In few minutes, the lady started bleeding profusely from her eyes which to the Asian was weird as he was more accustomed to women bleeding from a different part during monthly moments. If it was just that, it would’ve been explainable but then, the lady’s skin started to peel changing its tone to reveal another skin layer marching third degree burns. In two blinks of an eye, the lady whom was an irresistible beauty became the villain of a horror movie; a B-movie without the Hollywood effects. So much for too much ‘make up’. Soon, the Asian found himself screaming at the sight of a third degree burns victim in front of him. Done with the Asian being so much of an irritation, the lady pulled a pistol on him. In a swift instinct for defense, the lady felt the urge to pull the trigger. Since the recording had no audio, it was safe to be sure no one knew how many shots she fired. The recording went dead after the Asian fell on his back to the 3 sitter.

‘Why did she kill him? He was clearly defenseless and she could have left under the pretext of suffering from a skin condition she doesn’t want anyone to know about’ Agnes rushed to type before settling to wait for Nickel’s reply.
What if Nickel was indeed CharlieUFO? Maybe that was how he found out her name. But then again, she didn’t use her real name only an alias. And she knew not to put her email on the site. Who are you? She asked again but to herself. What if Nickel was just some Nigerian playing with her? She hissed. Nigerians are smarter than that. They are rather busy hustling than sitting on a laptop 24/7 finding conspiracy. ‘She’s a woman. She panicked and that’s how she got caught. She wasn’t trained for the field. The Japanese found she was a spy, and then the rest is the history we are chatting on now…’ Nickel emailed. Agnes rushed to read only to see another text again, ‘The 3rd image is from Hurricane Katrina. No one knows what it was. Still trying to figure it out but satellite images make it out to be a man either stirring the hurricane or…’ the message read, and Agnes had to scroll back to see the image again.

For the first time, she realized it was the image from the video upload CharlieUFO posted on his site and they had argued on; the Captain Frederick Jones clip. Was it confirmed? Nickel is really CharlieUFO, Agnes thought.
‘I believe you’ve seen the image/video before?’ Agnes read the latest text from Nickel.
Eager to reply and prove she was right on the fact that Nickel and Charlie was the same person, Agnes typed, ‘How did you know that?’ ‘Like I said ‘did a background check’ Nickel sent.
‘Are you CharlieUFO?’ Agnes replied, but Nickel’s response didn’t match her question.
‘So you see, these people live amongst us as ordinary people living ordinary lives…till the govt. gets hold of them as weapons’ Nickel texted. Frustrated with him not replying the most important questions, Agnes was eager to type ‘So what do you want?’ to end the chat. ‘Excuse me…?’ Nickel replied with a question; his very first question that seemed genuine. ‘Giving me all that information must come at a price which worst of all, are classified data. You involved me for a reason’ Agnes typed, reading along as she was eager to type.
‘Why don’t you sleep on that? When you wake, how about considering a trip to Amsterdam Netherlands, sponsored by my estate where we can talk about that. And a lot you don’t know’ Nickel spent 3 minutes before replying, much to Agnes’ initial disappointment. ‘Trust me, it’ll be worth your time…’ was Nickel’s latest and last text.

Agnes rolled her eyes around before scrolling her phone, she looked around, “This isn’t right” she said, “Just like that?” she left the expression on her face while staring at her laptop that was paces away from her.
She moved to it leaving her phone behind as she sat on the chair nearest to the laptop looking at its screen. She tapped the space bar key to reveal a visual fest of a blog titled‘hystericaltrends.com’ that had her picture on the top right of the title log. She had a smile on it and was on green; emerald.
Agnes placed her index finger on the laptop mouse, moved it to her desired taste, and then settled on typing. It didn’t take her long to get done though considering there was a lot on her head to be shafted down. Agnes sighed once she typed in the last word with a full stop. There was nothing as good as clearing your head off so many thoughts and finishing what you have on your plate, she smiled. The morning breeze flew in to kiss her, agreeing with her.

Looking at the window, Agnes found the weather taking another form. A form in which an avid star wars fan wouldn’t mistake to think it was a dark force behind.
“Stop!” she shortly heard as she felt everything freeze behind her and the ground go cold. It was a whisper. “Don’t…he will kill you” the voice came again tingling Agnes as she realized early enough that she wasn’t the only one in the house. Who is the person now inside? And how did he get in?
Curious, she stopped whatever she felt she was doing immediately to look back. How could an intruder have busted in without her knowledge? The question hung at the back of her head as she turned, only to find out it wasn’t whom it was she should be worried about, but how.
From where she sat staring at the plain view of her room, a wrinkled hand crawled up to her clawing at her right arm from out of nowhere. “Stop!” Agnes leapt out of the chair instantly on hearing the voice close to her ear.
“Jesus…!” she screamed atop her voice on sighting the intruder.

It took few minutes to register the whole thing, and when she came to, she found herself recounting the intruder’s appearance. It was a woman; an aged woman in ragged clothes and jaded hair. Her body was drenched all over and soaking of water and blood. Agnes looked into the woman’s eyes to be sure what she was seeing was right but what she beheld in her eyes, forced drops of tears from her own eyes. There was so much pain and blood in them.
“He will kill you” the woman snarled, opening her lips to utter out silent whispers.
Struggling with many thoughts and questions and most specifically, the identity of the woman, Agnes found herself covering her mouth. Fear surged into her mind instantly, holding her off from saying anything. She wasn’t sure why but when she saw the tears flowing from her eyes, she realized the reason.
“Mum?” Agnes uttered out, with the question finally shoving its way out but into the river of skepticism.

Twitching her neck sideways, Agnes found it hard to believe what she was seeing but then, couldn’t hold herself from drawing out tears. The aged woman also drew out tears too. “No…no…no” Agnes stuttered, “You are not real” she shook her head again, “You are dead” she cried. The woman standing while staring at Agnes with wet eyes flung a pitiful gaze at the young lady in front of her. She shook her head too. “Stop this” she reprimanded, “There is no good in it…”
“You are dead!” Agnes sparked off before the woman could finish. “You are dead” she repeated, “You are supposed to be dead!” she screamed a third time.

Shivering at the echo of her own voice, Agnes stepped back trembling. A great cold swept all over her immediately. “You are supposed…to be…dead” she closed her eyes whispering gently as she held her ears covered.
She was trying very hard to block the thoughts. The thought that she had seen a ghost or that a ghost was in her room. How? Why? She struggled hard to block the questions as she incessantly breathed in and out to keep her heartbeat.
Agnes tried to assume and maintain the belief that the ordeal wasn’t happening nor was it real. But then, removing her hands off her ears, she realized it wasn’t about seeing a ghost that she should be worried of but the thoughts of losing her mind.

It was like Nana all over again, isn’t it? She asked. She was losing her mind wasn’t she? They said she would. They said it began with her mother like this. Was this it? Agnes rubbed her back head with her fingers as she opened her eyes. She wasn’t there; the woman wasn’t there again.
Agnes glared around to wonder for the fact if it was her imaginations playing tricks on her or history taking effect. The room was as it was, everything was silent, no woman, no blood or water or a mix of both on the floor or anywhere. Everything stood as if nothing had happened.
“Am not losing my mind” Agnes said aloud, “I won’t. am not you. I will never be” she assured.

Yusuf’s eyes sailed through space as he stood staring at the flowers and plants surrounding the entirety of the green house. And as he watched, he saw the winds moving in slow motion that he felt he could race up to it and hold it in its tracks. But the problem was, his mind wasn’t even with the winds itself but rather, at the make shift bed in front of him that was beside the cupboard. It wasn’t the bed he was concerned of, but the person on it. Yusuf stared down at himself to see he was no longer in his green skin-suit. “Your heartbeat is slowing down” a voice came up immediately, beside him. Yusuf swung around to see Lotanna standing in front of him. It was morning, and as Yusuf sighed, he looked at the syringe in front of him on the table among the flower vases. He picked it up and stuck it to his right arm injecting the fluid in it into his veins.
“How long can we keep this up?” he asked trying to hide the pain that came from sticking the injection into his skin and the fluid entering his system.
“What…?” Lotanna moved closer to him like she hadn’t heard the first time, but it was obvious she was only trying to cover up the gap between them; no matter how awkward it was she did it.
“She’s showing no sign of improvement. It’s been 5 days now, she hasn’t opened her eyes. Nothing we’ve done has worked. She hasn’t eaten…” Yusuf pointed, directing his index finger at the position he was previously looking at.
“What would you have us do?” Lotanna asked only to end up finding interest in something else as she inhaled the morning breeze. “Maybe we should take her to the hospital” Yusuf suggested.
“We can’t do that without letting Oluchi know. And that means exposing you” Lotanna rebuked, reminding Yusuf of a fact with her last statement. “Or how else am I going to explain finding her when am not allowed to step outside?” she explained as Yusuf stared on. For one, he noticed how beautiful she looked yet saw how awkward her eyes were stylishly directed at him. “We can’t keep this a secret forever. Maybe we should tell Oluchi, reason with her. Maybe she would understand” he suggested, trying as much as he could to be realistic to the situation. He turned to look at the girl on the mattress again then returned his eyes to Lotanna for her response.
“No!” she barked out.

Confused, Yusuf found himself glaring at everything while trying to keep his heart rate in one piece. “Why?” he returned. “There is something wrong with the girl. I don’t quite get it but I don’t think it has to do with someone she is scared of or running from but what is chasing her” Lotanna explained, reversing the subject in a whole new way. She faked a tensed look afterwards which Yusuf on his end couldn’t tell if real or fake. “…the night you brought her I heard something” she continued, with Yusuf looking around to notice the winds blowing again but back to full speed this time. “…it wasn’t clear but it was obvious it was a voice reaching for her” Lotanna ended only to turn her eyes to where the girl was sleeping.
“There was nobody here that night. I didn’t hear any voice” he stated, looking for ways to coax her out of such thoughts. He raised his hands only to halt them in the air, he felt like touching her.
“But I did…” Lotanna insisted.
“So what are you saying? That the girl is possessed?” Yusuf dropped his hands, theorizing. He turned away from Lotanna immediately to rest on the thought that she might be right. He turned to look at the sleeping girl again. “I shouldn’t have brought her here” he said hitting his head. He brought this upon himself.
“No…” Lotanna went off before he could finally sink himself into the pool of regret. “Maybe she’s like us” she theorized forcing Yusuf to look at her again as he found a reason not to be guilt-ridden. “…and if she is, all the more reason we shouldn’t let Oluchi know” Lotanna affirmed. Hiding his excitement, Yusuf tried to calm his mind but found that to be dangerous, “I don’t understand. Why are we even hiding in the first place? I know why I am hiding but you, why?” he asked, “Why are you hiding?”

That instance everything fell silent as Lotanna found her eyes picking offense with something. Yusuf on the other hand felt everything slow including his own movements which to him, was surprising and weird. Everything was fine, he assumed but this?
“Hide…” he caught up to Lotanna immediately only to have her jug him off his lucid moment. He stared at her dumbly once he found himself back in reality. And like one awaiting a kiss from a crush, he’s heartbeats rose, only to have Lotanna yell at him. “Quick, hide. Along with the girl…she’s coming”
Spurred by his rage, Yusuf turned away from Lotanna that minute along with the winds as they sparked and rattled everything around including the flowers. Lotanna's hair billowed high afterwards. At one glare, Lotanna saw the sleeping girl on the mattress was no longer there, nor the mattress itself. Yusuf who was just in front of her, was nowhere to be seen. Lotanna stood still immediately, knowing Oluchi was just steps behind. “Ah…you are already awake” she said once she came close to Lotanna. “There is someone at the parlour waiting for you…the boy from the office. He says it is urgent” she reported immediately. Chuks stretched his shirt collar before straightening his shirt; as he stood waiting for the owner of the house; the person he had come to meet. He stood firm memorizing his lines all over again, hoping he hadn’t missed anything. He felt the need to be prepared; fully prepared. But then each time he tried, he felt disappointed seeing he hadn’t the perfect punch line to tell someone, a family member was up to no good. The reason being he was just a common outsider.
“This way…” Chuks heard immediately from close range and so stood still, holding on to the file in his hand like it was his life. Out from an angle, he saw the lanky woman reappear but this time with Lotanna; the lady he had come to meet. He restructured his posture once more to ensure he was upright. Uprightness was what was required to be believed in such circumstances.
“Good morning Miss Lotanna” he blurted trying to form an accent. It didn’t go so well and the lanky woman; Oluchi and Lotanna made sure he was aware of it. Chuks returned the gaze.
“If you are from the company, I presume you must be Chuks?” the lady replied, somewhat pretending to be oblivious to his identity. “By my voice you shall know me” he smiled, stretching his arms sideways like one welcoming a hug. Lotanna stood for a second, directed her eyes at everything except her visitor, “My uncle isn’t around” she said, unimpressed with the humor and gesture.

Disappointed, Chuks moved for an apology only to halt 3 paces from her, “Actually I came to see you” he said softly, looking at Oluchi then at the clock.
Lotanna somewhat withdrawing from her position; directed her eyes to where Oluchi was then to Chuks. “Me? Oluchi said it was something urgent” she hadn’t the perfect thing to say but had to say something.
Oluchi sensing what might have been going on, took some steps back to her mistress. She looked at her. “So what is it?” Lotanna restructured, having come up with just the perfect response, “Oluchi could you excuse us? I think am safe” she turned to her butler, grabbing her arm; talk about perfect timing.
“I was about to go to the market” the lanky woman came up with. It was just the thing Lotanna requested but the woman had to make it look less of a command or her reacting to one. The woman found a reason to leave but still much slower than Lotanna expected. Lotanna had to wait for everything to clear before turning to her visitor.

He too sensed it, “Let me guess…” Chuks opted to start the conversation, “It’s either you are having problems with her or you don’t like her” he said, raising a finger as if to point something out.
“You are a bad predictor” Lotanna chided, moving from her position to where ever she felt comfort was. Chuks too followed, “So what was so urgent you had to come down here to talk about when my uncle is not around?”
“I came to see you” Chuks restated. He took a stop at where the cushion chairs were as Lotanna took her seat. “That’s why I came at this hour” Chuks turned to glare at the entire room once more and the clock a second time. The weather in the living room was indeed very cold compared to outside, he noticed before sitting.
“Why?”

