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Good evening, peeps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pressed the green button.

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

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

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

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

"Yes?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You must come, you must come!"

The caller hanged up.

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

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

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

He was thinking, thinking really deeply.

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

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

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

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

Larry Sun: Chapter One (February 8, 2013)

Frank 3.16: Chapter Two (February 12, 2013)

Redmosquito: Chapter Three (February 16, 2013)

Efemena_xy: Chapter Four (February 20, 2013)

Mazi_Omenuko: Chapter Five (February 24, 2013)

Oahray: Chapter Six (February 28, 2013)

Sigmundfreud: Chapter Seven (March 4, 2013)

Ishilove: Chapter Eight (March 8, 2013)

Uniquexty: Chapter Nine (March 12, 2013)

HumbledbYGrace: Chapter Ten (March 19, 2013)

Frosti: Chapter Eleven (March 23, 2013)

Senbonzakura_kayegoshi: Chapter Twelve (March 27, 2013)

Foxy_Ultimate: Chapter Thirteen (March 31, 2013)

Mynd_44: Chapter Fourteen (April 4, 2013)

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

See discussion thread: Nairaland Detection Club

Thanks.

semid4lyfe: Just a question:

Will a separate thread be created for the story or will it be posted on this thread?

In a few hours' time, a new thread shall be created for the story. Like Mazi has rightly said, this thread will only serve for only discussions about the chapters (not derailment).

uj_sizzle: Larry hiya

Hi Sizzle!

And all these are the poems? That's strange.

Mynd_44: I just asked her to look at it again

Thanks, bless you.

Mynd_44: Not fair....she has been busy off NL of late. Don't blame her is she sees it late and therefore reacts late

Mynd, I'm not blaming her, not at all. I lodged a complaint and she replied alright. It's just that the reply isn't very satisfactory.

Okay, now you want to bed your HOD's daughter.

white mosquito: Honestly wetin i do? K, can u plz exempt me from the report on the complaint thread. Thank u.

That's bygone.

Moreover, Cud refused to consider my complaint. I was expecting her to hide some posts on the assaulted thread.

white mosquito: Larry! Ur here?! I apologize for derailin ur thread. Tried to pm u, dunno if u got it. Buh reporting me was too.......i comment my reserve

You aren't the only mosquito I reported. What you did on my thread was too.......I reserve my ire.

Okay, I'm sorry too for reporting you. Derailment does not a good mosquito make

I need your help urgently, Cud. Some mosquitoes have infested my thread. They have derailed it so much that the thread is now threatening to crash. Please, do something.

https://www.nairaland.com/1182846/nairaland-detection-club/3

I'll go ahead and complain to Cuddlemii, this thread is being molested. A lot of posts need to be hidden.

I'll be damned if these mosquitoes won't contend with the rainbow.

I think you're upset, HBG. Take a deep breath.

white mosquito: Actually, uncle larry, it was all dese ur devoted fans i was scared might lynch me.

Lynch you? Why would anyone lynch you?

white mosquito: mutters very quietly to herself,"i dint like dat Brand of Cain book o"

Do not worry, Moss. Cain won't haunt you in your sleep.

Mazi_Omenuko: Good morning peeps,
@larry, are you going to upload your story at the same thread or create a new thread for it? (That is, the NDC thread)

A new thread shall be created for the collaborations. Gather your wits The story begins tomorrow.

HumbledbYGrace: For lazybones like me, its gonna take a year to plot a scene, never mind creating a character

LOL! HBG, there no much difference between the one-week initial interval and the four-days newly introduced. We don't want to get our readers bored, do we? I know you, you can cope

Oahray: hmmm... Thanks. Writing after 9 people must have twisted the plot to their heart's content. Starting tomorrow right?

Yes, the first chapter will be posted tomorrow.

Efemena_xy: *** Be still, my fluttering heart...***

Good Morning Larry

But my own ventricles are being rendered more afflutter than yours. I have less than 24hours

Good morning, ma'am. Bless you.

This is to inform the writers that the date has changed. The new dates are posted below. Thank you.

Larry Sun: Chapter One (February 8, 2013)

Frank 3.16: Chapter Two (February 12, 2013)

Redmosquito: Chapter Three (February 16, 2013)

Efemena_xy: Chapter Four (February 20, 2013)

Mazi_Omenuko: Chapter Five (February 24, 2013)

HumbledbYGrace: Chapter Six (February 28, 2013)

Sigmundfreud: Chapter Seven (March 4, 2013)

Ishilove: Chapter Eight (March 8, 2013)

VanTee20: Chapter Nine (March 12, 2013)

Oahray: Chapter Ten (March 16, 2013)

Mynd_44: Chapter Eleven (March 20, 2013)

Oahray, I see you . Your name has been added.

Splendblex: Reader's club waiting...!

It'll start on Friday, ma'am. Sorry for the delay.
Bless you.

Efemena_xy: Yep, I did - thanks.

You may not know this Larry, but a lot of your posts are an inspiration to fellow writers...kudos to you.

I'm eagerly awaiting your chapter on the NDC thread!

Oh! Thanks a whole bunch, Efe.

Currently drafting the chapter

**That work you talked about isn't yet published o **

Damex333: Gud morning writers and we readers. Wow,larry,writing a book 4 3 yrs.. OkaY,no wahala. I hope all of una had a 1daful nite rest sha.

Thanks Dam. Yeah, my night was quite a bliss.