Bushbaby

BUSHBABY




   The hunter’s ears pricked up.
   This must be a bush baby. Otherwise, how did a child find its way into a bush as big as this? He said to himself and began to tiptoe towards the animal, stopping intermittently to discern the right direction and also to avoid alerting the animal. After many hours of fruitless stay in the bush, he could not afford to make any uncalculated move.
   He, however, stopped in his track when he saw the source of the cry. There before him was a child which was barely four months, wrapped in a white shawl. The hunter frantically looked around, hoping to see who kept the baby but there was nobody in sight. He dropped his gun and moved closer. He looked around again and hesitated for a while before stooping to pick up the child. He looked around one more time on straightening up and still no sign of any human being.
   What a wicked world! Why do people bring children into the world only to abandon them?
   He retrieved his gun and hurried out of the bush.













CHAPTER ONE




   He looked at the wall clock hanging in the sitting room and then looked at his wristwatch as though he didn’t trust the wall clock. He rose to his feet and began to pace, his hands clasped behind his back.
   He stopped after a few moments and looked towards the stairs.
   “Hurry up darling, we are already late,” he called out to his wife who was in the bedroom trying to look her best.
   His name was David Eze but fondly called Dave. He was forty-one years old. His wife’s name was Theresa. She was thirty-four.
   The couple was getting ready to attend the tenth wedding anniversary of Mr. Stanley Nwachukwu and his wife, Stella. The Ezes and Nwachukwus were very good friends. Stanley was, in addition, Dave’s employee.
   Dave and Stan met at Union Bank Nigeria Plc more than sixteen years back where they were both members of the staff. They were in their middle twenties and single then. Their friendship blossomed and they became as intimate as Siamese twins.
   People could not, however, understand how they got along because they seemed incompatible in almost all facets of life.
   In physical appearance, while Dave was handsome; tall; sinewy and light-skinned, Stan was ugly; short; very fat, in fact, ‘rounded’; and as dark as charcoal. Stanley was also baldheaded and this trait constrained him to a perpetual skin haircut. His left hand was partially paralyzed as fallout of the convulsion that afflicted him at the age of two. It was a miracle that he survived the illness considering its severity.
   In terms of behaviour, Dave had many amiable qualities, which had over the years endeared him to lots of people. Stan for his part was without manners, unpredictable and without conscience. He was a snob. The only good thing about him was his brain. He was a rare genius. He appeared to have solutions to all the problems of the banking industry. His apparent all-knowing feat compelled his friends to dub him Mr. O, which was short for Mr. Omniscient.
   When Dave’s father who was a tycoon with businesses, and properties spread across all the nooks and crannies of the country, died, Dave liquidated his father’s businesses and some assets and established a bank. He promptly invited Stanley to become his general manager and together, through a lot of hard work, and sacrifices, they launched Famous Bank Nigeria Ltd. into the limelight.
   Stanley’s residence, venue of the ceremony was already filled with guests by the time Dave and his wife arrived. The occasion was a gathering of the crème de la crème of the society. Among the guests were the finance minister, the economic adviser to the president, bank chief executives, bankers, relatives, friends and well-wishers. The atmosphere was generally fun-filled and sensational. The guests were milling about chatting and making new friends.
   “It is my honour and privilege to welcome the chairman of Famous Bank Nigeria Ltd., Mr. David Eze and his wife, Theresa,” the master of ceremony announced the moment the couple arrived at the venue.
   Dave and Theresa had a hectic time shaking hands, embracing and exchanging pleasantries with the other guests, many of who were associates, friends and acquaintances. More than ten minutes passed before they met the celebrants.
   “Congratulations,” Dave said to the couple as he shook hands with Stan. Theresa for her part went straight into Stella’s open arms and they had a prolonged embrace.
   “Thanks and welcome,” the celebrants said.
   “I haven’t seen your children,” Theresa pointed out as she looked around, probably searching for the kids. “Where are they?” she inquired.
   “Oh, they have a presentation to make and are therefore getting ready,” Stella explained.
   “I see,” Theresa said slowly and then drifted into oblivion. 
   In two months, it will be our turn to celebrate ten years of marriage and what do we have to show for it?
   Theresa’s childlessness had been a source of great concern to her. She and her husband had met almost all the renowned gynaecologists in Lagos and even beyond and the story had always been the same: “You are perfectly alright – both of you. Your childlessness is only an act of God. You will have children at God’s appointed time,” the doctors had always assured them.
   This assurance had gone on for almost a decade now but no manifestation yet. The worst part of the situation was the pressure coming from her husband’s relatives and friends who kept prevailing on him to divorce her and take another wife who could give him children.
   In a desperate attempt to save her marriage from imminent collapse, Theresa had on many occasions tried talking her husband into adopting children but he wouldn’t hear of it. He kept making references to Abraham and Sarah and many others in the Bible, who were blessed with children after many years of childlessness.
   Theresa was suddenly brought back to her immediate environment when her husband grabbed her hand and practically dragged her away from Stan and his wife.
   “Come, darling, there is somebody I would like you to meet,” Dave cooed with excitement.
   “Oh dear, not now,” Theresa protested as she tried to free her hand from her husband’s grip. She certainly didn’t want to meet anyone. She was well aware of the expression her earlier brooding had left on her and wouldn’t want people to start asking questions concerning her wellbeing. Her resistance, however, made no significant impact as Dave was unrelenting.
   “We have to see him now or never. He is a very busy man and will soon disappear,” Dave insisted.
   When he eventually stopped and let go of her hand, they were standing face to face with a handsome, tall, dark-skinned man in black suit. He smacked of affluence. He smiled amiably on sighting them and Theresa reasoned that he was the man her husband wanted her to meet. Theresa found his face very familiar but couldn’t figure out where she had seen him before.
   Dave held her across the shoulders. “I want you to meet my wife, Theresa,” Dave said to the man.
   The man’s eyes grew huge as he stared at Theresa. There was no doubt that her rare beauty stunned him beyond imaginations. About a minute elapsed before he spoke in the huskiest voice Theresa ever heard.
   “You have a very beautiful wife, Dave,” he said as he held out his hand to Theresa.
   “Thanks,” Dave said and smiled.
The minister shook hands with Theresa and continued to hold her hand as Dave introduced him to her.
   “Honey, meet Honourable Joseph Bright. He is the Finance Minister.” Theresa could now remember where she had seen Mr. Joseph before. It was on TV. Her husband had always reminded her that the minister used to be his colleague at Union Bank., each time he appeared on TV. “He used to be my colleague at Union Bank Plc., Lagos Branch,” Dave continued, “before he was transferred to Abuja branch from where he joined the Federal Cabinet about six months ago.”
   “It is a pleasure meeting you, Honourable.” Theresa said courteously. She was surprised that she could maintain her composure despite the discomfort she felt owing to the way the minister was staring at her.
   “The pleasure is all mine, dear,” the minister said softly as he held Theresa’s hand tighter. “You are such a beauty. Your husband is lucky to have you.”
   “Thanks,” Theresa murmured and forced a smile. She was not finding the meeting interesting any longer. That the minister found her attractive was not in question.  There was basically nothing wrong with that. Opposite sexes attract.
   The only problem was that he was doing nothing to conceal his feelings and he knew that she was married. Her husband was right there with them. Theresa desperately wanted to be away from the minister. She tactically freed her hand from his lengthy handshake and folded her arms across her bosom. She wished that Dave could read her mind and end the meeting but that was only a wishful thinking. Dave kept bringing up one topic after another. It was, therefore, a great relief when the Master of Ceremony called for everybody’s attention.
   “I wish to invite the products of this marriage that we celebrate its tenth anniversary today to come and showcase what they have for us.”
   Theresa turned to her husband instantly. “Darling, shall we?”
   The couple excused themselves and left the minister.

*****

   You are blessed, your children are wonderful.
   Theresa could not sleep that night. She kept pondering over the compliment that was on everyone’s lips at the end of the presentation by the Nwachukwu’s children. The presentation was fantastic and the guests were very impressed.
   “Oh my God! Why me?” Theresa cried. “What did I do wrong to deserve all this? Ten years – ten good years of marriage and no children. While my contemporaries are already using contraceptives to prevent having more children, I am yet to have even one.”
   She kept sobbing and soliloquizing until her husband was awoken.
      What is the matter? Dave wondered. He sat up and held her by the cheeks. “What is the matter, darling? Did you have a bad dream?” His voice was filled with concern and worry.
   “Bad dream?” Theresa burst out, slapping Dave’s hands off her cheeks. She was so violent that he flinched. “Did I hear you say bad dream? What dream could be worse than ten long years of fruitless marriage? Tell me – please tell me, my dear.” She sprang to her feet and stormed out of the room.
   Dave hesitated for a while before going after her. He found her in the sitting room where she was pacing furiously. She stopped the moment she spotted him and glared at him.
   “You sound and behave as though I caused our childlessness,” Dave stated calmly. “Children are gifts from God and He gives them to those He pleases and when it pleases Him. Just calm down, God’s time is the best.”
   “Just calm down, God’s time is the best,” Theresa mimicked. “Is that all you can say?”
   Dave moved closer to her. “What else do you want me to say?” He said with an unequivocal confusion.
   She turned her back to him and folded her arms. “You can say whatever you like but be it known to you that we have less than two months to our tenth wedding anniversary. The day will certainly pass unnoticed unless we wish to make a mockery of ourselves… unless we wish to publicize our childlessness … my barrenness.”
   “Stop it,” Dave stated forcefully. “You must understand that there is nothing we can do to change the plan of God about us. If He wishes that we should remain childless, there is nothing we can do about it. The much we can do for ourselves is to accept our fate and avoid…”
   “No! I reject it in the name of God,” Theresa yelled stomping her feet severally. She turned to face Dave as tears rolled freely down her cheeks. “I refuse to remain childless for life. It is not my portion,” she bawled as she continued to cry.
   Dave closed the gap between them and took her in his arms. She didn’t resist. In fact, she desperately needed him to enfold her in his arms. “I know how you feel, darling. I didn’t mean to imply that we would remain childless for life. I am sure that God Almighty will remember us one day but we must be alive for that to come to pass. Always brooding over our condition might cause complications which might worsen the situation.” Dave lifted her face to meet his. “I love you, darling and that is what matters in a marriage.”
    “But a marriage without children is built on a shaky foundation.” Theresa sobbed.
   “It is alright. God will surely answer us sooner than later. All we need to do is put all our trust in Him. Is that clear?”
   Theresa nodded and then buried her face in Dave’s chest and cried some more.





CHAPTER TWO




   Dave was attending to some files in his office when someone knocked on the door.
   “Come in, the door is not locked,” he said as he looked up to see who it was.
   The door opened and Stan stepped in, smiling boldly. He was in the conventional bankers’ attire – black suit, white shirt, black tie and well-polished black shoes. He looked very corporate.
   “Good morning,” Stan greeted, extending his hand to his chairman.
   “Morning,” Dave responded as he took his hand. “How is your family?”
   “We are fine,” Stan said and sat down. “And how is Theresa?”
   “She is fine,” Dave responded.
   Brief silence.
   “I believe you have heard about the new capital base stipulated for commercial banks,” Stan said casually.
   “No,” Dave answered with apprehension.
   “It was on the news last night.” Stan was surprised.
   “I was out with Theresa and when we returned, it was already late so I went straight to bed.”
   “And you haven’t seen today’s papers?” Stan asked. “All the newspapers have it as the banner headline.”
   “Not yet. The vendor is yet to show up.”
   “Stan rose to his feet. “Just a minute,” He said and walked out of the office. He returned shortly with “The Sun” newspaper. “Do have a look at the cover story.” He dropped the paper on Dave’s desk.
   Dave picked up the paper and began to read with rapt attention.
   According to the news, the Central Bank of Nigeria had increased the capital base of commercial banks from two billion naira to six billion naira and the deadline for total compliance was September first, less than seven months time.
   A wave of panic swept over Dave as he flipped the paper shut. The implication of the new capital base hit him like a thunderbolt.
   Famous Bank definitely needed to source for funds if it must meet up with the new guideline. Dave leaned back in his swivel chair and closed his eyes.
   Oh my God, how do I take care of this situation?
   Famous Bank Nigeria Ltd., no doubt was doing well but it was not overly rich when compared with other banks of its calibre. Limited funds had been the reason why the expansion project of the bank had been restrained over the years. While some other banks such as Union Bank, Zenith Bank, Diamond Bank, Global Bank, Unique Bank among others had more than twenty branches just in Lagos, Famous bank had only five in Lagos and twenty in the whole of the country.
   Stan had on many occasions tried to convince his chairman on the need to increase the bank’s funds through the stock exchange market to enable them to expand but he wouldn’t hear of it. His unyieldingness stemmed from the fear that he could lose his bank to the eventual shareholders. He had heard lots of stories about family businesses which were lost to the ‘stock exchange market’ and therefore swore that such would not be his lot.
   “No! I will not allow anybody or group of persons take over my bank… never,” Dave said aloud.
   “Pardon?” Stan asked, thinking that Dave was talking to him.
   “How much money do we need to meet up with the new capitalization policy?” Dave asked.
   “We need three billion naira but I suggest that we use this opportunity to source for more funds to enable us to embark on our belated expansion project.” Stan saw the new development as an opportunity to revisit his expansion proposal.
   Dave stood up and went to the window where he parted the blind and began to look out. More than two minutes passed before he spoke. “I am thinking of raising the additional three billion naira through the sale of some of our assets. I think it is better than the sale of shares. What do you think?” he asked Stan, still looking out the window.
   “Did I hear you well?” Stan asked. “How could you make such a suggestion? Don’t you know that disposing of our assets will send a wrong signal to both our customers and the central bank? They would think that we are becoming distressed and that will surely spell doom for the future of this bank. You should know better.”
   Dave turned to face him. “You are right,” he agreed and began to pace. He stopped pacing after a moment. “What percentage is three billion naira?” he asked. He already knew but hoped that his GM would come up with a smaller percentage. He was not comfortable with giving other people the chance to interfere in his business but there was no alternative. He must come to terms with the raw fact.
   “With an asset base of four billion naira and capital base of three billion naira, three billion will amount to thirty percent of the total equity that is if we sell the shares without profit. But we have to make some profit. And I suggest we add a hundred percent profit. That is, we will dispose each one-naira share at two naira. What do you think?” Stan had really given the development a great deal of thought. He already had everything worked out beforehand.
   “Good idea,” Dave said in a choked voice. If they later sold a share with a hundred percent profit, they would succeed in conceding fifteen percent of the bank’s total equity to shareholders… some of them good…., others criminals.
   He was in a fix. Fifteen percent might not be much to pose any threat but he was nevertheless uncomfortable. He wished the capital base was not increased and he could not help cursing the central bank. The Central Bank was the architect of his looming woes.
   What is the essence of increasing the capital base? Why increase it astronomically if it must be increased? Why does the government delight in making things difficult for the citizenry?
   These and a lot more questions were begging for answers in Dave’s mind but it was no time to seek answers to questions. It was time to make a decision and there was only one option – shares must be sold and fast too.
   “We will source for three billion naira only,” Dave said conclusively.
   Disappointed by the Chairman’s decision, Stan decided to try another ploy. “I am afraid not many people will be interested in buying our shares. According to the rules, we must make public the reason why we intend to create and sell some shares. We are doing well alright but selling shares only because we want to meet up with the new capital base would not arouse the interest of the prospective shareholders. They will be more comfortable to hear that the bank intends to expand since that is the only way juicy dividends would get to them at the end of every financial year.”
   The GM was once again right and Dave knew it. He was impressed with Stan’s knowledge of how the banking industry worked. He was also impressed with his lofty ideas about expansion but the fear of losing his bank weighed far more than the expected advantages.
   For more than a fortnight, Dave knew no sleep. He kept racking his brain on how best to solve the quagmire generated by the new capitalization to no avail. He was losing weight on daily basis and yet there was no solution in sight. The situation he found himself could be likened to being trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea. Converting his bank into a public liability company meant the gradual loss of control while not selling shares meant the revocation of his operating license by the Central Bank. A very difficult situation indeed but a lesser evil must be chosen. And the lesser evil was the sale of shares but there must be caution.
   Dave was lying in bed one evening and as usual deep in thought when Theresa opened the door and poked in her head.
   “The finance minister is on the phone,” she said nonchalantly and went back to the kitchen where she was preparing dinner before the phone rang.
   “Hello,” Dave said when he appeared in the sitting room. “How is Abuja today?”
   “Abuja is fine as usual.”
   “What a pleasant surprise,” Dave said, happy that the minister called.
   “I called to know how you are doing.” The minister lied. He actually called to hear Theresa’s voice. He had been fantasizing about her since he met her at the Nwachukwu’s wedding anniversary.
   Dave saw the call as an opportunity to share his predicament with the minister.
   Who knows where the Messiah would come from?
   “I am interested,” the minister said after listening to Dave, “and I will buy all the shares. Just let me know when you need the money and I will have it sent across without delay.”
   “Thank you very much. I am really grateful.”
   “You are welcome. Just like I said before, call me when you need the money.”
   “I will.”
   “Until then, bye and good night.”
   “Good night,” Dave responded and the line went dead. He was overjoyed not just because he could raise the desperately needed three billion naira but also because the would-be shareholder was a friend. Dave reasoned that Mr. Joseph would not interfere unnecessarily in the running of the bank based on his involvement in politics.
   “Praise the Lord,” Dave shouted.
   Theresa turned suddenly and saw him standing in the doorway. She stared attentively at him for a moment. “Why should I shout alleluia in response?” she queried with a mean expression.
   “That is because Mr. Joseph has promised to buy my shares.” Dave spread his hands and genuflected.
   She had guessed right. The tiding was about Mr. Joseph.
   “Really?” was all Theresa could manage as she turned away from her husband. She was not happy that the minister was gradually encroaching into many aspects of their lives. First, it was their social life – thanks to Nwachukwu’s tenth wedding anniversary. Ever since her husband introduced Mr. Joseph to her, she had always received information about him with anger and apprehension. The way and manner he stared admiringly at her and behaved generally that day left no doubt in her mind about his impending advances. He had in fact made a debut by the way he talked to her when she answered his call that evening:
   “Hello my queen. How are you today?” He had said. Theresa was still confused on how to respond when he added, “I can’t wait to see your beautiful face again.”
   He had said it all. He found her attractive. That was no problem. The problem was that he didn’t just want to admire. He wanted to touch and, in fact possess.
   With the minister’s involvement in her husband’s business, Theresa could foresee nothing but danger. Randy men could go to any length but there was no need making her fear known to Dave. He would certainly dismiss it as nothing.
   “You seem not to be happy with the news,” Dave pointed out with disappointment.
   “What reason would I have for not being happy?” Theresa asked calmly but her disapproval could not be concealed. “Do I have three billion naira to give you?”
   Not knowing what else to do or say, Dave left for the bedroom.





CHAPTER THREE




   Movements in and out of the bedroom awaked Dave. He groped for the bedside switch and turned on the light. The time was 2:20 am and his wife was neither in bed nor anywhere in the bedroom. He got out of bed, stretched, rubbed his eyes with his fingers and started for the door.
   “Darling,” he called softly when he reached the sitting room. The whole place was enveloped in darkness. He found the switch but there was no sign of Theresa. He decided to check the kitchen.
   But what would she be doing in the kitchen by this time of the night?
   The kitchen was equally dark and quiet. He knew that Theresa was not there. What would she be doing in a dark kitchen? But he still turned on the light and true to his prediction, nobody was there. He was thinking of the next place she might be when he heard sounds coming from the bathroom. With the speed of light, he dashed to the bathroom. There, sitting on the edge of the bathtub and in a vomiting spasm was his lovely wife. She appeared very weak. He became nonplussed.
   She looked pleadingly at him when she was done and Dave offered her his hand and helped her up. Without uttering a word he held her across the shoulders and led her to the kitchen where she washed her mouth with warm water.
   “What is the matter?” Dave asked her immediately after putting her to bed and lying beside her.
   “I don’t know,” Theresa said weakly. “I feel weak and nauseous.”
   “It is all right. We will go to hospital first thing in the morning,” Dave said as he laid her head on his chest. “You will be fine,” he assured her.
   They were at St. Anthony’s hospital at the crack of dawn as Dave said and the doctor recommended some lab tests. Specimens were collected and the couple was asked to return the following morning for results and treatments.
   Twenty-four hours seemed like a whole year to Dave and Theresa. Though Theresa didn’t vomit again probably due to some drugs prescribed by the doctor as an interim treatment, she was still very weak and sick.
   Dave didn’t go to work that day to enable him to care for his wife. He took over all the domestic chores including cooking. He proved to be a good cook but neither his wife nor he could eat. The situation on the ground had stolen their appetite and happiness.
   “What do you think is wrong with me, honey?” Theresa asked her husband. She was really worried. “I just hope it is nothing very serious,” she sobbed.
   Dave got up and joined her on the divan she was occupying. She was lying on it so Dave sat down and propped her head on his laps. He squeezed her arm gently and began to smooth her unkempt hair. “Calm down, darling,” Dave said tenderly. “I believe it is nothing serious.”
   Theresa turned to look him in the face. “Are you sure?” she asked like a baby.
   Dave smiled in fake confidence just to calm his wife’s nerves for he was himself seriously worried. “Tomorrow will prove me right,” he said.
   “Congratulations!” the doctor said and held out his hand to Dave. Dave took the doctor’s hand in total confusion.
   Why is he congratulating me?
   Theresa was equally confused. She was about asking the doctor what he meant but became nonplussed by the doctor’s next statement.
   “Your wife is pregnant,” the doctor announced with a bold smile on his not too handsome face.
   Dave and Theresa stared at each other, agape. Not knowing how else to react to the news, Theresa burst into a laugh – no, it was a cackle. She laughed so hard that tears began to roll down her cheeks.
   “You must be joking, doctor,” she said, still laughing. “I am sure there is a mistake somewhere.”
   The doctor could not understand her reaction. “It is not a joke, madam. You are pregnant.” The doctor reaffirmed.
   “We are really sorry, doctor,” Dave apologized, rising to his feet. “See, my wife and I have been married for close to a decade and she had never conceived before. That is why it sounds like a joke hearing that she is pregnant.”
   “Is that?” the doctor said and shrugged. “Well, as I said earlier, she is pregnant. That is the truth of the matter. You may visit another hospital for confirmation if you like.”
   Convinced, Dave and Theresa held each other in a warm and prolonged embrace.
   “Thank God! Oh, I am so happy,” Theresa whispered into Dave’s ear. “So, I am a woman after all.” She began to shed tears of joy.
   “Thank you, doc.,” Dave said as he shook hands once again with the doctor. “We really appreciate.”
   “You are welcome.” The doctor said and waved goodbye to the couple.
   “Please honey, let no one know I am pregnant,” Theresa pleaded with Dave the moment they got home.
   “Why?” Dave asked not liking the idea. He couldn’t wait to inform his relatives especially his mother who in the last eight years spearheaded the hostility against him and his wife because of their childlessness and his refusal to divorce Theresa. She had tagged Theresa a ‘man’. “Any woman who cannot bear children is a man, no more, no less,” she had always said with undiluted sarcasm.
   She had accused Theresa of having committed many abortions before marrying her son and had consequently succeeded in making herself barren. She had vowed that it was over her dead body that Theresa’s past waywardness would be allowed to haunt her son and the entire family.
   Dave saw his wife’s pregnancy as an opportunity to get back at her and prove to her, his sisters and their ilk and indeed the whole world that children were gifts from God and that they came at the appointed time.
   “I want to be very sure that I am pregnant before making it public. The embarrassment will be worse than ever if the pregnancy fails to show up after publicity. I would even prefer we keep it a secret until the baby arrives,” she said looking at Dave for approval.
   “That wouldn’t be possible,” Dave stated decisively. “I would never consent to that. I share your idea of being doubly sure before publicity but on no account are we going to keep your pregnancy a secret until the baby comes. I mean, what do you want people to think - that we adopted a baby and claimed that you gave birth to it? Whether or not such a rumour which is certain to arise matters, I definitely would not allow it to haunt my descendants.”
   Theresa needed not to argue with her husband. He was completely right. There had been rumours about couples who claimed biological parentage to adopted children. Some women even went to the extent of faking a pregnancy so as to convince people about their motherhood of those children.

*****

   “I want to take over Famous Bank,” Mr. Joseph told Stan that afternoon. He had phoned the GM three nights before and requested him to come to Abuja for a very important discussion. The day slated for the meeting was Sunday, so Stan needed not to tell anyone about his trip except his wife whom he merely told that he was going to see a friend in Abuja.
   “What?” Stan shouted, jumping to his feet. The minister took three puffs of the cigarette before speaking to Stan. “There is nothing to be worked up about, my friend.”
   “Sit down and let us discuss business,” The minister urged him.
   Stan stared at him for a minute before taking his seat.
   The minister smoked while Stan was in deep thought. Stan was without conscience and unpredictable alright but aiding and abetting the takeover of his best friend’s bank?
   “No! I can’t do that!” Stan said aloud, shaking his head vigorously.
   The minister finished his cigarette and dropped the butt in the ashtray. He looked at Stan and smiled mischievously. “For more than twelve years now, you have been toiling and slaving for Dave. For more than twelve years you have been the life-wire of Famous Bank. Yet you have nothing to show for your efforts. Yes, you may have a befitting house. You may have a fleet of flashy cars and few other properties but those are not what make a man. They are liabilities, not assets.”
  The minister paused for a while.  “Don’t you lose sleep that at your age, you have no investment? Don’t you?” he paused again to enable him to puff his cigarette. “Dave is your friend – a very good friend... no denying that. He is mine, too but he is not the kind of friend I will lay down my life for. I am sure you won’t do that either. Why would you protect him when he doesn’t want your progress?”
   Stan turned suddenly to face him. “How do you mean he doesn’t want my progress?”  He asked.
   The minister smiled. “If Dave wouldn’t allow you own some Famous Bank Shares despite your contributions to the growth of that bank, then he definitely doesn’t want your progress, Q.E.D”.
   The minister’s words made a tremendous impact on Stan. The expression on his face showed it.
   “Your future stands a better chance with me as the chairman of that bank. I won’t only pay you handsomely for helping me to realize my ambition; I will also make you a shareholder in the bank. This is a lifetime opportunity and I am convinced that no fool will let it slip off, how much more a wise person like you.”
   The minister lit another cigarette and took a long puff. “Go home and think about all I have said. Sleepover it and let me know your decision tomorrow morning.”
   Stan couldn’t sleep that night. He wouldn’t want to hurt Dave but the minister was right. He had slaved for Dave for more than twelve years without getting anything significant in return. He had been a fool – a very big fool but this was the time to change all that. He must co-operate with the minister.
   He called the minister first thing the next morning and the minister’s happiness knew no bounds.

*****

   “What are your plans concerning your ambition of taking over Famous Bank?” Stan asked, tilting his head to one side. This second meeting came a week after the first. “Fifteen percent of the total equity gives you no chance at all especially when the remaining eighty-five percent belongs to the current chairman.”
   “That is exactly why I invited you here again. I need you to convince Dave to give up more shares.” The minister said. “That way I can get more shares. All I need to be in charge is additional thirty-six percent.”
   Stan was already shaking his head before the minister finished. “That will be a wild goose chase,” he said. “I am sure nothing on earth would ever make him give up any of his shares again. In fact, he would even want to buy back the ones he sold,” Stan concluded.
   “Is that?” The minister smirked. “If that is the case, then I would be constrained to forcefully take over the bank. I desperately need to have that bank.”
   Stan winged up his brows. “Honourable…” He started and then paused for a brief moment, probably searching for the best words to use, “why not consider establishing your own bank? I am sure you have enough money to do that.”
   The minister inhaled his cigarette and filled the room with smoke. “Famous bank is the bank of the future. It has built an unequaled reputation for itself and with little more money it will easily become the foremost bank in the country. That is why I want the bank. It is easier for me to own one of the biggest banks in the country with Famous Bank than starting from the scratch.” The room could be mistaken for a shrine where an overdose of incense was burning by the time Mr. Joseph finished.
   “I see,” Stan nodded, “but how do you hope to actualize your ambition?”
   “That is why we are here.” The cigarette in the minister’s mouth was jumping up and down as he spoke. The ash kept falling off the cigarette. He inhaled his cigarette again and blew a small round smoke ring. “You are very friendly with Dave and you are also his general manager. You know him like the back of your hands. So I believe that with you, the bank is as good as mine. Am I wrong?”
   Stan thought for a fleeting moment. “You can count on me,” he said almost in a whisper.
   Mr. Joseph smiled as he dropped the cigarette stub in the ashtray and reached for the packet of cigarette on the desk. “Good. I am happy to know that you are ready to play ball. I promise you won’t regret it.” He lit his new cigarette and took a very long puff of it. His happiness was very glaring.
   With a perfect plot arrived at by the minister and the GM, Stan boarded a flight back to Lagos, determined never to go back on his decision to co-operate with the minister.

*****

   It was few minutes past eleven in the morning when Theresa walked into her supermarket. This had suddenly become her arrival time at the supermarket since she was confirmed pregnant three months back. Sometimes, she didn’t even bother to show up at all.
   This recent development really got her employees worried. They had the feeling that something was wrong but couldn’t figure out what it was. And they couldn’t muster enough courage to ask her.
   “What has come over our madam,” Maria, one of the staff had wondered aloud. “A woman, who used to arrive at the supermarket before 8:00 am every day, now comes by 11:00 am; that is if she wishes to come at all. Something must be seriously wrong with her,” she had concluded.
   “Maybe she is sick,” another staff, Christopher had interjected. “She is no longer her usual bright self.”
   “I think Christopher is right,” agreed yet another staff, Rose. “I have seen her on three or more occasions take drugs in her office,” she informed them.
   Theresa’s employees were very worried about their madam’s new dispositions. There were speculations as to what the cause of her newfound attitude towards the running of the supermarket could be but there were no confirmations until she walked into the supermarket that Monday morning.
   “Good morning madam,” her staff chorused.
   “Morning,” she responded and headed straight to the small office in the supermarket.
   “I think our madam is pregnant,” Christopher pointed out the moment Theresa disappeared into her office with Rose on her heels.
   “Shh!” Maria hushed him while looking round to make sure that nobody else heard what she just heard. “What makes you think so? Are you a woman? Are you married?” Maria asked.
   Christopher grimaced. “I am neither a woman nor married but I can assure you that the changes in our madam’s looks are due to pregnancy,” he sounded a bit haughty.
   “Please Chris, don’t allow another ear hear what you just said,” Maria warned. “I don’t want madam to think us rumour-mongers.”
   “I am surprised that a mature woman like you cannot tell a pregnant…”
   Christopher’s voice trailed away when their madam’s office door opened suddenly. He thought it was Theresa that was coming out but it was Rose. She was grinning from ear to ear as she approached Christopher and Maria.
   “Madam is pregnant,” she announced happily.
   “What!” Maria shouted in a whisper placing her hand over her mouth. “Are you serious?” She folded her arms as she repeatedly and rapidly moved her gaze from Rose to Christopher.
   “Yes, I am,” Rose answered in the affirmative. “I saw her take drugs again, so I asked her if she was sick.”
   “Yes?” Maria urged her on. “What did she tell you?”
   Christopher was by now whistling and pretending not to be interested.
   “That she was pregnant, of course,” Rose supplied. “I am really happy for her,” she stated, clasping her hands together and placing them on her generous bosom. “At last she will carry her own child. She really deserves to have children. She is such a nice woman.”
   Christopher glared at Maria who was by now gaping at him and sighed. “I am sure you can now see that some men are more versed in women affairs than some women,” he jeered and started away from the women.
   “Hey Chris,” Rose called, “what is that supposed to mean?”
   “Why don’t you ask Maria?” he said over his shoulder and Rose turned curiously to Maria.

*****

   Theresa was forced to look up from the desk by a knock on the door.
   “Come in, the door is not locked.”
   The door swung open and Stella and her last child, Cynthia entered. Theresa promptly pushed back her seat and sprang to her feet. She rushed forward to welcome her visitor and her daughter. Both women got entangled in a warm embrace and then exchanged pleasantries when they stepped from their embrace.
   “Good afternoon, auntie,” Cynthia greeted Theresa when she had the chance.
   “Good afternoon, my dear,” Theresa responded and patted the small girl gently on the head. “How are you?”
   “I am fine, thanks.”
   Stella tilted her head and focused her gaze on Theresa’s belly.
   Theresa narrowed her eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
    “Someone told me yesterday evening that you were pregnant and I didn’t believe her,” Stella was now standing akimbo, “but I can now see for myself. So you didn’t think you should let me know, huh?”
   Stella was not in the least angry that her intimate friend of many years had become pregnant after many years of childless marriage but could not understand why someone else should tell her the good news. She had never hidden anything from Theresa and was therefore not overly happy that Theresa could keep such an important development from her. After all, they had both been through the turbulent moments together.
   “Come and sit down my dear,” Theresa pleaded, practically dragging Stella to a seat. “I can explain.”
   Theresa left the office when her visitors had sat down and when she returned, Rose was on her heels with a packet of juice and two glasses. Rose dropped the items meticulously and respectfully on the small table in the office and departed.
   “I don’t want juice, auntie,” Cynthia said pouting and folding her arms across her flat chest.
   Stella glared at her but Theresa smiled passionately. “What do you want, my dear?”
“Ice cream; vanilla flavour.”
   Stella’s growl at her daughter increased. “Where are your manners, Cynthia?” she tried to chastise the little girl but she remained undaunted.
   “Let the girl be, Stella,” Theresa spoke in defense of her Goddaughter and a few minutes later Rose reappeared with a container of ice-cream which she handed to Cynthia.
   The small girl smiled and thanked Theresa.
   “I am pregnant as you can see,” Theresa stated calmly after taking her seat. “I wanted to be doubly sure before telling anybody. After ten years of a childless marriage, I myself found it difficult to believe that I was pregnant. In order not to spread false information and hence bring more embarrassment upon myself, I decided to keep it a secret. I am really sorry.”
   “It is alright, my dear.” Stella was very happy for her friend. “I hope your mother will come as soon as possible. You will need her wealth of experience. ”
   “Yes, but she doesn’t know I am pregnant yet. We intend to inform her this weekend.”
   “What!” Stella couldn’t believe her ears. “Are you saying that you haven’t told your mother?”
   Theresa smiled instead of answering her friend.
   Stella and her daughter spent over two hours with Theresa before taking their leave.
   “When is the baby due?” Stella asked as Theresa saw them off.
   “In two months.”

*****

   “His wife is pregnant,” Stan called the minister immediately after his wife came home with the news.
   Brief silence. “Whose wife?” The minister asked at last.
   “Dave’s.”
   “What!” The minister’s scream was deafening that Stan momentarily removed the phone from his ear. “How did you find out?”
   “My wife told me. She visited Theresa earlier today.”
   “Are you still there?” Stan asked when the minister kept silent for long.
   “Yes, I am,” Mr. Joseph answered slowly. “That means we must start implementing our plans right away. Any further delay might mess things up for us.”
   Dave hardly settled down for work the next morning when his secretary came in and delivered a letter. He didn’t bother asking who the sender was. He hoped to find out from the letter. Driven by curiosity he tore the letter open immediately.

   MR. CHAIRMAN,
   THIS IS TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR DAYS ARE
   NUMBERED.
   BYE FOR NOW.

   Dave was suddenly drenched in cold sweat. Who could this be? He was thinking aloud. No address, no name. Who have I offended? Who sees me as an obstacle?
   A lot of questions were desperately seeking attention in Dave’s mind. He could neither remember offending anyone nor could he feel that he was posing a stumbling block in anybody’s way. He had applied uttermost carefulness in dealing with his customers and so couldn’t imagine any of them bearing any grudges whatsoever against him.
   Dave was pacing the floor, deep in thought when Stan rapped gently on the door and walked in. The GM stopped in his track when he noticed that his chairman was worked up.
   “What is the matter?” he asked with a worried expression.
   Dave didn’t answer instead he snatched the cause of his worry from the desk and held it out to his GM.
   Stan grabbed it with open curiosity and began to read.
   “What is the meaning of this?” he asked after going through the note. “Is this a joke or something?”
   Dave didn’t talk. He seemed more interested in pacing than talking.
   “What are you going to do about this,” Stan asked after a brief silence.
   “I don’t know.” Dave shrugged his shoulders and gestured with frustration. “I really don’t know.”
   Brief silence. “I think you should report this to the police,” Stan suggested. “They will advise you on the best action to take.”
   Dave could not sleep that night. He had earlier reported the incident to the police but that was not enough to douse his fears.
   What can the police do to stop a faceless killer? He said the words aloud.
   Theresa opened her eyes and sat up. She was aroused by her husband’s soliloquy. “Who were you talking to, dear?” she asked. She yawned and found the bedside switch. “And why are you still sitting up at this time of the night?” She looked from the clock to Dave.
   Dave looked at the clock and the time was 1:23 am. “I wasn’t talking to anybody. I was only thinking about the businesses we transacted in the bank yesterday,” he lied. He didn’t want her to become privy to the threat to his life. He was well aware of what the implications would be for her condition.
   “Please, go to sleep, honey,” Theresa pleaded, caressing Dave’s hairy chest. “All work and no sleep shortens a man’s lifespan. I am sure you know that.”
   If only she knew that her darling husband’s life had been threatened. But she didn’t know. She might never know.
   “Yes, I know,” Dave said and obeyed his wife by lying down and closing his eyes but he never slept.