The question struck Chuks that he took his time to look at Lotanna, he allowed his mind to be lost within himself, “…How are you?” he said slowly but not letting his voice get in the way.
“Fine” Lotanna solely replied then paused seeing it wasn’t the perfect response, “It’s been long. Why didn’t you come after that time?” she looked on.
“Work…!” Chuks stuttered scratching his head, “…work. Work….Work” he repeated, “I couldn’t bear to lose my job” he turned to the dining then to Lotanna meeting her smug expression.
“Your job?” her voice didn’t make it sound like she believed or was ready to.
Sensing that, Chuks returned to his seat, “Actually, that’s why I came” he rushed to say. Another lie, Lotanna thought. “There is something going on at the office. The company” he rephrased.
“What? Is Uncle alright?” Lotanna realized she had let her mind to be caught off guard not knowing it was the only reason he would be there acting all giddy and all ‘I came to see’ when normally he came when her uncle was around.
“Yes” Chuks answered, “Actually nothing is wrong with him. He is fine. He is alive” he added, giving the lady a reason to calm her nerves. A ray of hope peered into Lotanna, “Thank God” she said.
“But, he is the problem…” Chuks let out, deciding it was best breaking the bad news. He paused to rate Lotanna's expression but seeing a blank slate and a suspenseful heart longing for more, he continued, “He’s been firing employees, people who have dedicated their lives to the company, helped moved it forward and those your father trusted” Chuks said, instantly feeling panic more and more as he found Lotanna's eyes scrubbing the floor metaphorically.
“My father’s dead. It’s my uncle’s company now. So if he wants to fire anyone, he has the best reasons and it’s his decision” the lady replied, straight with no sense of attachment.

Chuks jolting backwards at the response and the sound of it, relaxed once he knew where it was coming from. He was only a quarter way through his speech, so there was still hope. “You don’t understand” he paraphrased, “These are key employees. They haven’t done anything and he’s retrenching them without warning, buying maximum number of shares. These are board members, Mr. Dickson, Augustine, Maku and…Itodo” Chuks continued as he halfway paused to mutter ‘Itodo’.
That instance he knew a lot were at stake. And that it wasn’t going to help going by words he had memorized or lines from a script. “If he was firing them for a reason or buying their shares or estate for a good cause, why replace them with board members, shareholders, trustees of a competing company? An offshore company…? White men…why do that?” Chuks relaxed to say, counting his words carefully to be sure reason went along. He paused, looked at everything, then Lotanna.
She remained indifferent, irresponsive and worse, awfully quiet. In that quiet moment, the wind ushered itself in, albeit in a silent manner to avoid anyone knowing it had intruded. The flowers upstairs leaked the secret, giving early warning as Yusuf walked passed them to a pillar above Lotanna and Chuks. He stood behind it.
“I think he is about to sell the company. Your company” Chuks affirmed bringing his right hand slowly and rubbing it against Lotanna's lap. “His company” Lotanna corrected,
“It’s your company too” Chuks insisted, raising his pitch. He wondered why the girl was so withdrawn that he started thinking of being irritated. He had to calm down though, and he did by readjusting himself.

From where Yusuf was, he found the respect of anger watching Chuks.
“Why would you come here to say all these?” Lotanna questioned, taking Chuks off guard, “The man has been good to you” she said hoping to incite guilt in her guest; whom now was more of an intruder, to drop his case.
From upstairs, Yusuf felt the same way. He leaned against the pillar, citing the boredom the visitor had brought to the house. “Yes. Yes he was” Chuks started, looking at Lotanna in the eye to prove he wasn’t what she was thinking of him, “And so was your dad. Am only repaying his kindness by not letting all he worked for go down in the blink of an eye” he said, “I think there is a conspiracy going on. Maybe your uncle is trying to drag the company from you or your money…but something doesn’t feel right” he continued, with his heartbeat becoming tenser than normal. This was his last chance, he felt.
“Mr. Itodo Stephens” he began, once he had cleared his throat, “…he was the Chief Finance Officer. Has two daughters and a son. He came to the office that day to be met with the shock. Twenty five years of service just gone and unacknowledged. He couldn’t believe it so he left for the Silverbird galleria. Maybe to drown his sorrow or to see if he could wake up from the dream which he saw everything as…but then the armed robbers attacked. They killed everyone including him” Chuks said, taking cue along the way from the file he brought. It was the first time he had opened it and when he did, a photograph of a man hung within. “Maybe if he wasn’t fired, maybe he wouldn’t have gone there. Maybe he could still be alive. Am not saying anything but the fact that the man did no wrong”

Chuks raised his head from the script to look at everywhere before looking at Lotanna. He grabbed her hand to which Yusuf rose from the position he stood on seeing it. His heart rate torpedoed as he moved further from the pillar to where the flower vase was. “He and your father were both good men. Everyone in the company loved them. They deserve justice” Chuks notified.
Sensing the agony that was in Chuks through his voice along with something else, Lotanna mimicked Chuks’ action by grabbing hold of his hand with her two palms. “Am sorry” she said.
Yusuf’s heart hitting heavily on seeing this; went into dilation when it realized it couldn’t take it anymore. And in a moment’s effort to regain his footing, he kicked off the flower vase from the corridor.

In his own quest for comfort, Yusuf unwittingly set in the rage of Mother Nature into motion as she intervened at the last minute. Yusuf’s eyes bulged to literally see everything stop; including the vase and the flowers that had made their way towards Lotanna, but now hanged in the air.
Seeing this as the only moment to make things right, Yusuf jumped off the balcony of the second floor to the side of the pillar holding the 2 floors. But by then, gravity had set in, slowing the vase for a free fall once again on Lotanna. Yusuf picked chase with six paces, taking a running stride on the pillar. The winds cheered, but Yusuf found himself rather less concerned with the glory and more with the vase landing on Lotanna.
Stealing a glance on his nemesis before reaching his hand for the vase and flowers, Yusuf found Chuks’ eyes widening. He knew then it was a cue to run back to his position. The winds cheered again once he achieved this feat but by then he had already praised himself. He held the flowers and vase to his chest like a trophy.
Yusuf turned to look at the clock downstairs to know if anything had changed. A second had barely passed, the vase hadn’t shattered nor had the flowers fallen. The only thing that was affected were Chuks’ eyes which he had not failed to look at while running. He knew they had lit up and was only waiting for his voice.

“What…” it came, “did you…did you?” Chuks stammered standing up as he pointed at the pillar that Yusuf hid behind. “I saw something” he rephrased, looking at Lotanna then back at the balcony upstairs. If he wasn’t hallucinating then he had just seen a flower vase fall from the balcony and a flush of wind; no a blur run down and catch it.
Chuks looked at himself again sure no one would believe him. But that didn’t stop him from glaring all over for signs of prove that he wasn’t hallucinating. There was a piece of flower on the floor, dusts on the black tiles, but most obvious were the cushion cloths that were now scattered on the floor. “Is…is someone…” Chuks stuttered.
“Chuks I need you to do me a favor” Lotanna interrupted. She knew what had happened even without seeing it happen, “Did you come with your car?” she asked, trying to put him off his inquisitive mode and more, change the subject.
Confused, Chuks turned “Yes. Why?” he said, wondering how one could possibly remain calm after what he saw. “There is a young child, a girl in coma right now. She is at the back seat of your car and in dire need of help. I need you to take her to a hospital. I will pay the bills, but someone would meet you there” Lotanna stated, coming off weird.

Chuks looked at her only to realize he needed no one to tell him something strange was going on, not only at the company but the Achebe house. He hoped it wasn’t the crazies.
“There is no child in my car” Chuks said, first to remind himself then to tell the lady, “I came alone” he insisted. Mocked by irritation, Lotanna stood up, moved to where Chuks was, “You need to listen to me” she commanded, halting, “I need you to do this for me and not tell anyone. I will help you out with your problem. I will speak to my uncle and then if I must…my lawyers” Lotanna explained.
She was somehow making sense; Chuks thought only to think back and remind himself he hadn’t made any sense out of what she said. Yusuf looked down to realize Lotanna was formulating a plan, he smiled. The winds followed in similar fashion but then came off weird as in their efforts to mimic their master, pulled him away. In a millisecond, Yusuf was no more. The only thing left as evidence he was ever there, were the flowers that rattled.

In no time Lotanna walked up to Chuks. She grabbed his hand a second time but this time forcing him to lead the way outside; talk about a host doing the opposite.
Still harboring his confusion like Thomas, Chuks thought to humor Lotanna by doing as she implied. The two walked outside amidst the heavily guarded security personnel lined up, to where Chuks’ Toyota Carina was parked. It was in an awkward space but then one couldn’t blame Chuks for not parking by the mansion or the normal parking lot, seeing as too many cars were already lined up.

Chuks looked into his car based on Lotanna's insistence, not because he wanted, but to gloat at being right. But just then, he found he couldn’t. She was the one right. There was a girl; a child. Chuks turned to the security men to know which had done this.
“I need you to act normal” Lotanna commanded.
Still siding with Thomas, Chuks looked at Lotanna then the car. He nodded as he found himself inclined to obey his boss. “Ok. You can go back inside” he struggled to say before getting into his car.
Lotanna took some steps backwards to allow him start his engine and drive out. She went back inside that minute hoping none was the wiser. Standing by the door, she sighed in relief as she heard nothing from the security men outside. “That was a brilliant plan you had” Yusuf’s voice caught to her in a shock. She had to shrive to regain balance, “How did you know I was around?”
Lotanna sighed again, first to remark how humorous the sound of the question was or how, no matter how fast he was; was rather too predictable. She smiled to herself reminiscing on her thoughts of how Yusuf reacted to her conversation with Chuks in her imaginations. “I heard when you ran in” she said, “…and your heartbeat was like someone about to kill someone. I had to find a way to send Chuks away” Lotanna jibed.
Yusuf smiled once he understood what she meant, “I have to keep it that way” he acknowledged.

Eddysilver, Teddybliss, jullyrosy, Semako36, Ihawarl1, froze6, Jalynn, Kdavid, Dybala11, Honsky001, dawno2008, MrCork, YoungBruzzy, Plus1ne, Slimsophiediva, Carterj007, tomic1, Zeedrou8, Vlip42, dappydonatt, silverlinen, Mjay12355, PrinceMon101, Guyxander, Salahdin, Bam17

You guys should definitely check this one out. This story izza blast, trust me. It's crazy

#Xavier

Xavier5:
Eddysilver, Teddybliss, jullyrosy, Semako36, Ihawarl1, froze6, Jalynn, Kdavid, Dybala11, Honsky001, dawno2008, MrCork, YoungBruzzy, Plus1ne, Slimsophiediva, Carterj007, tomic1, Zeedrou8, Vlip42, dappydonatt, silverlinen, Mjay12355, PrinceMon101, Guyxander, Salahdin, Bam17

You guys should definitely check this one out. This story izza blast, trust me. It's crazy

#Xavier

OK make we see how the story go dey go.

Xavier5:
Eddysilver, Teddybliss, jullyrosy, Semako36, Ihawarl1, froze6, Jalynn, Kdavid, Dybala11, Honsky001, dawno2008, MrCork, YoungBruzzy, Plus1ne, Slimsophiediva, Carterj007, tomic1, Zeedrou8, Vlip42, dappydonatt, silverlinen, Mjay12355, PrinceMon101, Guyxander, Salahdin, Bam17

You guys should definitely check this one out. This story izza blast, trust me. It's crazy

#Xavier

thanks @xxavier5 for the heads up, I can see OP is doing justice to this intriguing story.
oyaaaa nau les go there,OP I dey ya back like hutch back
nice story, keep it flowing and pls don't starve us with updates oooo

@Minemrys , I sight you well, more inks to ur own

So sorry keeping you all waiting...
Let's ride

CAN’T TRUST ANYONE THESE DAYS, CAN YOU?
Some say slums are dirty places; others say they are where poor people stay.
Well for the sake of getting facts straight, one wouldn’t purport to call those statements true or false. By saying they were true, prevents Mile 2 from being called a slum; because in this neighbourhood, the term ‘poverty’ was just a cover up. No one was poor here; everyone counted money even more than those staying at VI, but the thing was no one showed the evidence of it. They all preferred walking about nodding in signature codes while pocketing their hands and avoiding glamorous questions.

That was a dividing factor, as asking questions led to the why, the how and the what-ifs, and that alone proved one didn’t belong. And by belonging didn’t necessarily mean being a part of the neighborhood or not being a part of it, but not belonging to a life of crime. Everyone here was a criminal. And because of this, everyone had each other’s back.
Agnes knew this. And as she walked across that neighborhood, she avoided looking anyone in the eye to ensure the consciousness of not being spotted as an outsider. But that didn’t stop on lookers from looking. The guys puffed their cigarettes and stared, awed by their imaginations while their girls cursed with their foul mouths. It was morning, so it was safe to say they hadn’t brushed their teeth yet. Agnes paid no attention to them though; she was rather keen on getting to her destination. Something, which was a little rather difficult as everything and everywhere, appeared the same.

There was no space to determine or point out any difference between each building. All buildings were hinged and muddled like a gin joint. The only spaces there were the pathways through which everyone passed.
Agnes wasn’t going to let that deceive her though. She took a narrow junction that was hidden, walking by it and coming across face me-face you homes. She didn’t fail to scan each house with uncanny eyes though.
Though the structures were old, they were far from being considered archaic; they were modern and sophisticated in their own way as it didn’t ridicule the fact that everyone had class.
Agnes immediately stopped by a 5 flat story-building with spiral staircase; to be sure it was the real deal. She shook her head after minutes of debating before climbing the stairs. It took her some time but she finally got to the 3rd floor. But by then a robust guy had come down to block her way. The door was only 3 paces in front of her.

This was where their business was taking place, Agnes thought looking at the yellow guy whose chin resembled those who lived in the South-eastern part of Nigeria.
“Tell Tompolo sai person dey here dey find am” she said with an Igbo accent.
Confused and amazed by this stranger’s sass, the robust guy thought to give the lady standing in front of him a second look to know where the sass came from. What he saw, he couldn’t tell, reason being the lady was wearing a sweater and a head warmer. But he liked what he saw though.
“Who be you?” the guy replied in a perfected Onitsha accent that Agnes had to take a step back. “Someone” she answered, “Tell Tompolo sai I want see am, and make him dey fast” Agnes restated, improvising a serious face. Like the Igbo girl she was, she made sure the muscles on her face were strong.
The robust guy struck by the look, turned back to the door then back at Agnes. He resolved to go inside through the door when he found he had nothing to say.

Agnes stepped up to cover the space left between her and the door once the guy had jammed it. She sighed. For one the robust guy had many thoughts running through him concerning Agnes’ identity but instead, he felt it was best keeping it to himself.
Inside; which was behind the door facing Agnes, was another world on its own. A world independent to be self-governing, and indeed it showed such evidence, as it clearly practiced ‘democracy’. There was federalism and same time decentralization and checks and balances. This came from the atmosphere of there being large crowds of people who took orders from the centre. The centre which was represented by a tall guy seated with 3 guys counting raw cash. And from the orders they took, disseminated it to the others.
The only difference between the order and normal government laws was that this order was money; the raw cash which they counted. And by ‘they’ one meant the ‘Federal Government’.
“One…two…three…four, five…” the tall guy at the centre counted, “Na fifty grand be this” he said handing bundles of naira notes to a short guy.
“Hold this one” the short guy in turn replied, giving his own bundle to the tall guy. The guy looked at it then at the short guy, expectant of something which seemed to fall short.
“How much be this?” he asked,
“Na 200 k”

The tall guy wanted collecting the money but paused, “You sure? I no want any mix up oh. Arrange the money as you count am, make we give chief him thing oh. I no want any wahala. Na government man him be, anything happen, na jail straight and nothing go do am upon say na him get the job” he warned, making clear his opinion before collecting the cash. He dropped it. “The money complete” the short guy said frowning, his frown being a remark on the leader’s suspicion. He didn’t fail to look at the cash before leaving. He imagined all he would do with all that money were it to be in his possession. The short guy had a massive wish list that he wasn’t sure if the money would be enough.
“Guy leader…” the robust yellow guy who had attended to Agnes came calling, “Them dey find you” he dropped the message upon coming closer to the tall guy; the one he referred to as Leader.
The other guy seated close to leader gave him a stare; signaling nothing good ever came with such statement. Leader returned the stare, admitting the fact.
“Yhellow…who…?”Leader asked, with his lips parting to form an O.
“I no know” Yhellow replied. Fear somehow had inadvertently caught up with him and he was only calming himself from showing it, “Na one chick like that” he said, calming himself with the statement.

