PROLOGUE
“Make it stop, please! Make it stop!” Bilie cried in a rather helpless effort to win over his no-good brutes of accomplices.
Pointing his Beretta M9 to Bilie’s head, Acid broke up in controlled laughter, taunting Bilie’s crippled pleas. He wasn’t called Acid for nothing and so even when he appeared distracted, with a firearm in his right hand, Acid was more to be feared than a puff adder. Ogbeni Oja joined Acid in the laughter, and of course, his was hysterical, swaying him from left to right.
“You make it stop! Make it stop! Make it stop!” Ogbeni Oja kept reiterating in a sing-song as Bilie gripped the pistol he was given, feeling the cold of its metal frame. And then, in one moment of spontaneity, just as Ogbeni Oja went on with his mockery, Bilie’s teeth came off his lips in a maddened snarl of death as he aimed the pistol at Ogbeni Oja, pulling the trigger, all in split seconds. It was a slug to the arm. However, Acid was quick with the countermove— two decisive shots to Bilie’s head and one to the nape of the kidnapped chap. Bilie was dead before he crashed.
At once, the district came alive with the blare of police sirens. Grinning, Acid helped Ogbeni Oja to his feet.
Gasping for breath, Ogebni Oja said, “I don’t think we are making it out of this one alive.”
“Shut up!” Acid murmured, gripping his gun harder. “It’s fun time!”
I
It was Bilie’s job to drive the Governor’s son to his public school and back. It had been his job for the past six years. Every other thing was handled by the police who made sure that the black Subaru that Bilie drove the Governor’s boy in made it home without a hitch. The word that went round was that the boy couldn’t be the Governor’s son. Hearsays had it that the Governor was simply using a poor eight-year-old as a pawn for his political agenda. It was not news that he wanted a second term. Hence, the reasons for his newfound patriotism and feigned empathy for the masses weren’t far-fetched. Sadly, he was willing to put a young boy in danger just so he could be seen as an honest politician. However, even the worst of laymen could spot an oxymoron in a sentence.
Bilie was conscious of a deep-seated grudge in his heart for the Governor because he was the most frugal politician Bilie had ever seen. With the Governor, you couldn’t get more than you were to be paid. That was why at the first instant Ogbeni Oja, Acid and AGK propositioned Bilie, he didn’t sleep over it. At first, there wasn’t anything spectacular about the trio that presented a deal before him until after they explained just what they had up their sleeves. With any luck, Bilie thought, they would pull it off, with a sum that could keep one going for a long time.
The racket was, put simply, to kidnap the Governor’s son. When Bilie wanted to know why the three men couldn’t do it on their own, they explained to him that they couldn’t because the police had their eyes on the Governor’s boy all through the length of his journey to and from school.
Acid, the one whom Bilie had judged to be the smartest amongst the three, had been the one to give the explanations. He said, “The Governor watches your every move via the police. So, we thought if we were going to see this through, we needed an inside man.”
“So, how is it going to play out?” Bilie asked, leaning on the counter of the bar. That was where they had walked up to him.
“So, there is Inspector Ehis in front of the school. He is the one that makes sure you pick up the kid, that’s why he always pulls you over to give you a blank letter for the Governor, but I guess why you have always fallen for that is because you have never had the balls to tear the letter open. Yeah, we have been watching you. It is the Inspector’s way of checking if you had truly picked the boy,” Acid disclosed, taking a swig.
Bilie only smiled at the information he was getting. Acid was accurate. Inspector Ehis always walked over to the Subaru to hand him a letter for the Governor, and he often wondered what those letters were about.
Acid continued, “And Ehis keeps his eyes on the car till you take the first turn through the route that further leads to the Governor’s residence. And then, he alerts the next officer that pulls you over for a sealed file for His Excellency. We won’t let you make that turn. We would create a distraction that would keep Ehis off, then, you take another route, and that will be just that. The boy would be in our hands.”
“Great, but that would put me in the eye of the public. If I don’t bring the boy back by 14.35hrs like I used to, I would be meat. Everyone will know I did the kidnapping. I can’t get mixed up in something that gives me away,” Bilie said, getting to his feet. He extended his hand for a handshake, and Ogbeni Oja readily accepted it in an iron-clad grip.