CHAPTER FOUR




   The conference hall of Atlantic Hotels was filled to capacity. People had gathered from far and near for the thirteenth Annual General Meeting/Award Giving Ceremony of Famous Bank Nigeria Ltd.
   Those in attendance included customers, employees of the bank and other finance houses, pressmen, friends and well-wishers.
   According to the keynote address delivered by the banker’s general manager, Mr. Stanley Nwachukwu, the bank recorded a profit after tax of four hundred and fifty million naira representing a fifty-percent increase over the three hundred million naira recorded the previous year. He announced the bank’s intention to establish three new branches; one in Lagos, the other in Abuja and the last in Aba, Abia State.
   He thanked the bank’s numerous customers for their patronage and urged them to continue to do business with them in the years to come.
   Cash prizes were given to both customers and staff who distinguished themselves within the year under review. While six customers became one million naira richer each, the sum of six million was split amongst eleven staff according to their individual performances.

FAMOUS BANK NIGERIA LTD WILL CONTINUE TO REWARD EXCELLENT PERFORMANCES. THAT IS THE ONLY WAY WE CAN MAINTAIN AND IMPROVE UPON OUR ENVIABLE POSITION IN THIS INDUSTRY.

WHILE URGING THE RECIPIENTS, BOTH STAFF AND CUSTOMERS TO KEEP IT UP, I WISH TO ENCOURAGE OTHERS TO STRIVE TO LEAVE THEIR FOOTPRINTS IN THE SANDS OF TIME FOR THE BENEFIT OF ALL AND SUNDRY.

THANKS AND GOD BLESS YOU ALL.

   The chairman’s remark after the award presentation was very brief. He was used to precision and conciseness. His audience was always thrilled by his perfect diction and the speech he made lately was no exception.
   There was a thunderous ovation at the end of the speech. All were on their feet except one man. He was filled with envy and inordinate ambition. He rose to his feet when others began to take their seats, signaled to Mr. Stan and departed the hall.
   Stan later found him in room 302, smoking profusely. Stan went in and sat down without saying a word.
   Mr. Joseph withdrew the cigarette from his mouth and shook off the ash in the ashtray. He replaced it and took a long puff. He was a chain smoker – a complete addict. “What is the next stage of the plan,” he asked, the smoke from his mouth masking the expression on his face.
   “Elimination,” Stan replied while pouring himself some brandy from a bottle on the table. “We intend to eliminate him before his baby is born.”
   The minister took another long puff and spoke as the smoke escaped from both his mouth and nostrils. “I don’t think it a good idea to eliminate him now. Only one threat letter is not enough to divert people’s attention from us in the wake of his assassination and eliminating him when we don’t know the outcome of his wife’s pregnancy will certainly be premature. What if she gives birth to a male child?” he inhaled his cigarette before he continued. “So I suggest we exercise little patience until the child comes. If it turns out to be a boy, then we eliminate father and son together. A son would likely pose a threat in future. But if it turns out to be a girl, we let it be and deal only with Dave.”
   “How about eliminating husband and wife right now? I think that will save us a lot of stress and also take care of all the uncertainties,” Stan suggested.

   “That will be extremely inhuman. Killing a pregnant woman?” Mr. Joseph said. “No, I will never be party to that and besides I have my eye on Theresa. Have you forgotten?”
   “That is true,” Stan said and sipped his brandy. “I almost lost sight of that.”
   Silence.
   “I will intimate you on a new arrangement in due time,” the minister said. “For now I want you to stay further actions, right?”
   “Right,” Stan answered and finished his brandy.
   The guests were eating while music played in the background when both men returned to the conference hall.
   “Congratulations,” the minister said to Dave and held out his hand to him. “I understand your wife is pregnant."
   “Thanks.” Dave smiled and took his hand.
   “I think you deserve a male child who could continue the good job you are doing at Famous Bank.”
   Dave smiled. “Thanks for wishing me a male child but all I need is a normal child. I don’t care about the sex.”

*****

   Felicia arrived at her daughter’s house one month to Theresa’s expected date of delivery. She had decided to come early and help her daughter with preparations for the baby’s arrival considering the fact that she was a first-timer. Besides, she could sacrifice anything just to stay with her daughter who had suffered many years of childlessness with its attendant stigmatization.
   “I hope there is somebody in this house,” she called as she stepped into the quiet sitting room.
   Theresa who had been waiting impatiently for her arrival, for she sent word about her coming, rushed into the sitting room from the kitchen where she was preparing lunch and almost pushed her mother down with her oversized belly.
   “Welcome, mama,” Theresa sobbed as both women held each other tightly.
   “Thank you, my daughter. I am very happy today. I have come. I have seen and I hope to conquer. God has answered our prayers.” Felicia stepped from the embrace and began to look her daughter over. “What are you doing?” she asked on sighting the tears in Theresa’s eyes. “Crying? Come on, wipe your tears and be happy for your days of woes are over in Jesus name.”
   “Amen!” Theresa said and wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. “What of Papa and Sandy?” she inquired.
   Sandra, fondly called Sandy by friends and relatives was Theresa’s thirteen-year old niece. Her mother, Ester who was Theresa’s immediate elder sister and her father, Steve were killed more than ten years back in a fatal motor accident involving their car and a lorry, on their way to Theresa’s wedding.
   Ever since her parents died, Sandy’s maternal grandparents had taken over her upbringing.
   “They are all fine,” Felicia replied. “They sent their love.”
   “Sandy must be a big girl now. I haven’t seen her in years.”
   “She frightens me with her rate of growth. If she continues the way she is going, she will surely grow out of proportion,” the older woman said with seriousness.
   “Let that not bother you, Mama,” Theresa stated with a hearty laugh. “We will trim her if she overgrows,” she said still laughing and the older woman couldn’t help joining her.
   “So, how are you, my dear?” Felicia asked, scrutinizing Theresa with motherly attention.
   “I am very well, Mama. Can’t you see,” the younger woman said and bent to pick up her mother’s luggage.
   “No!” the older woman said, using her hand to stop Theresa. “I will take care of them.”
   “What does that mean, Mama? I am not sick. I am only pregnant.” Theresa said but didn’t insist.
   Three nights after Felicia’s arrival Dave inspected the baby’s items purchased earlier in the day by Theresa and her mother. He was overly satisfied with all they bought. He was silently grateful to God that at last he was going to become a father.
   “Thank you, Mama,” Dave said to his mother-in-law. “You had a wonderful shopping. I am sure my daughter would look gorgeous in these dresses.”
   “Don’t start again,” Theresa cut in, jokingly glaring at her husband. “How many times do I have to tell you that what is growing in my womb is a baby boy before it sinks into your block head? I am the one playing host to the child and should therefore know it better than any other person. For your information, we always have direct conversation and it has told me on many occasions that it was a boy. So I advise you to wake up from your slumber and stop dreaming.”
   “Is that? I am sure that you will be surprised to discover that telepathy between father and daughter is much more reliable than what you tag direct conversation. It is a matter of weeks and you will understand what I mean,” Dave laughed and the women joined him.
   This argument concerning the sex of their unborn child had been on since the first day Theresa was confirmed pregnant. It would have been put to rest if not that the ultrasound scans were ambiguous with regard to the sex of the baby. It had indeed been a great source of happiness to the couple. Though Theresa sincerely wanted a baby boy, she wouldn’t be less grateful to God if it turned out to be a girl.
   Her husband for his part was not in any way interested in the baby’s sex. All he wanted was a normal child like he once told the minister of finance. He had only decided to root for a baby girl in order to tease his wife who he sensed wanted a baby boy desperately.

*****

   The windows of the car were completely wound up. There was a downpour and the weather was very cold. The car was brought to a grinding halt. The engine was left on and the wipers were still busy doing their duty. It took up to five minutes before the engine stopped running.
   The driver opened the door and alighted with a black leather raincoat on. He shut the door and locked it. He crossed over to the other side of the road and stopped in front of a phone booth. He looked around to make sure that prying eyes were not on him and then stepped into the phone booth.
   He urgently needed to make a call. He could have made the call in the comfort of his home using his telephone but some calls were better made in the phone booth. He slotted in his debit card and began to dial. He placed the earpiece on his ear and a female voice came on line after a few moments wait.
   “This is the office of the chairman of Famous Bank Nigeria Ltd. May I know who is on the line,” the secretary requested.
   “I wish to speak with the chairman at once,” was all the man in the phone booth said.
   “Your wish may not be granted if you don’t give me your name and reason for calling, sir,” the secretary insisted politely.
   “Just tell your boss that someone wishes to speak with him. I am sure he will talk to me,” the man in the booth was equally unyielding.
   “That will amount to a breach of office protocol, sir,” the secretary said pleadingly. “Why not tell me who you are so that we will save both time and money.”
   “You are the one wasting my time and money and I advise that you connect your boss this minute or be ready to accept responsibility for whatever that happens to him because of your stubbornness.”
   The last comment by the man sent a shudder up the secretary’s spine. She immediately decided to put office protocols aside and apply expedience.
   “Just a minute, sir,” she said, hurried up to her feet and headed for the chairman’s office. “There’s someone on the phone wishing to speak with you, sir,” the secretary told her boss.
   “Who is it?”
   “I don’t know, Sir.”
   Dave looked steadily at her. “Why didn’t you find out who he is,” he asked angrily.
   “He wouldn’t tell me, sir. Rather, he said that I should be ready to accept responsibility for whatever would happen to you if I insisted on knowing who he was,” the secretary stated defensively.
   Dave was suddenly enveloped with an immense fear. He could figure out who his caller was based on his utterance. He had thought that his days of doom were over when after more than one month there was no sequel to the threatening letter he received.
   He loosened his tie a bit and unbuttoned his collar button before asking his secretary to connect the unknown caller.
   “Yes?” the chairman said when the caller was connected.
   “Thanks very much for keeping me waiting. It seems you don’t know that time is money.” The man in the phone booth said acidly.
   “I am very sorry for that but I don’t seem to recognize your voice and you have refused to tell my secretary who you are.”
   “Who I am is not important now,” the caller stated slowly and coldly. “Did you receive my letter?”
   The question took Dave unawares. “Your letter? No! Yes!” He floundered.
   “Which do I take, yes or no?” the caller asked.
   “I am waiting for your answer,” the caller said when Dave didn’t talk for close to a minute.
   “Yes,” the chairman answered with mortification.
   “And what did you do about it?”
   “What do you want from me?” Dave asked, casting caution to the winds. “If it is money, why not go ahead and name your price instead of causing me hypertension?”
   “That is bold of you but I don’t want your dirty money.”
   “What then do you want from me?”
   “Your life and I will take it within a week. If you believe in life after death, I advise that you begin now to prepare yourself,” the caller paused for a moment and then continued. “I have one advice for you though – don’t make the mistake of informing the police. Don’t even give it a thought at all because if you do, your whole family will be exterminated. It is a promise.”
   “Why are you…?”
   Dave could not complete what he wanted to say because the caller was gone already. He held the phone to his ear for two more minutes before replacing it on the cradle. He was sweating profusely despite the cold weather, which culminated from the downpour that kept waning and intensifying. Besides, the bank’s central AC was on.
   Mission accomplished the door to the phone booth opened and the man emerged. The rain had abated, so he slipped out of his raincoat and put it in the boot. He then entered the car and set it in motion. He felt very satisfied with the way the conversation with the chairman went.
   I am sure he wouldn’t sleep for a whole week. He soliloquized. But nothing will happen to him until he begins to relax again.”
   He laughed loudly and lit a cigarette.
   Dave was still sweating terribly when Stan knocked and entered his office.
   “Hello, Mr. Chairman,” Stan saluted without looking at Dave. He went straight to the fridge where he took a can of Heineken.
   Dave didn’t respond to his GM’s salutation, instead he requested him to help him with a glass and a bottle of brandy.
   Stan did as he was requested. “You are sweating,” he observed with perplexity as he dropped the bottle of brandy and glass on Dave’s desk.
   Dave poured himself half a glass of brandy and took it in one gulp. He poured another half a glass before looking up at his friend who doubled as his General Manager.
   “Something must be seriously wrong,” Stan continued when Dave didn’t say a word. “If you are not sick then something is perturbing you.” He was squeezing gently on the yet to be opened can of beer.
   Dave sipped his brandy and looked vaguely at Stan. “I just finished a telephone conversation,” he said in a choked voice.
   “With whom and what was it about?” Stan asked with stark curiosity.
   Dave sighed and shook his head dejectedly. “The same guy that sent the threatening letters.”
   “Damn it!” Stan breathed, his right hand squeezing harder on the Heineken can that it dented around. He roared like a wounded lion for a fleeting moment, with his eyes tightly shut. “I thought he had sheathed his sword.”
   Dave shook his head slowly and took another sip at his brandy. “I thought as much but I now realize how wrong I was.”
   Silence.
   “What did he say this time?” Stan asked.
   “That I didn’t have up to a week to live and warned me against informing the police or I would be bringing calamity on my entire family.”
   Stan’s eyes became huge. “Are you going to pay heed to that warning about not informing the police?”
   “I don’t know.” Dave looked very frustrated.
   Stan peered into Dave’s face. “What do you mean you don’t know? You certainly cannot do without the police. We are talking about your life here and you mustn’t think twice about seeing the police. Who then gives you security if you don’t inform the police? In fact as I am talking to you now, you should be heading to the nearest police station,” Stan counseled.
   Dave was at the Police Station less than an hour after his GM’s advice. “I wish to see the D.P.O,” he said to a constable standing over the counter.
   “He is not in the office right now,” the policeman said casually. “Anything we can do for you?”
   “Yes, but I would prefer to talk to the D.P.O.”
   “He is not in the office right now as I have already told you. It is either you come back later or you wait. I am sure it won’t be long before he returns.”
   Dave was yet to decide what to do when the D.P.O drove in. He alighted and started into the station with a fast pace.
   “Afternoon, sir,” Dave greeted with relief.
   “Afternoon, Mr. Eze,” the D.P.O responded jovially. “Want to see me?”
   “Yes.”
   “Come with me then,” the D.P.O said and led the way to his office.
   They disappeared into the moderately furnished office and the D.P.O motioned Dave to a seat in front of his desk. The D.P.O sat down after removing his coat and hanging it on the back of his seat."So, what can I do for you?” He asked and Dave told his story without omitting any details.
   The D.P.O got up from his seat after listening to Dave and began to pace the floor. He went back to his desk two minutes later and using both hands propped himself on it. “I think you seriously need security men around you,” he said narrowing his eyes and pursing his lips.
   “No!” Dave roared as he sprang to his feet. He paced around briefly. “See, my wife is pregnant for the first time ten years after our wedding and the baby is due for arrival in a week’s time. Having policemen hanging around me will definitely send the signal that something is wrong and that isn’t good for her condition.”
   The D.P.O thought for a while. “I quite appreciate your position, Mr. Eze but how else can we take care of the situation if we don’t provide you with security?”
   “Can’t you place them under surveillance?” Dave was too confused to reason properly.
   The D.P.O smiled as he sat down. “You can only place a known criminal under surveillance, Mr. Eze but not an unknown one. Right now, those after your life are unknown and the only way out is to provide you a 24-hour a day security,” he explained.
   Dave could not sleep that night. His compulsory vigil this time was not due to fear for his life. He was brainstorming for the plausible explanation he would offer his wife for the inevitable police presence around him.
   What am I going to tell her? He racked his brain. I would rather die than allow any harm come to her and our unborn baby.”
   It wasn’t until the next morning when he was having a shower in preparation for work that an idea occurred to him.
   “Eureka!” he shouted on top of his voice and his mother-in-law promptly approached the bathroom door.
   “What is the matter?” she asked.
   “Nothing.”
   “Are you sure?” 
   “Very sure,” Dave replied with a laugh.
   The first thing Dave did on getting to the office that morning was to call the D.P.O and not up to two hours after, a team of six policemen on mufti, arrived at Famous Bank Nigeria Ltd.
   “We have been deployed by the D.P.O to provide you with security,” Simon, the leader of the policemen stated with an expressionless face.
   “That’s okay,” said Dave. “I hope he told you exactly what to do.”
   “Yes sir,” Simon replied.
   “Good.” Dave smiled. “You can then take your positions.” He instructed and the policemen left his office. Dave shrugged and let out a noisy sigh of relief.
   Few minutes later, Stan walked into Dave’s office. “I am happy to see that you now have security men,” he said as he took his seat. “That will no doubt curb the excesses of those vampires but I think those security men should be called to order. I mean, why did they subject me to a rigorous and embarrassing search and interrogation before allowing me into your office? They practically turned me inside out.”
   “I am sorry about that,” Dave apologized. “I forgot to introduce the members of the staff to them. I will do that first thing tomorrow morning. Besides everyone has an I.D card, I believe that will solve the problem of unnecessary interrogations. But as for routine search, I am afraid that has to continue no matter who is involved. That is one of the conditions and any day I try to interfere, the policemen will be withdrawn.”
   “That is okay,” Stan said with a shrug. “I don’t really mind being searched so long as the safety of my chairman is guaranteed.”
   Theresa could barely wait for her husband to leave the presence of the security men before asking questions about them. “Who are those men you came home with, darling?” she asked, looking so uncomfortable and confused.
   “You mean those guys in the sitting room?”
   “Of course yes or is there another group outside on the court?” Theresa’s impatience was unequivocal.
   Dave smiled soothingly. “They are policemen.” He answered simply.
   Theresa’s eyes widened. “David! What are you doing with policemen?” she asked. She couldn’t understand what policemen were doing in their house and the way and manner they were hovering around her husband gave her great course for concern. Even Felicia was alarmed.
   “Calm down, honey. I can explain,” Dave pleaded sweetly as Theresa continued to stare at him. “You see, our baby is due for delivery within the week by the grace of God. Labour as you know doesn’t have a specific time. It could strike at any moment of the day – morning, afternoon, evening and sometimes in the dead of the night. You know how insecure our streets are nowadays. I would neither have you suffer labour pains longer than necessary in the event of your labour starting very late in the night nor would I dare to risk your life and that of our unborn baby by taking you into an insecure street.” Dave paused for effect. “So, at such crucial moment, those policemen would be useful. I have also requested your doctors to be on standby in case.”
   Felicia’s heart leaped for joy. “Your husband is right, my dear,” she said. She had always known that Dave’s love for her daughter was unalloyed but her stay with them for close to a month now had given her the opportunity to see love in its purest form. Dave was definitely the best husband in the whole of planet earth. “Labour, as he said doesn’t announce its arrival. It is usually sudden and in most cases it chooses to strike in the middle of the night. I am talking from experience.” She smiled.
   “I promise to do away with them immediately after the baby is born,” Dave assured, putting his hand across Theresa shoulders.
   “Thanks darling, you are so caring and thoughtful,” Theresa said and planted a warm peck on Dave’s cheek. “I love you.”
   “I love you too.”
   As Dave lay in bed later that night, he couldn’t help smiling at the life-saving lie he told earlier in the day. He had seen the fear that enveloped Theresa when she learnt the identity of the men that came home with him and wondered what would have been her fate if he didn’t have an already-made and convincing lie to tell her.
   As he closed his eyes to drift into a peaceful slumber, he silently thanked God for taking care of the situation for him.
 





CHAPTER FIVE




   Theresa was trying to have a nap that Sunday afternoon when she heard the cry of a baby coming from the sitting room. Driven by curiosity, she climbed out of bed and started downstairs to the sitting room. She was still at the bottom of the stairs when someone she couldn’t recognize, owing to the speed with which she dashed and threw herself at her, almost knocked her over. It was only when the visitor began to talk that Theresa knew who it was.
   “So, it is true, auntie,” Lizzy sobbed. “Oh my God, I am so happy.” She stepped from the embrace and smiled at Theresa. “I said I must come and see things for myself. Seeing is believing, you know.” She smiled again. “God is so wonderful. He never fails those who put all their trust in Him.”
   Lizzy was Theresa’s sister-in-law. She was the last in a family of six children - five girls and one boy. She was the only person out of Dave’s entire household who stood by Theresa throughout her period of childlessness. She consequently had her fair share of the turbulent moments.
   She fell out with her mother and sisters for what they labeled sabotage against their family. Theresa could forever remember one occasion when Lizzy was pounced upon and was almost beaten into a coma by her mother and siblings because she spoke in her defense.
   Lizzy got married about two years back and her marriage had been blessed with a beautiful baby girl.
   “I thank God for everything,” Theresa responded happily. “What of your baby.”
   “I brought her with me,” Lizzy answered pointing at little Linda who was relaxing on Dave’s laps.
   “I know. I heard her cry from the bedroom.” Theresa walked slowly to her husband and picked up the little girl. “She has grown so big,” she pointed out, looking Linda over.
   “You think so?” Lizzy asked. There was skepticism in her voice.
   “Yes. Can’t you see how big she is? She is as big as a two-year old baby,” Theresa maintained. “What do you feed her?”
   “Fertilizer,” Lizzy joked and all laughed.
   “How old is she?” Felicia asked, taking the baby from her daughter. “Big but light,” she observed. “No wonder she looks very healthy.”
   “She will be a year old in two weeks,” Lizzy answered.
   Felicia’s eyes became huge. “Are you serious?”
   Lizzy smiled and nodded.
   “Not up to a year yet and she is this big,” Felicia exclaimed. “Theresa is right, then. She is far bigger than her age. In fact you really feed her fertilizer.”
   They all laughed again.
   “You don’t have to blame her for not noticing how big the baby is, Mama,” Theresa interjected with a smile. “She is with the baby 24 hours a day and you know it is always difficult to observe a weight change in someone who is always there with you.” Theresa stated and took her seat and her mother and Lizzy did likewise. Dave was already seated.
   “That is very correct,” Dave concurred with his wife. “I become so surprised when people say that you are so big. I don’t seem to notice that and that may be as you just said, because I am always with you.”
   “That is true auntie. You are so big. Are you expecting a set of twins?” Lizzy asked jokingly but there was a level of seriousness in her voice.
   Theresa shook her head repeatedly. “No my sister…” She laughed. “Scan said it is only one.”
   “You arrived very early,” Felicia pointed out changing the topic. She was looking at the clock in the sitting room. “You must have left Owerri very early.”
   “We came by air,” Lizzy explained. “With the deplorable conditions of our roads, even leaving Owerri before 5:00am wouldn’t have seen us in Lagos by now.”
   “Our roads are terribly bad and the government seems uninterested in putting them back to shape,” Dave stated ruefully.
   “How would they put them back to shape when their happiness depends on our misery,” Theresa chipped in.
   “Please, let us not spoil this happy moment with discussions about Nigeria and her government,” Felicia said with sober expression. “As long as I am concerned, there is no government in this country. All we have is a group of killers and looters who parade themselves as government officials.” She was no doubt disappointed.
   “I share your view,” Lizzy said and Theresa and Dave nodded in agreement.
   “So, how is my in-law?” Dave asked his sister.
   “He is fine. He sent his greetings and promised to come during the naming ceremony.”
   “Is it true that you have completed you house?” Theresa asked expectantly.
   “Yes and we have since moved in.”
   “Congratulations!” Theresa exclaimed. “Nothing is as wonderful as living in your own house. It gives one the much needed privacy and comfort.”
   “Thanks.”
   Everybody was forced to turn towards the front door when someone rapped gently and open the door without waiting to be asked in.
   “There is an old man here to see you, sir,” the policeman announced. “He says his name is Pa Ben.”
   “Let him in at once,” Dave said urgently and sprang to his feet.
   The policeman saluted and left.
   “That reminds me, King,” Lizzy fondly called her brother, King after King David and Dave turned to face her. “Who are those men out there on the court?” Her countenance was smacking of confusion. “I was searched and questioned like a criminal before I could be allowed in.”
   “I will explain all that later,” Dave told his sister and turned to Pa Ben as he just walked across the threshold into the sitting room.
   “Peace be with you,” Pa Ben decreed.
   “And also with you,” the occupants of the sitting room chorused like a congregation in the church, the only difference being that they were laughing.
   “I haven’t been to the Aso Rock but I am sure that those wishing to see the president are not subjected to the kind of searching and interrogation that I was subjected to before I could see you. Tell me, did you get a letter from kidnappers?”
   Dave laughed instead of answering the question posed to him. He had devised a tactical means of being evasive to the questions arising from his hiring security men. If he didn’t say that he would explain later just like he told Lizzy, he would laugh the question off.
   “This is a full house,” Pa Ben noted not insisting for a response to his comment and question about the security men. “I hope I am not interrupting something. I wouldn’t excuse you and step outside if I am but I wouldn’t mind closing my ears and if necessary, my eyes until you are through.”
   Pa Ben was a man with an unparalleled sense of humour. He had lived in the neighbourhood for more than twenty-five years. He had been living alone with his steward, Mark since his wife, Agnes died from breast cancer about fifteen years earlier.
   His two daughters, Lucy and Catherine were married and living with their husbands in different states of the country. His only son, Edward was in the United States of America where he studied and practiced medicine. He was a renowned surgeon.
   Since Edward married an African-American lady about four years earlier, all Pa Ben got from him were letters and phone calls.
   But the old man was not bothered. He had always had a liberal mind. He believed that everybody should be allowed to live their lives the way they wanted to.
   He was financially independent. He made many lucrative investments during his active years including the establishment of Unique Bank Ltd., one of the leading banks in the country.
   So his survival depended neither on Edward nor anyone else.
   Pa Ben had maintained a very cordial relationship with Dave and his wife since they moved into the neighbourhood more than five years back. To Dave, Pa Ben was a ‘god’ because he was extremely nice and seemed to know everything.
   Dave always sought his advice in whatever he did. Pa Ben was one of the very few friends that advised Dave to stick with his wife despite her childlessness.
   “How are you sure that the next woman you will marry would be capable of giving you the much desired children,” he had asked. “You must note that you will never have children until God’s appointed time, if you like marry all the women in the world,” he had argued.
   Dave had heeded his advice even though he had never had any intention of sending his wife packing in the first place.
   Pa Ben’s fatherly advice coupled with his great sense of humour had endeared the old man to Dave and Theresa. Their relationship with him had a strong bond that it was difficult for people to know that they were not blood relations.
   Dave would forever be grateful to Pa Ben for the advice he gave him during a meeting of the Chairmen of Nigerian banks held six months after they became neighbours. Dave had confided in the old man concerning his intention to float shares to enable him expand his bank.
   “Look my son,” Pa Ben had said to Dave. “I believe you established Famous Bank because you wanted to own a bank. If you had wanted to be a shareholder in a bank, you would have purchased shares in an already existing one. See, the moment you begin to sell shares is the moment you begin to lose control of your bank and if care is not taken you may completely lose out.” He had paused and smiled. “I have been in this industry for many years. I think I have learnt the ropes well enough. “Be warned. Don’t allow you expansion ambition to ruin your future.”
   This advice was given about five years ago and Dave made sure he kept it green in his memory.
   I will never sell my shares. He had always assured himself.
   That assurance was now in the past.
   It is not my fault, he tried to defend himself.
   “Come and sit down,” Dave told Pa Ben who was still standing a few inches from the front door.
   Pa Ben trudged to Theresa. He had lost his agility and strength to age. He stooped on getting close to Theresa to enable her hear him clearly. “How is my boy today?” he asked referring to Theresa’s unborn baby.
   “He is fine,” Theresa replied happily. She was always happy whenever people shared her view that the baby in her womb was a boy.
   “Good,” Pa Ben said and straightened up. He put his right hand into his trousers’ pocket and pulled out a small ball. “See, my late mother told me that I played world cup in her womb – don’t ask me how because I don’t know but I believed her and feel that that contributed to my fitness of body and mind and indeed longevity.” Pa Ben paused and smiled passionately. “So if you want your son to live a long and active life like me, you must allow him play this ball in your womb.”
   Theresa collected the ball amidst laughter. Others, including Pa Ben were laughing as well.

*****

   “I wish to maintain that we need to create and sell more shares. That is the only sure way to meet up with the huge financial requirement for our intended new branches. We must not renege on our promise of building new branches again. Our customers may begin to lose confidence in us and that wouldn’t be nice,” Stan stated during the meeting of the management team of Famous Bank Nigeria Ltd.
   The meeting was held on the twentieth of December, three days before Christmas break. There were many important issues to deliberate upon. The most important being the expansion projects. The three new branches they promised to establish must commence without fail starting from the January of the coming year.
   In attendance in the meeting were the bank’s general manager, the chief accountant, the marketing manager, the personnel manager, the information technologist, the bank’s image-maker, the secretary general – the only female in the meeting, and the chairman who was presiding.
   The meeting had not lasted up to ten minutes when the establishment of new branches took the centre stage. The GM wasted no time in suggesting the need to exchange more of the bank’s shares for money.
   “I think the GM is right,” the chief accountant said, looking straight into the chairman’s face. “Though we are not doing badly at the moment, we need to create room for improvement. This bank stands to become one of the biggest in the country only if we can go public. The era of limited liability in the banking industry is over; what is in vogue now is public liability. It would not only bring more money through the sale of shares, it would also bring more customers.”
   The marketing manager, the personnel manager and the chief information technologist who spoke later also supported the sale of shares. They appeared to have been well tutored by the GM who was hell- bent on getting the chairman create and sell more shares.
   More than a minute passed before the chairman cleared his throat in readiness to speak. “I do appreciate your desire and efforts towards the growth of this bank,” he said slowly as he looked at his top management staff one by one in the face. “But you see, I established this bank because I wanted to own it not to be a shareholder. I allowed Mr. Joseph Bright to come in because I didn’t have a choice.” He paused for effect. “I would not want the chairmanship of this bank to become a matter to be decided by shareholders’ votes. I certainly will not allow that,” Dave stated with finality.
   “How then do we achieve our expansion dream?” Stan asked. He pretended to be calm but his voice gave his frustration away.
   The chairman scrutinized the papers before him for a while and then removed his glasses and kept them on the table. “According to the feasibility studies carried out by the expansion committee, we need at least 2.4 billion naira to establish our three new branches and that means 800 million naira for each, on the average.” He got up and headed for the fridge where he poured himself a quarter glass of his favourite brandy – Remy Martins. He took a sip at it and placing his left elbow on the fridge and supporting his weight on it. “I suggest we start with one branch for now. I am sure we can only spare 800 million naira at the moment. We will consider the remaining two in due course.” He sipped his brandy again as his employees looked at one another. “So, I guess what should occupy our minds and time right now is the branch to start with – Lagos, Abuja or Aba?” he finished his brandy and dropped the empty glass on the fridge before returning to his seat.

*****

   “There is a young man here to see you, sir,” the chairman’s secretary told him on the phone the moment the meeting was over and the GM and others had departed his office. “He says he is from the Finance Minister.”
   “Let him in,” Dave said and barely replaced the phone on its cradle when someone rapped gently on the door.
   “You may enter,” Dave said while focusing his gaze on the door.
   The door opened and a young man who must be in his late twenties or early thirties walked into the office. He was in a well-tailored black suit and there was an air of affluence about him.
   “Good afternoon, sir,” he greeted with a slight dip of his head.
   “Good afternoon,” Dave responded with a welcoming tone and motioned him to one of the seats in front of his desk. “Do have a seat, please.”
   The young man sat down and thanked him.
   “So, what can I do for you?” the chairman asked curiously.
   “I am from Mr. Joseph Bright, the Finance Minister, just as your secretary has already told you and he asked me to deliver a letter to you,” the young man said and pulled out an envelope from his breast pocket and held it out to Dave.
   The chairman hesitated before collecting the envelope. He took a cursory look at the envelope and then looked suspiciously at the stranger before him.
   There had been many cases of assassinations via letter bombs.
   Are you sure this guy is really from the Minister? Is it not possible that he is the one threatening my life? He is definitely an impostor hiding under Mr. Joseph to deliver a letter bomb to me.
   Many perturbing questions and speculations were bugging Dave’s mind and he decided not to open the letter until he had confirmed from Mr. Joseph. He was contemplating calling Mr. Joseph when he discovered that the envelope was not sealed after all.
   He heaved a sigh of relief and smiled openly at his unfounded fear.
   It is not my fault; he said inwardly, discretion is the better part of valour.
   He pulled the letter from the envelope and began to read:

      DEAR MR. CHAIRMAN,
   
A REQUEST FOR EMPLOYMENT

I HEREBY PLEAD WITH YOU TO PROVIDE A JOB FOR THE BEARER OF THIS NOTE. HIS NAME IS MR. CYPRAIN PIUS AND HE GRADUATED FROM THE DEPARTMENT OF BANKING AND FINANCE, UNIVERSITY OF LAGOS, AKOKA.

HE IS A VERY COMPETENT BANKER WITH LOTS OF EXPERIENCE. I CAN ALWAYS VOUCH FOR HIM.

THANKS FOR YOUR ANTICIPATED CO-OPERATION AND HAVE A NICE DAY.

YOUR FRIEND AND BUSINESS ASSOCIATE,

JOSEPH BRIGHT (HONOURABLE MINISTER OF FINANCE)

   Dave was quite sure that the bank could do without an extra hand but he could not afford to turn the minister down. He was not only a friend but also a shareholder in the bank.
   Dave wrote an instruction on the letter and signed it and then handed it back to the young man. “Take it to the personnel manager. He will know what to do.”
   “Thank you very much, sir.” The young man collected the letter and rose to his feet. “I am really grateful,” he said and left the office.
   Close to an hour later, when Dave had almost forgotten about the young applicant and was dozing due to both physical and psychological stress, somebody knocked on his door. He was fast enough to have woken up and comported himself before the personnel manager walked in.
   “I don’t think we can employ the young man you sent to me,” the personnel manager said waving the letter from the minister in the air.
   “Why do you say so?” Dave asked with a frown.
   “I discovered from the Database that he used to work for Pacific Bank Plc. My enquiry with Pacific Bank revealed that he was fired from the bank because of his alleged involvement in defrauding the bank of a large amount of money.” The personnel manager was wearing a worried expression.
   “What!” Dave sprang to his feet. He thought for a while and began to pace while the personnel manager kept shaking his drooping head with dismay.
   There was no doubting the fact that Dave was terribly angry. “How could he…?” he started and then tailed off. He moved swiftly to his desk and seized the phone. He dialed Mr. Joseph’s number and waited patiently.
   Few moments later Mr. Joseph came on line. “Hello!” the minister sounded very excited. “Has your wife been delivered of her baby?”
   “Joseph, why did you recommend a fraud suspect for a job in my bank?” Dave asked angrily, ignoring the minister’s question.
   The minister was tempted to interject ‘our bank’ - after all even one percent of a company’s shares conferred ownership status to the holder, how much more fifteen percent. But in his wisdom, he decided to keep mum.
   “Maybe you didn’t know that he was indicted of defrauding his former bank,” Dave continued when the minister didn’t talk, “but it is rather clumsy of a man in your position to vouch for someone he doesn’t know well enough.”
   The minister was on the brink of exploding. He had never felt so insulted in his entire life but he still held his peace, knowing full well what an outburst would portend. A row with the chairman would definitely jeopardize the neutrality he wanted to enjoy when eventually Dave was assassinated.
   “It was only an allegation. The guy has not been found guilty and besides Pacific Bank has since dropped the case,” the minister tried to explain but Dave refused to understand.
   “It might seem a mere allegation to you,” Dave almost snapped the words, “but it would amount to a breach of Employment Code and Ethics to employ a person with such a heavy dent on his person and integrity and you know it.”
   Dave would have thought that the minister had hung up on him but for the sound produced by his breathing.
   The minister was almost hyperventilating.
   “You know I have come a long way in this industry,” Dave continued when it was clear to him that the minister was not in the mood to talk or maybe he didn’t have anything to say. “There is no way I am going to employ that young man. I don’t want to be labeled an accomplice in a crime I know nothing about. That will tarnish my personal image as well as that of my bank. I am sorry.”
   “It is alright,” the minister muttered just before the line went dead. His right hand was clenched into a fist and his face was a mask of anger while his heart was brimming over with evil machination.
   You are playing with fire, Dave. You are really treading where the angels fear to go and you are sure to get hurt. You are playing with fire and sooner or later you will get roasted, the minister roared like a starved lion looking for a prey to devour. He replaced the phone and continued with his soliloquy.
   I can’t wait to witness your lying in state. Your days are numbered. What you call your bank today and even your wife will soon become mine. You fool!
   When he was done soliloquizing, he picked up the phone and called Stan.


CHAPTER SIX




   Dave could hardly recognize his house when he returned home in the company of his GM, from a friend’s birthday party. He never concentrated throughout his stay at the party and this was due to his wife’s condition. When he couldn’t contain his anxiety any more he decided to leave the party even though it was yet to climax.
   Theresa’s expected delivery date as predicted by her doctors had been exceeded by two days and that gave him the impression that her labour was not farfetched. From the time it was a week to her delivery date, he only left her presence when he had very important matters to attend to.
   He attended the birthday in the first place because the celebrant had demonstrated on many occasions to be a friend indeed but now he had put up an appearance, he must get back home to his wife.
   He cast a glance at Stan and proceeded to have a proper look at all the new and beautifying items ubiquitous in his living room.
   There was a big Christmas tree in the middle of the room, just centimetres away from the centre table. The tree was decorated with Christmas lights of various colours and shapes. The Christmas tree was also laden with balloons, ribbons and cards. Sitting on the Four Corners of the room were four vessels of live and fresh bouquets.
   The centre table was filled with cards and many of them had the caption:

   MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR.
 