He acknowledged to himself the fact that whatever it was wasn’t going to be a girl that will bring him down or make him scared. Leader didn’t reason it that way though, one way or the other, fear had already taken him over, “Chick?” he shook his head. It took some time to master the courage to stand and even at then, it took him another to move. When he did, he hastened his steps behind Yhellow. Yhellow sensing his plan, halted halfway to the door. He instead pointed the way not ready to be the collateral damage if anything went south. Leader looked up at Yhellow realizing his plan wasn’t going to work.
Forced to man up, Leader pulled open the metal door. Sighing, he closed his eyes for a second to calm his mind and let everything settle before letting new things in. With a second sigh, he opened his eyes. The first thing he met was Agnes’ devilish stare swinging right at him before he could twitch.
“Jesus!” was all he could say. With a spontaneous effort to understand what was happening, he banged the door in front of him, locking Agnes out.

If it wasn’t for the Harmattan, Leader would have found himself perspiring that instance. That didn’t stop him from breathing out heavily and excessively though, “The crates. Make una pack am. Pack the crates” he commanded, discovering strength within his fears to point and shout at the scattered crates across the room and his guys.
The command sending all up and running, acknowledged the fact that fear ruled everyone instead of Leader. Leader was just the grand puppet.

“How did you know where to find me?” Leader asked behind the door referring to Agnes who was still outside. “You are a drug smuggler. It’s where you would be” she replied at the top pitch of her voice ensuring the metallic door recoiled it should he not hear what she said at first.
Amused but same time in fear, Leader felt it best to open the door; first to not be tagged a coward later on by his friends and second, to give them ample time to do what they wanted to do.
“It’s where you hide out…” Agnes said as Leader opened the door on her, “What? Busy counting the money you duped people out of…?” she asked staring at him. It was the kind of stare that said ‘give me an explanation or settle for the worst’
“Look, am sorry. I heard the stories okay. I couldn’t risk being killed for fifty thousand naira by something that’s not human” Leader apologized with a hint of sarcasm.

Agnes saw the sarcasm, and thus dropped any intent of asking if he finally believed the stories, “But you could risk letting someone die for fifty thousand naira” she retorted rather than accept the mock apology at face value. Leader glanced at the floor for a minute before returning his gaze, “My God, it was just an act. You could have told me if you weren’t going to be up to it” “By then I didn’t know you were going after the guy!” Leader sparked, “…the guy has wounded a lot of people, left them to a condition worse than death. Going out there to play an act would make less of a difference to him. He would have killed us and of what use would the fifty grand be then? You would have lived just like you are now” Leader rather went on, maintaining his plea for innocence. But then that wasn’t enough reason to have Agnes convinced, “This guy killed Eulogy for Christ sake. The most feared guy in Mushin” he continued. “And the second time…?” Agnes asked forcing the guy into silence. He looked down wondering what second time she was talking about or if there was even a second time. “That wasn’t my fault” he proclaimed. Which one was his fault then? Agnes thought, “You didn’t say we should protect you from Eulogy, whose trouble you looked for” Leader defended before going to clarify his statement, “…and by no means were we going to interfere in a cult related fight or quarrel” he said.
“I didn’t look for Eulogy’s trouble” Agnes felt the need to correct.
“That was what we heard he told the rival gang before he killed them” Leader rather insisted. “And yet you failed to let me know in time…do you see this?” Agnes pulled up her sweater to reveal the left side of her belly; the position she was stabbed that was now developing into a flesh wound, “That was how close I was to being killed” she disclosed.

Leader looked at it just to feel his blood cells dry up and his tongue yawn for water, “Am sorry” he forced out, “Eulogy…he has connections with politicians. No matter how rough he looked. We didn’t want any trouble with the law enforcement or new enemies” Leader said looking at Agnes again, “We didn’t…know you’d go on with the plan. We thought after some digging on your own you would be the first to give it up” he continued then stopped. He turned to look at the door to be sure he had at first closed it and Agnes hadn’t somehow peeked inside. “Someone set you up” he whispered.
At first Agnes had debated on what to do to Tompolo if she hadn’t done what she did but then, found he was more useful than he had led her to believe, “Who…?” she asked head straight.
“A girl…her name is Chimamanda. Have you heard the name before?” he said before posing the question. Of course, “She lives at…am coming” Leader had continued only to end up pausing as he glared around before going back inside through the door.

It only took one thing to get Agnes interested, and this, was essentially it. She waited, knowing full well Leader would return. He did, and with a piece of paper in hand and a pen. He handed the paper to Agnes.
“How do I know am not being set up this time?” she asked after taking a peek at the paper. “On my father’s grave” Leader replied. That was gross; Agnes stared awestruck seeing how grave that comment was. “You deserve justice” he explained; “I want you to get justice” he ended, leaving Agnes to nod at the thought.

There was honor in this guy, Agnes admitted as she released a fake smirk on her face to Tompolo. “You should run. I called the police and they are coming” she notified before turning to leave.
Leader had at first thought of going back inside once he was done with the conversation to go arrange the crates and cash but on hearing what the lady had laid on him, knew he had to reschedule.
He looked at the leaving Agnes to hear the sounds of sirens. And instead of standing to listen to its noise or contemplate on his bulging thoughts, he went with his first wave of instinct; which was to run. He took the last chance he had to look at Agnes; a wasted opportunity to take a hostage should things go south, he thought.

The room was widely lit of candles but then Funke couldn’t help being drawn to the darker side of the room; the side which the reading desk and books were shelved and a strange shadowy figure that wasn’t her’s stood.
She wasn’t a bookworm but then again she couldn’t stop the urge of staring at the books on the desk as they kept moving time and time again from where they were placed. Although it was dark, Funke found comfort staring at it as she tried to decode the mystery surrounding it. “Did he send you…?” she began, albeit slowly to the shadowy figure. Her voice though being mild, was enough to be heard at night but then the figure rather proved it to be the opposite with his refusal to answer.

The figure shifted from the position he stood to a far darker corner. Funke didn’t stop her eyes from following him though. “I don’t have it” she said again but this time in a different phrase, “…the files. They took it. The robbers, they shot me before I could do anything” she swallowed her saliva picking her words as she lay on the mattress.
The figure picking offence with the fact the girl couldn’t shut up, turned to give Funke a glare before turning to another position while still mute. “I swear I wasn’t trying to run” Funke chimed in again; this time much to the figure’s annoyance.
Can’t she shut up for once? It turned to ask only to end up glaring at Funke for the third time. He instead slammed his hand on a surface to send the message of his annoyance though careful to not let his anger get the better off him.

Funke on the other hand felt she had every justification to question him seeing as he was the one who brought her there and without any word to indicate her fate. Who does he think he is? “Jesus…you can atleast tell me why am here” she sparked out airing her frustration and annoyance.
One thing, she was quick to let her feelings out than in controlling them, another, she was quick to calming and apologizing. “Are you going to kill me?” she asked, setting her voice for a benevolent tone. It was her apology.
The figure caring less and more vested in his own peace of mind, turned to Funke point blank for the first time since she had woken, “You are here because you were shot and believe me once you are recovered, you will be out of here” he said; his voice taking over the entirety of the room and Funke herself.
“So he sent you?” she maintained her benevolent tone seeing as it was what the figure replied to; her question though was triggered by her fears of the unknown and what lies ahead.

Irritated but rather puzzled, the figure halted his mind to for once understand the girl and to know if she just acted like that based on some psychosis or hidden fear. “Who sent me?” he returned the question though directing it back at her.
“Your master on the wheelchair” she responded. Unlike he was, she was quick in answering a question directed at her, “He knew what the risk was yet he asked me to do the mission…” she continued but this time increasing her voice pitch to pour out her thoughts.
“What mission?” the figure in the dark interrupted, stepping out of the dark halfway. It was now he was picking interest in her gibbers. But Funke somewhat sensing foul somewhere, knew when to pause, “Are you not one of Patrick’s boys?” she fired. Forced to step back into the dark, the figure knew he had to be more tactical, “Yes…” he said, stepping back into the gloomy light, “What happened?” he questioned, with Funke staring at him; his mask on and eyes howling.

Funke couldn’t see it though, but she could see something he couldn’t. “You are lying” she pointed out, “Who are you?” “Who is Patrick?” the masked figure rephrased.
Funke knew then she had to up her game if she wasn’t ready to be at war on two fronts. This guy was already imposing as he was. “Nobody” she muttered returning her eyes to the shelved books to avoid the figure somehow figuring out if she was being honest.
“Nobody?” the figure asked, turning her response to a question. He sighed looking at Funke. “Am sure if he was nobody you wouldn’t have been scared ever since I got you out of Silverbird” he revealed, folding his arms, “Look if you are in any trouble, danger, it’s best you let the police or anybody know” he lowered his pitch and tone to advise. “I can’t keep you here once you are recovered” he added before turning his back literally on Funke.
Funke felt her chest bump, “No one or the police can help me…” she notified, feeling the urge to open up. “The man is beyond police or law” “A politician?”
“I wish he was just that” Funke said with a sigh.

That moment the masked figure turned his back away from Funke to directly face her upfront. He has had his own fair run in with people like that.
“Why is he after you?” he asked, eyes clearly pointed at the girl. It was later on he realized in his lust for what lurked within the girl’s eyes, he had shifted from his position and was now standing by the open window.
Just then, Funke realized no matter how much she wanted to pour out her feelings, she just couldn’t, yet. She wasn’t sure of this guy yet. He could be who or he could be not.
“I…” she scuffled within her for what to say; Maybe the half-truth? “There is…” she began only to stop. The masked figure folded his arms as his concentrations were on her. He even went to the extent of testifying to the fact as he leaned against the wall by the window. “Hmm” he sighed as he realized his attention was only met with disappointment, “I there is?” he mocked, “So this Thomas…”
“Patrick” Funke corrected; hinting to the masked figure she wasn’t over his jibe but was only waiting for whatever he had to say. “So this Patrick is after you because you are the only one he sees. Is he asking for your hand in marriage and now after you because you said ‘No’?” he continued; showing subtly through his mockery he cared less over how she felt, “Is he a Hausa Alhaji?”
“He is an evil man who wants me to do bad things for him” Funke rebuked,
“Like what…?” the figure folded his arms again, crossing his legs this time. He had hopefully found his interests. Funke on the other hand felt the need to be extra careful on how she responded, considering she knew nothing about the masked man except that he was a Dick. “Kill people, blackmail people. Steal something from Silverbird. Now that I failed he has sent his men to find me and lock me up or kill me if possible” she said.

At first she picked her words but later on, she thought it best to emphasize the fact that she didn’t know whom he was or was she going to trust him.
Sighing upon realizing that fact, the figure turned to the most obvious question for answer, “Why?” he said. “I don’t know”
“What did he ask you to steal? A DVD cassette…?” the figure scoffed.
“I don’t know”
Confused and somewhat annoyed with the ‘I don’t know’ responses, the figure found himself hanging on the next most important though predictable question, “How did you come by this man again?” he dropped, puzzling Funke who rose halfway from the bed in awe at the questions, “How did he find you?” the figure asked again.
“Why are you asking? Will you protect me from him?” provoked, Funke laid her questions forcing the figure to step back again, “No one can” Funke assured.

Taking a step further backwards on hearing what Funke had said, the figure stopped for a second, “Am just asking. Maybe we can report to the police” he theorized.
“You don’t know what you are saying”
“Enlighten me please” the masked man said, taking what Funke had said to be a jibe. To the girl on the other hand, it was the plain truth. “This man has connections with the government. You think the police can catch him if they wanted to? He killed Senator Daniel West and nobody has done anything about it” Funke explained only to end up wondering if she believed what she said to be true, why then had she called the police at Silverbird.
“Who is Daniel West?” the question phased as the figure folded his arms awaiting its answer. “The man to have been President Come May, had he not died” Funke answered, bringing another thought to the figure. He shifted from his position only to return back again. The elections were coming and so were the massive fest of innocent blood to be spilled. “I was a circus performer in Paris” Funke started, readjusting herself on the mattress after thinking things through. How worse could it be? She asked, “…and into drugs. Then I got caught by law enforcement agents in Paris. Patrick came promising to get me out and help me if I agreed to do few things for him” she looked at the figure before turning to the candles, reminiscing how bright they burnt like the bulbs in her prison cell or those at the theatre stage in Paris. “I was in a point and place I couldn’t reject the offer. I accepted without knowing what the few things were. And when I did, I had no choice but to do them. But each time I did them, each time his wish list increased” she revealed.

By then the figure realized there were more problems in the world than his, “So this Patrick was blackmailing you?” he theorized. Instead of Funke giving a straight response, she decided to twist it “If you are not working for Patrick why are you wearing a mask?” she dropped.
It was then the figure realized he was wearing a mask. He touched it to feel its texture. It had been long he had put the mask on his face, now it felt more like his real face than anything. The happy grin there, clouding his real face. He thought to remove it but decided against it. “How did you know the galleria was under attack? Why were you even there?” he came around to knowing Funke was still watching early enough before being shocked at her questions. He turned away from where he stood immediately, to the dark. “Am sorry if am bothering you but with what I have been through, it’s hard for me to trust anyone” Funke apologized. She had seemed to master when he got angry and how best to comfort him.
“I knew of the attack because it was a famous plaza and it belonged to a friend. I couldn’t just let it be ransacked by hoodlums” he answered from the dark only to turn to see Funke expecting more, “…and I went to save someone”

Funke immediately felt flattered, “Who?” she asked.
“It turned out she wasn’t in the building”
“Are you in the police or something?” Funke changed the subject and topic surprising the figure. “Why?”
“You saying you went to safe someone” she reintroduced the subject once more taking the figure unawares. “Saving someone doesn’t have to be just the work of the police” the figure was careful with his response, “And it doesn’t just suit the Nigerian police if we were to put it that way” he added to convince the lady.
Funke on the other hand found another topic to debate on, “Maybe because they aren’t being paid enough” she said. “Would you expect to be paid after saving a friend from being bitten by a snake?” the figure dropped, startling Funke who stared eyes wide wondering how to answer it.
“Yes” she said flatly. The figure was shocked into coming to the light due to her response. “No! No, no” she rephrased. “What’s your name?” the figure asked point blank. Funke found herself startled that she rested her back on something. “Eh…” she thought, “Rose Mary” she answered, with the word being the first thing she came up with. Was there any doubt? The figure thought, knowing that minute where the mentality and notion of the lady came from. “Then why would you expect the police to be paid more for preventing people from falling victim to a homicide?” he asked.