“So, how do we let you go when you have known what we plan to do, Mr. Bilie?” Ogbeni Oja asked, and just before Bilie could say a word, something stiff dug into his ribs. He didn’t need much to know it was a gun.
“That’s right, man,” Ogbeni Oja said beneath his breath, still gripping Bilie’s hand. “I don’t mind going back to jail. And I bet these two don’t either. And you see, Acid has a fetish for bullet wounds. He wouldn’t mind fixing you. Now, you are going to sit back on that stool and hear us out.” He let go of Bilie.
Shaken, Bilie slouched back on his stool. He had never been that close to getting shot before, and it made him feel sick. He looked around the bar, and everyone seemed perfectly distracted from him, talking over their drinks, and laughing hard. And then, that was when he saw the bartender, a young man that couldn’t be more than 28, staring back at him. He had seen it all, but he seemed just as shaken as Bilie was, if not more shaken.
“You shouldn’t be in a haste,” Acid continued, with a sly grin on his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“We will intersect you and the car at gun point. You don’t have to bother about nothing. We will just take it from there once we have the boy and the car.”
“What’s my cut?” Bilie asked. His voice was hoarse with uneasiness.
“That’s more like what we want to hear!” Ogbeni Oja said through gritted teeth. His voice was as low as the hiss of a cobra.
“30%,” Acid disclosed.
“Of what?”
“We will be asking for 100 million ransom.”
II
Bilie’s phone buzzed and jolted him back to the moment. It was his wife. He tapped the pick button and she was only calling to know if the Governor’s boy was out of his classroom yet. Bilie reassured her that everything would go perfectly well, pulling a face and making a mental note never to let her in on matters of this weight in the future. She had been literally calling him every half hour to know the progress of it, and, much to Bilie’s chagrin, to pray for the success of the operation. After she got off the line, Bilie had only a couple more minutes to wait before the Governor’s son started walking to the Subaru like he had always done in the past, wearing his ignorant childish smile.
As soon as the boy got in, Bilie turned the ignition and sent the car towards the road. Inspector Ehis waved at him to stop, and he pulled over by the kerb and wound the window down. The Inspector came over, looking through the open window at the boy at the back before handing Bilie the letter.
“For His Excellency,” the Inspector said. Just then, an ear-splitting bang was heard at the back, the Inspector shifting his gaze to the source of the noise. Bilie passed his head through the window to get a view and he saw AGK climb out of a truck. He had rammed into a Mercedes-Benz from behind. The driver in the Mercedes-Benz had also climbed out of his car to square off with AGK.
“Cut it off, you two!” Inspector Ehis said, but the two men weren’t paying him any attention. Once he got close enough, AGK delivered the first dig to the driver’s right eye, and threw him to the tarred road.
“These bastards!” Inspector Ehis huffed, running to the scene.
“Well played,” Bilie murmured and started the Subaru again, maneuvering the traffic as he turned the path that led to the location he had been instructed to take the Governor’s boy to. He took his left into a dirt path and a few blocks later, a Volkswagen Golf pulled up in front of him. Acid climbed out and hastened to the Buick. Pointing a gun at Bilie, Acid led him and the Governor’s son out of the Subaru and into the Volkswagen.
III
“What am I here for?” Bilie asked, impatience dripping from his voice. “This wasn’t what we planned.”
“Plans change, boy!” Ogbeni Oja said, laughing. “You are going live on Instagram now to inform the world that you have kidnapped the Governor’s son and that you would like to have 100 million naira to let him go.”
“That’s not happening!” Bilie blustered.
“It will,” Ogbeni Oja said, with a hint of threat. “You will have to do it for your wife.” He broke off with cynical laughter.
Acid took out his phone and put a video call through. He placed the phone in front of Bilie who watched with growing alarm in his eyes as AGK got connected. AGK had strapped Bilie’s wife to a chair and sealed off her mouth with duct tape. Even though her mouth was sealed, Bilie could hear the wail in her eyes, calling on him to save her.
“Why are you doing this?” Bilie asked, his voice weepy.
