Enjoy the first chapter of this book. I hope you all like it.



                          CHAPTER ONE
             Tea.

            Jessica needed tea.

            A pot of hot Lipton tea. Flavored with peak milk and sweetened with sugar.

            Maybe she was still sleeping. She’d caught a glimpse of her bedside clock and with one eye open, she saw the hour indicator on seven and the minute indicator onthree. It could only have meant one thing… it was 7:15.

            In the morning.

            Wednesday morning.

            She was supposed to catch an 8 a.m. flight, and she was still in bed. Coming to consciousness, she jumped off her bed and stood in front of the mirror. She took two steps towards the bathroom to clean up what she had seen in the mirror. She hesitated. She had remembered she was supposed to get out of thehouse without anyone’s knowledge, not even her escorts’.

Two months as the president’s daughter had been like a prison to Jessica. The thought of all the escorts going everywhere with her sickened her several times. The sight of them irritated her. She was therefore determined to go out without them and be a little crazy, just like every other 19-year-old girl.

            She tilted her head in the excitement of a new found idea. She picked up the phone beside her bed and dialed, patiently waiting for her escort to answer.

            “Agent John, I need you in my room right now.”

            “I’ll be right there.”

            The door opened before she could even put down the phone. It was not strange toher, for she knew quite well that they were always at her door if she was still in her room. She only needed to let out the slightest scream for them to hearher if she was in danger.

            “You called for me, Miss Adekola.”

            “Yes,I did. Agent John…” She took a deep breath before she continued. She reminded herself that she must not sound suspicious, for she knew it would not be easy to fool a man like John, who had worked with the Secret Service for more than 30 years. “Agent John, when my mother chose you as my escort, I was annoyed with her for giving me an old man like you. However, I have realized that youare more than an escort, you are like a father.”

            John wondered what brought on the compliment. He had been her escort for two months and he never received any appreciation from her. He looked closely at her to see if he could figure out anything from the expression on her face, but what he saw looked sincere.

            “Thanks for the compliment, ma’am, but if…” she interrupted him before he could ask her any suspicious questions.

            “What would you have done if you weren’t working today?”

            “I would have accompanied my wife to the store to shop.”

            “You can go shopping, I’m making today free for you.”

            “I’m afraid I can’t leave you without an escort.”

            Yes.Right there. She had just experienced her worst fear. She wanted to sound innocent, but at that moment, the rage of the freedom she had lost for twomonths overpowered her.

            “I’m over 18. I can take care of myself, for crying out loud,” she snapped at him.

            “I know you can take care of yourself, but you are the president’s daughter, you need to be protected. You are well aware of the disloyalty within your mother’s administration.” He repeated softly, “You need to be protected.”

            “I’m sick and tired of that kind of life. I want to be free like any other girl outside. I hate this kind of life. I hate it.” She finished loudly.

             She realized arguing with John would not work.She stood there for some minutes, tapping her thigh with her fingers. Deciding to bury her pride, she knelt down before John and held his legs.

            “Please,Agent John, don’t see me as the president’s daughter, but see me as your daughter, asking her father for a favor. I beg you, give me a chance to live anormal life, just for today only, and I’ll forever remain grateful to you.”

            He was tempted to do her this favor, but he knew that sometimes you even have to refuse your own children if you are making the right choice for them. He bentdown and lifted her from her knees to meet his height. He took a few steps backward, breathed deeply, and bent his head down to avoid seeing her face.

            “I’m sorry. Miss Adekola. I’m afraid I can’t.”

            She felt as if a sword had just passed through her heart. She opened her mouth to continue to persuade him, but decided against it, knowing full well that Agent John would not change his mind.

            “Thanks anyway. You all should remain at the door. I’ll be in my room all day, and tell everyone who might want to see me that I want to be left alone.”

            He knew quite well that he had hurt her, for her expression changed as she gaveher orders. He nodded his head as a reply to her command, and turned to leave.He put his hand on the doorknob, pressed it down, but refused to apply theforce that would open it. He looked back at her.

            “I’msorry I can’t give you what you ask. I’m just trying to do my job.”

            “Iunderstand, just make sure no one enters my room today.”

            He nodded his head in response, and finally left the room.

            Jessica just had to return to her plan B. She skipped her shower. She washed her face,and changed from her nightwear to something comfortable. Hurriedly carrying her handbag, which she had packed patiently the night before, she straightened her skimpy skirt. She checked to make sure she still had her flight ticket;noticing she had printed two copies of the ticket, she dropped one on her dressing table, and kept the other in her bag.