   There was a sensational feeling and general air of cleanliness and splendour about the entire room. The living room had always had a relaxed ambience but this time it looked like paradise. Dave and his GM were overly impressed by what they saw.
   “I can see that you guys are preparing seriously for Christmas,” Stan stated, a bold smile lightening up his ugly face.
   “You can say that again,” Dave replied in the affirmative even though he knew that there was more to the preparations than just for Christmas.
   He went to the bar and when he rejoined Stan, he was having a bottle of brandy and two glasses. He half-filled his glass and indicated his friend to help himself.
   Stan did, as he was bidden.
   Dave raised his glass to Stan and the visitor did the same.
   “Do have a seat, my friend while I go find the women,” Dave told Stan after sipping at his brandy and then started towards the stairs with swift strides, his glass still in his hand.
   Stan sat down and crossed his legs.
   If only Dave knew the true colour of the man he calls his friend; if only he knew what the future holds for him and his family – he would never allow me near him ever again let alone let me into his house. Men are really myopic and foolish.
   He smiled and drank from his glass.
   Dave found the women in the bedroom where they were busy putting finishing touches to their beautification project.
   They had already fixed the cot and filled it with both cards and flowers. Dave also noticed that the room had been adorned with new sets of window blinds as well as bedding materials. There was a giant teddy bear standing like a bodyguard few centimetres from the cot. Balloons, ribbons and other beautifying items were conspicuously present in the room.
   The women were so engrossed by their work that they didn’t notice Dave standing in the doorway for more than two minutes.
   “Hello ladies! What is going on in this house?” he called at last, grinning from ear to ear.
   The women were startled as they turned towards Dave in unison.
   Theresa smiled at him. “You startled us.” She was sitting on the bed with clothes on her laps.
   “Really?” Dave asked, still standing in the doorway.
   “Yeah,” she shoved away the clothes and got up.
   “You are back,” Lizzy said with a bold smile.
   “Yeah,” Dave answered his sister.
   Felicia straightened up from the cot where she was hitherto fiddling with something, smiled at her son-in-law but never spoke a word.
   Theresa moved slowly to him and planted a kiss on his lips. She didn’t embrace him before the kiss as usual – her oversized belly was a big obstacle. She took the glass of brandy from him and had a sip and then handed it back to him.
   “How did the birthday party go?” She asked, lovingly looking up at him.
   “Cool and very grand.”
   “You had fun, didn’t you?”
   “I didn’t.” Dave stated without mincing words.
   “Why not?”
   “How could I when I didn’t know what was with you? I simply couldn’t concentrate,” Dave smiled down at his wife who was looking at him with the loveliest expression he had ever seen in any woman. “I had to leave half way.”
   Theresa looked at him steadily for a moment. “Darling, you have to stop living your life around me. You have got to enjoy yourself,” she said with fake seriousness. “I become pissed off when you hang around me like a fly.” She laughed and started away.
   “If I hang around you like a fly, that suggests that you reek of faeces. To get me off your back you either clean up or kill me. Which option do you choose?”
   “I think I should kill you.” she laughed
   “Suits me well.”
   “Meaning that you would rather die than get off my back?”
   “You are very correct.”
   All laughed.
   “You are yet to tell me the meaning of all the hustling and bustling in this house,” Dave reminded them as he gestured.
   “Tomorrow is Christmas, my dear. Forgotten?” Theresa asked looking over her shoulder.
   “Is that all?” Dave asked with clear skepticism.
   Theresa turned to him, a smile playing around her mouth. “What else do you want to hear?” She asked with a funny frown.
   “Nothing, but this is not our first Christmas together. Is it?”
   The women reading meaning in Dave’s comment burst out with laughter and Dave joined them.
   “Stanley is downstairs. Please come and say hello to him,” Dave told them.
   “Who is he? Have I met him before?” Felicia asked.
   “Yes you have, the man that came with his wife and a small girl four days ago.” Theresa explained.
   “Oh yes, I remember him now,” Felicia said, nodding repeatedly.
   They all headed downstairs.
   “What of Linda?” Dave asked his sister.
   “She is sleeping.”                           
   The first pang of labour pain struck around 1:30am that night. Theresa raised no alarm. There was no need getting her husband panicky when she was sure that the labour wasn’t serious yet. She endured the pain stoically.
   She only woke him when the pains became aggravated, persistent and unbearable.
   “Any problem?” he asked grumpily.
   “I am having serious pains around my lower abdomen,” Theresa said through gritted teeth. “I think our baby is coming.”
   Sleep left Dave‘s eyes instantly. He jumped out of bed and got dressed. He alerted everyone in the house and within a short moment he drove Theresa to the hospital in the company of Felicia and some policemen while Lizzy stayed back to take care of her daughter and the house. Some of the policemen were also at home.
   A doctor, true to Dave’s word and some nurses were on hand to attend to the pregnant woman. She was promptly rushed into the labour room but it was only around 8:05am that Christmas morning, when Dave had become tired of pacing, that the doctor emerged from the labour room.
   With few long strides, Dave closed the gap between them.
   “Congratulations!” The doctor said and held out his hand to him. Dave took his hand eagerly. He could guess that his wife had a safe delivery…, the doctor’s face said as much. “Your wife has been delivered of a bouncing baby boy,” the doctor informed him.
   Felicia, who had finally stopped restraining herself from sleeping and yielded to the demand of nature, sprang to her feet and with the speed of light reached her son-in-law and held him in a strangulating embrace. "Thank God," she shouted amidst sobs. “I have finally conquered. May the Almighty God be praised forever.”
   “Amen!” the doctor said and beamed a smile at her.
   “Thank you very much, doctor,” Dave said to the young man in green outfit. “Can we see them now?”
   “Sure,” the doctor said and led the way.
   Dave made straight to the cot that held his son while Felicia went straight into her daughter’s waiting hands.
   “He is such a wonderful creature,” Dave stated admiringly. He was fiddling with the baby’s small and fragile hand when Felicia joined him.
   “Oh my God,” Felicia cried. “He is so beautiful.
   The baby was actually cute. Every part of him was perfect except for a natural ‘tattoo' – a triangular black patch on his right chest. But that was not in any way a diminution in the perfection his parents and maternal grandmother saw in him.
   “Our boy will never get lost. With this patch, we will always identify him even in the midst of his doubles,” Dave joked as he started towards his wife who was sitting on the edge of the bed. He sat beside her, put his arm round her shoulders and planted a passionate kiss on her inviting lips. “You are a mother now, my dear” he said with sobriety.
   “And you, a father,” she beamed with happiness.
   “God is so wonderful,” Dave said and held Theresa in a long and tight embrace once more.
   The naming ceremony, which held one week after the baby’s arrival, was a gathering of who was who. Bankers, relatives, friends, Famous Bank customers and well-wishers in their large numbers graced the occasion. Even Dave’s immediate family was wholly present. His mother arrived two days after the baby was born while all his sisters arrived a night before the ceremony. Theresa’s family was not left out. Her father and Sandy were among the first arrivals. Her only surviving sister, Agnes and two brothers, Luke and Dom were also present.
   “I have always had grand children but now I have a special grand child – a grandson whose arrival means the continuation of my husband’s lineage. Thank you for finally making this a possibility,” Susana had told Theresa on arrival.
   “I thank God for everything, mama.” Theresa had smiled apprehensively at her mother-in-law. The events - the face-off of yesteryears were still vividly fresh in her memory. She passed through hell in the hands of this woman and her daughters but who was she to grudge against anyone. God was the ultimate and just judge. Revenge was His and His alone. The past must remain in the past especially now that the Almighty had visited her with a divine favour.
   “And I want to apologize for the way I treated you all these years. I am really sorry,” Susana had added. “Will you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?”
   “Don’t talk like that, mama,” Theresa had said without hesitation. “Who am I not to forgive you? Besides all are now in the past. I don’t bother about the past. I only bother about now and the future.”
   “Thank you, my daughter.” Theresa could not remember the last time Susana called her ‘my daughter’. It must have been more than eight years. “You have made my day.” She had hugged her again and planted a kiss on her cheek.
   The naming ceremony was actually a reconciliatory forum for the age-long feud between Dave and Theresa’s families. Everyone, apparently forgetting or ignoring the past decided to make the best of the gathering.
   There were lots to eat and drink and the atmosphere was very peaceful and electrifying.
   Another interesting aspect of the occasion was the unequivocal competition by the guests to outshine one another in gift presentation.
   They showered little Emmanuel as he was christened, and his parents with different categories of gifts – toys, clothes, shoes, money and other baby’s items such as feeding bottles, sterilizing units, bathing bowls, activity walkers, strollers, hangers, flasks, diapers, baby cosmetics, baby’s bicycle and tricycles among many other gifts.
   Most prominent amongst all the gifts was a brand new car and a cheque for one million naira presented by the Finance Minister.
   “I am very delighted that you now have a child – a son who will keep your family name going. To God be the glory!” the minister said. “Silver and gold I have not but it is my wish that you drive him to school, when he comes of age, in this car while this money is to help maintain the car for a while.”
   “I am no longer comfortable with your friend’s behaviour towards us,” Theresa said angrily to Dave when they were alone in their bedroom later that night.
   “Which of my friends are you talking about?”
   “Who else if not the so-called minister,” Theresa said rudely.
   “What did he do wrong?”
   “You mean you don’t know?”
   “Yes, I really don’t know,” Dave said with all honesty.
   “Why did he have to buy us a car? Is he implying that we don’t have enough cars in this house? As if the insult was not enough, he also gave us money for the maintenance of the undesired car. What kind of embarrassment is that? Does he think we can’t maintain the car or what? For God’s sake, we have more than enough cars in this house and they are all in good shape,” Theresa fumed.
   “I think you are getting things muddled up here, dear” Dave said. “As far as I am concerned there is nothing wrong with what he did. I am sure he is sincerely happy for us and nothing more.”
   “Is that what you think?” Theresa said laconically and decided to drop the topics.
   It took more than a month before all the guests that graced the naming ceremony including Felicia left Dave’s house. Lizzy had earlier left with her husband on January second, a day after the naming ceremony. Even the policemen had also gone back to the barracks. The one week given to Dave by those after him had since elapsed. Dave’s life seemed not to be in danger after all or better put, any more and besides he must live up to his promise to his wife.
    I will do away with the police immediately after the baby is born.
    The only person that stayed back was Sandy and it was at Theresa’s request. She pleaded with her mother to leave Sandy with her in the mean time to help her with the house chores and in taking care of Emmanuel.



CHAPTER SEVEN




   The door opened suddenly and the GM rushed in with great excitement. It was about twenty-five minutes after the chairman arrived at his office. The GM didn’t bother to close the door after him neither did he care for pleasantries.
   “Hurray, we have made it.” He stated with a bow, his right hand was hidden behind his back.
   Dave leaned back on his chair and looked at him with confusion.
   The GM smiled happily at the chairman’s curiosity. “You seem to be lost.”
   “Yes, I am and I will appreciate it if you spare me further suspense,” Dave said impatiently.
   The GM withdrew his right hand from his back thereby bringing to Dave’s view a brown envelope. “I guess you should have a look at this,” he said and dropped the envelope on the desk.
   Dave looked from his GM to the envelope on his desk severally before reaching for it. He pulled out the letter in it, put on his glasses and began to read while Stan went majestically to the fridge and fetched a bottle of brandy and two glasses. As he dropped the brandy and glasses on the desk, Dave looked up at him and smiled.
   “This calls for celebration,” Dave said with a bold smile.
   “What do you think this brandy is doing on your desk?” Stan asked indicating at the bottle of brandy.
   Famous Bank Nigeria Ltd., according to the letter, had won the contract to collect school fees from all secondary school students in Lagos State on behalf of the State Government from thence. This new arrangement became necessary because of the State Government’s discovery of lack of transparency and accountability on the part of secondary school management with regard to the remittance of school fees collected by them.
   “With about four hundred thousand students paying one hundred and fifty naira commission each, three times annually, we are sure to hit the peak soonest,” Stan said dreamily as he poured himself some drink.
   Dave waited until Stan was through before pouring half a glass for himself. He took a mouthful of the drink, swallowed and heaved a noisy sigh. “Expansion, here we come.” He drank his drink again and began to look at the letter once more.
   Emmanuel is not feeling fine,” Theresa told Dave the moment he returned from the office that Friday afternoon.
   Dave dropped his briefcase with all urgency and sat near his wife to enable him have a good look at the boy on her laps. He had momentarily forgotten the good news – the news about the contract Famous Bank just landed – which compelled him to close at the office before his usual closing time. He wanted to give Theresa the good news without delay so that she would rejoice and celebrate with him.
   The news had to wait. Emmanuel was worth more than everything else.
   “What is the matter with him?” he asked staring at Theresa.
   “I don’t know exactly what it is but his stool has been very frequent and loose,” Theresa said in a choked voice. “And you can see he is very weak.”
   About an hour later, the couple was at St. Anthony’s hospital to see the doctor and after taking history and examining the child, the doctor made a diagnosis of gastroenteritis. He prescribed some medications and advised them on the need for good hygiene. They thanked the doctor and went home.
   “There is a lady here to see you, auntie,” Sandy told Theresa when she came out to the courtyard to welcome them upon their return from the hospital.
   Theresa’s eyes widened with curiosity and she turned to her husband as though he was supposed to know who the visitor was. “Who did she say she is?” she asked when her gaze returned to Sandy.
   “She gave her name as Dolly.”
   “Are you serious?” Theresa went wild with excitement. “Where is she?”
   “Sitting room.” Sandy answered.
   Theresa thrust Emmanuel into Sandy’s arms and ran towards the front door. She found Dolly in the sitting room and as though under the influence of an invisible force of attraction both women went into each other’s arms – no, they collided and then held each other tightly. They were still holding each other and giggling when Dave came into the sitting room with Sandy on his heels.
   “Hello, Dolly!” Dave greeted and both women disentangled reluctantly.
   “Hi!” Dolly said to Dave. “Congratulations,” she added and signaled Sandy to hand Emmanuel over to her. She took the little boy and looked him over admiringly. “He is so captivatingly handsome. He takes after his father.” She pointed out.
   “He should. A boy should take after his father and a girl, after her mother,” Theresa said with a laugh.
   “God is so faithful,” Dolly remarked. “Who could believe that you would ever carry you own child? Thank God. It is better late than never.”
   “We thank God for everything,” Dave said and Theresa nodded in concord.
   “When did you come back?” Theresa asked her friend when they had all taken their seats and Sandy had gone to the kitchen to do the dishes.
   Dolly was Theresa’s childhood and bosom friend. They grew up in the same neighbourhood in Enugu and attended the same primary and secondary schools. They were always in the same class and never apart from each other.
   Separation was however inevitable when they were through with secondary school and gained admission into different Universities. While Theresa was to study Mass Communication at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, Dolly went to University of Lagos, Akoka to study Pharmacy.
   Dolly later got married to a lecturer in her Department a year before her graduation. It was during Dolly’s wedding that Theresa met her husband.
   Dave neither knew Dolly nor Joe her husband but had attended their wedding in the company of Bassey, a friend of his, who happened to be a relation of Joe’s.
   The chance meeting of Dave and Theresa was always fresh in the couple’s minds and they wasted no time to make it a subject of discussion and happiness whenever they wished to go down memory lane:
   Theresa’s marriage to Dave was a dream come true to both Theresa and Dolly. It provided them the proximity needed for their once broken intimate friendship to return to the status quo.
   Dolly went to London lately with her husband courtesy of the lecturer’s sabbatical leave. “We came back yesterday night,” Dolly replied “and I had to come immediately to see things for myself.” She was swinging the baby on her laps.
   “What of your husband?” Dave asked. “I hope he is good.”
   “He is well. He went to school this morning and hasn’t returned as of the time I left home.” Dolly said.
   “Please offer her something,” Dave said to Theresa and started towards the stairs. “I need to shower. I will be right back.”
   “Okay,” Theresa said.
   “He is so big,” Dolly pointed out. “How old is he?”
   “He will be four months tomorrow.”
   “And he is this big?”
   Theresa smiled.

*****

   The four occupants of the hotel room were all in black robes. They were smoking profusely and the whole room was filled with smoke. There was absolute silence as they waited patiently for the arrival of their client.
   It wasn’t until after an hour of waiting that the door opened without warning and a short, dark man in black suit walked in. His left hand was partially paralyzed. He walked in briskly and occupied the only vacant seat in the room.
   Neither the new entrant nor the former occupants uttered a word until after five minutes of nothing but smoking. They never bothered with greetings and they seemed to prefer to be in silence.
   “I am sorry if I kept you waiting, gentlemen,” Stan started at last. “What matters is that I am here now. I believe you all know why we are gathered here this afternoon. This operation is long overdue. It was first put on hold to enable the target’s baby to be born. After the baby was born, the school fee contract from the Lagos State Government came up and because we needed the contract desperately, we decided to hold on once again so as not to send a wrong and tarnishing signal.” He paused and stared his four-man audience in the face one after the other. “We must strike now. There is no wasting more time.”
   The audience seemed not to be attentive going by their attitude. They were busy smoking. They didn’t even bother to look in the speaker’s direction.
   Stan was however not distracted one hoot for he knew pretty well that they were attending and noting even the most infinitesimal detail he was making.
   “Like I said earlier,” Stan continued, “today is the D-day. Make no mistakes. Make sure the police start the hunt for the murderers of father and son first thing tomorrow morning. Let no harm go the way of his wife, no matter the situation. But as for father and son, give them no chance of survival before leaving that house. Be careful not to leave any trace behind. The balance of your money will be made available to you after a job well done. Is that clear?”
   The men looked at one another before turning to their client but never spoke nor moved their heads instead they opened their mouths in unison and let out smoke.


*****


   “Who could this be?” Dave asked himself when it became clear to him that he wasn’t dreaming. Somebody was actually knocking on the front door. The knock came again, this time harder and more prolonged.   “I think somebody is at the door,” Theresa said. She yawned elaborately and patted her mouth. She sat up and stretched like a pussycat. “Is it morning already.” The tone of her voice showed that she hadn’t had enough sleep.
   Dave knew that it wasn’t morning but he had no idea what the time was. His groping hand found the bedside switch and the whole room was lit up.
   The time was 12:56am.
   Theresa’s eyes became huge with apprehension when she saw what the time was. “Who could it be – at this time of the night?” she was very alarmed and she made no effort to hide her fear.
   But who would not be alarmed with the spate of armed robbery, kidnapping and other violent crimes rampant in the society?
   Dave reluctantly climbed out of bed and made for downstairs with his curious wife following closely. “Who is it?” he asked when they reached the front door.
   “Mark,” answered a male voice with great urgency.
   “Who is Mark?” Theresa asked Dave in a whisper.
   “Mark?” Dave asked impatiently.
   “Yes. Pa Ben’s steward.” There was a clear impatience in Mark’s voice.
   Theresa’s sigh of relief was so loud that even Mark must have heard it.
   “What is the matter, Mark?” Dave asked as he unlocked the door. “I hope all is well.” Even as he made that comment he was sure that there was problem. What else would make a person knock on a neighbour’s door in the dead of the night if not trouble? He only prayed that the problem was not an insurmountable one.
   “Oga is very sick – in fact he is unconscious right now,” Mark said the moment the door was opened.
   “Unconscious?” Dave and Theresa chorused.
   “Just a minute,” Dave said and dashed back into the house.
   Theresa stayed back and asked Mark few questions before Dave reappeared. He was dressed up and clutching his car keys. “I wish to take him to the hospital right away,” he told Theresa as he approached and walked across the door. “I will be back before you know it.”
   Theresa nodded her approval despite herself and locked up. She went back to the bedroom and found Emmanuel sleeping soundly. She gently stroked his little hand and went to the bed and sat down instead of lying down. She was filled with mixed feelings. She felt sorry for Pa Ben and considered it proper that her husband had gone to take him to the hospital but even at that she could not ignore the possible implications of Dave’s adventure.
   The streets were very dangerous at night.
   She impulsively got up and began to pace. She was so tensed up that she almost fainted when a knock came on the door of their bedroom. She had temporarily forgotten that she was not home alone. Sandy was living with them.
   The second knock seemed to restore her memory.
   “Sandy?” she called softly.
   “Yes auntie.” Sandy opened the door and walked in. “Where is uncle?” she asked. There was fear in her voice. She knew that someone had earlier knocked on the front door and suspected that Dave later left with whoever it was but couldn’t understand why.
   “He went out,” Theresa said flatly.
   “At this time of the night?” she said looking at the wall clock. “Why and with whom?”
   “Pa Ben took ill a short while ago, according to his steward, Mark and he has gone to take him to the hospital,” Theresa explained.
   “Oh poor old man,” Sandy said sympathetically. “I hope his condition is not very bad.”
   “It actually is,” Theresa supplied. “His steward said that he was unconscious.”
   “Jeeesus Christ!” Sandy screamed.
   Theresa and her young niece were still talking when a knock on the front door, interrupted them.
   “He is back,” Theresa said with relief. “Make haste and open the door for him,” she said to Sandy and the girl promptly ran downstairs.
   Sandy threw the door open without asking who was knocking and instead of Dave, she saw four hefty men armed to the teeth. Their faces were covered with masks. She placed her left hand over her mouth and let out a muffled cry.
   “If you make any wrong move you will die instantly,” Duke, the leader of the gang cautioned the young girl. He quickly grabbed her right arm and ordered her to take them to her uncle’s bedroom.
   “Don’t kill me, sir. Please, I beg you in the name of God,” Sandy pleaded as she was shoved towards the staircase. She had never been so frightened in her young life.
   “No harm will come your way so long as you abide by our biddings. Is that clear?” her captor asked.
   “Yes, sir.” Sandy sobbed.
   Sandy was shoved into the bedroom the moment she opened the door. Theresa was so petrified that she almost tripped and fell over when she swiftly spun around to see what was happening. Her heart stood still for a while when the unfolding scenario began to make sense to her. She opened her mouth to scream but no sound came forth.
   “Where is your husband,” Duke asked the older woman while advancing towards her.
   Theresa wanted to answer but still could not find her voice.
   “Are you deaf or dumb or both?” one of the men, Santo asked and began to advance menacingly towards her but was stopped by Duke’s raised hand.
   “I am going to ask you again and I will appreciate it if you answer me – honestly,” Duke said, putting his arm round Theresa’s shoulders.  She stiffened. “Now tell me, where is your husband?”
   “He went out.” Theresa stated in a shaky voice.
   Duke withdrew his arm from her shoulders. “Smart guy,” he smirked at her. “So he sensed danger and decided to hide, isn’t it? Now tell us where he is hiding.”
   “My husband is not home. He went out few minutes before you arrived.”
   “Liar!” Duke barked and slapped Theresa across the face. “That’s what you are – a professional liar. Where could he have gone to at this time of the nights?”
   There was no need telling them what happened. They wouldn’t believe her. So she kept mute.
   “Well,” Duke said gently, “since you don’t want to tell us where he is hiding, we will find him ourselves but I promise you will be sorry when we do.” He turned to his men and instructed them to search the whole house and bring Dave to him dead or alive.
   They left the room immediately and after about ten minutes, which seemed like an eternity to Theresa they came back. “No sign of him and we discovered that one of his cars is not in the garage.” Santo reported.
   “That means he was truly not home when we arrived,” Duke soliloquized. He was very angry and his anger was directed to Stan. How could that ugly bastard send them on an assignment when he was not sure of the target’s itinerary?
   What do we do now? He asked himself. Go back and wait for another time?
   He bent his head thoughtfully and after a moment he let out a sharp cry. “No,” he yelled and even his men were startled. “We must have something to show for taking this risk,” he concluded and started towards the cot. On getting to the cot, he took his time to observe the baby therein. “What a fine baby!” He said, turning to face Theresa, who watched with obvious apprehension. “It is not surprising though, a beautiful woman like you can only beget beautiful children.” He bent and picked up the small boy, swung him gently for a fleeting moment and then headed towards the door without saying another word.
   “Where are you taking my baby to,” Theresa cried.
   Duke stopped abruptly but didn’t bother to turn to face her. “You will find out later, darling,” he said calmly and moved on.
   Theresa ran after the bearer of her only child. “Give me my baby.” She screamed. She didn’t take up to six steps before Santo pushed her back and the door was locked from outside with Theresa and Sandy inside.
   Theresa couldn’t do anything else except to bang on the door until her limbs were all seriously bruised. She sat huddled up against the door and cried until her tear glands produced tears no more.

*****

   “Why did we kidnap the baby instead of killing him there and then as planned?” Santo asked Duke as the assassins sped away in their car. They had uncovered their faces and the expression on Santo’s face was a mixture of anger and confusion.
   Duke looked at the small creature sleeping peacefully on his laps and hissed. “That was because I didn’t wish to be directly involved in his death.”
   “How do you mean?” Santo asked.
   “Was I ambiguous?” Duke queried, glaring at him. “I said I didn’t want to be directly involved in his death. Isn’t that clear enough?”
   “But you accepted to do that. Why change your mind at the eleventh hour?” Santo persisted.
   “Well, let’s say it just occurred to me that killing a human being is an abomination.”
   Santo’s jaw dropped as he stared at their leader for close to a minute. He later turned to the rest of the men and they burst into a long laugh.
   “You make me laugh, chief Duke,” Santo said still laughing. “I mean, how can a ‘killomaniac’ like you say that killing a human being is an abomination?”
   “You may not understand,” Duke said with a serious expression. “But in all honesty I have never killed a human being in my life.”
   Santo’s eye became wider. “Pardon?”
   “If you didn’t hear me then I will repeat myself. I have never killed a human being in my life.” He repeated. “All the people I have killed were animals not human beings. I mean how else can you describe those people, whose hobbies consisted in looting the public treasury, dealing on fake and hard drugs, 419 among other crimes? So I consider killing such people a service to the society and humanity.”
   “But you are no better than those you categorized as animals. Aren’t you a criminal just as they?” Jackson who was in front with the driver interjected.
   “You are right,” Duke said after a brief silence. “Those we killed in the past were wolves. Those we will kill in future are wolves and we are wolves. I don’t think there is anything wrong with wolves eating wolves. What I consider wrong is wolves eating sheep.” He paused and looked at the sleeping boy again. “This is a harmless sheep – an innocent blood – a blood that knows no contamination or infestation. What good reason would God have for sparing us if we shed this blood?”
   There was a total silence in the car when Duke finished. He was right and his men seemed to share his view.
   “What then do we do with him?” Santo asked.
   “We will abandon him in a bush.”
   “What!” Santo screamed, narrowing his eyes. “Wait a minute. Let’s be realistic here. Don’t you think somebody might find the baby and send him to the police or the press and that way his parents would be able to recover him?”
   “It is within the realm of possibilities that someone might find him – in fact I pray for that to happen but what is not within the realm of possibilities is his being sent to the police or the press. This is because we are taking him to the remotest of all villages where police and press men are seen once in a blue moon.”





CHAPTER EIGHT




   Dave couldn’t wait to get home that morning. He could imagine how worried his wife would be. He had told her that he wouldn’t take long but couldn’t help waiting to see that Pa Ben was in a stable condition and in good hands before leaving the hospital. He had tried getting her on phone from the hospital but the line wasn’t connecting.
   He looked at his wristwatch as he loped towards the front door.
   The time was 5:18am.
   He was very surprised to find the door open. He looked around and wondered if Theresa didn’t remember to lock the door after he left. He stepped into the dark sitting room, found the switch and started upstairs. He tried to open the bedroom door but discovered that it was locked.
   “Darling,” he called out to Theresa.
   “Uncle, the door is locked from outside,” Sandy said with a voice cracked from long period of crying and sobbing.
   “How do you mean…” Dave’s voice tailed off when he saw the key in the lock. He became alarmed and hurriedly unlocked the door. His first attempt to open the door proved abortive because Theresa was still leaning against the door. It was only when she got up and stepped aside that the door opened and Dave burst in.
   Theresa reached for him immediately and clinging tightly to him, renewed her crying. Sandy exited the room immediately; her face was streaked with tears.
   “What happened?” Dave asked as he tried to free himself from Theresa’s grip. He was very alarmed.
   “It is Emmanuel,” she said incoherently.
   “What about him?” Dave asked while at the same time turning towards his son’s cot. He was not there. “Where is he? Where is my son?” he cried on top of his voice and rushed to the cot.
   He felt so giddy after listening to the story of woes told by his wife. The full import of what happened hit him like a cyclone and within seconds he was whirled into oblivion. It took him more than five minutes to get hold of himself. He picked up the phone on the nightstand but there was no dialing tone. He dropped it without caring whether or not it was properly replaced on the cradle and rushed downstairs to the sitting room. He discovered also that the phone there had no dialing tone.
   It was only then that he noticed that the telephone wires had been disconnected. No wonder he couldn’t reach his wife from the hospital.
   “Oh my God, what do I do now,” he slumped to his knees and cried like a baby.
   About an hour later, he arrived at the Police Station where he reported the incident. He later drove to the popular radio and TV stations and reported before driving back home in total depression.

*****

   Why is he still alive,” Stan queried. His anger knew no bounds. “You claimed to be experts but you couldn’t execute a minor task. I am very disappointed in you.”
   Duke paced around briefly in anger. “I don’t care a hoot whether or not you are disappointed in us but I wish to advise you never to give us unreliable information next time – that is if there will be a next time. Any attempt to do so will be considered as sabotage and will not be tolerated,” he retorted, his eyes popping with rage.
   Stan became confused. He stared at Duke for a long moment before he asked his question, “What do you mean by unreliable information?”
   Duke hesitated. “Well, we discovered that our main target was not home when we struck. He left more than fifteen minutes before we arrived,” he explained.
   “Are you kidding me?” Stan asked and Duke answered by scowling at him.
   Stan got up and paced slowly. “Where could he have gone at that time of the night?” he asked no one in particular.
   “We should be asking you that question,” Duke fired. “You assured us that he would be home. Didn’t you?”
   What went wrong? Did the plot leak out?
   Stan was pacing furiously now. No. I don’t think it leaked out, if it did, he would have fled with his family. Where then did he go and why – at that time of the night? He asked himself.
   He went back to his seat. “I am really sorry that my information happened to be unreliable. He personally told me that he would be home. I am sure that something came up along the line that necessitated his absence,” Stan said and silence followed. “But tell me, why did you kidnap his son instead of killing him as planned and what did you do with him afterwards?”
   “We killed him and dumped him in a bush outside the town,” Duke lied. “We decided to kidnap him before killing him in order to divert the attention of both the police and his parents. They will be running from pillar to post in search of the boy instead of his killers.”
   “Good thinking!” Stan exclaimed happily. He was very delighted with Duke’s strategy. Duke was right – the police would be busy searching for Dave’s son and by the time it would dawn on them that the boy was dead, Dave himself would be dead as well.”
   Stan reached for the phone after Duke and his colleagues had gone. The phone rang three times before the minister picked it up.
   “Hello!”
   “He is still alive,” Stan told him without bothering with greetings.
   “I know,” the Minister’s voice was very cold.
   “How did you find out?”
   “The announcement about his kidnapped son was on air this morning and it was signed by him,” the minister explained.
   “I see.”
   “What happened?” the minister sounded even colder this time.
   “I don’t really know but the leader of the gang said that he was not home when they struck.”
   “Damn it!” Stan could feel the Minister’s frustration. “So, why did they kidnap the boy? They were supposed to kill him. Wasn’t that the plan?”
   Stan wasted no time in detailing the minister on the assassins’ strategy.
   “Those guys have got great brains. I like their strategy,” the minister said happily.
*****

The hunter’s ears pricked up.
   This must be a bush baby. If not how did a child find its way into a bush as big as this? He said to himself.
   He began to tiptoe towards the animal, stopping intermittently to discern the right direction to follow and also to avoid alerting the animal. After many hours of fruitless stay in the bush, he could not afford to make any uncalculated move.
   He stopped in his track when he saw the source of the cry. There before him was a child which was barely four months, wrapped in a white shawl. The hunter looked around hoping to see the owner of the baby but there was nobody in sight. He edged closer to the child and dropped his gun beside him. He looked around again and hesitated for a while before stooping to pick the child up. He looked around again on straightening up and still there was no sign of any human being around.
   What a wicked world! Why do people bring children into the world only to abandon them?
   He retrieved his gun from the ground and hurried out of the bush.
   His wife as expected was not home. She had left for the village market before he went out to hunt.
   “Stop crying, my dear. Please stop crying,” the hunter cooed to the baby as he laid him in bed. He looked around the room with frustration.
   What do I do to make this boy stop crying?
   He bit his upper lip. There was no baby food in his house and the boy was obviously crying because of hunger. Since the baby was not old enough to eat solid food, he must dash to a nearby provision store and buy baby food.
   Another problem was that he had never bought baby food before and wouldn’t know the one that will be appropriate for the baby’s age.
   I will ask the shopkeeper when I get there, he told himself.
   One more problem – he had never prepared baby food nor fed a baby before but first he must buy the baby food.
   He almost had a head-on collision with his wife as he was absentmindedly running out of the house.
   “Where are you rushing to, George and whose baby is crying in the bedroom?” his wife asked, wondering what was going on.
   “Thank God you are here,” George said letting out a noisy sigh of relief. “Please take care of the crying baby. I will be back in a jiffy.”
   “That has not in any way answered my questions,” the woman shot at her husband. “I wish to know what is going on here. Who owns the baby you are asking me to take care of? I don’t want to be accused of kidnapping.” She added while relieving her head of a basket filled with foodstuffs.
   “Please, Monica, I don’t think there is time for inquisitions and explanations. As you can see, the baby is crying incessantly and that is because he is hungry. I want to get him something to eat. I will explain everything when I return,” George pleaded and dashed off before his wife could throw another question at him.

*****

   “You can’t continue this way. You have to wipe your tears and look up to God. I have a strong feeling that your son is alive – hale and hearty and will soon be found. The Almighty God who gave him to you in the first place would definitely not allow any harm come his way.” Stella counseled her friend. Stella had made it a point of duty to stop by daily and console Theresa and her husband since their son was kidnapped a week ago.
   Theresa looked steadily at Stella but only saw a silhouetted figure. Her vision was blurred by tears. “How could you make me believe that Emmanuel is still alive? No! That isn’t possible – not after seven days. Even if his kidnappers decided not to kill him, hunger would.” She had cried all week and seemed ready to cry forever.
   “Lunch is ready,” Felicia announced after serving Theresa’s lunch on the dining table. She had come back to take care of her daughter immediately she received the sad news about the kidnapping of her grandson.
   Theresa neither looked in her mother’s direction nor uttered a word. She was leaning back on her seat with her arms folded tightly across her bosom. She looked like someone who just regained consciousness after days in coma.
   “Didn’t you hear your mother?” Stella chastised. “Go and eat your lunch.”
   “I don’t want to eat.” Theresa said flatly.
   “Why not?” Stella asked with concern.
   “I don’t have appetite for food,” Theresa said acidly. “How could I eat when I don’t know my son’s fate? Why should I eat when my happiness has been stolen from me? How can I eat when my world has crumbled under my feet? Tell me why I should ever eat again in my battered life.”
   “Because you need to stay alive to witness the return of your son,” Stella said gently. “Why do you want to make him motherless by starving yourself to death?”
   “Stop giving me ideas, Stella. Emmanuel is dead. That is the fact. Let’s face the fact and stop shying away from it? I will never see my son – alive again.”
   “Shh!” Stella hushed. “How could you say a thing like that? Don’t you have faith in God anymore? Do you doubt His omniscience and omnipotence? With him all things are…”
   Both women’s attention shifted to the front door when it swung open and Dave and the Finance Minister walked in.
   Theresa sprang to her feet instantly and took a few steps towards her husband. “Any news?”
   “None yet,” Dave answered calmly. He was passing through the most difficult moment of his life but he always put up a cheerful countenance notwithstanding. He knew that any attempt to expose his true feelings would not augur well for Theresa who had a very fragile emotion.
   Theresa slowly went back to her seat, sat down and clasped her hands between her laps.
   “I hope she has offered you something,” Dave said to Stella as he walked briskly to the bar.
   “I am okay,” Stella replied with a dry smile.
   Dave returned a few moments later with a glass and a bottle of drink. He made to pour some quantity for the minister but his raised hand stopped him.
   “I don’t care for a drink right now,” he told Dave and moved closer to Theresa. “I am very sorry about the kidnapping of your son.” His voice was filled with emotion.
   “Thanks,” Theresa said without looking at him.
   “I have a feeling that no harm will come to him by the grace of God,” the minister continued, “and I promise to use my position to prevail upon the police to intensify their efforts at finding him,” he added.
   “Thanks,” Theresa said again and rose to her feet. “I think I need some sleep,” she said and started upstairs. She looked so miserable that Dave feared that she might slump. Stella followed her but not without taking the lunch Felicia served earlier, along.