“Because I can. The ball is in your court. AGK has left an iron heating for hours in that room. I know you wouldn’t like your wife to have her good face burnt. Choose wisely. A simple Instagram live video or your wife gets to suffer.”
IV
It wasn’t long after Bilie had gone live on Instagram to tell the world he had abducted the Governor’s son when calls began to stream in. A ransom of a hundred million had been agreed upon and Bilie had been the one taking calls under the supervision of Acid and Ogbeni Oja. They were setting him up quite well. His wife was still being held at an unknown location, in AGK’s unsafe hands. He was told that the longer he took in making the decisions, the more his wife suffered. So, he went about saying just what he was told during the calls with the Governor. The Governor had cried once during the calls, promising to let Bilie walk a free man if he would return his boy unharmed, but Acid had signaled Bilie to hang up just when the Governor was still pleading. Bilie had asked the Governor to bring the cash to Garden Avenue, leave it in one of the dumpsters by the bus stop and walk away, and that any signs of the police would guarantee his son’s death. He was to get his son after the cash was delivered.
Acid went to retrieve the cash from the dumpsters at Garden Avenue. The Governor had done as he was told, so they had only to return his boy to him. He was asked to come to Watson Layout at 20:30hrs. But then, Acid, Ogbeni Oja, Bilie and the Governor’s son, arrived Watson by 19:30hrs. Acid led the way to an abandoned block industry, just a bit away from the habitable area in the layout.
“What makes you think you can get away with this?” Bilie said. He had had a rough day, and looked as if he had grown 30 years older overnight.
Ogbeni Oja laughed.
“I won’t keep my mouth shut, you know that, right?” Bilie asked.
“Of course, and that’s why you will be the one to kill the boy,” Ogbeni Oja replied.
“What?” Bilie asked, aware of the chill creeping up his spine. Acid went over to the boy and made him kneel. The chap began crying, but a firm smack to his face, put him off.
Ogbeni Oja handed Bilie a pistol. “We haven’t much time. The police will soon be here. Make it quick.”
“I will do no such thing!” Bilie blustered, ignoring the gun. Acid sighed and took out his phone, connecting AGK once more over a video call. AGK had a large pair of pliers which he had fixed at the toes of Bilie’s wife.
“He can grind her bones to pieces with that!” Ogbeni Oja said. “You decide!”
Bilie hesitated, and a scream tore through his wife’s throat as AGK put some pressure on the pliers.
“Make it stop, please! Make it stop!” Bilie cried in a rather helpless effort to win over his no-good brutes of accomplices.
Still pointing his Beretta M9 to Bilie’s head, Acid broke up in controlled laughter, taunting Bilie’s crippled pleas. He wasn’t called Acid for nothing and so even when he appeared distracted, with a firearm in his right hand, Acid was more to be feared than a puff adder. Ogbeni Oja joined Acid in the laughter, and of course, his was hysterical, swaying him from left to right.
“You make it stop! Make it stop! Make it stop!” Ogbeni Oja kept reiterating in a sing-song as Bilie gripped the pistol he was given, feeling the cold of its metal frame. And then, in one moment of spontaneity, just as Ogbeni Oja went on with his mockery, Bilie’s teeth came off his lips in a maddened snarl of death as he aimed the pistol at Ogbeni Oja, pulling the trigger, all in split seconds. It was a slug to the arm. However, Acid was quick with the countermove— two decisive shots to Bilie’s head and one to the nape of the kidnapped chap. Bilie was dead before he crashed.
At once, the district came alive with the blare of police sirens. Grinning, Acid helped Ogbeni Oja to his feet.
Gasping for breath, Ogebni Oja said, “I don’t think we are making it out of this one alive.”
“Shut up!” Acid murmured, gripping his gun harder. “It’s fun time!”
Johnson Onyedikachi is a teenage Nigerian creative writer who has unpublished manuscripts of poetry and plays. He recently picked interest in crime fiction and in August 2019, enrolled in an online course where he gained proficiency in article/journal writing including the use of referencing formats (MLA and APA style). He wrote in via johnsonshaqs@gmail.com