“Because it’s their job and they deserved to be paid. That’s why they were employed” Funke vehemently answered, “I wouldn’t expect a friend to pay me for saving him from a snake because he is a friend and it’s not a job and it’s less dangerous” she added in parable form. “But aren’t the police referred to as public servants and a citizen’s friend? So what then are the benefits of friends?” the figure said realizing the page the lady had opened and was on. He thought it best to follow suit and read along.
Confused, Funke theorized within her mind then saw the need to change the topic but not the subject. “So you are a vigilante?” she asked though still keeping tabs on her other theories.
The figure looked at Funke, the candles then the entire room. He asked himself the same question but he found no answer to it. “A public servant” he muttered.

Timothy found something strange going on with her eyes as he stared at them longingly. Even the sun no doubt thought the same from up high as it peered on them.
The girl returning Timothy’s stare, wondered if he was scared or was hesitant. She blinked again before nodding to give him the green go a second time hoping he would see it and take it.
Pulling her head in his hands immediately, Timothy smiled after seeing the sign. He caressed her lips gently before bringing his mouth forward to it. Within a second, he had managed to rub off the lip stick painting her lips with a brush of his tongue. He raised his head to see if she would get mad for that but she didn’t. Instead, she pulled her legs in a cross section against his back hinting at another signal. Seeing the cue, Timothy went further, removing his grip off her face then gently swiped his hands to her back in a similar fashion, though in reversal of the girl’s action. He caressed her back softly, raising it up and down while enjoying the sensation till he felt the tight fabric covering her buttocks. Without a second thought, he pulled it off then compensated the act with a kiss on her lips like he did the first time. Still, she picked no offence. Instead, she nodded again.

Taking the go ahead to launch phase 3, Timothy pulled his hands from the girl’s ass after a gentle massage. He transferred them to her breasts that were lacking a bra, doing the same thing as he watched the girl smile.
When it was obvious she couldn’t take it anymore, she yelped pulling at the guy. Phase 3 was moving according to plan, he acknowledged. He felt its intensity from the girl’s heartbeat as he saw her breasts rise in his palms. He smooched and smacked at them time and time and again to be sure the heart rate was in order. From the couch they laid on, Timothy was like a doctor administering a patient, and in a case like this, he went through any surgical means necessary.
Even if that meant squeezing the life out of her breasts or pulling her neck over to the couch’s handle. When phase 3 was done, which by then the girl was admittedly tired of, Timothy moved to caress her neck before lubricating it with his tongue. The girl’s nipples struck him hard on his chest the very moment he did that, sending him into shock. They struck in a way they had never done before. It went to great lengths raising the last inch of his manhood; the very essence of his existence. It was time for phase 5, the girl informed as she nodded. Timothy found it the right moment to pull down his boxer. Now, they were equals; so much for the gender equality they went through great lengths achieving.

The girl looked at Timothy’s essence of existence to be shocked wondering if it was the right decision. It stared back at her to tell her it was but she shouldn’t hope for equity as there wasn’t going to be fairness. The girl nodded. Bleep fairness; no one likes fairness, the world is cruel, she thought.
Smiling to that, Timothy knew the time was right to penetrate into phase 5. But then, the girl raised her hand to stop him. “What?” Timothy frowned seeing his years of service were amounting to nothing.
“Hard…” the girl whispered before releasing her grip, “Hard” she said again as Timothy smiled. With the herculean strength left in him, he thrust ‘hard’ the essence of his existence into her hole of reality with hopes of fixing history. Like any job, it felt hard at first but in the course of it, dedication made it easy.
Slow and steady, they said. Slow and steady they went and they moaned in every moment to the ecstasy of things. Timothy kept his gaze on, pushing, smooching and manipulating his way through hoping to reach the high ends. Then, Time came into the matter like it always did. The pinnacle ruined everything.
Out through the door came the sound and the hand that had knocked on it. The hand was smooth, fair with the owner being Agnes. She stood at the centre of it, hoping to make meaning from the silence that was the entire house despite the gate being flat out open and television sounding loud inside.
She had been there for five minutes, knocking and listening to the music that was beating inside yet with no answer from whomever or an effort towards checking out who it was at the door.
“Hello…!” she yelled, “Is anybody in?” she asked for the fourth time.

Then it struck her to ask herself what she was doing there. It was the first time she ever asked herself the question. Every of her visits to any one had a purpose but this, why?
“Mother Mary!” Timothy opened the door immediately just to chant the religious phrase on sighting Agnes who raised her eyes to look at him. It was providence that held him from shutting the door back, and it was same providence that forced him to yell again, “Oliver Christ!” like one who had seen a ghost and was recounting a worst experience.
Agnes also sensing same shock in her stuttered, wondering if in some way she had snuck into the wrong house or had somehow died along the way. The man’s shirtless-ness gave her a clue as she continued staring.
“Am sorry” he apologized, “Am sorry for that” he continued, seeing he had one way or the other offended his visitor, “Am sorry but are you not the lady rumors were circulating Eulogy killed people in Mushin to find?” he asked, revealing he had the right reason to exclaim and even fret. “Excuse me…?” Agnes feigned confusion. It was too early to reveal her reasons for being there and feigning confusion was the right way in fooling the guy off. He wasn’t the one she was after by the way.
“They said you were dead. The rumors even went saying they succeeded in killing you after some guys saw you get caught by the cultist Eulogy at Iyana Ipaja” the guy stated.

Still, Timothy was persistent. He did that for a reason though and as he did, Agnes first wondered who he was, how he knew her and why he was so much vested in the stories.
“It’s a lie” Agnes lied, halfway “Is Chimamanda in?” she added, changing the subject, “Is this where she lives?” “Yeah” Timothy nodded, seeing the picture written over Agnes to back off, “Yeah, what happened?” he nodded again. “I need to talk to her” Agnes answered looking at him.
For one, there was something familiar about him and for another she couldn’t tell what it was. His physique, his… “You can come in” he invited, leaving the space open for entrance. It was the only the courtesy he knew. Hesitant, Agnes looked at him to be sure and to think things through. She turned around to know if she knew her way out before thinking of accepting the offer. She did.

Stepping into the house, came another sensation for her. The first thing she noticed were things being uncharacteristically in order not, and not because order was wanted but because someone was expected. As if they knew she was coming. The living room smelt nice and Agnes had to wonder if actually she was safe.
There were a few differences though, like the couch out of other things, being in disarray and the guy just picking up his shirt off the floor and putting it on. Something went on, she concluded. “Where is Chimamanda?” she asked.
“So what happened? They said the cultist killed you. Those within the vicinity said they took pictures of what happened and it was dead bodies lying around, Eulogy included except you” Timothy went back saying, ignoring the back off glare Agnes had earlier given, “Some came up with theories that it was a rivalry among cult gangs and that you, were a member of one. And your group came in to take your body for burial leaving the thug and his boys bodies as warning” he continued, with Agnes seeing bits of what he said being funny and same time, serious. She thought to break her silence but found herself falling back to it. Agnes instead decided it best to give the guy a long stare; “The police are on the case but…” Timothy added only to pause after his revelation. It was then Agnes saw the warning that said speak now or forever remain silent.
“But what?” she asked, only to cut him short before he could respond, “Wait…I need to end these rumors once and for all” she notified raising her index finger. “Am not in any cult group or secret society or anything like that. I am too big for that. Eulogy came to attack me and some lunatic showed up. I had nothing to do with their deaths” she pointed out, nodding along the way to ensure the guy understood what she said.

Instead, he stood eye blank waiting for more. No one could comprehend all that especially the lunatic part. Acknowledging the fact, Agnes went on, “As funny as it sounds, a lunatic saved me by killing those guys”
“A lunatic?” Timothy rephrased, with a question. He pulled up a newspaper from a stool next to him before turning to Agnes. “Trust me, you wouldn’t believe me” Agnes admitted, “Is Chimamanda in?” she decided to change the topic. But the guy was rather insistent they maintained the topic, “Do you mean the guy in a mask that has been masquerading at night?” he asked, “It’s ridiculous” he admitted.
“You’ve heard of him?” Agnes somewhat felt embarrassed but thought it best not to shy from the fact.

“Everyone has. But no one believes, most especially the tales surrounding him and those who tell them” Timothy said. By then he realized he hadn’t grant his guest the courtesy of sitting down. A great deal of shame besieged him, “But I believe them though” he whispered before gesturing to Agnes to take a seat. It wasn’t after he had taken a seat himself though. Bastard—Agnes thought “So what happened?” “He killed those guys” Agnes answered, before going on to explain “…like they were nothing. As if they were not even human beings at all. He did it without pity, without mercy”
“Would you have preferred if he did it with mercy?” Timothy asked. Agnes struggled for a response only to figure out in time it was rather a rhetorical question. Killing them with or without mercy meant nothing if they ended up dead, “As much as am not trying to defend him, I think he did the right thing. Sparing the community one dangerous thug” he said, cementing the fact and the idea he supported whoever was the said lunatic under the mask.

Shocked, Agnes looked on. “You need to see what he did, right in my eyes. It was heartless” she stated. “You said it yourself, he saved you. Would you have preferred otherwise? Or him letting them kill you?” the question struck. Agnes found that hard to answer but then, she wasn’t going to ignore it.“Am not saying that” she quipped “But why not just leave them for the police?” she asked, “Call the police or just leave it at that? Why go to the extent of doing what he did if he also wasn’t a cultist?” Agnes continued before stating the hard fact. A fact to which the guy looked down at the tiles then at Agnes to be sure was correct. “I don’t believe this guy is doing any good, I think it’s part of some cult vendetta; him, Eulogy and some other guys. It’s evident” she explained. By now, Agnes started taking note of Timothy’s expressions and reactions. There was something all too familiar about him. “I don’t think so” he replied, “I support him killing that Eulogy guy. Am happy he did” Timothy revealed. The voice! Agnes suddenly realized. It was his voice she had found all too familiar; but from where? That instance she brought out her phone. She tapped it thrice and started an application, “If he had left them for the police, believe me those guys would have been back. And they would have returned for you, again. Who knows, we may not be having this conversation now” he shrugged.

That was another clue, Agnes noticed. “You think what he did would solve that problem?” she asked. “If what he did can’t solve that problem, then what makes you think the police could?” he rephrased, taking Agnes off balance. He lowered his eyebrows gesturing the ‘I told you so’ line.
Regaining balance, Agnes went on, “They are legalized. They account for what they do. This guy, no one knows him or anything about him” she notified, revealing she wasn’t going to be taken off her stance. Not again.
Sighing, the guy looked on with a firm but calm stare. He allowed minutes pass by before opening his mouth, “Sometimes, in a jungle, jungle justice is required” he ended up saying.
Surprised, Agnes realized she had heard that exact saying before if not in verbatim. She opened her lips, hoping to ask where he had heard the saying or seen the quote but found her eyes all too wide to enable her lips move beyond that.

“Timothy who are you talking to?” the question came in that minute from some disembodied voice. Agnes found herself rather too concentrated on finding its owner than in replying.
The guy instead opted to answer for Agnes, “No one” he said, much to Agnes’ shock and annoyance; no one? The Timothy turned in time to catch her face, “It’s…” he corrected with an apologetic stare.
“Agnes” Agnes finished for him. That moment the owner of the voice stepped out.
It was the very person Agnes was there for and the girl Timothy was having a scuffle with on the couch before Agnes had turned up. It was the Chimamanda.
“…the lady rumors said was killed by Eulogy” Timothy clarified turning his attention immediately to the Pretty, now standing in front of him. It was like Agnes hadn’t even existed in those moments as he sat staring at the pretty. The yellow gel of jealousy lubricated Agnes’ heart. “Oh!” Chimamanda mouthed taking a seat beside Timothy. Agnes forced herself to smile. “She said the masked vengeful spirit saved her and we were just talking about him” the guy recapped. Vengeful spirit…? Agnes found herself rather too shell shocked than concerned with the conversation as she heard him say the word. “You believe in him too?” Chimamanda asked.
“Masked vengeful spirit?” Agnes voiced out, ignoring the girl’s question.
“That’s what we call him” Timothy explained.
“Well, I call him Chappi” Agnes revealed, much to the humor of the two.
“Don’t tell me you believe in those crazy tales?” Chimamanda quipped much to Agnes’ humor. She wanted not replying but had to due to the ‘crazy tale’ she used in defining Chappi. Was the guy now a crazy tale to Chimamanda? She wondered, remembering why she was there and what brought her.
“Would you like to excuse us please?” Agnes broke her silence to Timothy. She did that much to the annoyance of Chimamanda. “Excuse me?” she rose up to bark, commanding Timothy with her pitch to rather do the otherwise than comply. Confused, the Timothy found himself asking the most predictable question, “What?” like one whose fate depended on 2 girls. “Hope there’s nothing wrong going on between the two of you?”
“No” Chimamanda answered; “You tell me…” she turned to Timothy who found himself rather taken aback. How is this now about him? She knew why she was there, Agnes thought as released a smile on her face. Chimamanda would do everything in her power to defend herself from anything including fear.
“Would you excuse the two of us please?” Agnes said again but this time, in a polite gesture to Timothy contrary to how Chimamanda did. He was seemingly too pleased to be far off from the 2 girls that minute.

“No, he’s going nowhere” Chimamanda snapped in, “Whatever you want to say, say it” she demanded. Well, if she wasn’t ready to allow her save her face in front of her boyfriend, what other choice does she have? Agnes thought, “Okay” she affirmed twisting her neck gently, “I know you set me up, Chimamanda” Agnes came off, unhesitant and with clarity.
She knew Chimamanda would rather prove otherwise though, “Excuse me…is that supposed to be a joke or what? Set you up for what? Who are you?”
“You asked me to meet you, only for you to give me a wrong address; an address that sent me to Eulogy. You set me on a death journey, Chimamanda” Agnes explained, and was ready to all day if she was going to keep playing coy. “At first, I wondered who was capable of that, and then I thought maybe a lunatic. Who else would send a defenseless person on a road knowing the outcome?” she continued, with Timothy’s eyes lingering on. Chimamanda on the other hand was still vexed, “…but then, I had already called Chappi…this masked guy a lunatic, but he saved me. What would I call you who set me up for death then?”
“Amanda, what’s going on? What is she talking about?” Timothy busted into the fight, at the dine minute. Obviously he had asked himself those questions and was tired of having silence for the answer.
“How can you come to my home and accuse me of thrash? Who the Bleep are you?” Chimamanda sparked, ignoring Timothy discreetly. Frustrated with the foul play, Agnes pulled off the scarf on her head, “He did this to me” she barked back standing up, revealing the scar that was an inch from the centre of her head.