*****

   “How is he?” George asked Monica when he returned home from hunting.
   “He is well. Can’t you see that for yourself?” Monica asked smiling up at her husband. “He scares me with the rate at which he grows. He gets fatter and taller on minute basis.”
   “Good.” George smiled happily. “I brought this bush meat home. I want you to prepare it the way you like and eat it alone if you can so that you will have the strength to take good care of George.”
   “What?” Monica exclaimed. “I don’t think I have to finish a whole bush meat to be able to take good care of you,” she said with an amiable smile.
   George narrowed his eyes. “Take care of me? Who is talking about me?”
   Monica became totally lost. “But you said George. Didn’t you?”
   George began to laugh. “Oh no, I meant the child on your laps.”
   “Is his name George as well? And how did you find out? Was it written and tagged on him?”
   “That is the name I want us to call him from today,” George stated.
   “I see…. That reminds me,” Monica said with seriousness. “What do we do with him?”
   “He is our son, we will do with him whatever other parents do with their children,” George said without hesitation.
   Monica was overjoyed at her husband’s proclamation. She had longed to keep the baby right from the first moment she set eyes on him. He was a charming little creature and besides he would be the child her many years of marriage to her husband had not been able to produce.
   George junior was the best thing that ever happened to his new parents. Though the couple never ran a strained relationship, his entrance into their family had further strengthened the bond between them. They now lived their lives around him and that went a long way in fostering a better understanding and love between them.
   The family’s standard of living was also affected positively. Since the little boy was picked up close to three months back, his foster father had never returned from his hunting without a good catch. The money he made from the sales of the games he caught over this period surpassed what he made in the whole of the year before.
   Monica for her part was doing better in her foodstuff business. She owned a stall at the village market. The market didn’t open for business daily but whenever it did - once in four days - traders and buyers from far and near gathered in their large numbers to transact businesses.
   Monica’s business suffered a tremendous setback in the first few weeks of Junior’s entrance into her life. She had to stay home all day in order to nurse the little boy whom to her mattered more than anything else in the world. But with, her brother’s second daughter, Eunice joining her about a month back, it had become business as usual once more only that now it seemed that the whole market wanted to buy foodstuffs from her.
   “I don’t think we gave this boy a befitting name,” Monica stated as she bathed Junior one morning.
   George’s happy countenance changed immediately. “How do you mean? Are you implying that George is not a good name?”
   “Far from it. That is not the aspect I am looking at. I am referring to the fortune his entrance has brought into our home. He has brought us good luck.” Monica smiled at her husband. “I think we should have called him Goodluck.”
   George smiled and then sobered up. “What is that on his chest?” George was taken aback to see the triangular black patch on Junior’s chest.
   “You mean this?” Monica pointed at the patch and George nodded. “Are you just seeing it for the first time?”
   George edged closer to have a proper look at the patch. “Yes. It looks like a tattoo,” He noted.
   “A natural tattoo,” Monica said. “It was there the first day you brought him home.”
   “Are you serious? How come I never saw it all this while? I thought I was observant.”
   “You can now see you are not.” Monica said with a friendly mockery. “Eunice!” she called impatiently.
   “Yes auntie!” the young girl answered from inside the house.
   “Can’t you find the clothes?”
   “I am coming, auntie.”
   Few moments later the young girl emerged from the house clutching some worn out baby clothes.





CHAPER NINE




   Theresa’s day at the supermarket was very hectic.
   The day before was the first time she set foot in the supermarket since her son was kidnapped more than three months back. She had decided to put the past behind her and forge ahead, hoping for a brighter tomorrow.
   Her supermarket had been under the care of her staff over the period she was absent and stocktaking was necessary to ascertain how they had faired.
   “Christopher!”
   “Yes, Madam.” The young man answered and hurriedly walked to Theresa.
   “The stock book says we still have six big tins of Milo but I can’t see any on display,” Theresa said transfixing the young man with a steady gaze.
   Christopher scratched his head briefly. “Let me check. Maybe they are in the store,” he said and walked across to a store adjoining the supermarket.
   Theresa was busy cross-checking other items when Christopher reappeared with a carton.
   “They are in this carton, Madam,” he sounded very relieved.
   “Meaning what?” Theresa spun abruptly to face her manager. The look on her face was so fierce that the young man flinched. “How do you ever hope to sell a commodity that is not on display? I use to think you were wise but you have proved to be a big fool. I am sure that big Milo is not alone in this under the counter style of business. Many other commodities are probably not on display. They are sure to be hidden in some cartons hidden somewhere in the store. All you did while I was away was come and sit down and then chat. Whether or not anything was sold was the least of your concern. Look at your sales for three months, it is not up to 50% of what used to be our one-month sales,” she said flipping through the pages of the sales book in order to drive home her message. “I also discovered that many commodities have been out of stock for more than one month now and you never bothered to replace them. How can you ever succeed in life with this complacent business attitude?” She paused to catch her breath. “Well I don’t blame you. Your salary is not affected no matter the conditions of business but be it known to you that you will own a business one day. I can bet you that you won’t do well in your own business if you deliberately fail to manage other people’s businesses well. That is the law of nature… the law of retributive justice!”
   Theresa was practically panting for breath after her tirade.
   The young man’s gaze was fixed on the floor while his madam’s scolding lasted. He was filled with shame and remorse. “I am sorry, madam. It will not happen again,” he pleaded still focusing his gaze on the floor.
   “You should be sorry for yourself not me,” Theresa barked and stormed into her office.
   Theresa acted out of character and she knew it. She was not given to shouting at people. She was always in full control of her temper but since her son was kidnapped, she lashed out at people at the slightest provocation.
   She was in her office regretting, not for scolding Christopher but for having to use some harsh words on him. She would not apologize to him but she must find a way of showing him that she was sorry – for using harsh words.
   She was still going through the stock book when somebody knocked on the door.
   She looked up. “You may enter.”
   The door opened and Stella walked in, beaming with smile. “Hello!” she bade happily
   “Hi!” Theresa got up and greeted her visitor with an embrace. “You are welcome. Please, do have a seat.”
   “Thanks,” Stella said after sitting down. “How are you today?”
   Theresa walked back to her seat. “I am managing,” she replied with a charming smile, the first real smile Stella had seen since Emmanuel was kidnapped. “And you and your family?”
   Stella was very glad that her friend was fast coming back to life. Her present disposition clearly showed that she was on the brink of getting over the kidnapping of her son.
   “We are fine,” Stella responded. “Cynthia sent her love.”
   “That is nice of her. How did you know I was here?”
   “I went to the house and Sandy told me. I am happy you are fast regaining your usual form.”
   Theresa smiled again. “I have realized that God has a reason for whatever happens on earth. He is omniscient and is in a better position to decide what happens.”
   Stella was marveled at the level of emotional and psychological transformation her friend had undergone within a short time. The last time she was with her was a week back and then she was still brooding over the incident as though it happened the day before.
   Time is the ultimate healer indeed, she concluded.
   “Thanks very much for being there during my trying moments.” Theresa’s voice was emotion-ridden. “What would I have done without you?”
   “What are friends for?” was all Stella could say in response.
   “What do I offer you?” Theresa asked as she got up and started towards the door.
   “Nothing, I am okay.”
    “No way!” Theresa stated emphatically. “You must take something or else…” Theresa allowed her voice to trail.
   “Or else what?”
   “You become my prisoner.”
   Stella threw her head back and laughed loudly. “Anything soft, if you insist.”
   “I insist,” Theresa said.
   “I would rather drink something than become your prisoner.” Stella was still laughing.
 Theresa, also laughing, walked to the door. “Rose!” she called when she opened the door.
   “Yes, madam.” The young lady answered and approached Theresa at the double. Theresa instructed her on what to do and shut the door.
   Few moments later, Rose entered the office with a packet of juice and two glasses. She set the items on the table and hurriedly exited the office.

*****
   Dave was packing his things to leave his office that Saturday evening when the phone rang.
   He had been in the office for more than five hours studying an application for loan sent in by Smith and Sons Construction Company Ltd., SSCC. The Construction Company, which recently won a contract for the rehabilitation of the Lagos – Benin expressway needed a mobilization fee of six billion naira but could afford four billion naira only. The company consequently wrote a proposal to Famous Bank together with three other banks seeking a loan of five hundred million naira from each of the banks since a new Federal Government policy had placed an embargo on the mobilization of contractors by the Government.
   Dave was overly pleased with the terms of the proposal as stated by SSCC. A ten-percent interest on five hundred million naira per annum was not a bad deal at all. He was happy that this kind of deal came at a time when Famous Bank could spare the money involved.
   The contract with the Lagos State Government had been a major financial breakthrough for the bank.
   Stan had long finished studying the application, which came about two month’s back and sent it to Dave for cross-examination and endorsement.
   Dave would have since finished cross-examining the application together with his GM’s recommendation but the pandemonium and psychological instability brought about by the kidnapping of his son posed a major hindrance.
   He couldn’t pull himself together to go through the documents until that Saturday evening, two days to the deadline for a reply to SSCC.
   With no positive result coming from the search for his son, he decided to turn his attention to his business once again less he lost it as well. So his presence in the bank that Saturday evening was a last minute attempt to beat the reply deadline, which was the following Monday morning.
   He looked at his wristwatch.
   7:54pm.
   Who knows I am here by this time? He wondered. It is either Theresa or Stan, he reasoned and picked up the phone.
   “Hello!”
   Silence.
   “Hello!” Dave said again impatiently.
   “Hello!” A voice on the other end said huskily. “Is that Famous Bank?”
   “Yes?”
   “Good,” the voice said. “And I suppose I am speaking with the chairman.”
   Something about the caller’s voice rang a bell in Dave’s brain. It was indisputable that he had heard the voice before but couldn’t figure out where and when.
   “Yes,” Dave was monosyllabic, “but I don’t seem to know who I am talking with. Don’t you think you should introduce yourself?”
   “Let that not bother you for now,” the voice said slowly, “you will find out who I am in the course of our discussion.”
   Dave’s insides were knotted with fear when he got an inkling of who his caller was. The way and manner the caller talked left no doubt in his mind that the caller was one of those people threatening his life.
   “What do you want from me this time and where is my son?” Dave said and quickly opened his briefcase and brought out a tape recorder. He had been carrying a small tape recorder about after his GM advised him to endeavour to get the anonymous caller’s voice on tape when next he called.
   He pushed down the record button and kept it near the phone which was already on speaker.
   “I am happy that you have finally recognized me. You have a sound memory and I congratulate you on that.” The caller was having fun while Dave was sweating like a ‘Christmas goat’. “Well, I didn’t call you this evening to talk about your son. That is in the past. I never talk about the past.” He paused for a brief moment and then continued. “You must be racking your brain in a mental search for who you have wronged in the past. It may not have occurred to you that the takeover of my house by your bank didn’t and will never go down well with me. I have been patient all these years hoping that you would come back to your senses and hand back my house to me but you have proven to be heartless.  So I decided to teach you a little lesson but you learn very slowly. In my magnanimity I will give you one more week to return my house else I will be constrained to send you to your grave just like your son. One week!” he emphasized and the line went dead.
   Dave was motionless more than five minutes after the faceless caller had hung up. He was totally crushed to learn conclusively that his beloved son – who he was still hoping to find one day - was dead but the situation at hand, was much more overwhelming.
   He reached for his tape recorder and played back his new tape. The voice was loud and clear.
   He nodded severally.
   I am sure the police will know what to do with this, he said aloud and put both the cassette and the tape recorder back in his briefcase and left the office.
   “Good night, Oga,” one of the bank’s security men on night duty, who opened the gate for him bade him as he drove out of the bank premises.
   “Good night,” Dave barely finished responding before his car sped off with a screeching sound into the dark and lonely street.

*****

   “I am inspector Clement and this is my colleague, Mr. Lawrence,” The policeman introduced showing his ID card. Mr. Lawrence also showed his ID card. “We are from the Central Police Station, Yaba.”
   Theresa’s heart skipped a beat.
   Police?
   Her husband didn’t return home last night.
   Though she was not completely comfortable with that, she gave it little thought, though. This was not the first time Dave slept over in his office. He had done that on many occasions – especially when urgent issues such as the one he had gone to tackle came up.
   So, his not returning home from the office the night before was not strange to Theresa. What was strange was lack of information. Dave didn’t tell her that he wouldn’t come back home that night before leaving the house. He also didn’t call from the office to inform her.
   She tried calling the office at about 1:00am. Though she had full conviction that he was in his office, she still wanted to make assurance doubly sure. She dialed the office line three times and three times nobody answered it.
   The office line was probably faulty and that was why Dave couldn’t call to inform her about his plan to stay over in the office.
   Dave’s absence from the house never came between her and her sleep. She had slept soundly and even when she awoken around 6:10am that morning, it never crossed her mind that any form of calamity could have befallen her husband.
   But with the police paying her an early morning visit, she suspected a disaster.
   “Yes? What can I do for you?” her voice was almost inaudible.
   “We wish to speak with Mr. David Eze’s next of kin.”
   Theresa went pale with fear. She was almost certain that her husband had been involved in an auto crash.
   Father God let it be that he only sustained minor injuries, she prayed silently.
   “You are already speaking to his next of kin. I am his wife,” she told the policemen as she strained every nerve to sound and remain calm.
   Inspector Clement turned and looked at his colleague and the young, fair man signaled to the inspector to go ahead, with a slight movement of his head.
   Inspector Clement then turned to face Theresa once again.
   “I am sorry to inform you, madam that your husband was assassinated last night on his way home from…”

*****

   “Where am I?”
   A man in a white overcoat approached and smiled broadly at her. “Don’t worry, my dear. You are in good hands. We will take care of you,” he said softly.
   Theresa looked around her and all the occupants of the room were in white garment. She didn’t have the slightest idea of where she was.
   Could it be that she had died and gone to heaven?
   If not, how come everyone was dressed in white robe? The man in white overcoat was still standing beside where she was lying. He was fiddling with colourless fluid in a transparent bag hanging on a metallic pole that stood nearby. The bag of fluid was connected to her left arm via narrow rubber tubing.
   What is going on here? She asked but nobody heard her. If they heard her, they did nothing to show it.
   “Will somebody tell me where I am this minute?” she screamed with all her strength. She suddenly started tossing and turning - kicking and slapping the air with her limbs.
   “Patricia!” the man called, trying to restrain her indiscriminate body movement and two of the ladies in the room hastily approached. “Watch over her,” he instructed and walked out of the room instead of answering Theresa’s question.
   Few minutes later the man returned with two men and a young girl. The young girl rushed to Theresa and threw herself at her.
   “Auntie! Oh, thank God you are still alive. Thank God!” the young girl cried.
   Theresa’s memory was instantly aroused when she heard the young girl’s voice.
   This voice certainly belongs to Sandy, she thought and her attention shifted to the two men that entered with Sandy, and these men… I can remember seeing them somewhere not too long ago.
   Theresa had fainted the moment she received the shocking news about her husband’s assassination. The bearers of the news immediately rushed her to the hospital where she recovered consciousness about an hour later.
   Fully conscious now and knowing where she was and why she was there, she broke down and began to wail. All efforts by the doctor and the nurses to calm her persuasively were all exercise in futility. She kept wailing until the doctor gave her an intravenous injection. Her cry and struggle kept waning and the doctor who stared into her face as he slowly pushed the drug in the syringe into her vein kept drawing farther away and becoming smaller. She finally rolled her eyes and slid them shut in total submission to the whims and caprices of a deep slumber.
   She was asleep all right but she could still see and hear with clarity. She saw two men she couldn’t recognize – one was short and light-skinned while the other was tall and dark. She could also notice that the tall, dark man’s left hand was partially paralyzed while his right hand held a small boy whom she later discovered was her son Emmanuel.
   She became wild with happiness. So Emmanuel was still alive. With time her happiness was replaced with fear. Fear of the unknown… the fear that the men, who had her son in custody, might be kidnappers.
   Or assassins! She must confront them and recover her son from them.
   She only took a step in the direction of the men who were about twenty metres away when suddenly Dave appeared from nowhere and began to struggle with the tall, dark-skinned man probably to retrieve Emmanuel from him. As the struggle for the small boy raged on, the short, light-skinned man shot Dave with a very long riffle and both men fled.
   Theresa squeaked and rushed to the scene of the incident but to her greatest surprise she could not see her husband, who was hitherto lying in a pool of his own blood, any more. She was battling to solve the puzzle that just played out when her eyes opened. She looked around and noticed that she was still in the hospital.
   She had been dreaming.
   “Why are all these happening to me…, God?” she cried. “First, it was childlessness and when the child eventually came after ten long years of marriage, he was kidnapped and now my husband has been assassinated.” She closed her eyes and began to wail again. “Who did I offend? Oh my God! Who is doing this to me?”
   “Take it easy, madam,” the doctor who just re-entered the ward approached her. “What happened has happened and I really sympathize with you. Honestly I do but you need to pull yourself together or else a serious health condition might arise. Your blood pressure is rather on the high side right now and your present state of mind will do nothing but worsen the situation.”
   “Keep your advice to yourself, doctor.” Her eyes could be likened to a spring. “I don’t have anything to live for any longer, so, I don’t care in the least whether or not my blood pressure is normal.”
   “On the contrary,” the doctor said in a whisper, “you have something very precious to live for.”
   Theresa darted an angry look at the doctor. “What could that be?” she asked.
   “You are pregnant,” the doctor announced with a broad smile.
   Theresa looked steadily but blankly at the doctor. She didn’t know whether to believe him or not. Maybe the doctor was using pregnancy as a ploy to calm her down.
   But even as she thought that the doctor could be lying to her, she knew that he was serious. No doctor would ever think of using a delicate and expensive prank to calm his patient. It would certainly prove counterproductive.
   So she had no option than to believe the doctor.
   She was pregnant!
   Now that she had accepted the doctor’s declaration as true, ambivalence set in. She was both happy and angry at the same time.
   She was happy because she would have something that would always remind her of all the love and memorable moments she shared with her husband. Besides, she considered a child the greatest monument she could present to her late husband – his flesh and blood… a gift that would indeed keep his lineage going.
   Her anger on the other hand consisted in the fact that the pregnancy would pose a major distraction to her intention to take her own life.
   What!?
   Yes, she had nursed a plan to commit suicide. She felt that it was better to die than to live without her loving, caring, sagacious and dependable husband.
   That would certainly be a life in misery.
   Though the desire to terminate her catastrophe-ridden life was overwhelming, she could not stand the thought and guilt of taking an innocent child with her. She was sure that neither God nor her late husband would ever forgive her.
   She was even certain that she wouldn’t forgive herself.

*****
   “Morning, sir,” Inspector Clement greeted the D.P.O. while standing at attention.
   “Morning, Clement,” the D.P.O. responded. “Has she identified the corpse?”
   Inspector Clement had earlier taken the bereaved in the company of two other policemen to St. Michael’s Mortuary where her husband’s body had been deposited.
   Theresa had strained every nerve not to be weighed down by emotions when the mortuary attendant pulled out the drawer holding Dave’s lifeless body. She had shut her eyes in agony. When she opened them after about a minute, she stared vaguely at the pale body for a while before turning to the three policemen in her company. “It is him.” Her voice had been barely audible.
   “Yes, sir,” the inspector replied. “She has.”
   “Where is she now?”
   “We took her back to the hospital.”
   “Back to the hospital? Hasn’t she fully regained consciousness?”
   “She has but she needs to be watched over until one or two of her relations arrive to stay with her. Leaving her alone in the house might be dangerous. She could do something funny.” The inspector was standing at ease now.
   “Was she living alone with her husband?”
   “No but the girl living with them is still too young and may not be able to act appropriately at critical moments.”
   “I see,” the D.P.O. said thoughtfully. “Have you arranged for any of her relations to come over?”
   “Yes, sir. I sent words to her mother and one of her sisters-in-law, Lizzy. One of them in the least is expected to arrive before nightfall today.”
   “Good.” The inspector had always proved to be a man of sound discretion and the D.P.O. was always happy with the way he went about his duties. “What of his car? When are you taking it home to her?”
   “The moment she goes home.”
   The D.P.O. nodded repeatedly for a while.  “So, how is the investigation going? Have you been able to come up with any clue as to who the assassins might be?” the D.P.O.’s question was a mere formality. He had little or no hope that his men could have come up with clues so soon given the sophisticated nature of violent crimes in the society coupled with inadequacy and obsolescence of available investigation facilities.
   The inspector dipped his hand into his breast pocket and pulled out a cassette. “We found this in his briefcase and I suppose you should listen to it.”
   The D.P.O winged up his eyebrows and hesitated before collecting the cassette from Inspector Clement. He got up and walked across his office to a radio/cassette player on the fridge and slotted in the tape. He pushed down the play button and the tape began to play immediately.
   The D.P.O. turned and stared at Inspector Clement, his mouth agape, as the cassette played. He later played it back before withdrawing it from the radio/cassette player. He walked back to his desk, sank onto his seat and let out a noisy sigh.
   “Where did you say you found this,” he asked tapping the cassette gently on his desk.
   “In his briefcase, sir.”
   The D.P.O. dropped the cassette on the desk and covered his face with both hands. He removed his hands from his face after a moment and looked at Inspector Clement who remained standing.
   “I hope you know what to do with the information in this tape.”
   “Yes, sir.”
   “Then waste no time.”
   “Yes, sir.” Inspector Clement saluted and left.
   After a rigorous investigation, one Mr. Kenneth Young was indicted as the prime suspect. He was arrested and taken to the police station where he was subjected to a terrible torture in order to get him own up to the assassination of Mr. David Eze.
   “Are you now ready to tell us what you know about Mr. David’s assassination and the kidnapping of his son?” Inspector Clement asked harshly.
   “I swear by God… and whatever I hold dear that I don’t know a thing about any assassination or kidnapping. I swear,” Ken, whose face was smeared with both stale and fresh blood, said in a choked voice.
   “I think you should listen to this,” Inspector Clement showed Kenneth a cassette, “before you go on and commit more blasphemy.” He glared at him as he slotted the cassette into a radio/cassette player. He pushed down the play button and the voice in the cassette filled the room.
   Ken’s eyes and mouth were wide open as the cassette played. He was so shocked that he couldn’t move a muscle.
   “This is a frame up,” he cried in the end. “Somebody is trying to frame me up.”
   “Really?” Inspector Clement’s voice was filled with sarcasm. “You seem to know so much about frame up. So, I beg you to give us a lecture on it.” He said and began to pace. “Tell us who is framing who up and why. Tell us also why the cassette we just listened to implicates you in all ramifications. It is not only that the words in the cassette could be credited to no other person than you, the voice is also very similar to yours.”
   “I never said those words. And I neither killed nor kidnapped anyone,” Ken insisted. “I have neither killed nor kidnapped in my life and I hope not to by the grace of God.”
   “Mr. Young, information at our disposal shows that the house mentioned in the tape was taken over from you by Famous bank. May we know how you felt and still feel about the incident,” Mr. Lawrence asked.
   “Honestly speaking, I wasn’t overly pleased to lose my house. Nobody would… but why should I transfer the grudge about my misfortune to a man who was very considerate to me.” He shook his head slowly. “See, it wasn’t only my house that I used as collateral for the loan I obtained from his bank, I used other properties, and the bank would have confiscated them all – and that would have meant my end - if not for his intervention. That I still own a business today was due to his magnanimity. Why then should I choose to express appreciation in a cruel way?”
   Inspector Clement looked steadily at Kenneth and shook his head. “I can see you are a hardened criminal,” he drawled, “but you will certainly open up by the time we get serious with you. I can assure you that. Take him away!” he instructed his men.




CHAPTER TEN




   Dave’s burial was well attended.
   In attendance were three ministers including that of Finance, members of diplomatic corps, bankers, captains of industries especially those industries that did businesses with Famous Bank, and relatives.
   Friends including Pa Ben who was brought in his wheelchair (he had been confined to a wheelchair since after suffering stroke) and well-wishers also gathered in their large numbers. Majority of the mourners was in black attires.
   St. Dominic’s Catholic Church, Yaba, the venue of the requiem mass was filled to its capacity by the time Dave’s corpse arrived at the church premises in a motorcade in the company of his wife, mother, sisters, brothers- and sister-in-law, parents-in-law, some friends and employees of Famous Bank.
   The casket, which was placed on a low table standing few inches away from the altar, was kept open for a few moments of lying in state. A semicircle was formed as mourners filed out to see the deceased for the last time. Many of the mourners were in tears but Theresa’s eyes were as dry as a desert. She had cried so much that she could cry no more. She was seated in one of the front pews staring into space.
   At the end of the lying in state, the requiem mass commenced. The first reading, which was from the book of the prophet, Isaiah (25: 6-9) was read by Lizzy while the second which was from the book of Apocalypse (14: 15) was read by Mr. Stanley Nwachukwu. The gospel was from the book of Saint John (6: 37-40).
   After the gospel, the officiating priest Reverend Father Matthew delivered an emotion-ridden sermon:

Brothers and sisters, today we are all enveloped in grief. Our eyes are filled with tears and our vision terribly blurred due to the demise of our husband, relation, friend, associate, employer and well-wisher - late Mr. David Eze. We find it highly difficult to contain our grief going by the nature and time of his death.

His life was snuffed off in its prime – what we tag ‘untimely death’. But I wish to use this opportunity to make it clear to each and every one of you that there is nothing called untimely death before the Almighty God. Every death is timely and in line with God’s programme. One can only die at God’s appointed time. The Almighty God is omniscient and omnipotent – nothing can ever happen without his knowledge and approval. That is not to say that He supports murder – no, the fifth commandment forbids it - but he knows why he has taken David. He knows why He has taken His own and who are we to question Him?

As I sympathize with his wife and his relations and pray God to grant them the fortitude to bear this irreparable loss, I wish to remind us all about our own death. We are all mortals. We know that we will all die but what we don’t know is the hour, the place and the nature of our death. Based on this, we must watch and pray at all times if we hope to inherit the kingdom of God where we are sure to meet our brother, David who I am certain, from the much I know about him, is now resting in the bosom of Abraham, again.

I want to urge you not to grieve like the gentiles or people without hope. Death is not the ultimate end but the beginning of a blissful and eternal life. This is our belief. Our brother is in heaven and we will reunite with him on the last day to part no more.

   The priest paused for a moment before he ended with the popular prayer for the dead:

   “May David’s soul and souls of the faithful departed…”

   “Through the mercy of God rest in peace,” the congregation chorused.

   “May his soul rest in peace,” the priest added.

   “Amen!” the congregation responded again.

   At the end of the requiem mass the motorcade proceeded to Yaba cemetery where Dave’s body was to be committed to mother earth.
   There was a mild drama at the gravesite as Dave’s mother and siblings attempted to obstruct the interment of the corpse.
   “No way!” they cried. “You will rather bury us all.”
   It took the painstaking intervention of the priest, friends, relations and security men to bring the situation under control.
   Many of the mourners dispersed from the cemetery at the end of the interment but Dave’s immediate family, relations, in-laws and few friends accompanied Theresa home.
   “I really commiserate with you on the death of your husband,” Honourable Joseph who was flanked by Stan and another man unknown to Theresa, said. “It is a great loss to all of us. Dave was a very good friend of mine. We shared a lot of memorable moments together when we were at Union Bank and even after. I am sure that his absence will forever leave a gaping vacuum in my life.” He paused for a moment to stifle a feigned emotion. “Life without him will definitely be difficult for you but I want you to remember that we are always there for you. Just make your problems and needs known to us and I promise we will respond immediately.”
   The minister’s voice was like a voice in the wilderness without a listener as long as Theresa was concerned. She only knew that somebody was talking but couldn’t decipher what was being said.
   Her mind was millions of miles away from her flesh and bones.


*****

   “Promise me you won’t brood over my brother’s death any longer,” Lizzy demanded of Theresa just as she was about to depart her brother’s house, three weeks after his burial. “Brooding is neither good for you nor your unborn baby.”
   “Thanks for always being there for me. I really appreciate. It is only God that will reward you appropriately.” Theresa smiled bitterly and tears welled up in her eyes and began to roll down her cheeks.
   “There you go again,” Lizzy scolded, glaring fondly at her. “You won’t even allow me to turn my back before crying again. For how long are you going to cry for the dead, my dear?”
   Theresa tried in vain to dry her eyes. “The tears are not for the dead. The tears are rolling because you are leaving me. You have shown me so much love and care that I wonder what my life would be without you. I will miss you. I will miss you so much.”
   Driven by emotions, Lizzy stepped towards her sister-in-law and held her in a very tight embrace. Both women soaked each other’s shoulder with hot tears while Felicia watched from a few inches away, her eyes also filled with hot tears.

*****

   “We didn’t want to trivialize the death of your husband and our chairman. That was why we waited for two months after his burial before convening this important meeting. You see, Famous Bank has been without a chairman for close to three months now. This development does not augur well for the smooth running of the bank.
   “Inviting you to this responsibility now will be most inappropriate considering that you are still mourning. I therefore suggest that we request Honourable Joseph Bright, the former Finance Minister to hold the post in trust for you until you are of sound mind and ready to take over what is rightfully your responsibility. Mr. Joseph is not only competent for the position but also owns 15% of the bank’s total equity. His position as a shareholder in the bank coupled with the fact that he is no longer the Minister of Finance makes him the best candidate for the job,” the GM addressed Theresa in particular and the gathering in general.
   It was during an emergency meeting of the management staff of Famous Bank Nigeria Ltd. All the members of the senior management staff of the bank were present.
   Theresa and Mr. Joseph were present on the GM’s invitation.
   There was an uneasy silence at the end of the GM’s speech. It was clear that everyone was waiting for Theresa to react to the GM’s speech. And she didn’t disappoint them.
   She cleared her throat. “I am not really interested in the chairmanship position or who occupies it. My main interest lies on the transparency, accountability, honesty and dedication to duty of whoever takes over from my late husband,” Theresa stated without any form of expression on her face or voice.
   When it was the former minister’s turn to speak, he rose to his feet and cleared his throat not because he had a lump in his throat but to attract maximum attention.
   His acceptance of the chairmanship position went thus:

It is with a great sense of duty and honour that I accept to become the chief servant of this great and noble bank. A cursory look at me shows a radiation of happiness but I must be fast to state that my happiness is not consistent in my new chairmanship position – I would have been happier if Dave were alive to continue in that capacity. Rather my happiness consists from the fact that you think me worthy to see to the continued existence and progress of a late friend’s business.

I thank you so very much for reposing so much confidence in me and I promise not to disappoint you. I will do my best not just to retain the giant strides achieved thus far by my good friend but also to improve upon them – so help me God.

Thanks once again and God bless us all as well as Famous Bank.

*****

   He knocked twice before the door was thrown open.
   “Good evening, sir,” Sandy greeted cheerfully. She knew the former minister. She had seen him on more than two occasions in their house. She also saw him on TV. She had been so excited the first day she saw him on TV after his first visit to their house. She wondered whom he was that he could sit side by side with the country’s President.
   It was only when she asked her auntie that she knew that the man that once called her a fine girl and patted her gently on the back was a VIP – a minister!
Wow!
   And he was such a simple man. In school the morning following the day her auntie told her that Mr. Joseph was a minister, she had made sure that all her friends got the gist… that the Finance Minister was a family friend of theirs!
   Mr. Joseph was no longer a Minister but it had not changed anything as far as Sandy was concerned. Once a Minister, always a Minister.
   “Good evening, my small girlfriend,” Honourable Joseph responded with a broad smile. “How are you today?’
   “Fine, thank you.” Sandy genuflected as she answered.
   “Good.” He smiled again and began into the sitting room. He had been standing in the doorway. Sandy shut the door and walked into the sitting room as well. “Is your auntie home?” he asked.
   “Yes.”
   “Please, tell her I am here to see her.”
   “Please, sit down while I do so, sir.” Sandy sounded like a Hollywood actress and the former minister was impressed.
   He chose one of the one-seater leather chairs and crossed his legs artistically as Sandy briskly went upstairs.
   Joseph was busy glancing through a business magazine he picked from a rack under the centre table when Theresa appeared at the bottom of the stairs. About ten minutes must have elapsed before she showed up. There might be one or two cogent reasons why the minister paid her such an unscheduled visit but deep down she knew the ultimate reasons.
   His long-awaited advances were about to start!
   Theresa could swear to that.
   “Hello,” she called as she walked across the room to welcome her visitor. Her face was gleaming with a warm smile. Though she was not happy to see Joseph, she must not show it.
   Joseph sprang to his feet on hearing her voice and returned her smile. “Hi and how are you?”
   “I’m fine, thanks and you?”
   “You are really fine,” Joseph said, ignoring her question. “You look gorgeous in those jeans trousers. They really fit well. I never knew you wore trousers. I have never seen you in them.”
   “I don’t often and you only see me once in a long while.” Theresa smiled.
   Joseph cocked his head to one side. “Well, now that I will be seeing you often, I will be on the lookout,” he said suggestively.
   Theresa did not react to that comment. She only smiled and motioned him to sit back on the seat he was occupying before she joined him. She knew what he meant and pretending that she didn’t understand and asking him to explain would be playing into his hands. The best thing to do was to drop the topic.
   “What do I offer you?” she asked when he had sat down again.
   “Nothing. I am okay. I just dropped by to know how you are doing.”
   “That’s thoughtful of you. Thanks,” she said and occupied the seat right opposite him.
   “You don’t have to thank me for living up to my duty. Dave was my friend and I owe it as a duty to him to see that his widow is doing well.” He stressed the word ‘widow’ to remind her that she didn’t have a man in her life and that she needed one.
   “Are you sure you don’t want to take something?” she asked for want of words and in a bit to change the subject but she realized too late that she was only prolonging Joseph’s stay and hence her discomfort.
   “I will do with brandy if you insist,” Joseph said immediately as though he had been praying that she asked again.
   Theresa got up reluctantly and cursed silently all the way to the bar. She wasn’t cursing Joseph. She was cursing herself. How could she have committed such a blunder? She returned with a bottle of brandy and a glass. She set them down on the side stool beside him.
   “Here you are,” she gestured.
   As she returned to her seat his eyes followed her, taking inventory of her backside.
   Her contours were made more prominent by the tight trousers and T-shirt she sported. He had always thought her beautiful but now he was convinced she was a model – in fact she could rival Miss World in shape.
   When she got to her seat and whirled round to sit, their eyes met and Joseph quickly dropped his. She concluded instantly that he was up to something.
   “Your outfit is fine,” he stammered the words and Theresa could not help smiling - this time genuinely.
   No matter a man’s position, he would always lose balance when under the influence of a woman’s attractive force.
   “I guess I’ll hear that a thousand times this evening,” she teased. “Thanks anyway.”
   “That shows how mesmerizing you look.” He had regained his confidence. “I am obviously hypnotized,” he said seriously.
  The minister was good with words. That was crystal clear and Theresa inwardly doffed her invisible hat. Whenever Theresa got an opportunity to destabilize him, he effortlessly turned it to his advantage. She could now see the President’s wisdom in appointing him as Minister only that she thought that his portfolio wasn’t befitting. He should have done better as the President’s image-maker.
   Theresa had never hated Joseph’s person. He was a very handsome and attractive man – every woman’s dream. But his manners were below par as far as she was concerned. He was a very conceited man; a kind of man who felt that the world and all its contents were under his feet; a man who felt that by the mere snapping of his fingers women should come swarming and struggling to lick his feet; a kind of man who easily trampled on moral and social etiquette with impunity; a man that treated women as half-human and half animal – a chauvinist.
   Joseph showcased all these indices and much more the first day they met and that attracted him her unfriendliness.
   Joseph finished his drink and rose to his feet. “Thanks very much for your hospitality. I must be on my way now.”
   Theresa almost said ‘so soon?’ for courtesy sake but was fast enough to stop the words from escaping her lips. She was sure that Joseph would not understand the phrase for what it was.
   “And I must thank you for coming around.” If she thought that she had been smart then she was mistaken. She realized her mistake when the minister made his next comment.
   “Any time and I hope I will continue to receive the kind of reception I got today.” He said and proceeded to the door.
   Don’t utter another word, you fool. Has it not occurred to you that this man is too smart for you? She chided herself as she walked him to the door.
Crossing the threshold and standing few inches from Theresa who was standing in the doorway, Joseph held out his hand to her but she waved him good night instead of taking his hand. She was sure that he would attempt to kiss her hand and decided not to give him that opportunity.
   If Joseph was embarrassed, he didn’t show it. He returned her good night wish and headed for his car. Theresa for her part shut the door and leaned against it. She stayed there for close to five minutes reliving the events of the evening and wishing that Joseph never visited again but she knew that he would and he did. Not once, not twice – he visited often.

