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Chapter Two Osogbo — 6:14 a.m. The hotel room stank of sweat, cheap perfume, and bad decisions. The dim glow from the window bled through torn curtains, casting lines across the crumpled bedsheets and the two half-empty bottles of gin on the floor. Detective Dave Ajiboye lay on his back, staring at the ceiling like it owed him answers. A cigarette dangled from his lips, the smoke curling lazily above him. Beside him, a naked woman snored softly into the pillow — Bimbo or Bisola… he hadn’t asked twice. His phone buzzed violently on the bedside table. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. He sighed, dragged himself up, and grabbed it. Caller ID: DPO He swiped the screen and cleared his throat. “Detective Dave,” he said, voice gravelly. “Get your pants on,” the voice barked. “We’ve got a body. Real mess. House out in GRA — name’s Dr. Cole. Ring any bells?” Dave blinked. “Yeah. Vaguely. Medical expert. Used to work with the National Health Directorate, right? Went solo years back.” “That’s the one. Found in his basement — double tap to the head. Looks like an execution.” Dave was already pulling on his trousers. “I’ll be there in fifteen.” He ended the call and looked down at the woman still asleep. “You’ve got ten minutes to be gone,” he muttered, tossing her clothes onto the chair. She didn’t stir. --- 6:46 a.m. — Dr. Cole’s Residence The gate to the compound was lined with yellow tape. Uniformed officers moved around like ants, snapping photos, jotting notes, looking lost. Dave ducked under the tape and flashed his badge. The air reeked of burnt metal and stale blood. “Where’s the body?” he asked. A junior officer led him inside — through the modest house, down a stairwell hidden behind a false bookshelf, into the cold, quiet bunker below. That’s when he saw him. Dr. Cole’s corpse lay twisted on the concrete floor, eyes frozen wide open, a trickle of dried blood from the nose and mouth. Two bullet holes marked the forehead — clean, precise. But it was the broken flask lying beside the body, stained with residue, that caught Dave’s attention. He knelt beside it, put on gloves, and sniffed. “Chemical,” he murmured. “Probably something corrosive… maybe nerve agent traces. But the shots? Too neat. Almost like a misdirection.” The officers watched him scribble in his worn-out leather notepad, muttering to himself. “This wasn’t a robbery. No sign of forced entry, no struggle. This was a hit. Someone wanted him dead… but more than that, someone wanted it to look like just another street job.” He stood, stretched his neck, then glanced around the room. And then his eyes narrowed. A small vent in the upper wall had scorch marks — explosives, maybe? He smiled grimly. “This wasn’t just a hit,” he said aloud. “This was someone with precision. With resources.” He turned to the DPO, who’d just arrived sweating into the room. “Sir,” Dave said, lighting another cigarette despite the toxic stench, “I think we’ve got a ghost on our hands.” |
Chapter One Osogbo, Nigeria — 3:41 a.m. The silence in Dr. Cole’s compound was broken only by the occasional chirp of crickets and the hum of the faulty streetlamp outside his high perimeter fence. He lived alone, tucked away in a quiet corner of Osogbo’s old GRA district — the kind of place that screamed modest success and hidden secrets. Inside, the house was dark — but someone had tripped the motion sensors. Boogeyman moved like liquid shadow. He’d disabled the CCTV blindfolded and breached the compound wall with practiced ease. No guards, no dogs, no visible security system beyond the silent sensors, which he preferred on — they told him exactly where to look. He slipped through the back door like a whisper, his silenced pistol drawn, gloves tight, heartbeat calm. He’d studied the layout. Knew where Cole slept. Knew the time he usually got up to drink water — 3:30 a.m. Like clockwork. And tonight, he was five minutes late. Too late. A muffled thud echoed from below. Beneath the floorboards. Boogeyman’s eyes narrowed. The doctor had run. --- Beneath the House – The Bunker Dr. Emmanuel Cole’s feet slammed down the metal steps as he gasped for air. Sweat soaked his shirt, and his hands trembled as he slammed the reinforced door shut and spun the lock dial three times. Boom. A muffled sound above. Then silence. He reached for his emergency phone — dead. Disabled from the outside? His hands flew to the glass cabinet beside the bunk bed, pulling out two chemical vials and a small burner. If the assassin managed to break in, maybe he could stall him… or defend himself. Clack. The metal door creaked. Impossible, he thought. It was custom-built, blast resistant. But the Boogeyman didn’t believe in impossible. He had followed the tunnel ventilation from outside and used a compact shaped charge he planted at a blind corner behind the generator shed. The boom was controlled — just enough to warp the hinges. Now, with a crowbar and time, he pushed the bunker open like a coffin lid. And there stood Dr. Cole, breathing like a cornered animal, two vials of unidentified compounds trembling in his hands. “I don’t want to die,” Cole said, voice cracking. “I can pay you more than whoever sent—” Boogeyman stepped in and shut the door behind him. “Not here for money,” he said coolly, lifting his silenced pistol. Then, slowly, he lowered it. “You were a chemist before medicine, weren’t you?” Cole blinked. “How do you—” “I read your thesis,” Boogeyman said. “Organophosphate derivatives. Nasty stuff.” Cole’s face paled. The vials. He knows. The assassin pulled out a small kit from his coat, snatched the vials, added another clear liquid from his pouch, and began to swirl them in a small flask over the burner. “You’re going to drink this,” Boogeyman said. “Please… no. It’ll burn me from the inside. It’s torture.” Boogeyman’s face didn’t move. “You helped torture others. This is full circle.” Cole screamed as the assassin shoved the flask into his mouth and forced the liquid down. The reaction was immediate — choking, spasms, blood from the nose. Then — pop-pop. Two bullets to the head. Clean. Final. He wiped the flask with Cole’s hand, dropped it next to him, then slipped out the way he came. By the time the neighbors heard the sound and called the police, all anyone would find was a dead man with two holes in his skull and no sign of forced entry. Another case. Another closed door. But one detective would think otherwise. |