She turned back again facing Chimamanda upfront, then pulled her shirt up to the position of her tummy to reveal another wound. “Eulogy and his gangs did this to me” she said again, “…but what I ask is, was what you did worth it?” Agnes continued after pulling the shirt down. Chimamanda had opened her mouth to air something but when nothing came out, she closed them. Timothy stared at her. Is this a game? The guy found himself asking. “I guess you two lunatics are the same…” Agnes proclaimed once she found no answer or response. But just then, Chimamanda turned to Timothy; at long last “Would you please excuse us babe?” she muttered. Timothy rather found himself lingering on; was this the right time to tell him to leave? “…I would explain all. I promise” she said seeing the guy wasn’t ready to leave just like that.
Eyes willing but legs stiff, Timothy realized it was the time he had waited for earlier but now, he was rather unconcerned about it. Still, he found he had to comply, to obey.
“Lillian…I mean Agnes” Chimamanda turned to Agnes once Timothy had left, “Am sorry” she said. “For what?” Agnes asked, pretending not to comprehend. It was her time to play dumb, and seriously why was she now sorry? “I am just a stranger who busted into your home accusing you” Agnes said, turning to leave. Chimamanda stepped forward to stop her. “I had to do it” she confessed, “Like Lillian, he threatened me. I don’t know how he found out about me or you or where I lived but after the first time, then you, he knew somehow we were connected. He said he would kill me if I didn’t tell him where you lived. I told him I didn’t know and he did this to me” Chimamanda explained, before raising the hand of her long sleeved shirt. She revealed the wounds on her left wrist and two fingers. There were stories for each of them. “These were just the minor ones” she said, hinting there were others she was unwilling to reveal.
“Then how did he find out I was at or going to be at a fictional Olubade Crescent?” Agnes asked, unsympathetic to what the girl had showed her. How could 2 dead bodies feel pity for each other when in same condition?
“He asked me to get you there or he would kill me. I didn’t know the street didn’t exist” Chimamanda answered, “I wanted to save you but…” “…what?”
“I know you did this for a story” Chimamanda changed the subject knowing she’d rather be doing more harm to herself than good if she continued on the topic. She was trying to save her skin here and making her assailant mad, wouldn’t help that fact, “The masked vengeful guy or whatever they call him…you did this to know if he existed” she said much to Agnes’ awe. Agnes wanted to laugh but had to rain check on it, “Your assistant came by and I added two and two together. That guy would get you killed if you continue chasing after him for a story. Your life is worth more than a blog” Chimamanda continued, looking at Agnes once in a while to catch her expression but instead met her fiery gaze.

For one, Agnes had wondered how it was that Chimamanda or Eulogy got to know her but now with the mention of ‘assistant’, she knew Damilola had gotten her into more problems than she would have ever thought.
“You should forget about him. Forget he ever existed…believe you are sick” Chimamanda continued, holding Agnes by the shoulder, “…and you are sick” she advised.
Irritated, Agnes forced Chimamanda’s grip off her. She paused for some seconds to stare at her before shaking her head. This girl had succeeded in insulting her 2 times without her doing anything about it. What other worse insult was there for the girl to lay on her after labeling her insane? Agnes thought, admitting one way or the other she had finished her.
“You should be wary of your boyfriend” Agnes thought to say, with it being the only thing she could ever think of that wouldn’t leave a smile on the girl’s face once she had left. “…since he doesn’t wear mask, you may not know if he has some kind of spirit in him. Vengeful spirit” she continued before turning to leave.
Just as she had wanted, she got the expression she wanted from Chimamanda, “What do you mean?” “Am sick…” Agnes turned to answer pointing at her head; signifying insanity. Turning her eyes away, she halted to give Chimamanda one last look. “Goodbye” she said in a ditzy voice before leaving.

Chimamanda stood still watching Agnes walk out through the door as she found the act strange. Was she right all along? The cryptic statement Agnes said juggled within her but she knew she couldn’t chase her to find the meaning; if there was a sense in it in the first place. Once outside, Agnes stopped the application on her phone that had ‘Audio recorder’ on its screen. She went straight to her contacts clicking on the name ‘Chuks’.
“Hello…! Chuks are you in the office?” she said after placing the phone closer to her ear. From the speaker, the receiver’s voice echoed, “Ehm, no”
“Okay. Can I meet you tomorrow?” Agnes asked.

In a wild moment, Chuks thought of the answer as he looked at the nurses, the patients and doctors walking about in the hospital building, “Maybe at the office?” Agnes instead suggested his response for him as he listened to her voice from the call line.
“Maybe…okay, okay let’s meet tomorrow” he answered before cutting the line.
In that moment, he felt like Saint Christopher who felt the weight of the world on his shoulders, and everything going through his mind including the noise. He sighed.
“Is the girl alright?” he stood up immediately to ask on spotting a familiar nurse. The lady didn’t answer him though. “Mr. Felix…” a voice came that instance from behind that wasn’t his. He turned back to see it was in his direction, and to his shock, was the doctor in front of him. “You should go home. We would call you if there is any improvement. Your daughter is in safe hands” the woman said. Sighing, he looked at the woman then the door she came out of to smile to the humor of the girl he brought being thought as his daughter. He found he couldn’t quite smile though seeing as there was a lot on his plate. He had to raise a nod to humor the woman. Blinking, he moved closer to the doctor before turning to the opposite direction she stood to look at the window in front of him. “Thank you…” he greeted while facing the view of a helpless child patient sleeping so peacefully on a sick bed despite her condition. He sighed again before turning to leave.

From a hidden axis of the hospital, Yusuf stood watching Chuks take his exit, unable to take eyes off him till he was gone. Even at that, his gaze was still on the direction he took.
Inhaling the cool air ushered in by the air conditioner, Yusuf let out a deep breath to usher in the wind while posing to make a run. With few steps with his feet while in a running stride, Yusuf found himself standing by the door Chuks was earlier in front of. It was a room that had been distances from him but only took 2 steps of his feet to get there.
Exhaling out after seeing what he wanted—which was the girl, he made his way out immediately without a second thought; the same way he had ran to the door. A nurse came right out that minute through the door opposite to see the winds buzz and a blur run off. The night was here, she thought; and it was playing tricks on her eyes, she yawned.

Beautiful story Op, beautiful story.

But I think you need to work on your spacing. The story is too jam packed, so I think more spacing is required especially between dialogues.

#Xavier

beautiful story, give some more pls

A LADY’S GOT TO MAKE HER MOVE
“…if it isn’t my favorite journalist” Chuks looked at the door to see a lady walk into his office. He smiled reciprocating the smirk she gave. “Chuks, just the man I want to see” Agnes returned, maintaining the jovial atmosphere. She stopped when she realized what she had said could be taken into other context. There was another literal meaning to her words.

Chuks figured it out though, mouthing an ‘Oh’ afterwards. Agnes heard it.
“Not in the sense you are thinking of” she corrected before smiling to the bewildered Chuks. Taking the joke for what it was, Chuks laid his back to his chair, “I wasn’t thinking anything” he said, with a tongue in cheek seriousness. “But I must admit I was looking forward to us meeting today” he added before pointing his pen at Agnes. He took it back to his mouth afterwards. “I need your help. Like seriously” Agnes said immediately, going straight to the point of her being there than pick on the flirt.

Chuks sat wondering afterwards if she was even ever there in the first place on any other basis. He looked at her to hear her reason this time. “How is work?” she instead asked, taking him off-guard.
“Ehm…” he stuttered, “Busy. Busy, they haven’t fired me yet” he answered. Chuks pointed to a seat next to him afterwards as Agnes came closer. He rolled his chair around to face Agnes while his heart raced with confidence.
“I noticed,” She said sitting on the chair, “The gateman outside was still the same man I met last week. I was expecting if they’d fire anyone it would be him” she joked, “So what’s up?”
“Cool. The sky?” Chuks looked at Agnes to see she was somehow resuming the flirt.
“Called you yesterday and I was hearing clinic attendees talking on the other end of your line. Did you go for a treatment?” she lowered her voice to ask.

Eyes beamed, Chuks looked up to answer but realized there were some things he couldn’t say, “Eh…! No. I took a cousin who was sick for a treatment,” he answered; truthfully but not in any way honest.
“Sorry about that” Agnes touched his lap, “How is he?”
“Fine…fine” he answered with shrills, “They said he’ll be fine,” he added, with a sigh. “How about the colleague they said the other day was dead but later turned up at the hospital?” Agnes looked into Chuks’ eyes recalling their last meeting.

Taken aback at how she could possibly know that, Chuks stared at her for moments only to realize she was there last week when it happened. “Dead” he muttered, “He later ended up dead in the hospital,” he disclosed, appreciating Agnes’ sense of concern.
He took few glances at her knowing he had to do something to avoid the conversation taking the form of an interview. He wasn’t sure if it came to an interview, he could hold his mouth, “…so, what do you want me to do for you?” he changed the subject.
“I found the Chappi guy. The lunatic” Agnes revealed, shocking Chuks. “You were right” she added, shocking Chuks more.

Wow, today seemed a good day at last; he thought as he found himself hearing all he ever wanted. “My God, what happened?” he turned to ask gracefully.
“I don’t want to go into much detail,” Agnes disclosed, cutting short Chuks’ excitement. Seeing his expression afterwards, she sighed giving in. “It happened like the last time. I was attacked; he showed up…” she paused, “But this time I got some photos and a recording. Some prove he exists”
“Wow” Chuks mouthed as his excitement returned and throat dried. He couldn’t hold himself from geeking out after the revelation “So does this mean you are writing the article?” he asked after swallowing his saliva.
“Yes” Agnes smiled, “No” she retreated, frowning once it occurred to her that no matter what she had, she couldn’t jump into conclusions and make false promises. “Not yet, but I want to see if you can help I. D him first” she disclosed.

Chuks had earlier frowned but on hearing her alternative, he felt there was still a cause for hope, and a better way to end his day. “Before you can expose him?” he asked. Agnes rather nodded in response than voice a reply. In another sense, it was neither an affirmation nor a denial. “…so how do I do that?” Chuks asked; the very question Agnes had hoped he would.
Bringing out her phone instantly, she dropped it on the desk in front of Chuks who sat startled. For one he wondered if she was about gifting it to him. “Here…” she said, “The photos are in the folder—the unknown” Agnes added as Chuks picked the phone.

Following her instructions, he tapped its screen to see Agnes’ picture embedded on it. He smiled before swiping the screen to locate the gallery. Chuks went straight afterwards to the folder he was asked to, before searching his drawer desk for a USB cord to transfer the files to his laptop. “I want to make the images bolder on a wider screen,” he disclosed clicking the folder titled ‘the Unknown’. “Okay” Agnes shrugged, “The recording is also in the folder. 2 audio recordings” she revealed, touching the laptop screen to point its locations. “What changed your view of this guy?” Chuks asked turning to steal a glance at Agnes before returning to the image that was in front of him. He paused instantly to stare at it.
It was an image of the masked guy; the guy referred to as Chappi.

Struck by curiousity, he zoomed in on the photograph with no halt for a second thought.
Though the image featured someone in a white smiley mask and dark long sleeves, Chuks felt there was more to be derived off the photo than what was on the surface level. He was so sure of it that he took the stress to zoom in on the eyes and the layout of the mask; something, which in the end amounted at nothing. He scrolled to the next picture, carrying out the same action over and over again.

Chuks scrolled yet again to see another image but this time, instead of Chappi, it was dead bodies. He gulped at the sight before zooming in on the photo again.
“I realized later on he was just like every other thug,” Agnes said looking at Chuks and at the laptop. “Am glad you finally came through” Chuks muttered, “I hope he didn’t hurt you?” he turned to ask. Agnes rather than answer Chuks, stared on thinking of what to say and what not to say. Seeing no definite answer, she shook her head. “There’s nothing here to I. D…” Chuks went on, startling Agnes.
“What?”
“Nothing at all” he maintained meeting Agnes’ eyes in and out as she stared at him, the laptop screen, and him again, “So what do I do now?” “Play the recording,” she instructed. Complying, Chuks went on to the next files to click on the recording that came first. “No, play it at once. The two” Agnes interrupted, giving a new order.

Chuks played the file with one software application on the laptop then the second recording, with another application. He increased their volumes as he relaxed to listen to them.
“What do you notice?” Agnes asked after 3 minutes.
Was there something to notice? He thought. “Nothing” Chuks replied, confused as it was the first time he was listening to it. He knew in the 2 recordings that played, had Agnes’ voice in them, but wasn’t sure what she meant by noticing anything.
“Play them again” Agnes commanded again.

Chuks played the records once more as instructed but this time with uncanny ears. He was careful to be able to atleast pick 2 or 3 statements off the recordings to give as assessment.
He picked from the recordings the statements---‘Do you know how many lives you have risked by killing them?’ ‘In a jungle, jungle justice is necessary, if you can’t stay in the jungle leave’, ‘Call 9’ eleven’, ‘You said it yourself, he saved you, would you have preferred otherwise?’, ‘Sometimes in a jungle, jungle justice is required’, ‘would you excuse us?’, ‘How can you come to my home and accuse me of nonsense?’.

Chuks could tell from both recordings that in one, it had to do with Agnes talking to a guy; based on the voice and in the other, it was her talking to a guy and a girl, and the girl had rage issues.
“Do you still not notice anything?” Agnes asked, irritated by the silence she got.
“The two recordings have your voice in them” Chuks answered with Agnes rolling her eyes. She wanted more. “Yes” she nodded, “Only that?”
“And in one, I could hear the buzz of the night” Chuks replied, squeaking in demonstration. He had to stop once he met Agnes’ eyes though, “Then in the other…I haven’t seen or heard women quarrelling at the night, so I think you were quarrelling with someone in the day time” he guessed.
“What about the male voice in them?” Agnes was rather less than impressed.
“The first one I guess is….Chappi” Chuks theorized, with Agnes somewhat becoming impressed though hiding it behind a façade. She had almost started talking before Chuks came through again, “Do you mind if I ask how you got the bastard to agreeing for an interview?” he asked, seeing it was his turn to, “…am guessing he killed someone from the tone of your voice in it” he added, stating his thought and his assessment of the recording.
“And the second?” Agnes rather ignored his question; more about that later, she thought. “I-I don’t want to jump to conclusions” Chuks babbled, “But the guy in the second recording shares same voice tone with the thug” he theorized.

That moment Agnes revealed how much she was amazed at his intelligence and deductive skills that she couldn’t hold off her excitement, “I thought I was the only one who recognized that. And…” she said.
“Not only that” Chuks interrupted, “Virtually what he said was at some point during your convo with Chappi were what Chappi himself said” he pointed, with eyes concentrating on Agnes. It only took few seconds to blink at the laptop before returning to Agnes. “How did you come across this guy? How did you find out?” he settled to ask.
“The girl…his girlfriend” Agnes began, “The girl in the recording set me up” she finalized. At first, she had thought of what to say or how to sugar coat it and not paint anyone black, but then second thoughts came to tell her to say it the way it was.
“What?”
“Forget it, you don’t want to know the rest” Agnes advised somewhat in annoyance with the question.