*****

   The phone rang incessantly.
   Four times the caller had dialed and four times the phone was not answered. The caller was unrelenting and that made Theresa to keep hearing the phone ring in her dream. The phone began to ring for the fifth time and that was when Theresa began to drift from the dreamland to reality. By and by she realized that she hadn’t been dreaming about the phone after all. The phone on the bedside table had been ringing and was still ringing.
   Post haste she reached for it and grabbed it off its cradle.
   “Hello!” she said grumpily while her right hand found the switch. It was yet to be 5:00am and she wondered who could be disturbing her sleep when it was sweetest.
   “Hello, my dear. I hope I didn’t disturb your sleep.” Theresa could figure out who her caller was instantly.
   Mr. Joseph.
   She knew that husky voice pretty well.
   “Of course, you did.”
   “Oh dear, I am really sorry.”
   “That’s all right.”
   “Thanks for your understanding.”
    A few moments silence. 
   “I hope there is no problem,” Theresa said casually.
   “None at all,” Joseph answered. “A minister is throwing a party for his daughter who just returned from overseas and I was wondering if you would want to come with me.”
   Theresa was very annoyed that she momentarily looked like a beautiful witch. She was boiling inside. Had she been sitting face to face with Mr. Joseph she would have had a helluva of time trying not to allow her countenance give her away but since it was on phone she allowed her anger to show.
   How could he wake her up just to talk about one useless party?
   Over a minute passed before she answered.
   “No, thanks.” The anger on her face never showed in her voice.
   “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Joseph asked surprised. Going by her dispositions towards him, he had thought that she would be excited to attend the party with him.
   “Yes and thanks again.”
   “Why not?” Theresa could feel his impatience.
   “Because, I am not in the mood and besides I am not the party type. Thanks once again for the offer and good morning.” She hung up before he could stop her. She cursed and lay back in bed but sleep had departed her eyes. She cursed again.
   She wished that Mr. Joseph would let her be.
   Joseph didn’t attend that party. He spent that Saturday evening in Theresa’s house. He arrived at her house few minutes after 7:00pm, with a colourful bouquet and it was Theresa herself that answered the door.
   She was so surprised to see him. “What are you doing here?” she asked as she stood in the doorway thereby keeping him outside. She noticed the bouquet in his hand and wondered what it was meant for.
   “Why do you ask? Am I not welcome in your house anymore?”
   “Not exactly.” Theresa managed a smile. “I thought you had a party to attend.”
   Joseph smiled. “Well, I changed my mind. I felt that the party wouldn’t be worth it if you were not there.”
   Theresa cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at him. “Really?” she asked.
   “Yes,” he answered and held out the bouquet to her. “Meanwhile, this is for you.”
   “For me?” There was no excitement in Theresa’s voice and she showed no intention of collecting the flowers.
   “Yes, for you. Aren’t you going to accept it?”
   “Sure, I’m,” she said with a smile and collected the bouquet more out of pity than anything else. She smelt the flowers and closed her eyes. “They are so fine and they smell nice. Thanks.” She was still standing in the doorway.
   “Aren’t you going to let me in?” He said as Theresa kept looking at the flowers in fake admiration.
   “Oh, I’m very sorry. I was carried away by the beauty of the flowers,” she lied. Her action was intentional. She wanted to frustrate him out of her house and life without being cruel about it. “Please do come in.” she said and stepped out of the doorway.
   He walked straight into the sitting room and sat down. Theresa followed him after shutting the door. She dropped the flowers on the table and offered him brandy and he began to sip in silence.
   “How are you settling down as the chairman of Famous Bank?” Theresa asked in order to break the uneasy silence.
   “I am settling just fine. The GM had everything in perfect control. So there was no backlog of works to be done,” he said and fell silent again. He was rather dull and uneasy. This surprised Theresa, as he was always full of life.
   Something must be on his mind.
   Theresa tried again to initiate a discussion. “Now tell me, how do cope with being a bank’s chief executive,”
   “Perfectly well.”
   Whatever that made a chatterbox… the great orator to suddenly become reticent must be serious – very serious and Theresa from hindsight could make a correct guess. She decided to let him be. He certainly needed time to sort himself out.
   “You can return the drink. I think I have had enough.” Joseph said after a long silence. There was coldness about his voice.
   Theresa stood up, took few steps and bent to pick up the brandy and glass but Joseph’s hands held hers. She stared at him and straightened up. Joseph rose to his feet, still holding her hands. He moved so close to her that they stood toe to toe, hip to hip, chest to chest and face to face.
   Electric impulses were triggered off in Theresa at these points of contact and within a short while traversed her whole body and penetrated her bones into the marrow. Her body shook and her hind limbs went soft.
   A man hadn’t touched her intimately in the last four months. She had suffered many lonely and cold nights. Most nights she felt so depressed that she needed a man to lean on; a man to hold her in his masculine hands; a man that would reassure her that all was well.
   Such nights and moments had been her most trying moments. 
   Unable to control her emotions, she forgot her promise to remain faithful to her husband even though he was dead and allowed herself to be touched. She was a woman and the woman in her was screaming for attention.
   “I love you, Thessy,” he cooed, looking into her eyes and stroking her arms gently. “I do… right from the first day I set eyes on you. You can’t imagine how much I pine for you. I keep thinking about you day and night.”
   Theresa swallowed. She was getting weaker by every passing second and she was doing nothing to stop it. In fact she wanted it to continue.
   “Please darling, allow me into your life.” His voice was honeyed. “I promise you will never regret it – ever!”
   Without warning he planted a kiss on Theresa’s lips and that did the magic.
   The rocket that was taking Theresa to the Moon suddenly took a reverse dive and came crashing in the ocean of reality. The reverie was over. The spell had been cast out. The entrancing music had stopped playing.  Her brain had once again taken over from her heart as the thinking organ and adviser. Her promise to forever remain faithful to her late husband reared its head and glared at her.
   With one energetic push, she jerked away from Joseph. “No!” she screamed and covered her face with both hands. “I can’t do this. I can’t,” she screamed again.
   “Thessy…” he began as he started towards her but her words and raised hands stopped him.
   “Don’t near me, please,” she said sternly. “Look, I am a married woman and…”
   “You were a married woman,” he cut in.
   Theresa scowled at him. “Thanks for reminding me that my husband is dead but I intend to remain faithful to him,” she stated fiercely.
   “What!” Joseph shouted and fell silent for a while. “I can imagine how you feel. It is not easy to break the bond between husband and wife especially when the couple enjoyed a blissful marriage before the demise of one of the spouses. But you certainly can’t continue like this. You are too young to be a widow. You are a full-blooded young woman. You can’t shut down your life now. It is too early to do that.” He paused for effect. “Your husband is dead and that is the reality on the ground. You need a man in your life – a man who will give you prestige and the protection you need as a woman.”
   “Thanks for the advice but I think it is belated because I have made the promise and I’m not the type that changes or reneges on promises.” Theresa looked daggers at him. “It may also interest you to know that I’m with child.”
   “You are what?” Joseph couldn’t believe his ears.
   “Yes! I am pregnant – for my late husband and I intend to stay put and give it to him and also raise it for him. That is the last tribute I can pay him for all his love for me.” She started pacing around. “So you can see that what you are asking for is impossible.” Theresa stopped pacing when she finished and fixed her gaze on him.
   Theresa’s proclamation that she was pregnant hit Joseph like a thunderbolt and he almost fell over – into an abyss. This was no good news at all. He felt a pang of apprehension grip him. How could she be pregnant now that he thought that the coast was clear? What if she gave birth to a male child?
   That would certainly jeopardize his ambition of converting Famous Bank to his family business. The desire to bequeath the bank to his sons who would do the same to their sons was so overwhelming.
   “Are you serious or are you just trying to scare me off?” he asked huskily.
   “Very serious. I don’t joke often.”
   “That’s good news then. Congratulations!” he said and tried to smile but ended up grimacing.
   “Thanks,” Theresa said laconically.
   As Joseph left Theresa that night he made up his mind not to revisit his proposal to her until when appropriate. He must wait and know what Theresa would beget.


*****

   Stan could not hide his fear when he received the news about Theresa’s pregnancy via Joseph that Monday morning. Both men sat in silence. There was no doubt that they were greatly perturbed.
   “What happens if she begets a male child again?” Stan asked at last. They were in the chairman’s office.
   The chairman looked vaguely at his GM for a while apparently deciding on what to do in such a situation.
   “I hope and pray that she begets a female child this time to save me from committing another murder,” he sounded very lethal.





CHAPTER ELEVEN




   Her labour started very early in the morning. It was in the month of March of the year that followed the year her husband was assassinated.
   Felicia who had come back two weeks earlier quickly took her to the hospital. She was instantly taken to the labour room and Felicia barely waited in the lobby for up to ten minutes when the doctor emerged from the labour room. She sprang to her feet on sighting the doctor. Her mind told her immediately that something was wrong. If not why did the doctor come out so soon and he was removing his gloves signaling that it was over. It was either that Theresa had had safe delivery or that she didn’t make it after all.
   The second option seemed more probably.
   Felicia had witnessed many child labours and none had lasted less than three hours.
   “What is the problem, doctor?” She ran across the lobby to meet him. “Why did you come out so soon?”
   The doctor smiled. “There is no problem, madam,” he assured her. “They are in perfect health conditions.”
   “How do you mean they are fine?” Felicia asked impatiently. “Who are the ‘they’ you are referring to?”
   “Your daughter and her daughter, of course.” He folded his gloves and threw them into the dustbin.
   Felicia sank to her knees. “Praise the Lord!” she shouted on top of her voice.
   “Alleluia!” the doctor responded, still smiling.
   She scrambled to her feet and hugged the doctor briefly. “Can I see them now?” Her eyes were shining with joy.
   “Sure,” the doctor answered and led the way.
   “The Almighty God has done it again. May all glory, honour and adoration be ascribed to Him both now and forever.” Felicia cried when she set eyes on her daughter who was sitting up in bed.
   “Amen!” Theresa said and both women held each other tightly, laughing and crying at the same time.
   “How I wish my husband were here. How I wish he were alive. His daughter will never know him. She was fatherless even before she was born.” There were tears in Theresa’s voice.
   “Don’t start now, please,” Felicia advised with tears in her voice as well. “Don’t spoil this happy moment with tears and bad memories. My granddaughter has us and we will be her mother and father. We will make sure she never feels fatherless.” They released each other and Felicia dried her tears before helping Theresa to do the same.
   Felicia then went to the cot holding her granddaughter and looked admiringly at the beautiful, tiny creature before bending to pick it up.
   “She looks so much like her father,” Felicia observed.
   Theresa’s face lit up with smile as she rose and started towards her mother and her daughter. There was tenderness in her eyes as she scrutinized the baby. She had no doubt whatsoever that Dave was the father of her daughter. No man had ever made love to her except Dave since they got married. But hearing from her mother that her baby took after her husband was a kind of reassurance that the little girl was actually his flesh and blood.
   It would also restrict dangling and wagging tongues to some extent. And most importantly, Dave’s family would see Dave in her and that would go a long way in convincing them that she was actually their own.
   “Do you really mean that she takes after her father?” Theresa could see it herself but she wanted to be reassured again and again.
   “Can’t you see that she’s got his pointed nose, romantic eyes, inviting lips and hairy and smooth body?”
   Theresa’s eyes were huge as she stared at her mother. She was astonished. “Mom!” she screamed in a whisper. “So you had been admiring my husband behind my back,” she accused jokingly.
   “Who wouldn’t? He was well endowed. I wonder how he coped with women.” Felicia smiled at her daughter “And I wonder how my granddaughter will cope with men when she begins to blossom. It will be one hell of time for you. I still remember the agony your father and I suffered keeping boy off you and your sisters.”
   Theresa threw her head back and had a long and hearty laugh, her first real laugh since the death of her husband.
   Felicia put the baby back in the cot. “I have to go home and get you something to eat. You must be hungry now.”
   “Hungry is not the word – the word is starving.”
   Felicia laughed and walked out of the ward.


*****

   “Congratulations,” Stan said the moment Mr. Joseph’s voice came on line.
   Mr. Joseph kept mum for a while in order to recollect any good luck that came his way lately.
   “On what?” he asked when he couldn’t remember any.
   “Dave’s wife has been delivered of a baby girl,” Stan announced happily.
   “Really?” Mr. Joseph asked complacently. “That’s congratulations to the woman then. At least she wouldn’t have to lose her like her first child – at least not through me.” There was happiness in Mr. Joseph’s voice now. “It’s good news to us, anyway and calls for celebration. Could we meet at Sharaton Hotel this evening? Say seven o’clock?”
   “Seven is okay by me.”
   “See you then,” the former minister smiled and hung up the phone.
   When Mr. Joseph arrived at the hotel that evening, he noticed that Stan had arrived ahead of him. He parked his car beside Stan’s and went into the restaurant. He saw Stan drinking beer and walked up to him.
   “Hello!” he greeted.
   Stan smiled at him and stood to shake hands with shim.
   “I’m sorry I arrived few minutes behind schedule. I received a phone call from my elder brother when I was about leaving the house and he really took time,” he lied. He intentionally wanted to be late.
   “It’s alright,” Stan said and they sat down.
   A waiter approached. “Good evening, gentlemen. May I take your orders?” He said.
   They placed their orders and the waiter left.
   “I wish to thank you once again for all the assistance I received from you in achieving my ambition,” Mr. Joseph said when the waiter was out of earshot. “It is true that I have rewarded as agreed but I feel that I still owe you. To that end I would want you to come to my office tomorrow morning and pick a cheque for twenty million naira.”
   Stan’s heart brimmed with joy. “Thank you very much – I am very grateful.”
   “You are welcome,” Mr. Joseph said. “It is just a token of my appreciation.”
   The waiter came back with their orders and they ate in silence. Mr. Joseph finished his meal as fast as possible and took a mouthful of his beer. He downed his glass and swallowed the content of his mouth.
   “I will be on my way now. I have an unfinished business with my brother.” Mr. Joseph said and quickly stood to leave. Stan wanted to leave as well but the minister urged him to take his time. “I will see you in the office tomorrow.” He said and left.
   Mr. Joseph was eating his breakfast the next morning when the phone rang.
   “Hello!” he said into the mouthpiece.
   “Have you heard?”
   The caller was Mr. Paul, Famous Bank Marketing Manager.
   “Heard what?” There was urgency in Mr. Joseph’s voice.
   “That the GM was involved in an accident yesterday night.”
   “What?”
   “His car was gutted by fire and I understand he was burnt beyond recognition,” said Mr. Paul.
   “Are you sure of what you are telling me?” Mr. Joseph asked.”
   “Very sure.” Mr. Paul affirmed.
   “Oh my God!” Mr. Joseph cried and paused for a while. “Thanks for the information. I will see you later,” he said at last, dropped the phone and smiled.
   Two can only keep a secret when one is dead, he said and settled back for his breakfast.
*****

   Sandy knocked once, opened the door and stepped into Theresa’s bedroom.
   “The minister is here to see you, auntie.” She announced.
   Oh my goodness, not again, Theresa cried inwardly. She had heaved a sigh of relief when the minister left her alone after she told him that she was pregnant for her late husband. She had thought that he had left her for good but ever since she gave birth to Adanna, he had started frequenting her house again, bringing with him assorted gifts both for her and her baby.
   Theresa always cast her mind back to that day she almost threw away her promise to her late husband – the day she almost succumbed to the former Minister’s advances. Whenever she remembered that black Saturday, she told herself that it would never happen again.
In fact, it never happened and would never happen.
   She must find a way of letting him know that she wished to be left alone. But she must be very diplomatic about it. She had to bide her time – she had to wait for the right time and the right opportunity.
   “Come and take care of Adannaya while I join him in the sitting room. I will be right back,” Theresa told Sandy and left for the sitting room.
   Joseph was sitting cross-legged when she joined him in the living room.
   “Good evening, Honourable Joseph,” she greeted as she approached him.
   Joseph stood up. “How many times do I have to tell you to drop this Honourable stuff or any other form of appellation and just call me Joe?”
   “I am really sorry,” Theresa apologized with a smile. “I always forget but I hope not to forget from this moment.”
   “I will appreciate it,” he said and smiled.
   “You are welcome,” Theresa told him. “Please, do have a seat.”
   Joseph sat down and crossed his legs again. “Thanks,” he said softly.
   “You are welcome. Brandy?”
   Joseph nodded and Theresa went to the bar and got a bottle of brandy and a glass for him.
   “Thanks,” Joseph said. He uncorked the bottle and poured out a sizable quantity of brandy into his glass. “Why do you always watch me drink instead of drinking with me?” he asked as he replaced the cork.
   “That’s because I don’t take alcohol,” she explained.
   “Then get a nonalcoholic and drink with me.”
   “That will be next time. I am not in the mood to drink right now.”
   Joseph cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at her. “Is anything the matter?”
   “No. Why do you ask?”
   “Well, you just talked about bad mood and besides you look a bit harassed. I hope all is well with you.”
   Theresa tried a smile. “I am fine - very fine. I just don’t feel like drinking. That’s all.”
   “I don’t believe you. You’re not fine and you’ll never be until what has been taken away from you is replaced. You look so depressed, dejected, deprived, neglected, unprotected and lonely.” Joseph paused and Theresa made to speak but he wouldn’t let her. “Don’t try to deny it. Don’t try to prove me wrong. It is clearly written on your face – on your whole body. Your eyes shine with utter loneliness.”
   Brief silence.
   “You need a man in your life, my dear. You sure do.” He concluded.
   “There you go again,” Theresa cried. “I thought we had long put this subject behind us.”
   “This subject will never be put behind us until you see reason with me.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Joseph was a man of strong will. He never backed off easily. He believed that nothing was impossible. With determination one could achieve all things if not through persuasion then through force. In the present situation, force wasn’t an option so he kept his fingers crossed and continued to coax this woman that had stolen his heart. She might have a change of heart one day and run into his waiting arms. That was his hope and he nursed it very dearly and tenderly.
   “There’s no way it’ll be put behind us,” he repeated. “You’re suffering from a severe emotional crisis. You’re going down the valley of the shadow of death and you want those who love and cherish you dearly to look the other way and pretend that all is well? Even if others concede to that, I won’t. I can’t bear to see you continue this way.”
   Theresa looked at him and dropped her eyes quickly. She wasn’t going to be sweet-talked or hoodwinked into changing her mind. She had made her decision and that was final.
   “Nothing is wrong with me,” she said quickly. “I’m fine and I’ll continue to be fine by the grace of God. So stop fussing over me. Nothing will ever go wrong.”
   “Stop pretending, my dear. It’s not in your own interest to pretend. You need a man in your life. You’re too young to be a widow. You don’t have to give up on yourself right now. It’s too early.” He paused. “Yes you loved Dave. We all did. You may think it’s betrayal to marry again but it isn’t. You should remember that the vow you took on your wedding day became invalid upon Dave’s death. You can marry again if you want to and you should because that’s the best option for you. You need a man to serve as a crown to your womanhood. You need a man that will love and care for you. You need a man that will protect you – a man that will form a canopy over you during rainy and dry seasons. You need a man that will help you rediscover the sweetness of life. You need a man that will give a new meaning to your presently devastated life. Your daughter needs a father and you need a man that will not just play the role of a father to her but actually be her father.”
   A brief pause.
   “I am that man and I promise to live up to expectations. Just give me a chance and you will never regret it. Please,” he pleaded.
   What an articulate ‘manifesto’, Theresa told herself.
   Apparently nonplussed, Theresa stared steadily at him. How was she going to make this man leave her alone? She might never succeed given his recalcitrance.
   An idea suddenly struck her and she smiled.
   “You are married, Honourable Joseph. I am sure you have not forgotten that. Your wife is not dead and you are not divorced.” She paused to allow the barb sink deep enough. “You are not an illiterate, so you must know that polygamy is no longer fashionable. It is barbaric and archaic. It is also unlawful. Don’t you think that your wife will come after you if you marry another wife? I am sure she will sue you for bigamy. I would do so if I found myself in such an ordeal.”
   Joseph smiled boldly. “Let that not bother you one bit,” he said confidently. “I don’t intend to marry you as a second wife. Nobody is going to sue me for bigamy. Marrying my wife in the first place was a colossal mistake. We are not compatible and things never worked out between us right from the outset. I discovered too late that she was not ready for marriage. Her parents practically forced her to marry me. You know how such marriages are. It is like two strangers and in our own case, enemies living together. She kept venting the grudge she bore against her parents for forcing her into an unwanted marriage, on me. I tried my best to build the marriage…, to make it work but she wanted out. So it came to pass that two months after the delivery of our fourth child and third son, she left me.”
   A pause.
   “This happened over five years ago,” he continued, “and ever since, I have been using the help of nannies and house helps to bring up my kids. Because of the misery I suffered in her hands, I decided not to marry again. My kids were doing well. I was faring better. My family became better without her. I neither wanted her back nor any other woman in her place until I met you.” He pursed his lips briefly. “I love you and I have no doubt that you are the woman for me. I am also sure that you will be the ideal mother for my kids while I, the ideal father for your daughter. I intend to get a divorce from my “wife”. In fact I have consulted my lawyers and they have set the process in motion. There will be no stumbling block whatsoever. We have been separated for over five years and this alone is enough ground for the court to grant me a divorce - that is if she intends to frustrate the move. But I am sure she won’t say no. I guess she will like the idea.”
   There was sorrow and anguish in Joseph’s voice and face throughout the period he talked about his marriage. Theresa felt too guilty for putting him through such pain. For the first time she saw weakness in him. If the story he told about his marriage was true then he deserved everyone’s pity including Theresa’s. Her heart went out to him and she developed a soft spot for him.
   But the soft spot was not capable of making her have a positive consideration for her latest suitor. It would never be. Not in her lifetime! And she must make that clear to him without delay.
   “I must say that the story you just told is a very pathetic one. It brought me close to tears but it will never make me change my mind and marry you. If I do so, it will be out of pity and I am sure our marriage will turn out worse than your former. Marriage should not be based on sentiments but on mutual and true love. It should also base on mutual and uninfluenced consent.” She paused for effect. “I have many reasons for not wanting to marry you.
   “Firstly, I made a promise to my husband and I don’t intend to renege on it. Secondly, I don’t love you enough to marry you. I am sorry but that is the fact. Thirdly, I don’t intend to usurp your wife’s position. Fourthly, I won’t want to have her making life difficult for me when she wants you back for I am sure that such a moment will come sooner or later. Finally, I don’t wish to live in perpetual acrimony and dichotomy which will surely exist amongst your children simply because they are not of the same mother.
   “Based on the reasons enumerated above, I plead with you never to bring up this topic again. I will be appreciative if you heed and grant my request.”
   Joseph had failed at last.
   Despite all his lies, scheming and counter-scheming; ploys and decoys; rhetoric and extrasensory wooing acumen, he failed to win Theresa over.
    The game was up and he knew it. In the years that followed he only alluded to the topic. He never discussed it.




CHAPTER TWELVE




   Junior finally started primary school when he was seven years.
   He attended the kindergarten for close to five years before he was enrolled in the village primary school. His foster parents were determined not just to send him to primary school but also to make sure that he completed it as and when due. To them, primary education was the criterion for being qualified for any kind of apprenticeship in the locality and they wanted the best for him.
   “I want you to be very serious with your studies so that you will become somebody in future,” George told Junior one morning when the boy requested some money to enable him buy an exercise book. “That I am in this village today hunting games is because of my illiteracy. If not I would have been taken to a big city to learn one trade or the other just like some of my mates.
   “You know, Chief Gilbert?” he asked Junior after almost stripping himself naked before finding twenty naira which was the cost of the exercise book.
   “Yes Papa, the owner of the two-storey building on the way to my school.”
   “Yes, you know him,” George let out a noisy sigh. “That man was my childhood friend but he attended primary school. I didn’t go to school because my widowed mother could not afford to sponsor me. We could hardly afford two square meals in a day let alone school fees. So while some of my mates were going to school, I was busy helping my mother in her farm and petty business. Now you can see the gap between those of them that went to school and some of us that didn’t.” George spread his hands to show his poor status. “Your teacher tells me you are doing well but I still want you to study harder so as to secure a better future for yourself and all of us.”
   “Thank you, Papa. I am very grateful that you are sponsoring my education and I promise never to disappoint you and Mama.”
   “That’s my boy,” George said and bade goodbye to the boy who had already run off to make up for the time he lost listening to his father’s advice or he would be late to school. He couldn’t risk teacher Nkume’s cane.
   Junior always went hunting with his father during vacations. Hunting was the only thing he missed whenever a holiday came to an end.
   It was not easy for him when his father first started taking him along to the bush. He was always fagged out at the end of each day not just because of the energy input into the exercise but more because of his lack of interest. He wished and prayed that his father would read the handwriting on the wall and let him be.
   If wishes were horses, even beggars would ride.
   His prayers were not answered.
   So he accept the situation for what it was and began to develop interest in hunting and within a short time it became a hobby to him - to the extent that he felt incomplete any day he didn’t hunt.
   Asked to make a choice between going to school and hunting, he would definitely choose the former but since vacation was an intrinsic part of education he always took solace in hunting at such moments.
   His father always looked forward to vacations because Junior had proved to be an expert in the field of hunting. They always had a better catch together. George always reserved a part or sometimes a whole animal from their catch for consumption and he made sure that his son got a sizable chunk.
   It was a Wednesday afternoon in the middle of August. It was a very hectic day as far as Junior was concerned. He had just returned from hunting with his father and was in front of the house eating his lunch when a white Toyota car drove into their unfenced compound. Junior instantly became numb on spotting the car. He had never seen anything like that in his young life.
   The owner of this car must own all the money in the whole world, he told himself.
   His thought was confirmed when the driver and the only occupant of the car alighted. He was a tall young man in a well-tailored black suit. Junior had never seen anyone dressed in such an executive and exquisite way as did the man standing beside what he considered the most sophisticated car ever made by the hands of man.
   The young millionaire adjusted his tie and started towards the house.
   “Good afternoon, sir,” Junior greeted with a slight bow.
   “Good afternoon, my boy. How are you?” the young man sounded very friendly.
   “I am fine, thank you.”
   “Good. Is your father home?”
   “Yes, sir.”
   “Tell him that someone is here to see him.”
   “Who do I tell him it is, sir?”
   “Andy,” the young man replied without hesitation.
   “So, he will know who you are if I just tell him it is Andy?”
   “Tell him it is Andrew, son of Wilfred,” Andy was impressed that a village boy could be as smart as Junior had proved to be.
   Junior went into the house and much time didn’t pass when the owner of the house emerged with his son following closely. The boy went past his father as he exchanged pleasantries with his visitor and went into the compound to have a better view of the magnificent car parked there. Though he could not go very close to the car for the fear that he could attract the owner’s wrath, he really feasted his eyes.
   “Who was that man, Papa?” Junior asked after the visitor had left.
   “Don’t you know Wilfred, the owner of the bookshop opposite your school?”
   “Was that his son?”
   “Yes, he came to place an order for three grasscutters,” George informed Junior.
   Junior’s eyes became huge. “Three ‘grasscutters’?” he asked. “How possible is it to catch three ‘grasscutters’ tomorrow?”
   “No.” the older man smiled. “He wants them between today and Saturday evening,” he explained.
   “Okay. That gives us three days. We may meet up if our luck shines,” the small boy said hopefully.
   Silence.
   “But what does he do? He looked so rich.”
   “You mean Andrew?”
   “Yes.”
   “He works in a big bank in the city.”
   “Bank? What is a bank?” Junior asked with rapt interest.
   “I have never seen nor been to one but they say it is a building where people keep their money so that it will be safe from thieves. People can also borrow money from there for their businesses and other needs. People that work there are all big men.” George answered based on the much he had heard.
   “Wow!” Junior exclaimed. “I want to work in a bank if that is the case.”
   “You want to do what?” George asked his funny son and began to laugh. “You don’t work in a bank just because you want to. You will need a lot of education to be qualified and that means a lot of money.”


*****

   Junior was slowly moving round Andy’s car that Saturday evening as he waited for Andy to emerge from the house. He had earlier handed three ‘grasscutters’ preserved by smoking to the young man’s mother and was waiting for his money.
   This car is very flashy. God, some people are living in paradise on earth while others merely exist.
   He looked around to make sure that he had not been caught admiring the car.
   I hope to own something like this one day. But how would that be possible? He asked himself despondently. Papa says it needs a lot of education to be qualified to work in the bank and I am sure he can’t afford to sponsor me beyond primary school let alone university. How do I ever get a sponsor? Who would be ready to sponsor a pauper like me? He felt so downcast. Father God, please send somebody to help me, he prayed.
   “Junior’s thought was broken into by a voice from somebody standing not more than a foot behind him.
   “I can see you like that car a lot. I noticed the way you were admiring it the other day in your house and I can see that you are not satisfied yet.”
   Junior’s heart skipped a beat. Turning abruptly, he saw Andy smiling at him. He was wearing Jeans trousers and a T-shirt. His footwear had the shape of a boat.
   Junior began to relax when he saw the smile on Andy’s face. “Good evening, sir,” he bowed.
   “Evening, my friend. How are you today?”
   “I am fine, sir.”
   “Here,” Andy extended the naira notes in his hand to Junior. “I have seen the ‘grasscutters’ you brought. They are quite big.”
   Junior smiled and collected the money and began to count it slowly while Andy watched with admiration.
   This boy is surely not a village breed,” Andy told himself. He was impressed beyond words that Junior was counting the money unlike a typical village boy that would collect the money and run off before one could shout Jack Robinson, without bothering whether or not it was complete.
   Junior counted the money twice before looking up at Andy.
   “It seems you made a mistake, sir. My father asked me to collect two thousand naira from you but this is three thousand naira,” he said as he held the money back to Andy.
   Andy smiled at him.
   He is not just smart, he is also honest, Andy thought. “I know. I decided to make it so as a mark of my appreciation,” he told Junior.
   “Junior’s heart was gladdened not just because of the extra money but because their work was appreciated. “Thank you very much, sir.”
   “You are welcome.” Andy said and turned to go back into the house.
   “Excuse me, sir.”
   Andy stopped and turned.
   “Yes?”
   Junior hesitated. “Sorry to disturb you, sir but I need to obtain some information from you. I hope you wouldn’t mind.”
   “Not at all. I will be glad to give you the information if I have it.”
   “Thank you, sir.” Junior said and hesitated again. “My father told me you work in a big bank in the city. Is that true?”
   “Very true.”
   “Can I ever work in a big bank in the city?” Junior asked after a brief silence.
   “Yes of course,” Andy said encouragingly. “But you must be determined.”
   “I am determined, sir but papa says it requires a lot of education to become qualified to work there and Papa is very poor. I’m sure he can’t sponsor me beyond primary school.” He paused for a moment. “And I really want to become a banker,” he sounded very pitiable.
   Andy was moved by the pitiable expression on the small boy’s face. He put his arm round his shoulders. “Don’t worry, my dear. I will see what I can do to help you. Is that clear?”
   “Yes, sir.” There were suppressed tears in Junior’s eyes.
   “Meanwhile, in what class are you now?” Andy asked.
   “I just finished primary four.”
   “Good,” Andy said soothingly, squeezing his shoulders gently. “Make sure you study hard and send words to me when you are due to take common entrance examinations so that I will send you the exams fees.”
   Junior’s face became lit up with happiness as he looked up at Andy. “Thank you very much, sir.”
   “You are welcome.” Andy withdrew his arm from his shoulders. “I think you should be home bound now. Be a good boy.”
   “Thank you, sir,” Junior said jubilantly and started home at the double.
   His happiness knew no bounds as he told his parents the story about his encounter with Andy. His parents’ happiness equaled his and they had a little celebration with one of the games they caught earlier in the day.
   George had a keg of palm wine, which he brought out to make the celebration a worthy one.

*****
   Junior would have had his heart in his mouth when he received a missive that his attention was needed by his teacher but for his cordial relationship with the old man.
   A teacher usually summons his pupil or student because he has committed an offence and should be punished. Another reason why a teacher should summon a pupil is to send him on an errand.
   Junior’s brilliance coupled with his good manners had won him his teachers’ admiration and love. They always sent for him either to commend or dash him something and Junior unlike other pupils always looked forward to being summoned.
   He quickly mopped his sweaty face with the back of his left hand and went for his shirt. He had removed the white shirt to prevent stains from coming to it before playing football with his friends and schoolmates.
   Football was his favourite extracurricular activity in school and he never failed to play it at break periods or whenever he had the opportunity. He played with real flair that some of his friends and fans dubbed him Jay Jay while others dubbed him Papillo. Jay Jay later became more popular because ‘J’ was Junior’s initial.
   He started playing football for the school team when he was in primary three. He was the only player in a class below primary four that had ever played for the school team. The school games master had it as a policy to enlist only pupils in primary four and above in his team. He argued that junior pupils though might be skillful, lacked the experience and stamina required in the game.
   But Junior was not only able to showcase an unparalleled experience but also proved to be fit. His height and size were also his great assets.
   Junior’s popularity in the game of football started the day he debuted for his school team. His school, St. Patrick’s Primary School was playing the final with St. Benedict’s Primary School in an inter-school competition organized for Catholic primary schools in the locality.
   St. Patrick’s was trailing 1-2 fifteen minutes to the end of the encounter when Junior was introduced to substitute the player wearing the number 9 jersey. The player was injured during the match. Junior’s introduction barely lasted three minutes when he scored the equalizer.
   St. Patrick’s pupils and supporters went agog with jubilation.
   The match later ended with St. Patrick’s lifting the cup through a three-two victory over their opponents and the last two of the goals were scored by Junior’s right foot. Ever since that glorious debut, he became a regular in the school team and rarely failed to score in any match.
   The sports master once described him as a scoring machine.
   “You sent for me, sir,” Junior said to his teacher the moment he approached his desk.
   “Sit down,” the old man said without looking up from the book before him.
   Junior pulled a stool from under the desk and sat down. “Thank you, sir.”
   About two minutes passed before teacher Charlie, as the old teacher was popularly called, closed the book before him and looked up at Junior.
   “I wish to know who wrote the composition you submitted to me for you.” The teacher said.
   Teacher Charlie had earlier asked his pupils to write a composition about:

   ‘WHAT I WANT TO BE IN FUTURE’.

   The homework was given just before dismissal on Friday of the previous week and it was due for submission first thing the following Monday morning.
   The old teacher, having taken his time to go through all the write-ups from his pupils could not believe that Junior wrote his and decided to find out who wrote it for him and why he asked somebody to write for him.
   Though Teacher Charlie could always attest to Junior’s brilliance and creativity, he found it difficult to be convinced that the small boy could write about the banking industry with so much professional technicality. He could not imagine that a TC 2 holder and experienced teacher like him should be consulting the dictionary while reading a write-up from a primary five pupil.
   “I wrote it myself, sir,” Junior said, a bit unhappy that his teacher could suspect him of cheating.
   The old man stared blankly at him for a while. “How did you manage to know so much about the banking industry?” he asked still not believing that Junior wrote the composition by himself.
   “By asking questions,” Junior said. “Andy works in a big bank in the city and I ask him lots of questions about the banking industry each time he comes to visit his folks.”
   “Andy? Who is Andy?” the old teacher asked, looking up to the ceiling as though it held the answer to his question.
   “His father owns the bookshop just across the road,” Junior said, pointing in the direction of the bookshop.
   “Ah! Ah! Ah! Andrew, son of Wilfred.”
   “Yes, sir.”
   Brief silence.
   “Yes. You are very correct. Andrew works in a bank in Port Harcourt." The old man affirmed and drifted into a deep thought. He let out a sigh after a moment. “Andrew was my pupil,” he stated. “I taught him in this class. Today he is a big man just like many others who also passed through this class under my care but here I am still struggling to make ends meet.” There was frustration in his voice. He shrugged and then smiled at the small boy before him. “But I am happy with my job. I am happy and proud that my pupils are doing well in the society. It is a great legacy. ‘Good name’, they say, ‘is worth more than riches’.”
   “You are right, sir,” Junior conceded. “God will certainly reward you,” he added.
   The old man sobered up suddenly. “I can see you have joined the school of thought which thinks that teachers’ reward is in heaven.” There was sorrow in his voice but his face glowed with smile.
   Junior smiled. “I believe that He will reward you both here and in heaven, Sir.” Junior said.
   Teacher Charlie began to nod. “He has already rewarded me. What other reward could be better than good health and grey hair.” He bent his head to show Junior the grey hair on his head. “It is a blessing to grow grey hair.”
   “I agree, sir.”
   Silence.
   “So, do you really want to become a banker?” Teacher Charlie asked.
   “Yes, sir.” Junior answered without hesitation.
   The old man winged up his eyebrows. “To become a banker is not a day’s job,” he stated, shaking his head from side to side. “It requires a lot of education. You will have to go all the way to the university and that means a lot of money.” He rumpled a sheet of paper he picked from his desk and threw it into the dustbin beside him. “I am not your father’s treasurer but I do know that hunting is not lucrative enough to enable him sponsor you all the way to the university. So, I will advise that you begin now to think of something else to do when you finish from this school. Think of something feasible.” Teacher Charlie counseled.
   “Thanks for your advice, sir,” Junior said. “I know that becoming a banker is not a day’s job. My father said as much but you see the first step to success is determination and then full knowledge of one’s ambition. I am very determined to become a banker and as you can see from my write-up I am heading towards having a full knowledge of banking business. I believe that God will do the rest. He never forsakes those that put all their trust in Him.”
   Teacher Charlie became nonplussed at hearing such words of wisdom from a boy as young as Junior.