Don't forget to leave your comments! Positive criticisms are welcome! |
Prologue Ilorin, Nigeria — 2:16 a.m. The rain hadn’t stopped for hours. It drummed a restless rhythm on the corrugated zinc rooftops of the abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Ilorin, where the shadows held their breath. The air reeked of rust and secrecy. A broken neon sign across the road buzzed and flickered, casting pale blue stutters of light into the murky night. Three figures moved through the gate, silent and deliberate. The first man wore a baseball cap pulled low over his brow. The hoodie cloaked most of his face, but his posture betrayed authority — shoulders square, stride firm, even in disguise. Beside him, two hulking men in suits followed, eyes scanning, hands always close to their holsters. No words were spoken. Not here. Inside the warehouse, a single floodlight burned overhead, buzzing like a dying fly. It illuminated an old wooden table, a steel chair, and a man leaning against a concrete pillar like he’d been waiting all night. He was dressed simply — dark jeans, fitted T-shirt, black leather gloves. No jewelry, no watch. Just a blank expression and eyes like polished onyx: unreadable. The notorious Boogeyman. Nigeria’s ghost for hire. If he showed up, someone was already as good as dead. “You’re late,” he said, his voice low but sharp enough to slice glass. The hooded figure stepped forward, ignoring the remark. One of the bodyguards placed a metal briefcase on the table and slid it toward the assassin. The president — though unrecognizable in that moment — reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a small black flash drive. He held it up to the dim light. “This man is a threat to the state,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “A doctor. Name’s on the drive. All the details you’ll need.” Boogeyman didn’t flinch. “You didn’t come all the way here to explain. You came to pay.” The president tossed the flash drive onto the table with a faint clink. The assassin opened the briefcase. Crisp stacks of U.S. dollars gleamed in the harsh light. “Half now,” the president said. “Half when it’s done. Discreet. No mistakes.” Boogeyman closed the briefcase and grinned — but it never reached his eyes. “There are never mistakes. Only corpses.” The president turned without another word, his guards close behind. His steps echoed in the silence as he vanished into the shadows from where he came. Boogeyman remained for a moment, watching the rain streak across the dusty floor. Then he pocketed the flash drive and walked out into the night, his next mission already playing out in his mind. A doctor would die soon. And the president’s secret? Would be buried — or so he thought.
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Tripitaka:Abi o 💁💁💁 |
Do I? |
Pussyisgud:I want to install it myself, that's why I'm asking! |
If you refuse to flow with the tide, they say, you'll get swept aside! Electricians in the house, please I need help on something. How do you wire a house in such a way that the change over would automatically switch from generator to nepa light once there's light? Or what are the types of materials to be used to achieve such results? Please, it's urgent! |
Nice one. Continue! |
Allisgud:Ask am o! |
lamentor78:Confirm talk jare! |
[quote author=Double0h7 post=130010086]As a woman you are blessed with the gift of controlling your libido, it’s only through low self esteem, and low self worth that a woman opens her legs to secure a relationship. If you can control your legs then you can walk away with the biggest fish in the ocean. Broke smelling dusties get a platform today because women have dropped their crown, adjust that shi and these brokies will get a job or die trying. Heaven has always been at the feet of women. |
Pussyisgud:Lol..... |
Fellow nairalanders, i hv a pressing issue dat is bothering me. Has anyone heard about a company named quest international or a university named quest international university both in abuja? I'm asking bcuz i've just been presented wit an offer that is too gud to be true and i just wanted to confirm if it was a scam or not. Paying 800k to secure a job of 250k per month dat comes wit full accomodation has "scam" written all over it abi na poverty dey cloud my judgement? Fellow nairalanders, please enlighten me! |
samomoli:Thank you |
Obiedun:Thanks |
Hello Nairalanders! Something has been bothering me for a while now. I finished secondary school about eight years ago but since there was no help forthcoming about furthering my education, I decided to get a job so I can gather money. Now I think I'm ready to further and I'm hoping to sit for next year's jamb exams but the problem now is, CAN I STILL GAIN ADMISSION WITH MY EIGHT YEARS OLD NECO RESULT? Or I need to sit for another O'level exams? |
Can engineers in the house help me with the conduit piping quotation of a three bedroom flat? Please, it's urgent! |
I really need it urgently. I am an electrician, though just attained freedom after acquiring the skill. Now an opportunity is rearing up to get a contract so I need to prepare something because I don't want to be caught unawares! Please, any experienced electrician in the house should help! |
Please help write a quotation on electrical piping of a standard three bedroom flat. |
Peter is a clown 🤡, Tinubu is an old man who thinks the presidential seat is his family heritage.... Well, to me, none of them have anything to offer us. They're just trying to take what's left of us. |
I prefer it to be outside Lagos. The standard of living in Lagos is too high. |
texas1990:Who con dey fight u now? All these brainless goats walking around self! |
Dramas unfolding everywhere. See the way people are blindly rooting for the same set of mumu that put our lives in jeopardy. SMH I pity this generation of Nigerians. |
Lobatan E don finish! |
Na only God fit save us for we country. |
satchinonso:Lol.... |
Nonsense pple! Is naira redesign d next thing? Wen youths ar jobless, no good road, bad electricity and a host if other things plaguing the nation? Awon werey! |
As a movie addict, there's this latest marvel movie "SPIDERMAN: NO WAY HOME" I've been trying to download but can't find it on the website I normally download movies from (netnaija) So, I was hoping someone could suggest a website where I can download the particular movie and many more! Thanks. |
If she can make me rich without any silly � consequences, I'll marry her! |
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