            She tiptoed to the window, and gradually flipped the window blind open. She impatiently did the same to the window, and then the window net. One leg afterthe other, she climbed to the window leading to the second floor.

            As she looked through the window of the second floor, she saw the domestic staff walking through the corridor. She knew she had to hold on, or else she wouldget caught. Her hands were hurting and the wind had blown open her skirt. Foolishly attempting to pull down her flying skirt, she staggered and quickly held on to the next window of the second floor.

            When she couldn’t see anyone, she jumped down into the corridor and her high-heeledshoes made a loud sound. She took them off and ran as fast as she could throughthe corridor. Jessica had never run like this in all her life, but if shewanted to be a little crazy, she must be willing to sacrifice. She prayed  no one identified her as the president’sdaughter. She had left Aso Rock, her home, unnoticed… and she might be puttingherself in danger.

           
            Chioma Peters, one of Jessica’s maids, was a little late in announcing breakfast thatmorning. She had overslept, and had spent the early hours rushing through the preparation of breakfast. She had noticed she was a few minutes behind, so sherushed down to Jessica’s room.

            Agent J ohn, who had been standing at Jessica’s door, gestured a greeting.

            “Good morning to you, too, Agent John,” she responded with a full bright smile as shepointed towards the door. “I’ll like to go in and inform Miss Jessica thatbreakfast is ready.”

            “I’m sorry, I can’t let you in, she gave an order that she wants to be leftalone  all day.”

            Chioma looked at him curiously, wondering why Jessica would give such an order. “Couldshe be upset because I was five minutes late for breakfast?”

“It is possible,” he admitted.

            She checked the time on the silver watch dangling from her wrist. “Breakfast shouldbe at 8 a.m., and it’s only 8:05.” She made an abrupt gesture, as though wavingJessica’s order aside as irrelevant. “Agent John,” she called. “I’m afraid you will have to let me in. I have to do my job. I mean, I’ll be held responsible if she misses breakfast.”

            Agent John shrugged. Completely without expression, he stepped aside to give her access to the door.

            Chioma opened the door, entered the room and closed the door after her.

            “Miss Jessica!” she called as she took a few steps. She paused, and noticed the room was unusually quiet. Taking a few more steps, she called out again, “Miss Jessica!”

            When she got no reply, her eyes scanned the room. She saw Jessica’s nightwear lying carelessly on the floor, the blanket crumpled on the bed and the dressing tablescattered and unkempt. Chioma picked up the nightwear and dropped it in thelaundry basket beside the dressing table.

            “Miss Jessica!” she called out again as she walked towards the bathroom. Hearing nothing from the shower, she knocked on the door. There was no response, and after a pause she knocked again, this time much louder. When she realized noone was answering, she pushed the door opened.

            Her eyes swept the empty room. “Miss Jessica!” she called out, now more intense and louder than before. She stumbled out of the bathroom, and noticed a piece ofpaper on the dressing table. She stopped, picked it up, and read through.Dropping it, she hurried out of the room.

            She wasn’t aware that her hasty exit had grabbed the attention of all the Secret Service agents standing in the corridor. Seeing the looks on their faces, shequickly cautioned herself as she kept adjusting her dress to distract them. Sheeyed Agent John, and cleared her throat as she summoned him. “I’d like to havea few words with you, Agent John.”

            She watched as he excused himself, and when she saw him come near her, she gestured that they should move away. When they had walked a little distance away fromthe others, Chioma frowned, looking puzzled.

            “Why didn’t you tell me it was today?”

            “I thought you knew.”

            “I didn’t. If I hadn’t seen her flight ticket to Lagos on her dressing table, Iwouldn’t have known.”

            Agent John looked at her sharply, “Well,” he responded. “Now you know, so you’dbetter start working on your own part of the deal.”

            “Deal?” Chioma echoed. She sounded startled. “Time is too short for me to plananything,” she continued, “What do I do?” She clenched her right palm and hitit over her left palm.

            “Idon’t know,” he snorted. “I have done my part, making sure she left Aso Rock. Now it’s your turn.”

            Chioma gave an absurd groan of exasperation, and it annoyed Agent John. “Stop fuminglike a frustrated lion,” he scolded. “And do work out something before it is too late.”

            “Don’t hustle me,” Chioma warned. “Twenty million naira is at stake here, and I’m not going to rush things.”

            “You’re doing it for money, but I’m doing this to avenge my daughter.”

            “Doesit matter why?” she said as she turned to walk away from him. Before she could take another step, Agent John approached her and whispered in her ear.