*****

   Primary six soon came upon Junior.
   He didn’t wait until they were told to pay the common entrance exam fees before sending words to Andy and a week later the money for his examination fees together with other examination accessories arrived. It was therefore not surprising that Junior was the first to pay for the common entrance examination in his class when the time came. He also procured all the materials that would enable him pass the examination in flying colours.
   He had to pass well if he hoped to be posted to a good secondary school. He also had to pass well to convince Andy that he was not about embarking on a wasteful venture.
   There were only five pupils that applied for the exams in the whole of St. Patrick’s Primary School. Special preparatory lessons were organized by the primary six teacher and Junior became quite surer and confident as the D-day approached. He could now tackle many of the questions in the past years’ examination question papers. His favourite subjects had been Mathematics and English Language, so he found Quantitative and Verbal Aptitude very interesting.
   On the examination day, Junior and his classmates gathered in their school and were led by their teacher, to St. Gregory Primary School, which had always been the venue of the examination for the Local Government. St. Gregory Primary School was a bit far from St. Patrick’s, so the pupils set out as early as 6:30am since the journey was on foot. It was expected that they would arrive at the examination venue by 8:00am, an hour before the examination. This would accord them enough time to settle down before the day’s business.
   Just before the pupils were called into the examination hall, Junior and his classmates were gathered by their teacher for last minute advice.
   “Like I have always told you, make sure you pray just before the exam. Make sure that tension never gets the better part of you. Make sure you write you names, exam numbers and school. Start with those questions you know very well. Don’t yield to distraction and above all don’t engage in examination malpractice. Did I make myself clear?”
   “Yes, sir.” The pupils chorused.
   “You can go in now. I wish you good luck.”
   “Thank you, sir.” The pupils went in and took their seats.
   The answer scripts came first and the pupils were advised on what to do. The question paper came later and the examination started after the supervisor had read out the instructions.
   There was absolute tranquility in the hall and Junior suffered no distraction whatsoever. As expected, he knew most of the questions in Quantitative and Verbal Aptitude.
   He was surprised that he also did well in the general paper.
   Examination over, Junior and others went home to complete primary six and also wait anxiously for the release of the common entrance examination results.
   It was a long wait!
   Junior lost his appetite and consequently lost weight. He rarely concentrated in class. He dreaded failure as he knew that would mar his ambition. It was true that he wrote well but nobody could ever predict the outcome of an external examination.
   Junior’s heart stood still two weeks before the end of his primary education. The morning devotion had come to an end and pupils were about filing to their classes when the headmaster announced that the common entrance examination results had been released. He stated that out of five pupils that sat for the examination from St. Patrick’s, only two made up to the pass mark. He proceeded to invite John and Junior to come and flank him.
   “These are the two pupils that passed the exams,” he declared after the two students had joined him. “While John scored 18 on the aggregate, that is 18/40, Junior scored 34 on the aggregate that is 34/40.”
   There was a thunderous applause the moment Junior’s score was made known.
   The headmaster continued when the applause died down. “While I congratulate the two pupils for doing our school proud, I wish to congratulate Junior in particular for writing the name of our school in gold.”
   Another applause.
   “It might interest you to know that he narrowly missed the Local Government scholarship award to secondary school, which is meant for pupils that score 36 and above. He missed that opportunity by just two points.”
   “Oh!” mourned the pupils and the teachers. “What a narrow miss,” they cried.
   “It is really a narrow and expensive miss but I hope that God will not allow this sharp brain to be wasted,” the headmaster said. “He will surely be in secondary school next session by God’s grace.”
   “Amen!” the pupils and the teachers chorused and began to clap again.
   With the release of the entrance examination results, Junior’s fear of failure vanished but was quickly replaced with another fear.
   Story had it that a lot of manipulations took place during posting of successful candidates to secondary schools. There could be unintentional omissions and mistakes sometimes but most often the omissions and mistakes were intentional. Rich parents usually bribed the posting officials to favour their children. This way a candidate, who would have been posted to a good school ordinarily, would end up in a local school if he was lucky to be posted at all.
   Junior kept praying God to take absolute control of his posting and He did.
   Six weeks to the beginning of a new session a postman arrived at Junior’s compound. He had a letter for Junior care of Mr. George Okoye. The postman barely left when Junior became aware of the content of the letter.
   He had been posted to a prestigious secondary school in Onitsha.
   His heart brimmed over with joy.
   He was not just going to secondary school; he was going to one of the best. That was not all – he was going to the much-talked about Onitsha.
   Hurray!
   A missive together with the school’s prospectus was sent to Andy instantly and he promised to provide all the requirements before the resumption date.
   Junior was no longer afraid of being shortchanged. He was now certain that he was going to secondary school and he could not wait to leave home. Nothing could stop him now. The Almighty God had been so faithful. He must reciprocate by being more faithful to Him. He must serve God in spirit and in truth.
   That was the only way to show appreciation to Him.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN




   Andy was so impressed with Junior’s performance that he decided to take him to his new school himself. He had earlier bought the young boy all that the prospectus stipulated and much more.
   Andy arrived home the night before the day Junior was expected in school and took all he bought for Junior to him immediately.
   Junior was wild with excitement when he saw all that were bought for him. His parents were also overwhelmed. There were tears in Monica’s eyes as she sank to her knees to thank her son’s benefactor.
   “Get up, please,” Andy told Monica, practically dragging her up. “It is the Lord’s doing and to Him alone we must show our gratitude.”
   “Thank you very much,” Monica cried. “The Almighty God will continue to bless you.”
   “Amen,” Andy said.
   George held out his hand to Andy. “Thank you very much,” he croaked. “I will never forget this good turn. I am sure that neither Junior nor his mother will too. God will continue to bless your endeavours.”
   “Amen,” Andy said again.
   “Thank you, uncle,” Junior said when it was his turn to show gratitude.
   “You are welcome, my dear.” He caressed the boy’s head. “Now make sure you are ready by 7:00am tomorrow. We must leave early enough if we hope to arrive at the school on time. Is that clear?”
   “Yes, uncle.”
   “Good. I must leaves now,” Andy said. “See you tomorrow morning – at 7:00am. Good night.”
   “Good night,” they responded as Andy walked to his car.
   He waved at them as he pulled out and they all waved back.
   Junior was very elated when Andy arrived at the appointed time that fateful Monday morning to pick him up. He stood in a long emotional embrace with his parents, one after the other. He had never been away from home before and now he was about to, it was not easy at all.
   His eyes were filled with tears.
   He quickly overcame his gloomy feelings and brightened up. He must be happy now that he was finally going to college, which to him was the genesis of the actualization of his dream of becoming a banker. He had heard severally that one could land employment in a bank with school certificate and therefore resolved to settle for any kind of job in a bank after his school certificate examination in the event of his inability to go further.
   After all, all bank workers were bankers.
   The journey to Onitsha finally started but proved to be very long and apprehensive. Junior had never entered a vehicle in his life let alone ride in it. He had always prayed for this opportunity but now he had it, apprehension would not allow him make the best of it.
   He could not help but fear for the unknown.
   He was going to the city for the first time and wondered if he would ever be able to adapt to city life, which according to stories was full of hustling and bustling. He had been told that there was nothing like night in the city and he wondered whether he would cope without sweet dream-filled night rest. This absence of night would definitely make his most cherished moonlight games impossible.
   What would he do without his moonlight games?
   His anxiety also stemmed from the fact that he was going to mix up with total strangers, majority of whom were from rich homes. How was he going to break loose from the shackles of timidity occasioned by lack of exposure and have a smooth relationship with his new schoolmates?
   The brutality of junior students, especially the poor ones, by the senior ones was another aspect of his new life that sent goose pimples up and down his entire frame. He had heard stories of how some junior students had been rushed to the hospital either because they were ruthlessly beaten up by the senior ones or they fainted as a result of hunger since their seniors always took over their provisions as well as their shares of food from the refectory.
   Junior was brought back to his immediate environment when Andy spoke to him.
   “I hope you didn’t forget anything at home?”
   “No, uncle,” Junior answered with certainty. He started packing his things the day he received his posting letter.
   “I want you to be very careful in school so you won’t fall into any kind of trouble. Trouble making will not only portray you as a bad boy but can also cost you your education and if care is not taken, your life.”
   “I will do my best to stay out of trouble, uncle. I also promise not to disappoint you academically,” Junior assured Uncle Andy.
   “That’s my boy.”
   A shudder ran over Junior’s frame when he saw a group of men flagging down their car. The men in question were armed and looked menacing.
   Junior had heard about many cases of highway robberies. He could remember vividly a particular situation, according to stories, where all the occupants of a bus were shot dead just because the armed robbers didn’t realize enough money from them.
   He heaved a sigh of relief when they were back on the road.
   “Who were those men?” Junior asked the moment he felt they were out of earshot.
   “You mean the men that stopped us moments ago?”
   “Yes, uncle.”
   “They were policemen,” Andy was shocked that a boy Junior’s age had never seen policemen before. He quickly recovered when he remembered that he himself was no different at that age. “Haven’t you heard of policemen before?”
   “I have but I have never seen them.”
   “You will see more of them when we get to the city,” Andy told Junior.
   Junior was very happy that he had finally seen policemen. Thanks to his journey to the city. He thanked God for making this possible and also thanked the man behind the wheel for being an instrument in the hands of God.
   He smiled to himself when he remembered what his teachers used to tell them:
   Travelling is part of education.
   He heaved noisily and then placed his head on the headrest.
   True to Andy’s word, Onitsha was full of policemen. They were everywhere and doing all sorts of things. While some of them were controlling traffic, the rest were busy extorting money from motorists and motorcyclists.
   “Uncle, why don’t you pay the policemen as others do?” Junior asked when they passed the third checkpoint within the city.
   Uncle Andy smiled at the small boy’s ignorance. “The money being collected by those policemen is known as bribe. In the past, it was only motorists and motorcyclists whose papers were not complete or up to date that gave bribe to the police in order to escape the law. The police have over the years become so used to bribe that they no longer ask for vehicle documents. All they are interested in nowadays is money. They hate it when drivers produce their papers instead of bribe. Most of the vehicles parked at those checkpoints were probably there because their papers were complete and the owners were not ready to give bribe. If they had complied with the police ‘roger offertory’ just like others, they wouldn’t have been delayed one second.
   “This attitude of the police has contributed in no small measure to the spate of armed robbery and other violent crimes in our society today. The police no longer conduct routine searches. Once a driver is ready to part with some money, his journey will not be interrupted be him an armed robber or whatever.” Uncle Andy ended his lengthy explanation.
   “How come they don’t demand bribe from you?” Junior asked with clear confusion.
   “That is because what they do is illegal. They look at vehicles and their occupants critically before making their illegal demands. They are just being careful not to demand bribe from someone who could put them in trouble.” Uncle Andy paused to enable him concentrate at a junction and then continued when he had driven past it. “Maybe, my car, dressing and expression give them the impression that demanding bribe from me could be risky.”
   Satisfied with his Uncle’s explanation Junior returned his attention to the intricate city called Onitsha.
   The city seemed to have everything in excess. People were all over the place that Junior’s young brain could not fathom out where all of them slept at night. His puzzle was however solved the moment his attention shifted to houses. He was even tempted to conclude that there were more houses than human beings. He was sure that Onitsha was devoid of bungalows. That was because he had counted up to a thousand houses already and he had not spotted a bungalow yet.
   He was so stunned with the marvels of the city that he didn’t notice that uncle Andy was laughing at his curiosity.
   “Uncle, so cars can fly,” Junior could not believe his eyes. “We were deceived in school into believing that cars cannot fly.”
   Andy cast an inquisitive glance at him. “Your teachers were right. Cars cannot fly.” Andy could not understand why Junior thought that cars could fly.
   “What of those ones over there?” Junior asked pointing ahead.
   Andy laughed heartily when he understood why Junior thought that cars could fly.
   “Those cars there are on what we call a flyover. Flyovers are built in big cities to ease traffic bottlenecks. Without them traffic control at some junctions would be impossible because there are too many vehicles.”
   “How do they work, uncle?”
   “You mean flyovers?”
   “Yes, uncle.”
   “Patience, my boy,” Andy advised, “You will find out how everything works sooner than later.”
   There was a very heavy traffic at Oguta road junction at the Upper Iweka end. Vehicles were at a standstill and a person new to Onitsha would think that the roads had been converted to car parks.
   There was a helluva of noise coming from all angles – horns hooted loudly, vehicle engines especially those of heavy duty trucks revved, music played at full blast from lots of loud speakers, people shouted obscenities on one another among others.
   Every nook and cranny of the city was filled with decomposed, semi-decomposed and fresh refuse. The smoke from the exhaust pipes of motor vehicles and burning refuse added to the polluted nature of the city.
   Junior initially closed his nose but later opened it when he discovered that he was engaged in a futile exercise.
   There was visible anarchy in Onitsha and Junior wondered how the inhabitants of the city survived.
   “Uncle, why do people park their vehicles on the roads? Don’t they know that other people are making use of the roads?” Junior was very angry that some people could be so unreasonable.
   Andy’s laugh was long and hearty once again. He was unequivocally enjoying the company of the village boy beside him.
   “The cars are not parked. They are just caught up in a traffic jam just like we are.”
   “Traffic jam? What causes traffic jam, uncle?”
   “It could be due to the presence of too many vehicles on the road, careless driving, and blockage of a part or the entire road by broken down vehicles, police activities or bad roads.”
   “Do you know how long we are going to remain here?”
   Andy only shook his head but Junior could read that he meant more than no… he also meant that they were in for a long stay.
   Junior and his uncle never drove into the compound of his new school until around 11:00am, more than two hours after arriving in Onitsha.
   Thanks to the traffic jam they encountered at Oguta road junction.
   The traffic jam was so terrible that Junior would have suggested that his uncle parked his car beside the road so that the rest of the journey would be done on foot, but for the contents of the boot.
   “College, here we come,” Uncle Andy said after parking his car in the college car park.
   Just like other places in Onitsha, the school was filled with upstairs, all painted in white. There was a mighty church building standing in the compound. The assembly ground was very spacious and a statue of Christ as a King was standing in front of the pavilion.
   A good number of young boys dressed in white uniform, some wearing trousers while others shorts were all over the school compound. Junior was so surprised that students could wear trousers to school. Perhaps, rich students wore trousers while poor ones like him wore shorts.
   He had shorts as his uniform.
He only reasoned appropriately when he discovered that the students in trousers were relatively older than those in shorts.
   As they headed towards the administrative office, Junior noticed that some of those students in trousers, the senior students, had canes with them as they supervised the junior ones who laboured very hard to keep the entire school tidy.
   All the stories he had heard about the brutality of junior students came rushing back to his memory when he saw a small boy lying flat on his belly and receiving the thrashing of his life.
   What has this boy done to deserve this kind of inhuman treatment, he asked himself, and why is it that the school authorities cannot monitor and curtail the activities of these brutes, he wondered.
   Junior and Uncle Andy discovered that many other new students were waiting in the company of their parents and guardians at the office lobby, to be registered. The duo took their seats and waited patiently for their turn.
   Junior was placed in JS1A and his hostel was ST. John the Baptist’s hostel. Uncle Andy helped him move his things to the hostel before taking his leave. Junior strained every nerve to suppress the tears that welled up in his eyes to no avail. He kept waving at his darling uncle until the white car was out of sight.
   Junior slowly looked around the compound that would serve as his school – his world for the next six years and then headed down to his new abode - St. John the Baptist’s Hostel.

*****

   “I want you to go back to your former position and then run up to this place.”
   Junior obeyed without asking questions.
   He had been in school long enough to know that asking questions would only attract worse punishment. He was always mindful of the slogan:

   ‘OBEY BEFORE COMPLAIN’

   - which was handed down to them during the orientation programme organized by the senior students.
   “Why did you walk up to me the first time?” The senior student growled.
   “I am very sorry, senior. It will never happen again.” Junior apologized.
   The Senior studied him for a while. “Now pick this bucket,” Senior Peter said, pointing at an iron bucket on the ground, “and fetch me some water. Be fast about it,” he ordered.
   “Yes, senior.”
   Junior picked up the bucket and ran off before Senior peter would change his mind and thrash him first before sending him on the errand. That was what most of the senior students did. They were sadists and Junior despised them with a passion.
   Few minutes later Junior was returning to the hostel with a bucket full of water. He sensed trouble when he spotted Senior Gabriel roaring and pacing like a wounded lion.
   He was sure to receive the thrashing of his life soon.
   “Hey, boy! Where did you go when you haven’t finished washing my clothes?”
   Junior had already received a deadly slap on his face before Senior Gabriel finished with his question.
   “Senior Peter asked me to fetch him some water.” Junior answered thinking that his answer would placate Senior Gabriel but on the contrary the Senior became more enraged. He picked up the bucket of water fetched for Peter and hauled it away.
   “What nonsense are you talking about?” He yelled while raining more slaps on the younger student. “Why didn’t you tell the bloody Peter that you were washing my clothes?”
   Gabriel didn’t allow Junior to answer his question. He ordered him to lie flat on his belly and gave him six hot strokes of the cane.
   “I will skin you alive if you try what you did today next time. I give you thirty minutes to finish up with my clothes or you will consider what just happened to you a big joke. Thirty minutes…,” he emphasized and stormed away.
   Junior was in a quagmire and he knew it.
   He knew that he was between the devil and the deep blue sea. Any action he decided to take would definitely attract a thorough punishment. If he decided to fetch another bucket of water for Peter, Gabriel would certainly make good his threat. And if he decided to settle for washing without fetching Peter’s water, all hell would be let loose when Peter emerged and that would be in a short while.
   He was still in a confused state of mind when Senior Peter emerged from the hostel with a white towel tied round his waist.
   “Where is the water I asked you to fetch me, boy?” Peter asked icily.
   Junior was contemplating on the best answer to offer when dynamite exploded inside his left ear or was he just slapped? He instantly saw a dazzling display of fireworks. A bitter groan escaped his lips when the second dynamite exploded in his right ear.
   “Senior Gabriel poured it away,” he cried out as he looked towards the ground, which had just being made wet.
   Peter’s eyes followed Junior’s and when he returned his gaze to the younger boy, he was ready to explode. He slapped and kicked Junior at the same time until his limbs ached. He then ordered him to lie down.
   Junior had accepted his fate as a sacrificial lamb. He knew better than beg or offer explanations. That would be tantamount to adding fuel to the flames. Peter gave him six strokes of the cane as well and threatened to strangle him should he fail to bring him a bucket of water within three minutes.
   But for the intervention of the house-master, Junior’s predicament would have been endless.
   For over a week, Junior lay on his stomach at night. His behind was badly bruised. During classes, he stood instead of sitting.
   Junior’s first year at college was very unpleasant. It seemed as though every senior student wanted to have their own pound of flesh from him.
   The second year was a lot better. This was because he started playing for the school football team. He had not played for more than three times before the name Jay Jay became the most popular name in school.
   His skill and experience at the game were second to none. He soon became the apple of the eye of the senior students. They all fell over themselves trying to make friends with Jay Jay.
   Students were not alone in the struggle to become Junior’s friends. The teachers were also caught up.
   Junior was going to the school library one Thursday morning during a free period when a JS1 student came up to him at the double.
   “Excuse me, please, “the boy said.
   Junior stopped and turned to face him.
   “The principal wants to see you in his office.”
   Junior’s heart skipped a beat. It took him up to half a minute before he spoke to the messenger.
   “Right away?”
   “Yes,” the younger boy said and started away.
   Junior’s heart was thudding loudly as he approached the principal’s office. He could hear the sound his heart produced and was sure that those nearby could hear it as well. He could not understand why the principal wanted to see him. He had not broken any of the school’s rules and regulations; so why this call?
   Perhaps Uncle Andy could not sponsor his education anymore and had officially written the school authorities to that effect. If that was the case, the principal’s intention was to bring the development to his notice and advise him to get another sponsor to sign an undertaking on his behalf as required by the school’s constitution.
   Else he would be asked to pack his bags and baggage.
   So, my dream of becoming a banker is about slipping off my hands, he thought ruefully. “But how could Uncle terminate the sponsorship of my education without telling me first.
   No! He shook his head vigorously. Uncle wouldn’t do such a thing and even if he did, it is not the principal’s place to inform me. It is the duty of the admissions officer, he concluded. But why does he want to see me. Has any misfortune befallen any of my parents? Maybe one of them is sick or even dead. Father God, let it not be that anything bad has happened to either of my parents,” he prayed.
   He was filled with fear of uncertainties when he walked into the principal’s office.
   “Good morning, Father,” Junior greeted in a voice that was strange to him.
   “Good morning, Jay Jay,” the principal responded and smiled.
   Junior’s fear was doused to a great extent when he saw the genuine smile on the principal’s face, though he felt that the smile was a gimmick to calm him down before breaking whichever bad news he had for him.
   “You sent for me, father.”
   “Yes,” Father Innocent smiled at him again. “Please, do sit down.”
   “Thank you, Father,” Junior said and sat down.
  Father Innocent closed the file on his desk and leaned forward. “I was worried that your involvement in many extracurricular activities especially football could be a threat to your academic performance,” he began, “so I decided to seek information from your form teacher and I must confess that I am very impressed with my findings. Contrary to my fears, you are comfortably on top of your class. I urge you to keep it up.”
   Father Innocent stopped when someone rapped gently on the door, opened the door and walked in without permission.
   “The bursar is here to see you, Father,” the principal’s secretary stated while dropping some files on the principal’s desk.
   “Tell him to wait for a brief moment.”
   “Yes, Father,” the secretary said and left.
   “You see,” Father Innocent continued, “your primary aim for coming to this school is to acquire good education. Anything that distracts you from that is frivolous – be it football or anything else. Such a distraction must be jettisoned without delay.”
   The principal was interrupted again when his secretary showed up a second time. She picked a file from the ones she dropped earlier.
   The principal waited patiently for her to shut the door behind her before he continued.
   “I urge you to give priority to your academic activities so as to excel in your exams. I can envisage a great future for you and I sincerely believe that you will go places if given the proper orientation.”
   “Thank you, Father. I will do my best to pay heed to your advice,” the young boy stated with a voice filled with happiness, satisfaction and relief.
   All his fears had melted away as he stood to leave.
   “Do not hesitate to approach me whenever you have difficulties. I will be glad to help you out,” the reverend gentleman added just as Junior held the door latch.
   “I am grateful, Father.” The young boy smiled at his principal, opened the door and walked across the threshold.
   From that moment on, no punishment came Junior’s way either from the teachers or the senior students until he became a senior student himself. The principal was his knight in the shining armour.

*****

Good morning my principal, the vice-principals, other members of the staff and my fellow students:

I am extremely delighted to be honoured with the post of the senior prefect of this prestigious and reputable school. I wish to express my heartfelt gratitude to all those that contributed in one way or the other in making this highly revered position come my way.

My promise is that I will do all within my powers to uphold the confidence reposed in me.

By this elevation to the post of the senior prefect, I have been mandated to be in the vanguard of protecting and enhancing the image and integrity of this school. I pledge not to shirk this responsibility.  But I cannot achieve much without your help. I therefore solicit the co-operation, support and advice of both staff and students. I also need your prayers since wisdom and other qualities of a good leader come from God.

I hope to leave my footprints not on the sand of time but on a cement cast, where neither rain nor windstorm can erode it. So I urge you to join hands with me so that together we will build a better, stronger and more reputable school.
   Long live our great college!
   Long live her staff and students!
   Thanks and God bless you all.

   The acceptance speech delivered by Junior was greeted with a deafening applause and cheers. Both staff and students were very impressed with the speech. It was well articulated and very forceful.
   Father Innocent could not hide his feelings as he held the new senior prefect in a long and passionate embrace. This gesture made the students to clap and cheer the more.
   I have always known that this boy is made of a mind-boggling stuff. This is just the beginning, Father Innocent said inwardly.
  An induction course was organized for all the new prefects later that afternoon. The prefects were issued a copy of the school’s rules and regulations each even though they all received a copy in their JS1. This gesture was to make sure that all the new prefects were well disposed to carry out their functions.
   In attendance during the induction course were the principal, the vice-principals, dean of studies, some teachers, and the old and new prefects.
   Towards the end of the induction course, Father Innocent advised the new prefects to remember their primary aim of coming to school, which was to acquire good education and urged them to apply moderation while discharging their duties.
   The highlight of the induction course was the swearing-in ceremony during which the new prefects took an oath of allegiance to the school authorities as well as the school’s rules and regulations.


CHAPTER FOURTEEN




   Junior knocked again when his first knock was not answered and was about knocking the third time when a voice came from inside the house.
   “Who is it?”
   “Me,” Junior answered.
   The door swung open instantly and a beautiful girl about two years younger than Junior rushed out and threw herself at the young man. Their hug was long lasting.
   “I missed you…, I missed you so much,” she said in a whisper.
   “I missed you too,” Junior cooed into her ear.
   They disengaged and Jane took Junior’s travel bag from his shoulder.
   “Did you receive my letter?” Jane asked as she started into the house.
   “Why do you ask? Didn’t you receive my reply?” Junior asked after shutting the door and following her in.
   “I didn’t see any letter.”
   “Are you serious?” Junior asked, not believing her.
   “Why should I lie to you?”
   “Damn it!” Junior cursed. “How come you have not received a letter I posted more than a month ago? Our postal service is really poor.”
   “You can say that again,” Jane said in support. She took Junior’s bag to the room he always occupied when he visited - and that was often - and rejoined him in the sitting room where he was seated already. He was really tired out after the journey. The roads were terribly bad.
   “You are welcome.” Jane sat on the arm of the seat Junior was occupying. “Are you on midterm break?” she asked hopefully as she put her left arm around his shoulders.
   Jane was Andy’s sister-in-law. She was the last in her family and had been living with her sister, Nancy since she wedded Andy about six years back. Jane had proven to love Junior so much and the young man always did his best to reciprocate her love.
   “No midterm break,” Junior answered. “I just came to spend the weekend.”
   Silence.
   “You must be very hungry,” Jane pointed out and sprang to her feet. “Let me fix you something to eat.” She said and started towards the kitchen, which was also downstairs.
   “Where are the kids?” Junior asked and Jane stopped and turned.
   Andy got married to his wife, Nancy, six years back and their marriage had been blessed with three children, two boys and a girl.
   Nancy used to work in her husband’s bank. It was in the bank that the couple met and became friends and later, husband and wife.
   The couple had continued to work in the same workplace until the children started coming. They then decided that Nancy should quit so she could take proper care of their nascent family.
   Bank work was very demanding.
   Nancy submitted her letter of resignation the moment a supermarket was opened for her.
   Owning and managing her own business was very convenient. It gave her enough time for her marital responsibilities. She usually took her children to her supermarket at their very tender ages. She never left them at the mercy of inexperienced and sometimes wicked housemaids as practised by many working class women.
   “They are playing in their room.” Jane answered, pointing upstairs.
   “Let me see them first. I will eat afterwards,” Junior said as he started towards the stairs.
   “How are you getting ready for your WAEC examinations?” Jane asked as she followed the young man upstairs. She was sliding her hand along the banister as she ascended the stairs.
 “I am doing my best, my sister.”
   “Uncle! Uncle! Uncle!” Kingsley and Pascal, Andy’s first and second sons shouted happily as they ran to greet Junior.
   Junior sank to his knees and held the boys to himself.
   “How are you, boys?”
   “Fine, thanks,” they answered.
   Junior was a regular visitor to Andy’s house and was treated as a member of the family. Andy loved him so much. He always treated Junior like a younger brother. The rest of the family had no choice than to love him, as did the head of the family. The kids did not even know that Junior was not their real uncle.
   “Didn’t you buy us biscuits, uncle?” the five-year old Kingsley asked.
   “Of course, I did.” Junior smiled passionately. “How could I forget such an important thing?”
   “Where is it, uncle?” Pascal asked skeptically.
   “In my bag downstairs. I will bring it to you when I go downstairs,” Junior told them.
   “No, uncle,” Pascal said, shaking his head. “Let us go get it now.”
   “As your majesty pleases,” Junior said as he got back on his feet.
   “Good evening, Uncle Junior,” Grace, one of Nancy’s house helps greeted.
   “Good evening, Grace. How are you?”
   “Fine, thank you.”
   As Junior turned to leave the room in the company of Andy’s sons, he noticed Jacinta sleeping peacefully in her cot.
   “Didn’t auntie take Jacinta to the supermarket today?” he asked as he moved towards the cot.
   “She didn’t take her this week because my school is on midterm break. We will resume next week Wednesday,” Jane explained.
   “No wonder you asked whether we were on midterm break.”
   The young girl whose happiness always knew no bounds whenever Junior came around nodded and smiled boldly.


*****

 
   “I hope there is no problem,” Andy inquired of Junior later that night when they were alone in the sitting room.
   “There is none, uncle,” Junior was having a hard time on how to make his reason for visiting known to Uncle Andy. “It is just that JAMB forms for the next academic session are on sale and I thought I should let you know.”
   “Is that so?”
   “Yes, uncle. I must say that it will be very ungrateful of me to suggest that you sponsor me in the university when you have spent so much to send me to college but I – I – I…”
   “I want you to go to the university. That is the only way you can become a seasoned banker,” Uncle Andy said, coming to Junior’s rescue.
   Junior became speechless. He was so happy that he could not think up what to say.
   “Do you know how much a set of forms costs?”
   “One thousand, five hundred and fifty naira,” Junior supplied with alacrity.
   “Good. When do you intend going back to school?”
   “In two days.”
   “That is Sunday,” Andy calculated. “That is okay. I will give you some money for the forms before you leave.”
   “Thank you very much, uncle.”
   “So, which university do you want to attend?”
   “University of Nigeria.”
   “Banking and Finance or Accountancy?”
   “Neither. I want to study Economics.”
   Andy winged up his eyebrows. “Economics?”
   “Yes, Uncle. It is more versatile. I believe with Economics I will have better opportunities.”
   Andy nodded severally. “I can see you have been doing a lot of research on banking and the related disciplines. I think you are right. Economics will give you more opportunities.”
   “So, how is Father Innocent?” Andy asked after a brief silence. “I have not seen him in a while now.”
   “He is fine. He sent his love.”
   “I will try coming to see him before you finish your WAEC exams… which remind me; how are you preparing for the exams?”
   “I am doing my best, uncle.”
   “I hope not to be disappointed.”
   “You will not, by the grace of God, uncle.”
   “I am happy to hear that.” Andy stretched and yawned. “I had a hectic time in the office today,” he said rising to his feet. “I need some sleep. Please remember to turn off all the electronic gadgets before retiring to your room.”
   “Good night, uncle.”
   “Good night, my dear,” Andy said. He yawned again and went upstairs.
   Junior could not sleep that night. He never knew that it was so easy to rise from grass to grace; from the gutters to the palace.
   He would soon cease to be a pauper and become a prince.
   And a living saint, Andy, was making this possible.
   Throughout that night he kept praying for the incessant shower of God’s bountiful blessings on his uncle.

*****

   Junior prayed that whoever it was would get the impression that he was sleeping and let him be.
   But the knock came again. This second knock was so hard and prolonged that Junior impulsively jumped to his feet.
   “Who is it?” he asked in a voice filled with anger and frustration.
   “Your mother.”
   Junior reluctantly went to the door, unlocked it and went back to his former position without opening the door. His mother heard him unlock the door, so she opened it and stood in the doorway, with her right hand akimbo. The look on her face was that of disapproval as she watched her only child slouching at a desk filled with many big books.
   “Junior,” she finally found her voice.
   Junior didn’t answer. He only looked up at her.
   “I can see you don’t answer to your name any more.” Monica’s voice was a bit harsh.
   “You have my attention, mama,” Junior stated coldly.
   Monica left the doorway and moved slowly towards her son’s reading table. She stopped just inches from the table and spoke in a very persuasive voice.
   “How long are you going to lock yourself up in this room, my son? Why are you turning yourself into a hermit? You rarely visit friends and relatives or even go out at all these days. You no longer have time to chat with your father and me as before. You don’t even have time for food. For how long are you going to continue like this?”
   Monica was very disturbed by her son’s recent excessive inclination towards reading. It was not that Junior never read during the few holidays he had spent at home. He always read but this time he was reading as though his life depended on it and Monica was not comfortable with that.
   She had heard stories about some people who became mentally deranged due to too much reading. She even knew one of the victims.
   Oliver, a middle-aged lunatic from the neighbouring village was mentally sound until he stretched his brain beyond its capacity. According to the management of the college he attended when the incident occurred, he stripped himself naked and started uttering meaningless words after staying awake a whole night reading.
   She was surprised that Junior was not mentally deranged yet. He had outdone Oliver as long as she was concerned.
   Monica had tried on many occasions since Junior came home on holiday with his newfound reading habit, to dissuade him from reading all day long but the situation seemed to worsen with every attempt.
   She was becoming more frightened and frustrated.
   “Please mama, let’s not go over this again,” Junior pleaded. “I have told you over and over again that I have important exams to write next year and I…”
   “What nonsense exams are you talking about?” Monica asked furiously, cutting Junior off. “Any exam that is valued more than life is not worth taking. Look at you. Just have a proper look at yourself. You have given priority attention to books to the detriment of your own welfare. Tell me the kind of exams that will keep you away from friends, relations, well-wishers and even food on Christmas day.” Her voice was so loud that it could be heard from the parlour.
   “What is the matter, woman?” George asked as he joined mother and son. “Why not let the boy be? He is old enough to know the capacity of his brain and I am sure he is yet to overstretching it. So, stop disturbing him.”
   The woman spun around to face her husband, overly disappointed with his contribution. Her eyes shot daggers at the middle-aged man who was standing in the doorway.
   “Why not keep mum if you don’t know what to say?” Monica lashed out at him and then stormed out of the room, almost pushing her husband out of the way in the process.
   George was not in any way perturbed by his wife’s utterance. He knew that the outburst, which was not in her character, was as a result of her genuine fear for their son’s well-being.
   She definitely meant well but was overreacting as long as he was concerned.
   George smiled passionately at his son. “Come son, Jane is here to see you.”
   Junior was instantly on his feet. “Are you serious, Papa? Where is she?” he asked with a voice filled with excitement.
   Despite his desire to prepare the grounds for the forthcoming West African Examination Council and Joint Admissions and Matriculation Board examinations, he could not afford to ignore Jane whose company he very much relished.
   He rushed out to the parlour and held the young girl in a warm embrace.
   “Merry Xmas, my dear,” Jane said when they had separated and were just holding hands.
   “”I wish you the same.” Junior smiled. “When did you arrive?”
   “Last night. We should have arrived before nightfall but there was a heavy traffic. Everybody seemed to be travelling yesterday.”
   Junior laughed. “You are welcome.”
   “Thanks.”
   Junior motioned Jane to a seat. “So, how is everybody?” he asked as they both sat down.
   “Everybody is fine. Sister Nancy said to tell you to come to the house as soon as possible so the kids will see you. They always talk about their desire to see you. Uncle also wishes to see you for a chat.
   “How come you didn’t show up in Port Harcourt at all? We were all expecting that you would come over the moment your school vacated. We didn’t know you would prefer to come straight to the village.” Jane’s eyes were gleaming with love and happiness.
   “That was because my exams were fast approaching and I needed a serene environment – an atmosphere devoid of distractions. Just remembering and thinking about you is enough distraction, how much more staying under the same roof with you?” Junior said with broad smile. He always longed for an opportunity to express his feelings for the beautiful young girl sitting closely beside him.
   “So, I am now a distraction. How come you never told me all this while?” Jane asked with a fake frown.
   “Well, I just told you,” Junior threw back and both burst out with laughter.
   Junior stood up suddenly. “I will be back in a jiffy,” he said and walked out of the parlour.
   Jane crossed her legs and drifted into a reverie.
   She loved her host very much and was sure that Junior felt the same way about her. They enjoyed each other’s company and had perfect understanding of themselves. What then would pose a threat to a lifelong relationship between them? They would both go to the university and land good jobs afterward.
   Their would-be family would never lack materially.
   Their relationship was already enjoying the approval and support of the concerned parties. Uncle Andy and Nancy were aware of their relationship and they were in support though they always cautioned the lovebirds to shun what married couples do behind the curtain. Her parents and siblings were also in the know and they didn’t have any reservation whatsoever about the relationship or its possible and inevitable destination.
   The position of Junior’s parents was not in question. They had already taken and treated her as a daughter-in-law. Junior and she were both very beautiful and intelligent and a marriage between them could indeed be considered a step towards eugenics.
   Jane’s reverie terminated when Junior returned with an aluminum plate and a bottle of Fanta.
 She smiled at him. Though the content of the plate was yet to be brought to her view, she could guess what it was – lean bush meat - of course and she always looked forward to it each time she visited.
   Junior set the items before her “Here you are.” He said.
   She guessed right.
   “Thanks,” she said with a smile and pounced on the meat.
   Monica was very happy when she came into the parlour and found Junior chatting and laughing with her would-be daughter-in-law. He had momentarily forgotten his books.
   Thank God for Jane.
   With Jane home for Christmas, she was sure that he would have enough time to cool his brain.

*****

   The send-off party for Junior and his classmates was slated for the eighteenth of June; two day after their last paper was taken. The day happened to prove difficult for both staff and students. They were sure to miss their amiable and dependable outgoing students and friends.
   The outgoing students for their part were ambivalent. Though they were happy for the successful completion of their secondary education, they would certainly miss their teachers, majority of who were like parents and friends to them. They would also miss their schoolmates. It was also not in doubt that they would miss the school, which had served as their small world for six years.
   The principal and other members of staff who spoke to the outgoing students advised them to try at all times to be good ambassadors of the school while praying for God’s grace to enable them succeed in their future endeavours.