Bothering less with the full gist, Chuks rather continued with his findings, “Same speech tone. Same pitch” he said, “What are you going to do?” he decided on asking the better question, having come up with a plan himself.
He looked at Agnes to see if his’ could come into play.
“Look at these photos” Agnes immediately brought to view some photos from her phone again, this time, from a different folder, and with a different image rendition. The images left Chuks wondering why Agnes would have a boy’s picture in her phone.
“Is that your boyfriend?” Chuks thought to ask. But then, it was the worst question he could have ever thought of.

Agnes’ mad stare swung at him that moment that he was left with no choice but to apologize by taking his eyes off her. “Compare the physique with the one I took of Chappi” she said after accepting the awkward apology. Chuks turned his eyes to the laptop and Agnes’ phone again. It was then he noticed she took the photo from a Facebook profile; one he would testify wasn’t her’s. It had the username ‘Chymamanda Williams’ atop to indicate the owner of the profile. By the name one would assume it to be a girl, which implied the guy was either a boyfriend or relation.

Shaking his head, Chuks returned his eyes at Agnes. “I don’t want to jump into conclusions but, are you sure this isn’t who we’ve been looking for?” he theorized without a second thought.
He had read from a book in which the name of the author he had forgotten that said ‘there was nothing as such as coincidence’. Agnes too appeared to have read such book, “It explains why the girl would set me up and how Chappi guy found where I was or was going to be” she said, “You are right” she acknowledged, referencing their last conversation and Chuks’ theory of Chappi. “It was some gang fight” she added, “I was just the pawn” Agnes sighed as her eyes went sore at all they came in contact with. She was left with no other option but to sigh again.

“Maybe we shouldn’t just jump to conclusions just yet” Chuks advised, hoping to comfort Agnes before falling on his plan earlier, “So where does this guy live?”
“Some street called Ademola, off Ray Power road” Agnes replied, crossing her legs together as she stared at the laptop, then like a jolt of electricity, Nickel struck her mind, “The Ray Power at Alagbado” she added.

Glaring at the files, Chuks turned to the desktop then to the laptop before finally focusing his eyes on Agnes, “So what’s your plan now? Are you going to off him?”
“With what evidence?” Agnes reminded. Evidence we would have to find Of course, Chuks thought in response to the question. Surprisingly, Agnes appeared to have heard his thoughts, “But I suspect his girlfriend knows” she said.
Chuks’ eyes lit up on hearing that. A back up plan settled inside his thoughts immediately, in case of a last resort. Noticing Chuks’ awkward silence, Agnes got prompted to change the topic; the second reason she was there, “So about Alexander Nickel…how did he find out?”
“Find out what?” Chuks rephrased, only for his eyes to widen after 50 seconds upon the realization he had just heard her mention the name ‘Nickel’, “Christ! Did he discover my identity? Where I work? How…?” he jabbered scaring Agnes that moment. His expression wasn’t something to behold.
“He knew my name. What I do for a living and things I’ve done on the internet” she too came off, “How?” the question stood as she asked it. Calming, Chuks discovered where the fault came from. It wasn’t from him, and it not being from him meant he wasn’t going to be in any trouble. He knew well to cover his tracks.
“…you used your phone to email him right? Or your laptop or any device that belonged to you and you use when browsing?” he asked, “That’s how he found out” he revealed. What if she implicated him? “Jesus! I knew something like this would happen” he struck his desk hitting his annoyance at it.
“I don’t think he knows about you and I didn’t tell him” Agnes notified, calming his fears at the spot. “No. no not that…” he argued, faking modesty. Agnes saw through it though. “What did he say? Is he going to sue you? Is he threatening you?” he decided to ask to reduce the tension; his tension.

Sighing, Agnes brushed the right angle of her hair, “Contrary to that” she said, “he asked me to meet him” A great deal of silence that instance found its pathway through Chuks leaving the midget a shade of his former self, “Wait…what? Why? When?!” he came off of his suspended animation to ask.
“We kept chatting and he disclosed a lot of things to me. Things the world isn’t aware of” “His conspiracy theories?” Chuks found the right time for sarcasm.
“No. The truth…that there could be super-humans living among us” she corrected.

Shaking his head, Chuks adjusted himself on his seat like one who felt threatened; focused only on his comfort to avoid people gauging his feelings from his expression, “You mean like Einstein, Michael Jackson, Usain Bolt?” he asked, glaring.
“No” Agnes restated, “People with actual powers not intellect or abilities” she clarified. “Intellect is also power,” Chuks insisted, much to Agnes’ irritation.
“I don’t know if it’s some kind of plan but what he revealed to me…” she explained pausing once she realized there wasn’t a perfect way to put it, “It was real” she ended, preferring to leave it at that.
“It’s a plan” Chuks mumbled as his eyes widened. Agnes looked at him to see her father’s strict gaze on them, “Trust me it’s a plan. If it isn’t, why the sudden interest in you?” he reduced the intensity of his gaze with the question. Agnes looked away realizing she couldn’t find an answer to it, “A real person discovering his account was hacked would have first thing sued you or asked for something to keep cool” Chuks went further, “This guy didn’t ask for any of that, so one thing for sure is, there’s something weird going on. A plan that he’s trying to lure you into” he said looking straight into Agnes’ eyes.

She had to back off on meeting his eyes though.
It was the first time he had ever looked at anyone like that and it was one of those moments he didn’t wish to. But he had to. “You shouldn’t even consider the idea of meeting him. You don’t know who he or she is. He could be a terrorist” he came up with another theory. A theory Agnes backed down.
“He doesn’t sound like a terrorist” she said.
“Who sounds like a terrorist?” the question threw itself up. And indeed, it was the question. “Shekau” Agnes replied, straight and blunt. Chuks felt he needed to rebuke though.
“That one is a tout” he chided, “You think he is a terrorist? The real terrorists are men in suit. With plans” he disclosed. Staring for seconds, Agnes opened her lips, “He gave me these videos” she revealed, connecting the U.S.B back to her phone and bringing out the videos from a folder hidden in her phone to the view of the laptop.

Chuks didn’t bother looking at it even as she played it, “Forget it. It’s a plan. Trust me I know these people” he said with eyes deep into the air reflecting on an experience and the fact that Nickel already knew she was after such stories. He wanted telling her but had to back down. “So, what do you think of the Chappi guy?” Agnes decided to change the subject stopping the video that was playing on the laptop. “I don’t know…write minor articles on him to get the public aware? Keep with the investigation?” he suggested. Agnes looked at him with brimmed eyes then smiled. Chuks looked on wondering why she did. “And about the people with powers, that you said” he reintroduced the subject, “As a kind friend with a well-meaning advice, they don’t exist. Nothing is out there except what you see physically” he said.


Is it? Agnes thought to herself only to realize she had sounded like Lillian in her mind. But unlike Lillian who was of the superstitious belief, she felt there was rather some scientific or existential belief or explanation towards the meta of things.
“If anything happens to me or nothing is heard of me, I want you to call my assistant, Damilola and tell her what happened” Agnes ended up saying after minutes of thinking, planning and looking into the scope of things.
It was clear her mind was made up which Chuks found rather confusing.
“I don’t understand…” he muttered, “Why?”
“I don’t know. I am just having a strange feeling. An omen” she revealed.

Sitting at the dinning, Agnes’ eyes ran over the entire room as many thoughts set in for a night visit. A frustrating visit, she thought as she kept an open mind on the clock for when they would leave. But they didn’t.
They didn’t consider leaving an option. And in response to that, Agnes had to pull her eyes off the clock and back to what was in front of her; her laptop.
She went over the chats again and once she was through, read it all over again. Alex Nickel, she read out as she stared at the name on her screen.
“What do you want?” she asked aloud. Instead of a straight up response, she got the echo of the question back; an indirect acknowledgement that her question was rather rhetorical.

Agnes knew it though, but the thing was, it wasn’t the question she had voiced out that she saw as rhetorical but what she typed to Nickel. ‘I accept your offer to come to Amsterdam, if it means getting to the bottom of the truth and having it out to the public. Even if it means my death…so what comes next? What comes after Amsterdam? How do I get to Amsterdam? And who do I meet in Amsterdam?’ her text read. Agnes shook her head wondering if it was the best she could come up with. That was a rhetorical question of course as she got no response but space and void. She lowered her face to her palms in hopes of her worries running off and letting her be. They didn’t, it was only a sigh that came out.

What if this whole thing was a scam like Chuks said? The thought glued on her again. What was so unique about her that Nickel couldn’t find in another? Why a black woman or worst; a Nigerian? The questions raided her.
Speaking of the ridiculousness of Nickel’s statement of her being unique, the words of Chuks on him being a terrorist dawned on her. But his words didn’t sound as such; no Arabic contextual, no qur’anic quotations or references or even a sign of religious extremism in him. He didn’t sound like a terrorist, rather he sounded like a humanitarian.
But then again Chuks said ‘the real terrorists were men in suits, the kind you’d hardly suspect. Those in regalia were just errand boys; paid employees. What if she was about to turn herself over to these suit men to get employed as an errand girl?

Then again why would suit men think of the most absurd and ridiculous way of getting her to do that? What skill set does she possess that they could need? None, she thought, then why her?
What if Nickel was genuine? What if she was the only one that Nickel saw could help him? What if Nickel was telling the truth about innocent people suffering? Should she get herself involved or just leave things the way nature deemed them? What if Nickel was some kidnapper? ‘To know what comes after Amsterdam or who to meet in Amsterdam, why not get to Amsterdam first? Friday 27th,Eko hotel and suites, Victoria Island Lagos. Room 306 9:00 pm prompt to take the first leap’ the text popped up immediately. Agnes blinked her eyes multiple times to be sure she read what she saw. It was.
With a sigh and a deep breath, she looked at the wall clock; it was 8:30pm. She looked at the day’s current date on her laptop. It was Monday, the 23rd. She sighed again; she had 4 more days to think and make her final decisions; to meet someone she had never seen before. ‘Alex Nickel’ she typed. Web pages popped up afterwards, displaying stories and headlines the internet had on him. It was going to be a busy night, she thought. The first leap.

She closed her eyes a second time, but this time, not because of fear or anxiety but to calm the night against any interruption. It wasn’t going to be easy that way though, the night warned.
Agnes opened her eyes then turned to the laptop again, confused on where to start. The web pages weren’t making it easy for her to read. To clear her head, she closed her eyes again then let out a yawn. Her eyes opened to the sight of a blank screen on the laptop. Strange, she thought glaring across the dinning noticing the faint sounds coming few paces from where she was.
With shrills in her spine, she swallowed a lot of saliva before rising from the chair to go see things for herself. Like any horror movie, there came nothing. But there was something; Agnes felt.
She looked around a second time to catch sight of the plasma, the wall clock, the transparent and dazzling center table and curtains that all smelt of luxury.
It was the curtains, Agnes noticed as she stared at emerald silk blowing few paces from her. Something was wrong with the curtains, she mumbled as she watched them blow air across her face.

Curious to figure why the curtains would want to scare her, she added few paces to where they stood. And with a deep breath straight out of her lungs, she pulled at the curtains. Expecting to see nothing, a great deal of shock swept her immediately once she found an aged woman in front of her.
Agnes gasped, shivering back immediately. The woman was drenching of blood, and water running from her mouth to her body. “Stop this” Agnes bellowed, knowing she wasn’t prepared for what she saw. “You are not real” she shook her head before placing her hands gently on her head while moving back, “You are not real” she whispered, “You are just my imagination”
“Am your mother, Ify” the woman corrected, moving closer to Agnes even as she tried to avoid her. “You are not real,” Agnes maintained.
“We are the only ones that know the truth” the woman said ignoring whatever chants Agnes made concerning what was real or not. With pitiful and melancholic eyes, the ragged woman stood in her tracks looking at Agnes. Agnes shut her eyes to avoid her gaze. She couldn’t bear looking directly at what appeared to be a parallel reflection of her dead mother in such state.

With all she knew and was told of her mother, she couldn’t look straight at what she felt was a ghost, to even imagine for once it was Nana, her mother.
“No!” Agnes raised her index finger up wishing for a moment, she was a prophetess to command the sight away from her. “You are not real” she cried, begging as she opened her eyes to look at the woman. “Please…you are…you are not real” she sobbed, “You are not real!” she screamed atop her voice again once she saw the woman wasn’t ready to leave.
Agnes stared at her tiles to see blood and water from the woman drench the floor.
“Nothing good would ever come of this…they’ll kill you” the woman said, looking at Agnes with empathy. She was a phantom that could fathom the pain of the living, the woman drew tears from her eyes as she stared at Agnes.

Stretching her arms, she moved for a hug; as if what Agnes was going through wasn’t enough. “Get away from me!” Agnes sparked, this time higher than before, “Go away!” she yelled again, falling on her knees. Agnes felt the tiles grow cold beneath her knees as she closed her eyes. The woman stood watching. From behind the woman; where the curtains stood, they billowed high sending the calendars and wall arts waving franticly. “Get away from me…get away from me” Agnes kept mumbling in whispers; her eyes shut in prayers. She was so concentrated in her mumbles that she paid no attention to the wind. That was her first mistake.
From where she stood, the winds pushed off two framed photographs of hers off the wall and straight at her. It took a last minute intrusion of instinct for Agnes to hear the noise and shift from the path before the photographs could land on her. She wasn’t all too lucky though as even in her efforts, the last piece of shattered glass bruised her right foot.

Agnes struggled with the shock to see the clouds outside thundering and the atmosphere raging violently. It was then she realized there was no woman there and that the windows and the entrance to her balcony were flat out open, prompting the wind. Agnes didn’t bother searching for the woman; sure it was just the weather.

ROOM 306 AND BEYOND…
“This is the key to your room. Room 306” the receptionist finally said, handling a set of keys to Agnes after a lengthy interview. Agnes felt some temper in her before accepting the key though, but looking at her wristwatch, she felt there wasn’t the time for a debacle with the girl. It was Friday, the 27th, and as promised, she needed to be at her best before meeting Nickel.
She arranged her hair once more. First impressions mattered, she thought.
And speaking of first impressions, the room usher came to lead the way to room 306.
It was almost time; Agnes looked at her watch repeatedly. 8:46, it said. Looking around her Agnes surmised that no matter how quick they hurried for room 306, time still made it slow for her. Or perhaps it was the slow elevator. It took decades for its buttons to respond and the lift to get them to the desired floor. Agnes had to but wonder why Nickel would choose a floor such as Room 306. Was it the privacy? She thought, glaring around. Or perhaps it was the best room in the whole of the hotel. Surely not.
“This way, Miss,” the usher directed, leading the way out of the elevator.
‘Room 306’ Agnes read once she came by a door that bore the initials. She turned to the usher then nodded. “Thank you…” she muttered to the guy hopelessly waiting for a tip.