            “I’ll give you time to plan your strategy before I formally announce that thepresident’s daughter is missing.”

            Chioma merely nodded, quickened her pace and walked past the other agents. She saw the suspicious looks on their faces, but she wasn’t bothered. She wouldn’t let any suspicious look intimidate her; prevent her from completing this task andgetting a reward of twenty million naira.

contact the author at aderonke  .webs  . com

check out "the Nigerian Tragedy" it's one of the best fiction book that challenged the present Nigeria and give hope for the future Nigeria.

Dear Present African Generation,


The news I heard about you has brought nothing but tears into my adoring eyes. Your unending thirst for blood broke my innocent heart so much that I begin to wonder if you understand the worth of life. You tell me, how would you explain all the crisis, the unending devastation and the numerous life that had been lost- all in the name of a second revolution and freedom?





I can't help, but marvel at your ignorance because you do not even understand what you are doing. Well, I'll make you understand what you just did. You have succeeded in trampling your future with your foot. You have succeeded in abusing and killing women who are meant to ride the children, that would brighten your future into this world. You have murdered children that would have grown up to be your savior. And what about youth with much strength and high capabilities? You have wasted their lives too.





Those lives were acceptabe sacrifice you say, but I'll tell you that this time, you have sacrificed too much. You never thought about children (who lost their parents) that have been forced to grow up without their parents. They have no one to guide them and teach them to do good things for themselves, and in years to come they'll constitute themselves into a nuisance thereby becoming useless to themselves and to everyone. Robbery, rapes, frauds and other crimes are problems they'll cause and you would begin to run helter skelter to solve them, forgetting that you started the problem with your ignorance.









And what about the parents that will never know the feelings of their children's embrace, the parents that lost their children to your wars and demonstrations. You have left a hole in their heart, depressed them and finally they will become a burden and unrelevant to everyone. To be candid, you have even caused some to develop heart problems, high blood pressure and hypertension. Well, you'd sworn to give them free medical treatment, but you should know all those resources would have be spent on something else.





Again I heard that, some of you have decided to enrich yourself while others suffer in abject poverty. I know poverty because poverty was there before I was born and it has become part of life like the blood through my veins. I know what it means to be in need and I know what it means to have more than enough.





Poverty is not only being hungry today and getting food to eat tomorrow. Poverty is going empty with no hope for the future. Poverty is seeing all your dreams and ambitions shattered because there is no one to help you. Poverty is watching your mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters die in pain and in sorrow just because they couldn't get something to eat. Poverty is hearing your grandmothers and grandfathers cry out to death to come take them because they are tired of this world. Poverty is watching your own children and grandchildren die in your arms but there is nothing you can do. Poverty is watching your children and grandchildren share tears in their deepest sleep. Poverty is when you hide your face and pray no one sees you because you feel less than a human being.





I know poverty inside out. I've experienced it and I've seen people experiencing it and not everyone live to tell the story, only few lucky ones like myself. I therefore plead with you, I appeal to you that you should not be selfish, greedy and irresponsible. It is inhuman for you to have enough to waste on irrelevant things like private jets(as I heard some of you did) while others cannot boast of a breakfast.





If you would learn nothing from the wealthy westerners, learn to be a philanthropist like them. You should always remember that, a man does not command respect only by his riches just like we do not value the sun only by its height, but for it use.





Lest I forget, On the issue of the westerners, It has come to my notice that you have with your carefree attitude allowed them to give you your identity. You do not have your own identity and you stand for nothing. You have allowed them to identify you as a third class citizen of the world. Well, shame on you if you cannot tell the world how much talented and relevant you can be if given the chance.





To them, poverty, failure, fraud, crime and anything atrocious is African. Honestly, I do not blame them. Do you think they are wrong? Well, then prove them wrong. Don't just sit down and accept their definition of you. There are some elements of truth in their definition, but the truth is "everything bad is not African"





There are a lots of good in you. Yes, you are people of color, but that color is your identity. You are talented, full of resources waiting to be tapped and utilize for the right purpose.





I am afraid that my letter will mean nothing to you. I am afraid that my tears will not move you into rising and working towards a brighter future. I am afraid that the next time I write to you, I'll still be writing of the same thing- your ignorance, your selfishness and irresponsibility. But, I plead that you try your possible best to prove me wrong.





I apologize if I have scolded and insult you,but more importantly with an optimistic yet realistic and pragmatic look, I have tried to call your attention to what you have neglected and I have also geered you up to work for a brighter future.

Finally I'll like to say that for me, I know the future is bright and needless to say- I am proudly African.

-ABM

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