   I want you to remember the philosophy of your alma mater in whatever you do in the outside world. This school has sacrificed a lot, over the years in order to build an unparalleled reputation and we hope you don’t dent it through unruly behaviour.
Don’t ever allow people’s inquiries about your person and alma mater be hinged on your iniquities and incompetence but on your integrity and ingenuity.

I pray the almighty God to shower his abundant grace upon you to enable you convert all the stumbling blocks which are sure to come your ways in your future endeavours, to stepping stones.

I urge you to keep living the faith for what shall it profit a man to gain the whole world and perish in hell fire.

I say goodbye to you, my beloved and good luck.

   Father Innocent was yet to take his seat after his words of advice and encouragement when Junior was called upon to give a vote of thanks on behalf of his classmates.
   He stepped forward amidst applause and cheers and collected the microphone. He barely spoke for a minute when his voice cracked. His left hand went up to his face and what followed was an outpouring of emotions, which had been stifled for a long time.
   He was soon joined by more than half of the occupants of the send-off venue.
   It was a harvest of tears.

*****

   “Good evening, Father.”
   The reverend gentleman who was watching children’s programme on TV looked up at Junior and smiled. He was so engrossed in the programme that he did not notice Junior enter his sitting room. He was expecting the young man though, for he sought him after the send-off party and asked him to come over to his house later in the evening.
   But for Junior’s anticipated visit, Father Innocent would have retired to his room to have a quiet time as he always had around that time daily. While waiting for Junior to show up, he decided to keep himself busy with the TV and he sincerely found the programme very interesting.
   “Good evening, my dear,” Father Innocent responded. “Do have a seat, please.”
   Junior slumped into a seat. He was very tired. The day had been very hectic. “Thank you, Father.”
   “I feared that you might not come again.” Father innocent said.
   “I am really sorry for arriving behind schedule. Many students were around to bid me goodbye and I could not help making myself available to them. I am so sorry that I kept you waiting,” Junior apologized, unhappy to be leaving a bad impression behind as he was about to part with a man that was almost everything to him for the past four years.
   “It is all right. You did the right thing. I would have done the same if I were in your shoes.”
   “Thank you, Father.” Junior let out a sigh. His host’s understanding gladdened his heart.
   “What do I offer you?”
   “Nothing, I have had more than enough food and drinks for one day,” Junior said with a laugh.
   “If you say so,” Father Innocent said and picked up the remote control and tuned down the volume on the television. “I invited you here tonight to have a heart-to-heart with you because I don’t know if I would ever have the opportunity after today.”
   Pause.
   “Soonest, you will be going to the university,” he continued. “It is true that your results – both WAEC and JAMB are yet to be released but I am optimistic that you will make it to the university come next session. I want you to note that the way the university works is completely different from the way the secondary school works. Unlike secondary school where the activities of students are monitored day and night, nobody has time for you as a university student. You do what you like; when you like and how you like it. If you decide never to attend lectures for a whole semester or even session, nobody questions you. If you decide to have all the girls on campus as girlfriends, nobody cares. If you decide not to sleep in your hostel, nobody bothers you. And nobody will equally raise an eyebrow if you decide not to fulfill your Christian obligations anymore.” He heaved a sigh. “You see, whatever you become in the university depends entirely on you. You must have heard about the increasing cult activities in the universities and other tertiary institutions. Please for God’s sake and in the interest of your future and soul, stay away from cults. They are not good for you. You must understand that their agents are out there deceiving and luring unsuspecting youngsters into these secret societies. So, beware of the kind of friends you keep. Stay away from anything that has the propensity of leading you astray – women, highlife, too many friends especially those whose character you know little or nothing about, drinking, smoking, lawlessness et cetera. Read your books at the appropriate times to enable you live out your dream of becoming a seasoned banker.”
   Another pause.
   “I don’t want today to be the last time I will see you.” His voice suddenly sounded emotional and Junior’s tear glands were stimulated immediately and tears welled up in his eyes. “Please make sure you visit me whenever you have the opportunity. I will always welcome you with profound joy. I pray the Almighty to always guide and protect you.”
   “Amen!” Junior said with tears in his voice. “Thank you very much, Father for the advice and all you did for me in the last four year. It is only God that will reward you. I have heard you and hope to be guided by all I learnt from you in the last six years.”
   “That’s my man,” Father Innocent said.
   Junior smiled despite the emotions bottled up in him. He could not help marveling at how things changed swiftly. If it were some few days ago, the principal would have said ‘that’s my boy’ but now it was ‘that’s my man’.”
   Silence.
   “I think I should be on my way now, father. I still have some packing to do in readiness for my journey tomorrow morning.”
   “Just a moment,” Father Innocent said and went into his room. He reappeared almost immediately with a bible, a gold-coated crucifix, a chaplet, medal with Christ Jesus engraved on one side and Blessed Virgin Mary on the other, a gold finger rosary and a brown envelope.
   “These are for you,” he said holding the items out to Junior. “I have blessed them. Make sure you use them at all times. The money in the envelope is to supplement your transport fares.”
   “Thank you very much, Father. I am really bereft of words.”
   “You don’t have to say anything,” the Father said waving off his gifts as nothing. “Just endeavour to stay out of trouble.”
   “I will do my best, Father,” Junior stated sincerely.
   “And I hope that your best will be good enough.”
   “By the grace of God it will.” Junior hoped.
   “So, where are you going tomorrow – village or Port Harcourt?”
   “I will go to the village and see my parents before going to Port Harcourt.”
   “That’s fine. Give my love to your parents as well as those in Port Harcourt. And help me thank Andy for not coming to see me as he promised."
   As Junior stood in a long and warm valedictory embrace with Father Innocent that night, he sincerely thanked God for blessing and surrounding him with wonderful people thus far and prayed Him to continue this good work on him for the rest of his life.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN




   Junior was filled with awe when he arrived at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka.
   He had slept at Father Innocent’s house in Onitsha the previous night to enable him start the journey to Nsukka on time. Since he was going to Nsukka for the first time, he needed to arrive on time else he would be stranded.
   He was very surprised when a returning student he met at the park in Onitsha and became friends with, beckoned to cyclists when they dropped at the school gate.
   “Do we need cyclists? Is this not the school gate?” Junior was totally lost.
   “You are indeed coming to this school for the first time. A university is a very big place. With time you will discover that this school is more than hundred times as big as your former school. No exaggerations.” Collins said.
   As the bikes sped all the way to Economics Department, Junior found it difficult to understand why a landmass capable of accommodating more than five hamlets should be used for a school. He had heard so much about UNN but had never imagined that it would be anything close to what he saw.
   There was no doubt that the stories he had heard were pure understatement. UNN was a hundred folds more than what he had heard. Whenever the bikes slowed down at bumps or to avoid potholes, Junior thought that they had reached their destination but the ride continued.
   By the time they arrived at Economics Department, Junior was no longer surprised that Collins sought the services of cyclists.
   With Collins leading the way, registration was not difficult for Junior. He paid the necessary fees and was given receipts and some forms to fill and return within a month. They didn’t spend up to an hour in the Department before they flagged down two bikes that would take them to the Department of Students’ Affairs.
   The distance between Economics Department and the Department of Students’ Affairs was not that much. They could have gone there on foot but they had cumbersome luggage.
   The Students’ Affairs Department was filled with students when they got there. There was total pandemonium as the students struggled to be attended to. Junior was so confused when he alighted from the bike. How could a highly revered place like a University – University of Nigeria for that matter - have such an ugly sight? He could now make meaning of all that Father Innocent had told him.
   Father Innocent was very right – nobody monitored anybody.
   Junior was deep in thought as he approached the noisy crowd. He didn’t know what to do and he needed accommodation badly. Where would he pass the night if he failed to secure accommodation? He could deduce that the desperation exhibited by the students stemmed from lack of alternative places to pass the night. But the scampering would not make things easier. In fact it would worsen the situation.
   Junior was swimming in the ocean of despondency when Collins spoke to him.
   “My dear, it is going to be a long haul,” he said. “See, I want you to stay here and see if there will be any headway while I go to my hostel and renew my accommodation.”
   Junior stared at him with surprise. “What do you mean, go to your hostel and renew you accommodation? Isn’t this where all students secure accommodation?”
   Collins smiled. “It is only freshmen that come here for accommodation. They must get their hostel posting here and once that has happened, they only renew it at the beginning of every new session,” he explained.
   “Does that then mean that all these students here are freshmen?”
   “Why do you ask?”
   “Because they are too many.”
   Collins laughed. “All are not in first year. Just like I came with you, many other old students came with other new students but I must let you know, my dear, that what you consider too many is not up to five percent of all the freshmen for this session.”
   Junior’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me?”
   “Not at all.”
   “Where are the rest of the freshmen then?”
   “Some have got their own accommodation earlier; some don’t need school accommodation because their parents or relations live on campus or somewhere in town and they would live with them, some others would want to rent ‘boys quarters’; while many are yet to arrive.”
   “I see,” Junior said, astonished with the incredible information he kept receiving about his new school.
   “I have to run along now before the hall supervisor closes for the day. I will be back later to see how much progress you will have made,” Collins mounted a bike and left.
   As the bike taking Collins to his hostel sped off, Junior wondered where he would get the money to enable him mount bikes all the time. He had mounted two already and his new friend three and he was sure to mount more before the end of the day.
   Junior sought a pavement in front of the main building of the Students Affairs Department and sat down. He didn’t know how to start. He was not used to struggling for things. In fact he had never struggled for anything in his life except football. It was not that he lacked the stamina but he was not just brought up that way.
   “Are you waiting for somebody?”
   Junior looked up and saw a middle-aged man staring at him. The man was very unkempt because he had refused to clear the ‘bushes’ on his head and jaw.
   “No, sir,” Junior said and hurriedly rose to his feet. “I am a first year student and I need accommodation. That’s why I am here, sir.”
   “And you think that accommodation would walk up to you?”
   “No, sir. It is just that I am not cut out for struggling and wangling.”
   The man studied the young man before him more critically and thoughtfully for close to a minute before speaking again.
   “Come with me,” he said, turned and started away.
   Junior, not certain that he heard the man correctly, was still rooted in his position.
   The man turned after taking few steps.
   “Didn’t you hear me?” he asked. “I said you should follow me.”
   Junior quickly gathered his loads and trudged towards the stranger. The man for his part waited until Junior reached him. He relieved Junior of one of his bags and led the way. They entered a well-furnished office and Junior was asked to sit down.
   “I can’t help thinking that I used to know your father,” the man said, leaning back in his seat. “So, tell me, are you one David Eze’s son?”
   Junior winged up his eyebrows. David Eze? Who is he? He asked himself. “No, sir,” he answered.
   The man didn’t talk for about a minute. He was busy studying Junior intently. Junior perspired profusely while the silence lasted.
   “David was my very good friend when we were students of this very institution. He studied Economics while I studied Political Science. Upon graduation he went back to Lagos where he lived with his parents and later established a bank while I remained here as a lecturer. Until my appointment as the dean of Students’ Affairs, last year, I was a senior lecturer in the Department of Political Science and I will go back at the end of my tenure as the dean of this department.” The older man got up and walked to the window, parted the blind and began to look out. “So, you didn’t have any David Eze as an uncle or something?”
   “No, sir.” Junior was being monosyllabic but could not help it. How else would he respond to a university don who was trying to impose somebody he had never heard about on him as a father or uncle?
   “I understand my friend died many years back but he definitely lives in you. You are every inch like him. I am very surprise he was not your father. Honestly I am.”
   Why is this man telling me all this? Haven’t I told him that I didn’t know any David Eze?” Junior asking himself.
   This boy must be an outcome of Dave’s wild oats. I am sure he fathered this boy. The don thought as he returned to his seat. “Let me have your documents.”
   “Sir?” Junior wanted to be sure of what he heard.
   “Your documents.” The dean said, holding out his hand.
   So this man still wants to help me even when I am not the person he thought I was. Junior thought happily. You have come to my rescue once again, Father God by sending this man to me.
   “I have been looking all over the place for you,” Collins said to Junior when they met later. “Where have you been?”
   “A man who later introduced himself as the dean of this Department took me to his office.” Junior explained.
   “What?” Collins could not believe his ears. “Do you know him or something?”
   “He thought I was a friend’s son.” Junior supplied.
   “I see,” Collins said and collected one of Junior’s bags. “So, how far?”
   “The man helped me.”
   “With accommodation?”
   “Yes.”
   “You mean you have been given accommodation?” Collins asked expectantly.
   “Yes. Here is my accommodation slip.” Junior held out a slip to Collins. Collins collected it with excitement and smiled after glancing through it.
   “You have been assigned to Mbanefo Hostel. That’s my hostel.”
   “Really?”
   Minutes later the two students headed down to Mbanefo Hostel, yet on bikes.

*****

   “You are lucky, your gown and mortarboard are still in good shape,” Collins pointed out.
   “Are you mocking me?” Junior growled. “How could you say that these junks are in good shape?”
   “You will know why by the time you see what your colleagues will put on today. The gown I used last year was so terrible that I couldn’t imagine taking pictures in it. I had to borrow from a friend with a better one when I wanted to have snapshots.”
   Junior wondered why a University as big and reputable as the University of Nigeria, Nsukka could not get better gowns and mortarboards for matriculation and graduation ceremonies. Why did students have to dress in rags on their two most glorious and important days in the university? Why did they have to suffer indignation when they should be honoured?
   Junior’s worry and dismay about the deplorable conditions of the matriculation cum graduation costume did not last long. The day he had been waiting for was finally upon him and he would not allow anything, not even wearing rags, steal the fun from him. He had heard so many interesting tales about matriculation and he did not wish to miss out in any event of the day.
   His major reason for looking forward to the day was the fact that one could not really claim to be a university student until matriculation had come and gone. There was a popular saying on campus that a student’s name was written in chalk until after matriculation when it would be written in pencil and would only be written in ink when the student had taken exams and seen results.
   Junior desperately wanted his name to be written in pencil at least and it would soon come to pass.
   “Will your parents come?” Collins asked.
   “No, but my uncle will.”
   Activities were slated to commence at 10:00am but Junior was ready to leave for the venue at 9:00am.
   “Won’t you come to the matriculation venue?” Junior asked Collins.
   “No.”
   “Why not?” Junior could not understand.
   People travel far distances to attend matriculations and here is someone within the campus showing no interest.
   What a paradox!
   “I just don’t want to go.”
   “How then can I have snapshots with you?” Junior asked dejectedly.
   “We will snap when you return. Photographers are all over the campus.”
   “All right,” Junior said and started out as Collins returned to his room.
   Despite the fact that Junior leisurely walked up to the Princess Alexandra Auditorium, the venue of the ceremony, he still arrived more than thirty minutes before commencement time.
   With the exception of some members of the organizing team who were hurriedly putting finishing touches to the arrangement of the hall, the venue was empty. Junior slowly walked inside and selected a seat at the back and his eyes began to scan the entire auditorium, which he just entered for the first time.
   The auditorium was fairly spacious with two galleries on both sides. The stage was well decorated and Junior was sure that the seats laid out on it could take any number of dignitaries that would grace the occasion. Framed portraits of Princess Alexandra, Zik of Africa, President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, Enugu State Governor and the Vice-Chancellor of the University were conspicuously hanging on the stage wall.
   A classical music played in the background and some members of the organizing team intermittently tried one or two dance steps. There was an aura of splendour and sensation about the auditorium that Junior’s spirit was lifted.
   The ceremony never got underway until some minutes past 11:00am.
   Junior could not understand why an ivory tower – a citadel of learning, should be caught up with ‘African timing’. He was however happy that the matriculation ceremony had commenced at last and soon ‘his name would be written in pencil’.
   He had relocated to the right gallery to enable him have a bird’s eye view of all the day’s activities. He had heard so many stories and would want to tell his, from experience, later on. The hall was now filled to capacity and a lot more people were outside.
   If junior had never been disappointed in his life, the matriculation accorded him the opportunity. Contrary to his wildest expectations, nothing spectacular happened. Speeches, talks and lectures dominated the ceremony. There were three lectures in all: the first was on the motto of the university; ‘RESTORING THE DIGNITY OF MAN’. The second was on the philosophy of the institution; SEEK THE TRUTH, PREACH THE TRUTH AND ABIDE BY THE TRUTH’. Then the third and last lecture was entitled; ‘EDUCATION AND SOCIETAL DEVELOPMENT’.
   Junior was bored beyond imagination. His heart therefore brimmed over with joy after he had signed the matriculation register and was ready to head back to the hostel.
   As he approached his hostel, he discovered that the entrance had been blocked and wondered what was going on. It was only when he got close to the scene that he got a clear picture of what was happening.
   Old students had mounted a barricade to prevent ‘jambitos’ as freshmen were referred to, entrance into the hostel until they had parted with a token amount of money. Jambitos were also asked to dance to ‘ewu jambito’, a popular jambito song. This aspect of the matriculation as long as Junior was concerned was the only interesting event of the ceremony and he never hesitated to comply.
   He later gathered that this initiation of freshmen to the campus life as the event was referred to had been with the university for years. It was harmless and nobody - including the school authorities, had any good reasons to kick against it.
   Junior found a full house when he got to his room.
   He was sure that close to fifteen people were anxiously awaiting his return. Uncle Andy had arrived in the company of Jane and Edward, a colleague of his in the bank while Father Innocent came with five of his teachers. Collins and Junior’s three roommates, who were all old students, were also present.
   Junior was brought close to tears – of joy when they all stood in his honour the moment he stepped in. He took his time to hug each of them warmly.
   Prayers were said and words of advice and encouragement presented before everyone settled down for delicious refreshment. Uncle Andy had come along with assorted foods and drinks.
   The room became more crowded during refreshment because some ‘hungry’ students trooped in to have their own share. There was no reason to ask them out since Uncle Andy brought more than enough.
   With filled stomachs, the guests went downstairs to pose for snapshots with Junior before taking their leave.
   While Uncle Andy was having a chat with Father Innocent just before their departure, Jane’s hand found Junior’s and within a split second they were alone.
   “Congratulations. I am very happy for you,” Jane said with excitement.
   “Thanks. I am happy you came.”
   Jane smiled. “So, how are you adapting to your new environment?”
   “Well, I am doing my best but I must say that it is really tough. The stress is too much.”
   “Oh, sorry, my dear,” Jane consoled. “Just take it easy. Please, don’t allow them to overlabour you. You know why I said so?”
   “No. I don’t.” Junior could guess rightly but still wished to hear it from his sweetheart.
   “Then I will tell you,” Jane said lovingly. “It is because I will commit suicide if anything happens to you,” the young lady said with sobriety.
   Junior looked her eyeball to eyeball. “Nothing will happen to me as long as the Almighty watches over his creation.”
   “I pray so,” Jane’s voice was barely audible as she turned her back to Junior.
   “What is the matter?” Junior asked with visible agitation but Jane didn’t answer.
   “Please, darling, talk to me,” Junior pleaded. “You know that Uncle will soon finish his conversation with Father and call for you. Please, tell me what the problem is for I will not survive the suspense that will follow if you fail to tell me before leaving. It will be agonizing.”
   Jane was touched. She slowly whirled around to face him. She looked him in the face briefly and dropped her eyes.
   “I have heard so much about campus girls,” she said. “I have heard that they throw themselves on men especially the handsome ones. Your school is blessed with a lot of beautiful ladies and I am afraid that I might become history in a short while.”
   Junior narrowed his eyes. “How could you say a thing like that?” Junior’s voice was filled with disappointment. “So, you don’t trust me.”
   “Of course I trust you but I can’t help nursing some fears still.” Jane’s eyes were still focused on the ground.
   “There is no need to nurse fears, my dear. I love you and nothing can come between us. I have stated this over and over again. I am still stating it and I will continue to reaffirm it. Is that clear?” He propped up her face to meet his.
   Jane’s nod was indistinct due to Junior’s restraining hands. His both hands were cupping her cheeks.
   “I am sorry to have doubted your love but please don’t disappoint me.”
   “Of course, I won’t.”
   “Sure?” Jane smiled.
   “Cross my heart,” Junior said while crossing his chest with the index finger of his right hand.

*****

   The examinations taken in the first semester of Junior’s first year in the university was the worst set of exams he had ever taken. He never knew that exams could come in such a quick succession. Within a space of one week, he wrote all the eight courses he offered that semester. He didn’t write any of his papers comfortably. He, just like many other freshmen were not prepared. They were busy basking in their newfound campus life and before they knew what was happening exams were upon them.
   Lack of preparedness was not the only factor that militated against Junior’s performance. The widespread examination malpractice also contributed to a large extent. Junior had never experienced such a rape on education and the shock left a lot to be desired of him concentration-wise.
   Junior’s second year in the university was a lot better than his first. It wasn’t that the school programme had changed. He had only adapted. He learnt a bitter lesson from his first year experience. Though he did not fail any of his courses, his G.P.A was not very fascinating. He needed to buckle up if he must make a good grade at the end of his four-year stay in school.
   No frivolities this time!
   He had a nine o’clock lecture to attend one morning. He was ready to leave his room as early as eight o’clock but couldn’t due to a torrential rainfall, which started few minutes before seven that morning and had refused to abate.
   When the rain finally abated, it was few minutes to nine. Junior could not afford to miss his lectures, no matter the situation, so he sprinted off not minding that he could still get wet. He would have done with a bike but there was none at site. The cyclists on campus were a group of hydrophobic folks.
   He was half running up to the venue of the lecture when he heard the sound of car at full speed coming from behind. He looked behind not just out of curiosity but also to be sure that he was safe.
   As he turned his face to his front once again, he spotted a pothole on the road. The pothole was filled with ‘coloured’ water. He impulsively jumped across the gutter but it was too late. The damage had been done.
   He looked down on himself and discovered that he was drenched and his hitherto white shirt had become brown. He was in a complete daze that he didn’t notice that the car that splashed the water on him had stopped and reversed.
   “I am sorry.”
   Junior looked up and saw a damsel staring empathetically at him. His eyes were glued to her for more than one minute before they could be returned to his pathetic self.
   The young lady for her part was very apprehensive. She had driven recklessly and was going to pay dearly for it. Not many people would have stopped to apologize but she was a special breed. She had a conscience.
   “Please, forgive me, dear.” Her voice was so sweet and soothing that Junior wished that she never stopped talking. “It was really reckless of me to have driven the way I did. I was speeding because I was almost late for a lecture.”
   The young lady before Junior was certainly the most beautiful girl that ever crossed his path. In fact, she was the most beautiful girl that existed as far as Junior was concerned. She was tall and light-skinned. Her nose was pointed and her lips were full, succulent and inviting. Her eyes sparkled like stars in the firmament. Her skirt was a little below her knees but whether she had straight, well-tapered, rounded and sexy legs was not in question. Her curves were those of a beauty queen. A real paragon of beauty she was.
   Junior swallowed as electricity of a very high voltage surged up his frame and tried to electrocute life out of him. The charges between them increased by every passing second and Junior was afraid that the air between them would soon spark and set them ablaze.
   He swallowed again.
   “Please, forgive me,” the lady said again edging closer and Junior wondered if she was aware of the danger she was creating by shortening the distance between them. The potential difference was already too high for safety.
   Junior always believed that beautiful women must not be put through sorrow or any kind of emotional stress. The young lady before him was not just beautiful - she was an epitome of beauty.
   Beauty personified.
   Beauty redefined.
   She was no doubt suffering a deep emotional stress for a mistake that could be committed by any mortal and Junior could not help feeling guilty for being the cause of her suffering.
   Which mortal is infallible?
   “It is all right,” he could not recognize his own voice. It was a croak and he could have sworn that it was a frog that spoke. “It was just an accident.” He tried a smile but his facial muscles were numb.
   “Oh, thanks so very much for your understanding,” she exclaimed with great relief.
   “You are welcome,” Junior said, made a ‘U’ turn and started away. He must get away from this damsel before he would lose control and cause more embarrassment on himself. She must have noticed the way he gaped at her and made the appropriate deductions. He reasoned.
   “Where are you going,” the lady sang – or did she actually talk?
   “My hostel of course. I need to change.” Junior neither stopped nor looked back as he answered.
   He however stopped and turned when somebody held him by the arm. The young lady had doubled up to him when she sensed that words alone could not stop him.
   “Why not hop into my car so I will take you there. I will wait in the car until you finish so that we will go up to school together,” she stated pleadingly.
   “No,” Junior said emphatically, shaking his head. “That won’t be possible. You have a lecture to catch up with, remember?”
   “So, you don’t have one to catch up with yourself?” she asked, pouting her lips romantically.
   Junior’s legs turned to jelly. He had always maintained a sound control of his feelings for women no matter how beautiful, romantic or attractive, but this woman had succeeded in reducing him to nothing. He was wobbling and fumbling. He was woozy and it was not funny…, at all!
   “See, I am wet and dirty. I must go back to the hostel and change. There is no way I can attend a lecture in this state but you are dry, neat and beautiful. I won’t want you to miss your lecture because of me. That won’t be fair,” Junior argued.
   “Neither will it be fair for me to allow you waste your time and energy going back and forth because of my reckless driving. I guess that will be inhuman,” the lady insisted. “Come on, enter the car and let us save time and energy.”
   Junior felt defeated.
   “Why not allow me take care of myself?” Junior said after a brief silence. “I am sure I will be okay. And besides, I will mess up your car if I enter it.”
   “Let me worry about that,” the young lady said as she held the passenger’s door open for Junior to enter.
   Minutes later Junior was in his room changing into another set of clothes while the young lady waited in the car parked in front of his hostel.
   “You look gorgeous.” The lady smiled admiringly as Junior emerged from the hostel and entered the car.
   “Thanks for both the compliment and the ride.” Junior’s smile matched hers.
   “Stop it,” the lady said harshly though there was an underlying humour in her voice. “What I am doing is obligatory not philanthropic.”
   The ride up school was in silence. It was not that they had nothing to talk about neither did they lack the boldness to initiate and sustain a discussion but they seemed more content with thinking than talking.
   The car was brought to a halt when they reached Junior’s destination and the young lady tuned down the volume of the music blaring in the car.
   She turned to Junior and showed her fine dentition. “My name is Mercy. I am in Pharmacy, 200 level,” she said as she held out her hand to Junior.
   Junior took the soft hand and wondered if there were bones embedded in it. “George, but my relations and friends call me Junior. Economics, second year.”
   “Can I call you Junior just like your friends and relations?”
   “That then makes you my friend.”
   The duo laughed.
   “It is really nice meeting you though I still regret and apologize for how our meeting came about.”
   “Why do you allow the past to haunt you,” Junior said. “How we met is now in the past. It doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that we have met.”
   “You are a very nice person. I hope to see you again,” Mercy said happily.
   “Any time.”
   The car door opened and Junior alighted. Mercy waved him goodbye and set the car in motion.

*****

   It is all right. It was only an accident.
   Mercy was having a hard time trying to erase her encounter with Junior from her mind as she lay in bed that night. The young man had dazzled her in many ways. He was strikingly handsome and his manners were very refined. He didn’t look rich but he had all it took to charm any woman.
   Mercy never knew that the quietism displayed by the young man could ever exist within the four walls of the campus. An average student would have rained obscenities on her before she could even have the chance to apologize. Some would even go to the extent of assaulting her physically.
   Even when she offered to drive him to the hostel to enable him change, he seemed more interested in her own welfare.
   “I think it is high time I got myself a boyfriend since the right man has appeared,” she soliloquized.
   Mercy had been without a boyfriend. This was considered unusual as all her friends had boyfriends. Her friends were not comfortable and they kept badgering her.
   She was a rare beauty and every man’s dream. She was also classy and had a great sense of humour.
   What then was the problem?
   She had always argued that she had not seen the right man. Her friends could not understand. They wondered what she meant by ‘the right man’ when she had been and was still been approached by the most ‘happening’ guys on campus. Was it Phil, Cally, Sunny…? The list could go on and on and yet she never thought any of them ideal enough. Even Tony, a third-year Pharmacy student who was considered the richest and the most '‘happening’ guy around could not make any headway. What did she want in a man? What was her idea of an ideal man? This girl definitely did not belong to planet earth, her friends had concluded.
   Mercy was obviously neither interested in money nor affiliation with the limelight but in integrity and love and she felt she had seen these required attributes in Junior.
   “But how do I make my feelings known to him?” her soliloquy continued. She picked up a torch, put it on to enable her check the time. That was the fourth time that night.
   “What is the time?” Doris, one of her roommates who doubled as her closet friend asked. The flash of light had disturbed her sleep.
   “2:10am.”
   “Why do you keep checking the time? Do you have an early morning lecture?” Doris asked.
   “No. I just can’t sleep.”
   “Why?” Doris said, sitting up in her bed. “Are you ok?”
   “I am fine.”
   “Then why can’t you sleep?” Doris got up and moved across to Mercy’s bed. Mercy was seated and was leaning against the wall. “Something is wrong. Do you want to share? A problem shared is half solved, remember?”
   Mercy hesitated for a while and then hissed “I met a guy today.”
   Doris’ eyes widened with confusion. “What do you mean, Mercy?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “For God’s sake you meet guys on daily basis. How can you say that you met a guy?”
   Mercy shook her head severally and smiled. “I am talking about a guy with a difference not any kind of guy.”
   “I can’t wait to hear about him,” Doris sounded very impatient and excited.
   Mercy giggled at her friend’s impatience. “I told you I was going to Jives to meet the lady that would make my birthday cake.”
   “Yes?” Doris replied with more impatience.
   “Well, by the time I finished with the lady I was almost late for my nine o’clock lecture. So I was speeding to class when my tires jumped into a pothole and the water therein bathed the guy in question.”
   “Oh, what a pity,” Doris exclaimed. “What happened afterwards?”
   “I stopped and apologized.”
   “So, why does your conscience still plague you when you have apologized and I am sure the poor guy accepted your apology,” Doris wondered.
   “Who is talking about conscience here?” Mercy stated slowly and started cracking her knuckles. “I am talking about love and you are talking about conscience.”
   “Please explain what you mean for I am totally lost,” Doris implored.
   Mercy let out a low-pitched chuckle. “I am sure you understand me but I will explain nonetheless. All I am trying to tell you is that I have fallen for that guy.”
   Doris was tongue-tied. She was not ready for what she heard.
   “I don’t know how to let him know I love him. I don’t want him to think me cheap.” Mercy continued.
   “Are you kidding me?” Doris found her voice at last. She had never heard her friend talk about love ever before. She was actually happy that Mercy was eventually submitting to emotions just like every other normal woman but she was somewhat disturbed by her choice. Doris was yet to see the guy Mercy was talking about but he was definitely not their class. He certainly didn’t own a car. If he did, he wouldn’t have been on foot to be splashed with water from a pothole.
   “I am serious. Very serious! I love Junior and I would give anything to have him.”
   “Is that his name?”
   “George but fondly called Junior.”
   “So, what becomes of Tony?” Doris asked after a brief silence. “You can’t just treat Tony like that, Mercy. You know as well as I do that he loves you – very much. He tries to prove his love at all times. He is also as classy as you are, if not more. He rides the most expensive and sophisticated car on campus and is very popular. Why not give him a chance and forget about this faceless pauper you are talking about.”
   Mercy speared her friend with a glance. “I have told you severally that I don’t love Tony and will never do. He is handsome but I don’t like his behaviour. He is a braggart and I hate such people. I will never have him as a boyfriend, period!” Mercy stated with finality.
   Doris knew better than continue with the topic. Mercy had made up her mind and Doris was sure that nothing could ever make her change it.
   “Suit yourself but I hope you don’t regret your action later,” Doris said as she went back to her bed.
   “Thanks for your concern but I am sure I won’t.”





CHAPTER SIXTEEN




   “Who is it?”
   “Me!”
   “Just a minute!”
    Junior climbed out of bed and stretched like a pussycat before starting towards the door. He had had a hectic time at school that day. His lectures started at seven o’clock in the morning and it was only around six o’clock in the evening that the last one ended.
   Overly tired, he rushed down to the hostel, had a cold shower and then sought the comfort of his bed. He was alone in the room, all his roommates had gone out and he couldn’t be happier. His rest was not going to be disturbed.
   He had barely settled down in bed when the knock came.
   He was dumbfounded when he opened the door. Standing right in front of him was Mercy smiling gracefully. She had a sizeable cellophane pack clasped to her chest.
   “Hello, dear,” she cooed.
   “Hi!” Junior responded tentatively, still rooted to the doorway.
   “Won’t you let me in?” She blushed.
   “Of course I will,” he said, stepping aside to allow her access to the room.
   Mercy walked in and stood near a long reading table. Junior could notice from the movement of her eyes that she was scanning the room.
   “What a nice place you have here,” Mercy complimented.
   “Thanks.”
   It was true that the room did not have a special air of affluence about it but it was undoubtedly cozy and elegant.
   One of Junior’s roommates owned a medium sized fridge. The other had a home theatre. Though the home theatre was not the latest in the market, it added enough value to the room. His roommate who was in Computer Science Department had a set of computer and Junior had a magnificent standing fan given to him by Father Innocent on his matriculation day. The floor of the room was covered with a colourful carpet while the window drapes also added glamour to the room. The beds were well made and there was a considerable colour agreement amongst the carpet, bedding and drapes. The room no doubt had a general air of neatness.
   “You may have a seat.” Junior said, motioning her to a seat.
   “Thanks,” Mercy said and pulled out a chair from under the long reading table.
   “So, what do I offer you?” Junior asked, walking to the fridge.
   “Nothing.”
   “Nothing? I haven’t heard of that before. Is it an alcoholic or nonalcoholic drink?” Junior joked.
   Mercy threw her head back and had a good laugh. “Nothing means I don’t want to take anything,” she explained even though she knew that Junior understood.
   “That won’t be possible, my dear,” Junior said. “This is your first time in my room and you must have something.”
   “My stomach has taken more than it can accommodate for one day but I will do with anything soft if you insist.”
   “I insist. By the way, which stomach has taken more than necessary? That flat stomach?” Junior said as he placed a bottle of Fanta before her.
   “Would you prefer it bulging out?” she asked seriously.
   Junior didn’t answer. He only laughed as he opened the bottle of Fanta. The question was rhetorical as long as he was concerned but Mercy thought otherwise. She wanted an answer - as though it mattered.
   “Don’t laugh it off. I need an answer,” she said staring him in the face.
   “Does my opinion matter?” Junior asked, taking a seat nearby and facing her.
   “It does matter to me.” She nodded. “Yes!”
   Junior instantly stopped laughing and sobered up. He felt that he had embarrassed her without knowing it.
   “I am sorry. It was only a…”
   “You haven’t done anything wrong and shouldn’t be sorry,” she said with a smile. “I just wish to hear your opinion concerning my shape - my stomach in particular. How would you like it? Bulging or flat?”
   “I think you make a beauty queen with your flat stomach. Bulging stomach is no longer in vogue,” Junior complimented.
   “Thanks. I am really happy to hear that.” She smiled and began to sip her drink. She didn’t actually want to drink but if that would make her new friend happy, then she must do it.
   Mercy announced her intention to leave after about an hour thirty minutes of chatting and laughing.
   “So soon?” Junior was honestly going to miss her. She had got the beauty, good manners and most importantly the humour.
   “I have to because there are other things that need my attention,’ she said persuasively. She stood and Junior stood too.
   “I don’t have to stop you else I will be charged for abduction and who knows how many years I will serve in jail for that,” Junior said and the duo laughed.
   Mercy opened her handbag and pulled out a small fanciful card. “My birthday is on the seventh of next month, that’s ten days from today. I am having a party and I want you to be there.”
   Junior took the invitation card and glanced through it for a short while. “I will try my best to come and thanks for inviting me.”
   “It is not a matter of trying your best. You have to be there or the party would be incomplete. Please, promise me you will come,” Mercy was pleading with her eyes.
   The worst crime Junior would ever commit was to refuse the request from the angel before him.
   “Okay, I promise.”
   “That’s my darling,” Mercy said jubilantly and hugged Junior briefly.
   The hug was so sudden and unexpected that Junior stiffened. Though Junior had suspected that Mercy was interested in him from the first day they met, he never knew that it had got to the extent of showing open affection.
   “This is for you,” Mercy said handing him the cellophane pack she came with.
   Junior took it with open curiosity and looked into it immediately and then looked steadily at her. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked, dropping the pack on the table.
   “See my dear, my conscience still pricks me for condemning your shirt the other day. So, I felt that the only way to have peace of mind was to buy you another one.”
   Mercy hardly finished when Junior spoke.
   “I won’t have it,” he said emphatically.
   “Why not?”
   “Because I won’t have you pay for condemning any of my things. Not now or ever!” Junior said and walked swiftly to the wardrobe where he fetched an immaculate white shirt. “Here is the shirt you are referring to. Can’t you see that it harbours no blemish?” he turned the shirt around to enable Mercy see every part of it. “So, please keep your shirt for you have not done any harm to mine and even if you had, I would still not accept it.”
   “Junior!” Mercy called passionately after a brief moment of silence. “Do you know that it is improper to refuse a gift, especially from a lady?”
   “You must also note that it is improper to accept reparation,” Junior retorted.
   Mercy was silent for a moment. Junior was very correct.
   “Okay,” she said at last. “You have won but why not accept the shirt as a token of my love.”
   Junior was beaten to it and he knew it. He must not say another word. What would he say?
   Without uttering another word, he went to his wardrobe and by the time he returned to his visitor and friend, the new white shirt was hanging with the rest of his clothes.