Waiting till the guy had left; Agnes settled to unlock the door but hesitated for a minute. This was it, she said to herself. Once through that door, there was no way out. For seconds, she stood by the door wondering what the plan was.
Is Nickel already inside? Or does he meet her once she is inside? That was the one part she should have asked but failed to during their chat on email. She couldn’t blame herself though. So many thoughts.
Summoning the courage and confidence, Agnes finally unlocked the door then walked inside. Indeed, it was as advertised, she affirmed once the beauty of the room struck her. How presidential? She thought, wondering why it only took the most damning of all situations to get her to visit Eko hotels.
A great deal of shame swept her momentarily as she stared at the blues and the greens, remembering Mike in the process. If things had gone well that night or gone any differently, this night wouldn’t have been her first there, and most satisfying, would have been in better circumstances.

Agnes looked at the time again then sighed. It was 3 minutes to 9. More time to whirl away, she thought dropping her handbag on the bed. Her thoughts that moment sailed to Chuks then Chimamanda.
What if she was taking all these, way beyond her limit? What if these things weren’t real or the way she thought? What if she was just going through a long hour of a nightmare? She closed her eyes then opened them before inhaling the gas the Air condition breathed on her. She took out her phone that minute to look at it. 7 missed calls from Lillian, 22 from Mike, she saw on the screen. Why the hell won’t these people leave her alone? She asked.
Just then, a knock came at the door. Right about time, Agnes guessed, jolting from her thoughts. “Who is it?” she feigned a British accent at the go. She could have used an American one, she thought. Still, the knock didn’t stop nor was it ready to. It was intent on someone opening the door for it before it would.

Annoyed, Agnes noted how unusual it was for a white man to behave. That alone, left some degree of disappointment in her. She moved closer to the door then pulled it open. The first sight that beheld her that minute was a black man instead of the white man she had expected. “Are you Miss Amanfor…of hysterical trends eh…dot com?” the man spoke first hence the question. Agnes felt she was in the better position to ask the questions.
On the other hand, the man’s American accent was the perfect distraction that she didn’t bother with the thoughts of the man faking it. Then she preferred it being a white man.
“Are you Nickel?” she returned, with disappointment hanging over her voice as both stared at each other. The man’s face brimmed of surprise and chagrin though. “…Alexander Nickel?” she repeated.
“Who is Alexander Nickel?” the man asked much to the two’s shock.

Stuttering, Agnes pondered what to say until the man held out a parcel to her. “Nickel is a blogger…” Agnes jabbered on sighting the parcel. What was it? Was it even for her?
“Am sorry, I know not of any Nickel” the man apologized, “But I was sent from Boston by Edward Gavins to give you this” he added, looking at Agnes who stared back feeling ill and dumbfounded. “I must say Miss, am really impressed by your country. It isn’t like it’s painted by the American media” the man stretched his right hand for a handshake once Agnes collected the parcel. Agnes returned the gesture and compliment.
“Thank you, but who is Edward Gavins?” she asked.
“My boss…” the man answered.
Oh, Agnes thought. An alias wasn’t far out of his alley. “Why give me this?”
“That’s left for you to figure out, Miss” the black man said with a smirk before turning to leave. Agnes staring at what was now a blank space in front of her while holding the parcel, wondered how and why. She looked back inside then at the parcel. She wasn’t ready to open it in the hotel; she declared shutting the door behind her and taking the keys.

Agnes had almost reached the elevator before realizing her handbag was still inside room 306 waiting to be grabbed. She went back for it immediately.
It was easier than she thought, Agnes felt as she stared at the room again before taking her exit.

Staring into her refrigerator immediately she got home, Agnes wondered what beverage to select while holding the parcel in hand. Pepsi, she chose, grabbing the tin can without hesitation.
She looked at the parcel once more before popping open the canned drink. She sat on the chair nearest to her as she loosened the parcel. Agnes felt it was best doing so in the comfort of her home where no one would be watching or spying to look into whatever it was. She looked around once more to be sure of the fact before tearing the paper wrap.

Agnes pulled out its contents only for a paper to fall off to the table. She picked it up immediately to look at it. ‘Your plane leaves at 08:00pm GMT on Friday, should you decide to come to Amsterdam; Arik air, Abuja International Airport. Plane tickets are in the envelope. A travel agent meets you at the Amsterdam airport with your name on a placard. Safe travels, Miss Amanfour’ the writings on the paper stated.
Agnes paused to look at everything in her vicinity before letting out a deep breath. She brought out the other contents to see a bundle of foreign currency, tickets listed for places like the Civic Guards gallery, the Van Gogh museum and Crowne Plaza Amsterdam along with flight passports and visa for Amsterdam, Netherlands.
“Connections…?” Agnes voiced out, reminiscing on Chuks’ statement concerning Nickel having connections. Whatever it was, or whoever he was, Agnes knew right then he was genuine.

It was one thing getting on a flight, and it was another boarding an economy class; Agnes thought as she stared at the window. They were well high above ground levels now, she reasoned seeing as everything she looked at from up there appeared as miniatures on a flat surface. Agnes looked away immediately. She hated the economy class, she reaffirmed as she turned to look at the passengers boarded to get a mental picture of who and what they were. There was nothing as boring as staring at their pitiable faces, Agnes sighed before turning to look at those seated behind. Maybe their faces could be cheerful, she thought. They weren’t, she sighed again met by another disappointment.

There was no worse disappointment than seeing a young white folk dosing off on another white dude’s shoulder. Agnes scowled, turning once more to catch sight of another passenger staring at her; a man, a white middle aged guy with red hair.
Wasn’t he the guy that had ran into her earlier? She thought as she stared back. It was, she affirmed as she sat back to get the full view of his face.
Like all white men, he had a strange nose but unlike any she had met, this one had a devious glare with a stone-cold face on hardened features. Agnes wondered why she never noticed them before. And why was he staring at her? She thought. Wasn’t it enough having ran into her and almost knocking her off?

She had almost missed her flight because of the guy. And where was the wife he was in a rush for? She thought staring at the blank seat next to him.
Agnes turned to the Latino guy seated next to her that was dosing off and stretching his neck towards her. ‘Great’ she quipped, before gently shifting his head to the other direction.
This was the right time to make her way for the rest room, she said to herself as she glared at the passengers. Half of them were asleep. Did the hostess put something in their drinks? She thought as she got up.
The American staring at Agnes, watched her walk away from her seat before rising up. Has she made him? He wondered, or was she going to make contact with Anderson? Another guy got up not long from his seat immediately Agnes stood up, the American noticed taking note of the guy. Was he Anderson?

Whichever way, he needed to find out, he thought, marching instantly to where ever he reasoned they were going. He got to the rest room in minutes while keeping a track of time. He was the only one there keeping track of time, calculating it was 2 hours since take off.
The American walked by each door he came across, hitting them before passing by to get a reaction from within. In his defense, he did so hoping to see if the lady was in any of them.
She was in neither, or most specifically, was in neither of the female rooms he passed, which meant only one thing; he turned to knock at the door standing on his left.
“…. coming” a response came off immediately. Why was she in a men’s room? The American thought, clawing his hand at his weapon’s holder immediately.
“This is men’s room” he said, dropping his hand off his gun immediately as the lady came out. It was only her. “You again…?”
“Excuse me?” the American muttered, faking a sheepish expression, “…have we met?” “You ran into me earlier remember?” Agnes answered, leaving a question for him at the end. The American staring pretended to be astonished, only for his expression to fall flat with him glaring around. He paused to fake oblivion afterwards. “I can’t re…”
“Why are you following me?” Agnes asked before he could finish his statement. The American startled by how straightforward the question came, reached for his weapon’s holder only to back down half way through. “You’ve been staring at me all day like I was some kind of a price or attraction. So what’s the play? You didn’t accidentally run into me at the airport did you?” Agnes continued, asking while putting 2 and 2 together.

Withdrawing his hand from his weapon, the American looked at Agnes. He struggled for what to say to avoid causing an international scene in the plane or getting made by the girl as she stared.
“…no idea what you are talking about, Ma’am” he said, turning to walk into the rest room immediately. Agnes sighed immediately the man left her. She just dodged a bullet, literally, she thought to herself as she stared at the door the man shut behind him. He can’t be up to no good, she thought as she realized the man had been holding a gun while talking to her.
But what was he after? Should she tell someone or just keep quiet? Were there others like him in the plane? What did he want? Why was he staring at her ever since?

That minute, it dawned on Agnes that he was there for her.
Agnes hurried to her seat immediately, for fear of being left for the news to carry as a dead body found on the plane bound for Amsterdam. Or worst, as a hostage.
The American soon returned to his seat, this time with eyes fully on Agnes. It dawned on her then he was by no means a stalker but an assailant bidding his time, or worse, an assassin.
Agnes tried every means to avoid his gaze, but each time she did, she couldn’t help the thought that there was someone there in the plane seated across trying to kill her. Why? She looked away again.

AMSTREDAM AIRPORT
Agnes took to her heels immediately, upon stepping out of the plane knowing if by any chance, she failed or stopped for any reason, she could drop dead.
The only thought that came on her mind in those moments, was surviving the airport alive. If, and when she ever did, she was sure not to forget saying 2 decades of the rosary.
Agnes made for the terminal 2 hastily like Nickel had told her to in hopes that by doing so, she could meet Nickel’s contact and outwit the assailant on her tail. Agnes pushed her luggage once more hitting anything and anyone she came across amidst struggling to keep a head’s up. Time and luck was not on her side, she thought as she managed to take a brief glance behind. The assailant was still on to her, and this time, not hiding the fact.

Agnes hurried off again. What made her come to Amsterdam? She wondered, avoiding a man that came her way and struggling as she tried to catch her breath. Agnes inevitably stopped anyway as she came by a halt, or was forcibly halted.
“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” Agnes swung around as the voice came behind her, to catch sight of an old doddery lady holding on to her hand. What the heck? Who are you? Agnes stumbled backwards wondering as her luggage fell to the floor.
“Excuse me…?” she babbled awestruck and somewhat embarrassed at the prospect that someone would recognize her all the way to Amsterdam. Or was it part of the plan? She turned her eyes away briefly from the woman to look at her assailant. He had halted, and was making a call with eyes on her.
“Ruckus…” the old lady continued, pulling Agnes aside. “Are you not that lady who works as a front desk agent of the organization?” Agnes stared on noticing how remarkable the old lady’s accent was. She was British by the sound of it. “I-i-am sorry” Agnes stuttered amidst stealing a glance at her assailant and finding the perfect response for the woman, “…I don’t know what you are talking about” she stated, pulling away from the old lady immediately.

But the old lady still hesitant, moved along, “No…no, am sure I never forget a face” she insisted holding on to Agnes once more; her grip so tight Agnes had no choice but to halt. “You schooled at Princeton didn’t you?”
“What are you doing?” Agnes had to force herself to ask, confused at why some random old British lady would stop her by the airport to ask some stupid question.
She looked up ahead again to see the man was done with his call and was approaching. Christ! Agnes thought as she saw the old lady trying by every means to hold her in her tracks to get caught.
“Please…I-I have to go. I think am in trouble” Agnes quivered trying to loosen the grip the old lady had on her while dragging her luggage along.
“Sheila!” the old lady exclaimed afterwards, calling an unusual name amidst Agnes’ struggles. Agnes had to hold on for a second as she looked into the woman’s eyes upon hearing the name. The name seemed to jug memory, she thought rewinding to what the lady had said previously about Princeton.
It was then, amidst trying to recall events, she noticed the heavy downpour from the skies had increased. The volume from the speakers at the airport terminal increased also.

Agnes took some steps from the old lady as she kept her gaze on her and her assailant. The man had halted again; with eyes sharp on her. “What happened to her?” Agnes turned to the woman, asking hurriedly while still having the chance to. She remembered Princeton; she schooled there but then again, she wasn’t sure about the Ruckus thing.
“She’s been missing. For 3 years after a meeting you two had. We did everything we could to get in touch with you hoping you knew anything related to her disappearance or a faint idea where she could be, where she was…”
“Wait. Sheila is missing?” Agnes interrupted, before the old lady could finish; her lips parting once she had pronounced the name, like she knew ‘Sheila’.
She did. They were pals back at Princeton. She was even the one who got her started on the whole internet business thing. And now she is missing? Agnes found that hard to believe, and it was harder standing and hoping it would eventually sink in when there was an assailant after her.

He was making a call, Agnes noticed as she took a glare at him. His eyes were still on her though. Whatever she was doing, she had to be quick.
Then, how quick could she be seeing as it was Sheila they were talking about.
“How come…? When-I mean how?” she babbled.
“We were hoping you’d know. A lot of her friends we called were either dead or confirmed missing” the old lady said, not willing to let Agnes go till she got an answer. “Is she okay?” she added, with Agnes returning the look she gave her.
Agnes looked at the assailant then the entire terminal, hoping for a rescue.
“Why? What happened?” Agnes returned.
The Old lady struck with confusion and irritation, both with the question and the notion that the one person she hoped got the answers was the one asking her the questions, gave Agnes a long stare.
“I don’t know” she answered, “People said, few days to her friends going missing, they complained of not being safe. They said they were being followed…I want to know if Sheila felt same too”

Just then, it struck her. It was that moment she saw the pattern as she looked to see the man coming for her. “Are you in trouble?” the Old lady sensed.
“I think I am” Agnes mumbled, no longer hesitant on leaving the woman.
Before the Old lady could turn to see what the young lady could possibly be scared of, Agnes had disappeared into the crowd pushing along her luggage.
Agnes ran off following the terminal hallway, now caring less on locating Nickel’s travel agent and more on surviving the airport. Whatever made her decide on coming to the Netherlands? She thought, heading off to the transportation centre for a hideout.
Amidst scuffling within her thoughts and the crowd to staying calm and alive or end up like Sheila with no one knowing her whereabouts, Agnes ran straight into a lanky white guy in brown jacket that had, ‘SIRENE’ written on it and a black head-warmer.

It was upon sighting an alley that screamed ‘Hideout’, while making a move towards it that they bumped into each other. The white guy on his own end had a headset on that blocked his thoughts, and a cell phone in hand that took his attention, leading to the clash.
Agnes had to stumble backwards in that moment to regain balance. But instead of balance, the 1st thing that came to her was rage; silent rage.
The guy knelt instantly to pick Agnes’ luggage up after the clash, before mumbling some things in Dutch. “Am sorry” he said in English with his nose revealing the thick Dutch accent he had on him. He handed Agnes’ luggage over to her immediately.
Eyes more focused behind her and her assailant than the Dutch guy, Agnes grabbed her luggage from him without looking at him, before racing off. She had to forget her anger and put it behind her or risk her running with more load on her.

The thought of Sheila came into her as she rolled into the alley panting. What the hell was going on? She stopped to ask. Is she dead? What did she do that could warrant getting kidnapped or worse, killed? And most importantly, what did her friends whom were missing or dead do to warrant whatever state they were in? She asked herself, covering her mouth to control her breath.

The very question she was now sure was most definitely of interest to her was—what had she done to warrant being followed right down from Abuja to a foreign country by some white man?
Just as her mind was starting to calm, she heard a noise coming from her bag. Bleep! She almost let her as she looked at her handbag to see the noise wasn’t from there. It was from her box. Was it her phone? She panted.

Pulling down the luggage, she noticed the zip was an inch open and far from how she had zipped it back at the Nnamdi Azikiwe airport. Could it be the Dutch guy? Agnes instantly unzipped her luggage to figure out if anything was missing.
The first thing she noticed was a strange phone inside, ringing; a phone much different from her’s. Where was her phone then? She wondered unpacking her clothes to search for it. The least of her concerns was the strange phone that kept ringing.
When it evidently became obvious her phone wasn’t there, Agnes picked the strange phone up before zipping the bag. She dropped her handbag down after sensing she might have dropped the phone inside. Then again, the phone wasn’t there. Had someone just robbed her? She looked around to see no one there. The phone in her hand was still ringing. Calming her nerves, she decided picking the call but letting the strange caller on the strange phone do the talking first. “It’s Nickel,” the caller answered, upon Agnes picking the call, “The plan’s changed. Take the taxi with plate number TX 112 few meters from where you are hiding to Crowne Plaza hotel Amsterdam and lodge there. Use the tickets. I had everything arranged. I’ll keep in touch,”
“Nickel…? Wait, where are you? What is happening? How…” Agnes had rushed up to ask after picturing the things to say on hearing the name ‘Nickel’ over the loud speaker. Instead of a straight up response, the call went dead after the sentence ‘take a leap of faith’.

Confused but wondering if it was some trick, Agnes managed a glare around while panting. This was a real life version of ‘Sheep in the big city’ she thought.
Standing from the spot, she picked up her handbag and luggage then paused. How did Nickel know she was hiding? She wondered, looking around. Was she under some sort of surveillance?
There was only Power around her; electricity as she glared for any security cam. Maybe they were miniaturized versions hidden inside the brightening bulbs. Where was the taxi TX 112 Nickel said? She moved further to locate, coming out of the secluded alley and back into the crowd.
Then after moments of searching around for TX 112, it dawned on her opposite where she stood, was the taxi with a mustached man glaring around.
Agnes hesitated, first to be sure it was the taxi and second to rethink on the whole thing again. What if the phone call wasn’t from Nickel? What if it was from her stalker or a-would be assassin? She looked around once more. After moments debating, she recalled Nickel’s last statement; take a leap of faith.
It was Nickel, She finalized before moving forward to the taxi. The mustached man upon seeing her; nodded his head before turning to open the door for her. He went back to his booth then opened it for her to dump her luggage inside.
“Crowne Plaza?” the man asked in English revealing an Indian accent. With a nod, Agnes motioned for him to start the engine. She looked back to see if her stalker was still on her tails. He wasn’t, she sighed. She had loosed him.

Breathing in one more time, Agnes reviewed her memories before unzipping her handbag. She picked up the enveloped parcel to look at it once more. She decided on pulling out the papers inside to review it again. It was then and only that moment in all of history that she had come up to the realization that the Crowne Plaza hotel didn’t have her name listed on its ticket, and instead it was ‘Sharon Williams’ on it. To think that Nickel had everything about her right, or was it part of the plan…?
Agnes looked up to see the cab driver had driven into the hotel. “This is your stop madam,” the Indian said. “How much is it?” Agnes asked. She noticed the rain was calming.
The Indian smiled then ended with a simple phrase, “Taxi was paid upfront” Confused yet eager to make her way into the hotel with enthusiasm, Agnes alighted from the vehicle. She walked up straight into the hotel to make her reservations or more less show them her ticket.
After checking in and having her name cleared, they called in the service guy to lead her to her room with her luggage; room 415 as the ticket had it listed.
With the quick elevator, she got to her room. One thing, she couldn’t wait to get her mind leveled off things, second, she wasn’t sure of this whole thing. But then again, the whole thing was free; and so was death.

In AMSTERDAM—NOW WHAT
Agnes pulled into the bathroom immediately to get freshened up, and once she was done, she met the hotel attendant bringing her dinner. He spoke some Dutch before leaving which Agnes had nothing else to do but nod to.
It took her about 15 minutes to get clear on the whole ordeal, and when she was, she found she was rather too tired to sit by the laptop and Google. She was in a foreign country, though not for the first time, but a first time in the Netherlands and so, she guessed she needed a foreign start.
Agnes didn’t know when it came but when it did, it took her far to deep ends before she could realize it. She opened her eyes to the sight of her stalker at the airport, standing at the bedpost staring heads down at her. Her first wave of thought was to scream, but before she could, the man had already anticipated it. The stalker pinned her to the bed covering her mouth. Agnes’ eyes darting around amidst trying to make sense of what was happening caught sight of the ghost woman again. That moment, she knew she was doomed.

Panicky, Agnes felt it best to struggle a fight in her no matter how feeble it was to avoid the ghost approaching. The ghost woman dragging her wet self on the tiles, pushed forward the water and the blood dripping off her along while pointing fingers at Agnes. It blamed her for her predicament.
When it couldn’t have gotten any worse than that, the stalker pulled his grip off her mouth, replacing it with a gun to her chest before she could think of screaming. In three counts, the stalker pulled the trigger.
Agnes’ eyes immediately flung open to the cold weather outside and the drawer opposite her. A phone was on it and it was ringing. Based on the climate readings, it was dawn but not clearly morning as the sun was not yet out. From the view of the window, it was still raining. Yawning, Agnes got up to the phone to pick it only then to notice, it was yet another phone. How did…? “Hello…?” she picked the call; this time speaking first.
“Morning Miss Amanfour” the caller greeted. For the first time Agnes noticed Nickel’s voice and accent, though it wasn’t what she had expected; the tone, but it was American.
“Is it Nickel?” she thought to confirm,
“Can we meet?” the caller replied with a question.
“Isn’t it too early?” Agnes pushed in her’s while looking at the window.
“Time waits for no man, Miss Amanfour. Should you choose to come, Vondelstraat Street no 52?” the caller said. “Wait…what did you say it was?” Agnes interrupted before he could cut the call again. She didn’t get the name or its pronunciation. “I’ll text it” the caller replied, hanging up.

Seconds later, a ping came on the phone indicating the text message. Agnes looked at it and started to get dressed. Once she was done, she made sure to put the sent text in written form on a piece of paper.
There were so many questions and so many awes that Agnes didn’t know if she had all in her head. It was a little too early for an unscheduled interview but, what could she say? It was better early than never. She picked up the phone before heading out.
Outside the Crowne Plaza was an immaculate view that dawned Agnes’ eyes but then, the steaming rain from the skies held her admiration for a later moment. She instead focused her sensory on the weather. Agnes sighed seeing as the weather was less of an encouragement. She should have worn a better outfit, she thought looking at her gown and the V-neck design.
Running off in the rain, she ran into luck to see a taxi drive by. It wasn’t TX 112 though as Agnes made sure before hopping. “Vondelstraat number 52” she said to the cab driver showing him the piece of paper if by chance she had not gotten the pronunciation right. Admitting the fact, the bigheaded man nodded then mouthed something strange to her. “Uh…I-I don’t speak Dutch. Would you mind saying that in English?” she returned, only to be stroke by a blank stare from the driver. “Do you speak English?” she resolved to ask knowing she could have made a big mistake thinking he understood English.
“You American?” the taxi man turned to look at her immediately, in admiration and with his English falling flat. Less bothered with his English, Agnes politely shook her head, offending the man. “No” she said, “Am Nigerian” “Ah, Africa!” the man exclaimed, then frowned with his chin falling, “I hear about you people. Con artist” “Excuse me…?” Agnes picked offence instantly.

It was one thing insulting Nigerians for their criminal behaviors but it was another thing crucifying an innocent person for it just because they were born Nigerian.
“Your money is 40 Euros…,” the taxi man said, switching the subject and the car engine abruptly. He looked at Agnes to see if they were in business.
“40 Euros…?” she instead exclaimed, with mouth agape and eyes wide. She looked around to be sure she still knew the way back to her hotel on foot. A sudden flash of lightning from the sky dissuaded her from such thoughts as she went back to staring at the taxi driver. “Okay” she acquiesced, having no other alternative.
Hesitant, the taxi man looked at her for some seconds before turning forward to re-ignite the engine of the taxi. Agnes sighed shaking her head at how obscene the money was for a lift to what she assumed was few streets away.

A closer look at the building structures, the roads, the translucent glasses and window shielding covering every building; which alone was state of the art, she couldn’t blame him. The taxpayers have to meet up with the heavy artillery that was their state. Even the air that whistled around, the drops of rain that fell and even the cops that patrolled around looking not for criminals but street defaulters, attested to this. Everyone and everything was looking to meet up; high-end things in the air, who could blame them?
One thing Agnes noticed while the taxi drove around; that was very much a western culture, was that no matter the day or awkward the hour was, people were never shy of expressing their feelings in public. Something she captured when she sighted two couples kissing in the rain. Try this in Nigeria and get a thousand eyes staring at you and calling you a prostitute. Agnes should’ve been used to it by now if not comfortable with it though, considering she spent roughly 17 years in the U. S and even had a dual citizenship to account for it, but then she expected Amsterdam to be different. Was it? It shared a lot with New York City for her to think they would be any different. Atleast the air and the scent of coffee in it smelt different.
“Taxi stop here…” the taxi driver called out with a frown as he turned back to look at Agnes, jugging her off her solitude. Staring at the man for seconds, Agnes wondered if he had a beef with her that needed sorting. She couldn’t tell. Instead of waiting to have an answer, she checked into her purse immediately. She was glad she had converted some money before hand at Abuja else, the taxi man would’ve made a scene, now that she had told him she was Nigerian. She counted the cash then handed it to the man before stepping out of the vehicle.

Agnes arranged her hair and gown immediately, before heading for the house that stood in front of her. 52, she read from the number tag on it. She went for the doorbell afterwards.
Raising her fingers to strike at it, she recalled she wasn’t in Nigeria any more. Any slight error could have her jailed. No matter her skin color, she was still a black lady in a white country. She decided to press the bell gently, then a second time when no response came. She almost went for a third before the door flung open.

Right in front of her that minute came a fat old woman whose eyes dimmed, not for anything alone but the fact that she had just woken from sleep. Agnes looked at her wristwatch to see it was just 7:25 am; a bit too early she realized, discovering she had only succeeded in waking a fat old woman from her sleep.
“Good morning” Agnes greeted, “Does an Alexander Nickel live here? He asked me to come here,” she said using an American accent. She was sure to pass off as American, and to go by the books, she was American; partially though.

The old lady stared at her for minutes, like she hadn’t heard Agnes’ words. Agnes had to look around to be sure the woman saw her if at all she hadn’t heard anything she said. To add to the irritation, the old lady blurted something out in Dutch complicating the whole thing. Shocked and embarrassed to the core, Agnes opened her eyes and mouth wide, first to say something but deciding against it. This was going to be a tough game, and language was going to be the opponent that stood between her and Nickel.
Frustrated, Agnes looked around once again for an alternative but swung her hands in defeat. “Tu parle François?” she turned to say in French, but as expected, the woman said nothing other than the stare she gave. This was a real boner; Agnes admitted tapping her foot. The old lady willing to give it a chance raised her hand up like a grade one pupil then left the door mid way open. Agnes couldn’t tell if it was an invitation or not, and to that respect, she felt it was best staying outside. Minutes after, a black guy showed up with the woman. “My grandmother says you are some stranger lost…can I help you?” the guy said with a British accent.

Finally, Agnes thought as she sighed. “Uh, am looking for some Alexander Nickel. He…uh, asked me to meet him…here…Vondelstraat street, number 52” Agnes stuttered trying to keep her American accent. She saw what happened earlier when she disclosed to the cab man her true nationality. She looked at the door post to be sure it was Number 52.
“Nickel?” the guy asked much to his grandma’s confusion as she looked at him and Agnes. “There is no Nickel around this neighborhood, not even here” he disclosed, “This home’s been my grandmother’s for 23 years. There is no way a Nickel could claim to live on our property. We even got government clearance…” he went on to argue, moving closer to Agnes.
Agnes swung by the confusion in the air, took some steps backward. She’d hoped for some explanation to the shit she just heard, but the only thing that came to her, was that she had been conned. Nickel had conned her. Her personal phone was missing along with all her contacts, and she had come to the Netherlands all for a mistake that could turn out ugly. Stepping off the stairs quietly, Agnes refused to say a word back to the guy. She had never being so embarrassed the way she had just been.

Agnes decided to walk a few paces from the guy before picking the phone from her purse to lash out at Nickel and demand some explanation than the fact that he had obviously conned her into putting herself in some embarrassing situation. She couldn’t imagine Chuks’ smile now at the thought of being right all along.
With no second to waste, she dialed the last number that had called her, but after seconds of beeping, the phone went blank and dead. In the next second, it exploded, sending chills through her palm and spine. Agnes’ line of thought that minute didn’t go to her injured hand, but the idea that someone had seen what happened.
She turned around immediately, with a sudden fear that someone somewhere was watching her and might shout ‘terrorist’ to raise an alarm. Agnes hurried off instantly when she saw no one. She waved at the first sight of a taxi.
“Crowne plaza hotel please” she said panting when she got into the taxi. She could care less if the driver spoke English or not at that moment. “32 Euros ma’am” the driver replied, luckily speaking the language she understood. This one had a Michigan accent; something that gave her a sense of relief when she saw the man’s skin color; black.

Whoa, she sighed looking back at the house she had ran from, and glad that the first voice she heard had that familiarity with home even if it was miles distant. She rubbed her right hand, feeling the pain that minute. How could she have made such a stupid mistake? She thought, still looking at the house while the driver drove.
All efforts the driver made towards initiating a conversation, was ignored as Agnes was rather too lost in her thoughts and what could have been.
Her face alone was more frightening than the city itself as he stared at her through the driver mirror. Whatever trouble was she in, that morning? He thought to himself as he resolved to let it be and rather communicate with her through the rear mirror.
Under a 20-minute drive, Agnes was back in her hotel room; a place she now saw more as boredom than the royalty it was made to be. The only thing that reminded her of the royalty it tried to portray were the chandeliers as she lied on the mattress gazing at them. They reminded her of those in the General’s house, due to how perfect they were. The General even claimed to have given the contract of his house to Julius Berger from a design of New York’s famous mansion. No one knew how true it was but one thing was sure, the fact that he adored artistry and perfection.

She felt safe under the General’s chandeliers. She hoped she would be safe under this one. More and more, Agnes was reminded of home; of Nigeria, from the little things she saw and the things she never expected would ever remind her or make her miss Nigeria. It was a testimony to frustration.
As she lay upon the mattress, she felt the size enlarging her muscles, that she found no other option but to shut her eyes. She wished she would remain that way the entirety of the day.