*****

   The venue was the banquet hall of Millipat Hotel Ltd. and the time was seven o’clock in the evening. The hall was set for the occasion it was about to host. Birthday cards and balloons were hanging from tiny and almost invisible strings crisscrossing about one another near the ceiling just like cobwebs. A four-step birthday cake was sitting like a castle on a small table on the stage. The table was also filled with assorted wines and juices; cards and flowers.
   Some of the invited guests were dancing while others were either seated or milling about. Everyone was in high spirit as the arrival of the celebrant was awaited.
   “Hello!” the master of ceremony hailed. “I wish to formally welcome you ladies and gentlemen to this noble gathering. We are about to start and I hereby crave everybody’s indulgence to be seated. The celebrant is about to be invited into the hall and I appeal that you rise in her honour as she enters. Thank you,” the M.C finished.
   Moments later, Mercy majestically walked into the hall with more than ten beautiful girls in her train. All the guests were on their feet as she walked along the aisle towards the stage, her steps as well as those of her train in tandem with the beating of the music of Celine Dion – ‘I AM ALIVE’, which was playing at full blast.
   Now on the stage alone, the MC intoned:
 
   ‘MERCY IS A JOLLY GOOD FELLOW’

   Everyone chanted happily while stomping their feet. At the end of the song she was asked to choose a song and dance with any man of her choice. She chose a hip pop music and went in search of a man to dance with.
   Junior’s heart stopped beating when Mercy stopped right in front of him. She then bent at her waist and whispered into the young man’s ear.
   “I trust you won’t refuse me a request for a dance on my birthday,”
   Junior was at a fix. He dared not refuse her, but how was he going to dance under the watchful eyes of more than three hundred people? He had not done anything like that before. He was sure to expose his naivety and crudity.
   The situation was worsened when he considered Mercy’s appearance. She was more beautiful than ever and her outfit was so elegant. She was just a combination of beauty and affluence. Junior was sure to look like a rat in her arms.
   He was still deep in thought when Mercy’s hands found his and she practically dragged him to his feet. As he followed her up the stage, he noticed a group of boys gawking menacingly at him. Father Innocent’s advice came rushing back to his memory instantly.
   If you want to stay out of trouble then stay away from women.
   As he danced to the slow music with Mercy, he could not help stealing glances at the guys whose facial expression remained the same - Menacing!
   Oh my God, I hope I have not got myself into a mess. What if these guys are cultists? What if they have eyes for this girl? That will mean a hell of troubles for me.
   “Your dance steps are splendid,” Mercy said, breaking into Junior’s thoughts.
   Junior could not believe his ears. He was not a good dancer naturally and with those guys gawking at him, he was definitely quaking instead of dancing. Mercy’s compliment was backhanded, he thought. It was either meant to please or encourage him.
   “Thanks,” Junior said in husky voice.
   He was very relieved when the dance was over and he returned to his seat. His relief however did not last long as he was soon called up to help the celebrant cut the birthday cake.
   The guests unanimously intoned the famous birthday song immediately after the cake was cut:

      Happy birthday to you…

      After the birthday song, many other activities slated for the evening followed and it wasn’t until few minutes past midnight that the party came to an end.
 
*****

   Junior rushed out of the lecture hall and bumped into a female student, sending the books resting on her left arm scattering on the floor. It was 4:00pm and his last lecture for the day just ended. He was not used to eating breakfast so early, so he didn’t eat before attending his first lecture, which started at 7:00am.
   His lectures for the day were supposed to terminate at 1:00pm but one of his lecturers who was about going to Germany on a sabbatical leave fixed an additional lecture which ran from 2:00pm to 4:00pm. By this time Junior was starving. He had not fed the worms in his stomach and they were revolting loudly.
   The collision with the female student seemed to add to the worms’ hunger and restiveness. Junior was sure that the noise emanating from his stomach could be heard by those standing by as he squatted to help the lady gather her books. He cursed inwardly.
   The girl was also squatting and picking her books. “I am really sorry,” he said, handing the girl the books he gathered.
   “It is all right. Thanks for helping me,” the lady beamed, straightened up and breezed away.
   Junior was still squatting even when the lady had disappeared into one of the classrooms along the passage. He sprang to his feet when a bomb erupted in his stomach again. He ran down the long passage out of the building that housed the lecture hall.
   Some ‘okada’ men were chatting lackadaisically at their stand. They were so relaxed that it seemed that just sitting on their bikes at the ‘okada’ stand got them paid.
   Junior rummaged in his pockets for the second time. The first time he did that was during the interlude preceding the last lecture. That was when the unauthorized tenants – the obligate parasites - in his stomach warned him for the first time. He had wanted to eat meat-pie with coke to quell them but discovered that he hadn’t a dime on him. He forgot to come out with money.
   As he rummaged this time, he silently prayed that he would find at least #10.00, the ‘okada fare on campus. He needed to reach his room as quickly as possible. His heart skipped a beat when his hand touched a naira note in one of his trousers’ pockets. He clasped the note between his fingers and withdrew his hand quickly. He looked at the fish he caught. It was only a sheet of paper. He cursed again and set out for his hostel with long strides. He certainly did not need any company.
   A car horn hooted behind him but he didn’t turn. His mind was in his room where he must reach as soon as possible, grab some money and run into the nearest cafeteria. When the horn sounded the second time, the car was driving at a ‘walking’ pace beside Junior. He slowed down to look at the driver through the window and she smiled at him.
   “Care for a ride?” she asked and winked at him.
   Junior answered by opening the car door and diving into the passenger’s seat. He looked at Mercy and managed a smile.
   “You look stressed out,” Mercy observed. “Too many lectures for one day?” She asked as she set the car in motion.
   Junior nodded without looking at her.
   Mercy drove down the road between the Economics Department and the General Studies Building. She bent left at the first junction towards the Faculty of Arts, passed through Akanu Ibiam mini Stadium, joined Franco road and headed for the University’s second gate.
   Junior cast a quizzical glance at her when she headed for the gate instead of Mbanefo hostel but she pretended not to have noticed him. She was nodding to the music blasting in the car. It was the music of Tupac, titled Dear Mama. She liked hip pop with a passion.
   “Where are you taking me to?”
   “Huh?” she was not looking at him yet.
   “Where are you taking me to?” Junior repeated.
   She cast a quick glance at him and laughed briefly. “Are you afraid I may kidnap you?” she glanced at him again. “Don’t worry, I am not a kidnapper, okay?” she laughed again. Junior did not join her. It was not funny at all. He was very hungry and just wanted to get to his room, pick some money and dash to a ref. He didn’t want pranks!
   “You have not answered my question. Have you?” Junior asked. He was not angry but wasn’t cheerful either.
   “Mercy cast another quick glance at him. “Cheer up, dear. You will definitely like where we are going, okay?”
   She glanced at him again when he didn’t breathe a word, smiled and tuned up the music and then began to sing with Tupac.
   She turned left after her boot had been inspected at the school gate by a security man and began to speed away. They rode for about ten minutes before driving into Ikenga Hotel. Mercy parked the car in the parking lot, turned off the music first and then the engine. She then opened the door and stepped out.
   “What are you still doing in the car?” she asked as she bent to look at Junior through the open door. “Are you not coming with me?”
   “Not until you tell me what we are doing here,” he said leaning against his seat and placing his head on the headrest.
   Mercy laughed and looked back over her shoulders. “You look so funny, posing like that. I wish you could see the look on your face right now.”
   Without altering his posture, Junior reached for the visor and flipped it down. He looked into the mirror attached to the visor and began to laugh. Mercy was laughing too. He snapped the visor back in place and shook his head.
   “Come on, dear, let’s get inside or are you not hungry? Well, if you are not, you should come and keep me company as I eat. I won’t be shy.” She straightened up and shut the door. She put the key in the lock and waited for Junior to alight and shut his door before locking up the car.
   The hotel reception, which doubled as the restaurant, was empty but for a couple occupying a table on the far corner of the spacious hall. The man was middle-aged while the lady was young. She was probably a student and the man a lecturer. It was no news that many female students were having sexual affairs with male lecturers for one favour or the other. The couple was relaxed as they chatted and drank.
   There was a general neatness and serenity about the entire place. The hall was neither too bright nor too dim. A country music was playing in the background while the volume on the television set which was tuned to CNN was a little above the volume of the music.
   Junior and Mercy chose a table and hardly sat down when a waiter approached them. He wore black trousers and white shirt. He had a bow tie on. He looked really cute in the uniform.
   “You are welcome,” he said with a slight bow. “May I take your orders?”
   They placed their orders and the waiter disappeared.
   Larry King, the anchorman of a popular programme on CNN, ‘Larry King Live’, was interviewing Michael Jackson.
   Mercy just like many others was a great fan of the pop King. She had her eyes glued to the television set. Junior was attending too. The interview was very interesting. It cut across all facets of the musician’s eventful life and much more. Larry was a genius. He asked intelligent questions. Michael was a wizard. He was articulate and assured. He answered all the questions posed to him with calmness and confidence. Just like on the stage, he was so sure of himself.
   Their orders arrived just as Larry was rounding off the interview.
   Mercy turned to Junior as the waiter placed their orders before them. “He was great,” she was no doubt filled with awe. It was evident on her face.
   “You mean Michael? Sure he was,” Junior concurred as he picked up his fork and knife. He had ordered for pounded yam and ‘bitterleaf’ soup.
   Mercy picked up her cutlery as well. She also had pounded yam and ‘bitterleaf’ soup before her.
   They ate in silence.
   “What?” Junior asked when he noticed that Mercy was staring at him.
   “Don’t you know that it is not good to eat very fast? The food could get into the wrong track – like the wind pipe,” Mercy advised.
   “I can’t help it. This is my first meal today.”
   “Why?” Mercy asked looking from Junior to her wristwatch. “Do you want to develop peptic ulcer? It is getting to five and you are eating for the first time. That is not a healthy habit.”
   “Well, my lectures started too early, at 7:00am and I don’t fancy eating that early.”
   “You should have eaten something between lectures. Don’t tell me you had a ‘sit-tight’.” They had resumed eating now.
   “I thought I had money in my pocket.” Junior said.
   Mercy nodded her understanding. “Do you want some more?” Mercy asked. Junior had finished the pounded yam and was licking the remaining soup.
   He shook his head. “I am okay, thanks.”
   “Why not open the wine?” Mercy spoke with food in mouth. They had included a bottle of wine in their orders.
   Junior opened the wine and filled the two glasses brought by the waiter. Mercy had finished eating, though she didn't really finish the food. He handed her one of the glasses of wine and took the other.
   “What do you say?” Mercy asked.
   ‘”Long life and prosperity.” Junior said and smiled.
   “And everlasting love between us,” Mercy added and winked at him. Their glasses clicked and they began to drink.
   Mercy downed her glass after a brief silence and began to laugh. Junior’s gaze moved around and then returned to her. “What’s amusing you?” he asked.
   She laughed some more. “We are friends, right?”
   “Sure,” he conceded. “Why do you ask?”
   “We call ourselves friends yet we barely know each other. Isn’t that funny?” Her voice was high-pitched.
  “If you say it is then it is,” Junior said and sipped his drink.
   She frowned and then smiled. “You just sounded like Boxer in ‘Animal Farm’. Why not give your own opinion?”
   “Oh, you are right. It is really funny but we can change all that here and now.” Junior said exactly what Mercy wanted to hear.
   “Yes, we can change all that here and now and I wish to take the lead,” she gulped down the reminder of her drink and Junior quickly began to refill her glass. “My name as you already know is Mercy – Mercy Eze, second year Pharmacy student. I live in Lagos. I am the only child of my parents. My father is late…”
   “Sorry about that,” Junior murmured, cutting in.
   “Thanks.” She smiled and continued. “Before my dad died he established a bank…”
   “Really?” Junior cut in again. He had always wanted to work in a bank and here was his newfound friend saying that they had a bank. A great discovery indeed!
   “Yes,” Mercy continued. “He established a big bank and the bank has been the sinew of my family ever since he died. I think I am done for now,” she declared and reached for her drink.
   “You have not told me your marital status. Are you married or single?” Junior joked.
   “Oh, how could I have forgotten such an important point,” she said, spilling the drink in her mouth. Junior picked a few sheets of serviette papers and handed to her. “Thanks,” Mercy said as she accepted them. “I am engaged.”
   Junior raised his eyebrows. “Really?” If she was really engaged, then it was good news. It meant she would pose no danger to his relationship with Jane. But he still felt somewhat disappointed that he could never have her.
   “I will tell you more about that after you have given me your profile,” Mercy said with a laugh. She was enjoying the tension she just generated.
   Junior hesitated for a moment and let out a sigh. “I am George Okoye, known as Junior by relatives and friends and that’s because my father is also George. I am in second year, Economics Department.” He paused. “What more is there to say about my poor life apart from that I am the only child of my parents just like you? My father is a hunter and my mother, a petty trader.  We are poor rural dwellers.” He paused again. “I must add that I am at UNN because a philanthropist is sponsoring my education. His name is Andrew. He is from my hometown. I think you now have a sound knowledge of who your friend really is.” Junior ended with a gloomy tone.
   Mercy began to shake her head. “Not exactly,” she said. “You are yet to tell me your marital status.”
   “I am very single,” he said and managed a smile.
   “Junior,” Mercy called softly after a brief silence. “You don’t have to be gloomy about your profile. Money is important – vitally important but it is not everything. What matters in a person is the stuff he is made of not his material wealth or social status. You must also note that some people are born great while others achieve greatness by themselves through determination and hard work. You were not born a rich man but I believe you will make it soon. You have all it takes. And even if you don’t make it later in life, it will not take anything away from God’s endowment on you. You are very handsome, smart, enlightened, intelligent, humourous and much more. You will forever remain loved by people especially me. Nothing is going to change that even if you don’t end up a rich man. But I am certain you will make it. You are destined to be great. I can feel it. I can see it. I can even touch it. So cheer up.”
   That was the best ‘sermon’ Junior ever heard all his life. “Thanks for being optimistic about my future.”
   Mercy smiled. “You are welcome.”
   The man who was probably a lecturer was on his feet. His girl was also standing. Now on her feet, Junior had the opportunity of evaluating her properly.
   A beautiful girl she was. She had got a great figure as well. She appeared to be wearing a corset underneath. Junior really could not understand what she was doing with a man old enough to be her father.
   The couple walked arm in arm past Junior and Mercy and made for the stairs. Within a split second they were out of sight. Junior and Mercy exchanged a glance and laughed.
   “You are yet to tell me about your engagement,” Junior said suddenly.
   “Oh, that?” Mercy said and laughed. “Well, I am engaged and my fiancé happens to be…” she allowed it trail to know the effect it would have on Junior and the young man felt really suspended.
   “Who?” he asked.
   She smiled. “No one but you,” she declared.
    The declaration reminded Junior of a Popular Mexican soap opera that once showed on NTA. He watched it while on holiday in Port Harcourt. The title of the soap opera was ‘No One But You’. Maybe Mercy watched the soap opera, too.
   Junior stared at her in surprise. “What a joke!”
   “You don’t believe me?”
   “How can I, when I know it is not true?”  Junior said with a laugh.
   “But it is true. You gave me a ring.” She held up her left hand to enable Junior see the ring in her middle finger.
   Junior’s gaze shuttled between her face and her finger for a moment. He smiled at last. “When did I give you that ring?” he asked not showing any surprise whatsoever. Mercy was pulling his leg. That he was sure of.
   “In my dream,” Mercy announced. “Look Junior, I dream about you every night. Yes, I do and that is because I love you.” Junior’s eyebrows winged up. “”Yes, I love you – more than you or anyone can imagine.” She paused for effect. “I have never experienced love in my life until I met you that fateful day. I abhor the circumstance that made that possible but I thank God for that day. I have always been afraid of falling in love but now you have come into my life, my fears have gone with the winds. For more than two weeks since I set eyes on you, I stay up all nights thinking about you. I have always prayed that you would realize how much I love you and requite my love. And only last night you gave me this ring in my dream.” She held up her left hand again and admired her ring.
   “I gave you that ring? Are you saying that I actually gave you that right?” Junior could not believe what he just heard.
   “Not exactly,” she smiled. “I was so thrilled by the dream when I woke up. I wanted it to become a reality. So I bought this ring first thing in the morning. With it in my finger I feel more secure.”
   Junior’s heart melted. It really went out to her but a tiny voice kept reminding him of Jane. He must tell Mercy about her. Yes, he had to and it was now or never. He began to move his lips.
   He was telling Mercy that he loved her too. He was telling her that he also thought about her day and night. He was telling her that he dreamt about her every night. He was telling her that it would have been very wonderful to spend the rest of his life with her – but that it would not be possible because he was already committed. He was almost engaged - to Jane and they were to be married sooner or later.
   He moved his lips for quite a long while but in the end he realized that he had only succeeded in uttering a sentence. “I am really touched by all you have said and I promise to reciprocate the love you professed for me,” he had said.
   Without uttering another word Mercy rose and walked around to him and he stood as well. They held each other in a warm embrace. They later had a long kiss.
   “Thanks for making my day.” Mercy whispered.
   “On the contrary you are the one that made my day.” Junior replied and looked at his wristwatch.
   7:00pm!
   Time really flies.
   “We must go now,” he said.
   They had finished their drinks, so Mercy called for the bill. She paid and they left.
   “Thanks for the nice meal. It really felt like Christmas,” Junior said as he alighted in front of his hostel. “I do appreciate.”
   “And thanks again for making my day,” she said and smiled.
   “Good night. Make sure you dream about me.” Junior told her.
   “I can’t do without it,” Mercy confessed.
   Junior waved at her and started away.
   “You forgot something, darling,” Mercy called. Junior turned and saw Mercy leaning on the bonnet.
   “What did I forget?” he asked as he returned to her.
   “To kiss me good night,” she said softly.
   Without hesitation Junior seized and kissed her passionately.



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN




   The Akanu Ibiam Stadium was filled to capacity. Students had gathered in their large numbers from all the hostels to watch a friendly football match between UNN and UNIZIK. Students were in high spirit as both teams filed out to the pitch. Cheers and applause filled the air.
   Mercy was on her feet clapping and calling out Junior’s name. Junior’s gaze tangled with hers and they smiled at each other. Mercy blew him a kiss and he returned it.
   “Good luck!” Mercy whispered. Junior did not hear her but he could decipher what she said from the movement of her lips.
   “Thanks and love you.” Mercy also did not hear him but she could read his lips as well.
   Junior was part of the UNN team and he was wearing jersey number nine. This was the third time he would be playing for the school team. But this was the first time he would be playing for the team within the school premises. His first two were away matches.
   Mercy had received many positive comments about Junior’s skills at the game of football. She had watched him train on many occasions as well and he indeed displayed a number of extraordinary skills. She really enjoyed those training but hoped to enjoy the match with UNIZIK team much more.
   The players from both teams stood shoulder to shoulder in a single file with the referee and the linesmen occupying the central position. Everyone was on their feet when the anthem of UNN, ‘Hail Versity of Nigeria, My Alma Mater…’ was intoned.
   Loud cheers and applause followed the anthem as the players jumped up and down repeatedly trying to keep fit. The teams later exchanged handshakes with themselves. The captains of the teams witnessed the tossing of the coin to choose pitch sides.
   From Mercy’s position, UNN team was to play from left to right. The players took their positions. The referee looked repeatedly at his wristwatch before finally blowing the whistle signaling the commencement of the match. The UNIZIK team did the kick-off. Cheers rose from every nook and cranny of the stadium. The supporters’ clubs were singing and dancing as the opponents traded tackles.
   Both teams were very formidable. They showcased good skills and the spectators felt highly entertained. The supporters’ clubs added to the entertainment as they chanted, drummed and sang around. Some freaks had their topless bodies painted with assorted colours. They were posing amusingly like statues at some strategic positions.
   The spectators added glamour to the whole scenario as they tried to simulate the live broadcast of matches on television and radio. They intoned and chanted many a popular advert jingles.
   They went on and on with as many interesting jingles as they could remember.
   The whistle went signaling the end of the first half. The score board still read nil-nil. The players filed into the dressing room for rest and technical advice from their coaching crews.
   The score line was still nil-nil until the UNN team scored in the eighty-fifth minute of the match. The stadium erupted. Mercy was particularly happy because her sweetheart was part of the winning team. She kept cheering until her voice cracked. At the end of the match, UNN team emerged the winners. They held their opponents at bay despite their spirited efforts to equalize.
   Junior was unanimously but unofficially declared the man of the match by the spectators. He didn’t score but he put up a spectacular performance. He was also instrumental to the only goal of the match.
   He was lifted shoulder-high as the UNN team ran round the pitch to salute the crowd. Songs of praise were chanted for Junior, the team and entire lions and lionesses.
   The team from UNIZIK also ran round the pitch acknowledging cheers of praise from spectators. They were not humiliated. They lost gallantly.
   “Congratulations, darling. You really did me proud today.”
   Junior whirled around and saw Mercy smiling at him. She had walked down to the pitch to meet him. He smiled at her.
   “Thanks. So I played well?”
   “Very very well. You were the best.”
   “Really? Thanks again.”
    Classmates, friends, acquaintances, fans and admirers especially females clustered around Junior to congratulate him.
   “You will surely make it to the national team someday. I am very sure about that,” One of the female admirers told Junior.
   Junior only smiled. He didn’t say amen to the girl’s wish for him. He didn’t want to be a footballer even though the profession had proven to be very lucrative. He hoped to get a job in a bank at the end of his stay in the university and rise to an enviable position such as ‘Bank Manager’, just like his Uncle.
   “Hello Mr. Jay Jay,” a male student called from Junior’s behind.
   Whoever it was that addressed Junior, as Jay Jay must have been his contemporary in primary or secondary school. If not how did he come about that appellation?
   He turned and met an unfamiliar face smiling at him. The stranger held out his hand. Junior looked quizzically at him for a while before accepting his hand.
   “You don’t remember me. I can see that on your face,” the stranger said still holding Junior’s hand firmly.
   “I must confess my memory fails me sometimes. Could you please help me back on track?” Junior felt a bit embarrassed.
   “Gabriel,” the stranger said simply. His face was gleaming with smile.
   “Gabriel?”
   “Secondary school,” Gabriel supplied bailing Junior out of cracking his brain any further.
   Junior’s memory was refreshed immediately. But how could he have failed to recognize Gabriel in the first place? How could he have forgotten a boy…a boy? - yes, a boy then but a man now – who was a pain in the ass in his first year in secondary school? How could he have forgotten a boy that turned him into a drycleaner at the expense of his comfort and education? How could he have forgotten a boy that almost deafened him by causing the explosion of dynamites in his ears in the name of slapping, because he obeyed Peter who asked him to fetch water for him?
   All these were in the past. Junior never bore grudges against him. He forgave him just as Christ forgave those that crucified Him when He said, ‘Father forgive them for they know not what they do’. Gabriel knew not what he did. Junior had taken all the hardship meted out to him by Gabriel as an important experience in life. What more, they became friends before Gabriel left school, didn’t they?
   “G-a-b-r-i-e-l!” Junior screamed and seized him in a strangulating embrace. The embrace was long lasting. “You are now a big man,” Junior exclaimed when he stepped from the embrace.
   Gabriel’s eyebrows winged up. “I should be saying that of you, boy,” he said with a laugh.
   Junior laughed too.
   “That was a marvelous display you put up out there. I am very proud of you.”
   “Thanks.”
   “This must be your sister,” Gabriel stated when his attention shifted to Mercy who apparently had been forgotten temporarily.
   Junior looked at Mercy before returning his gaze to Gabriel. “Do we look alike?”
   “You look like identical twins, only that she is a woman.”
   Junior smiled. Mercy smiled too. Gabriel was not the first person to comment on their resemblance. People always asked if they were siblings. They themselves could even see the similarities in their features especially those of their faces.
   “No, she is not my sister,” Junior said. “Rather she is my…”
   “Missing rib,” Mercy interjected.
   Junior turned to her and smiled. “She is right. She is my missing rib,” he conceded and put his arm round Mercy’s shoulders.
   Gabriel’s gaze shuttled between the two for a while. It finally settled on Junior again. “If you guys are not pulling my leg, then I think you will make a wonderful couple.”
   “We are not pulling your leg, my brother. If we were, you will have hit the ground real hard,” Junior joked and everyone laughed.
   “We are sure going to be married someday,” Mercy said.
   “I hope not to miss your wedding,” Gabriel said.
   “You won’t. I can assure you of that.” Junior assured him. The whole conversation seemed like a joke but they were all serious.
   “When did you become a lion, boy?” Gabriel asked changing the topic.
   “Last academic session, I am studying Economics.”
   “Good! I am in final year Electronics Engineering,” Gabriel said.
   “Wow! I never knew I have been talking with an Engineer,” Junior said.
   “An engineer to be,” Gabriel corrected.
   “The name of my missing rib is Mercy. She is also in second year, Pharmacy Department.” Junior’s arm was still around Mercy’s shoulders, so he cocked his head to look at her. “Darling, meet Gabriel. He was my senior in secondary school. He really dealt with me. But when we finally became friends, he proved to be a very nice guy. Yes, he was such a nice guy. I hope he still is.”
   Gabriel smiled and shook his head severally. “It is nice meeting you,” Gabriel said to Mercy and held out his hand.
   Mercy took it. “Same here.”
   Gabriel’s gaze shifted to Junior once again. “It is really good to see you again, man,” he said and Junior smiled. It wasn’t ‘boy’ any more, he thought. “Could we get together sometime and talk? You can always come to my room – 305 Akintola hostel.”
   “I will sure come around one of these days,” Junior said.
   “Make it soon.” Gabriel said and held out his hand to Junior.
   Junior took it and they shook firmly. “I will.” Junior said.
   Gabriel winked at Mercy, bade them goodbye and left.

*****

   As Junior slung his bag over his shoulder and headed for the park, he couldn’t help wondering how time flew. Was it not like yesterday that he arrived at the school as a freshman but now he was going on his last Christmas break before graduation the next year? He would have left for Port Harcourt two days back but Mercy prevailed on him to spend at least two more days with her before leaving.
   Mercy’s continual stay in school when Junior and many other students were leaving for Christmas break was because the Faculty of Pharmacy ran a slightly different academic calendar from the rest of the faculties at the Nsukka campus of the University of Nigeria. While the rest of the Faculties vacated on the ninth of December to pave way for sandwich students, Pharmacy students would vacate on the twentieth of the same month.
   When Junior arrived in Port Harcourt that afternoon, he discovered that Jane had come home on Christmas break ahead of him. She was a second year Law student at the University of Port Harcourt. As he held her in a warm embrace, he felt so uneasy and guilty. He was sure that she didn’t know about Mercy but he couldn’t help feeling guilty. He felt as though his double-dealing behaviour was boldly written on his forehead.
   He had promised her that he would not allow any other woman into his life but had not lived up to his promise. He was now torn between two women. Asked to make a choice between the two, he would hastily choose Mercy but he knew he couldn’t do a thing like that.
   He could not afford to disappoint almost all the people that had contributed immensely to ensure a great feature for him. Abandoning Jane would be a ruthless stab in the back of a man who picked him up from the gutters and cleansed him. What of his wife, Nancy whose sister was in question? She had been of great support to him. She always treated him like her own brother. Was deserting Jane at the most important moment the best way to pay them for their kind gestures towards him?
   What of Jane herself who had been so loving and caring? What about all they shared together for years? How would her parents and siblings react when they remembered that Jane was still single because she was waiting for him? What of his own parents who had already loved and cherished Jane as their own daughter? It would certainly be a heavy blow on them.
   What of his own conscience? It would be in a great turmoil for the rest of his life. He was very certain about that.
   As he considered breaking up with Jane impossible, he also knew that it would not be easy with Mercy either. She would certainly be heartbroken and traumatized. She had been so nice to him and hurting her feelings would amount to a huge betrayal. It would be an epitome of heartlessness.
   Oh my God, he cried inwardly. Why did I get myself into this dilemma? Why didn’t I tell Mercy that I was almost engaged right from the outset? Now I am going to pay dearly for committing the sin of omission.
   He later decided to leave the situation in the hands of the Almighty God Whom he trusted would take care of everything the best way.
   On the twenty-third of December, Junior left Port Harcourt for Onitsha to enable him to celebrate Christmas with Father Innocent. He had been promising to celebrate Christmas with the reverend gentleman and felt that it was high time he made good his promise.
   Father Innocent was overjoyed to see him. He embraced the young man like never before. There was no hiding the fact that he loved and cherished Junior the way Jacob loved and cherished Joseph.
   “How are you, my dear?” Father Innocent inquired of Junior.
   “Fine, Father and you?”
   “You can see that I am doing well.” The Reverend Father who celebrated his sixty-fourth birthday few weeks ago said.  “What of Andy and everybody in Port Harcourt?”
   “They are all fine. They sent their love and seasonal wishes.”
   “It’s like they won’t be going to the village for Christmas.”
   “They will leave for the village tomorrow morning.”
    Later that evening Junior sought counsel from Father concerning his relationship with Mercy and Jane.
   “I must tell you that marriage is not based on sentiments but on love,” Father Innocent stated after listening to Junior’s story. “Marriage is not an easy institution. It is only true love which is mutual that makes it stand the test of time. So I will advise that you marry whom you truly love. But that’s not an issue yet. You are not marrying now. Are you?” Junior shook his head. “What you should do is seek God’s guidance so as to make the right choice at the right time. I will also do my best to pray for you and I can assure you that God will take care of everything. But for now cheer up and make the best out of this one Christmas you have come to celebrate with me.”




CHAPTER EIGHTEEN




   Where were you posted?
   This was the question in everyone’s lips as candidates for the National Youth Service Corps, NYSC, gathered at UNN to collect their call-up letters. When Junior arrived at the school, rumour already had it that he was posted to Kano State. Though he was apprehensive about going to the North because of the crisis generated by the introduction of the Sharia penal code by many states in that part of the country, he saw it as an opportunity to visit the North for the first time in his life.
   The rumour about his going to the North was widespread and a good number of students and new graduates who were friendly with him, made jest of it. While some were telling him that his back would be covered with scars from continuous whipping, others said that he would be wearing permanent boxing gloves by the time the service year would be over. By permanent boxing gloves, they meant that his both hands would be amputated thereby giving them the look of hands covered with boxing gloves.
   Junior was therefore very relieved when he collected his call-up letter and saw Cross-River boldly written on it. Mercy was happier. Since the rumour started and spread all over the campus like a wild fire, she had been in doubt about her sweetheart’s safety going by the incessant commotion in the North. She jumped about jubilantly when Junior showed her the call-up letter.
   “Thank God. I am so relieved,” she stated happily. “So how did rumourmongers come up with the Kano story?”
   “I am surprised,” was all Junior said.
   “You are very lucky, darling. Cross-River is in the South and it is also nearer home.”
   “I can’t be happier,” junior declared.
   Cross-River no doubt was nearer home just as claimed by everyone but not as near as Junior thought. He had slept in Onitsha at Father Innocent’s apartment so that the clergyman could pray for him before his one year sojourn in Cross-River.
   Junior was at Crossline Park as early as seven o’clock the day he left for Cross-River but he never boarded a vehicle until around 10:30am. Vehicles were scarce. He heaved a sigh of relief when they eventually took off.
   Their journey was yet to last up to thirty minutes when their bus developed a mechanical fault. They spent close to forty minutes at a mechanic workshop before they were on the road once again. Even when they started off again, it was clear to all that the vehicle was still far from being in good shape. The driver kept managing until they reached Owerri where he sought the services of another mechanic.
   It was only after the repair in Owerri that the journey became smooth. The driver tried his best to make up for the lost time but the bad state of roads posed a great impediment. Junior was very worried as dusk came upon them. They were still far from Calabar where he was to board another vehicle to Obubra, which was where the NYSC orientation camp was located. The major cause of his worry was that he had not been to Cross-River State before and hence uncertain of his bearing.
   “You will stop at Odukpani junction and await a bus to Obubra. There is no need going all the way to Calabar because I am sure that Obubra Park in Calabar must have closed for the day by now,” the driver announced as they approached the junction, which was about seven kilometres from Calabar.
   “Are you sure I will get a vehicle at the junction?” Junior asked with apprehension.
   “Sure,” the driver answered with confidence.
   Junior looked at his wristwatch. It was almost 6:30pm. To him the journey from the junction to the orientation camp would not last more than thirty minutes but yet he still asked the driver out of curiosity.
   “About how many minutes would it take from the junction to the camp?”
   “About three hours.”
   “What?” Junior could not believe his ears. Maybe the driver meant to say thirty minutes. But when the driver reaffirmed his first answer, cold sweat engulfed him. He quickly made a mental calculation and discovered that he would not get to the camp until around 10:00pm. That would be if he got a vehicle immediately after alighting from the one that he boarded in Onitsha.
   He felt like a lost sheep when he alighted at Odukpani junction. He had the address of where he was going but didn’t know how safe the place was and it was becoming very dark. He felt very frustrated as he stood at the junction for close to twenty minutes without getting a vehicle. As he watched the vehicles pass by - some stopping to pick passengers going to other places and others not bothering to stop at all - his heart began to beat faster. He was in trouble. The worst of it all was that he was travelling alone.
   He only relaxed a bit when he noticed that he was not the only person at the junction that had the orientation camp as a destination. There were a number of other would-be corps members waiting as well.
   It wasn’t until about ten past seven that a bus stopped by and the driver asked people going not just to Obubra but the orientation camp to hop in. Junior was overjoyed that he didn’t ask for the fare before hopping into the bus. He thanked God for coming to his rescue once again. It was later that he gathered that the bus was a private vehicle taking some would-be corps members to the camp.
   The driver of the first bus never exaggerated. The roads were really far. They arrived at the camp few minutes past ten. At the main gate, military men ordered Junior and others out of the bus. They subjected them to routine search before allowing them in.
   Inside the camp, Junior discovered that the registration of corps members had ended for the day and that meant no accommodation until the next day. The journey was so long and Junior was overly tired and dirty. He would have loved a shower and a comfortable bed but he was still thankful to the Almighty for leading him safely to the camp.
   He was scanning the registration hall for a convenient spot where he could lay his head on a bench when he spotted Kenneth. Kenneth was his classmate. They were fairly friendly in school.
   “Ken!” Junior called out immediately.
   On hearing his name Ken whirled around and ran to him and hugged him. “You were posted to this jungle too?” Ken sounded very excited.
   “Yes,” Junior answered. “It is really good to see somebody I know. I thought I wouldn’t know anybody.”
   “I am sure you will see more of the people you know soon,” Ken said. “Have you been registered?”
   “I just arrived.”
   “Meaning you don’t have accommodation yet?”
   “Yes.”
   “Come then and pass the night with me,” Ken said and picked Junior’s bag from the floor.
   “Meet Jerry. He is also a lion,” Ken introduced a young man in his company. “Jerry, this is Junior. He was a classmate and friend.”
   Both men shook hands and the trio headed for Agbalaka hostel, which later became Junior’s abode throughout the three weeks the orientation programme lasted.
   Junior had thought that he had seen the last of regimentation after his secondary education but he never knew that NYSC orientation programme would be worse off. Each day started with the sound of the bugle around 3:30am signaling the corps-members to come out for morning meditation. Each corps-member was expected to clad in white shorts, white vest, white socks and white canvass. It was really a ‘white’ affair.
   During the two hours the morning meditation lasted, prayers were said, words of advice and encouragement given, announcements made and news cast by the Orientation Broadcasting Service (OBS). The improvised radio station was staffed and managed by corps-members only.
   Corps-members would then go for morning jogging. This was the only interesting event on camp as far as Junior was concerned. The morning jogging was always followed by exercises. Environmental sanitation would follow before breakfast. Corps-members must rush their breakfast to enable them take their bath and be in their regalia before 8:00am when they must file out to the parade ground for morning drilling on match past.
   Drilling on match past would last till twelve noon when it would be time for lectures at the registration hall which doubled as the refectory.  These lectures were usually on till 2:00. Lunch followed.
   Lunch and siesta ran hand in hand for less than two hours.
   The evening drilling on match past usually started at 4:00pm and lasted till 6:00pm.
   It was only from 6:00pm that one really had time for oneself. It was during this period that fellowships were held by the different religious sects on camp.
   Junior belonged to the National Association of Catholic Corps-members (NACC) and he made it a point of duty to attend the fellowship in the company of Ken and Jerry every evening.
   This period of rest also provided corps-members the opportunity to wash their clothes and most importantly cool off at Mammi market before 10:00pm when all lights must go out.
   Junior was completely disenchanted with the entire camp life. It was like a life ‘on the queue’. One had to queue up for just everything – to eat, to bathe, and to fetch water, to use the toilet – name it. Just whatever one wanted to do.
   What about the meals served on camp?
   ‘Coloured water’ – that was what Corps-members branded the tea they were served, or watery pap with either ‘foam’ – that was what they called bread, or akara buns filled with sands, for breakfast; stones and rice or stones and beans - with oil, salt and pepper as stew, for lunch.
   Dinner comprised garri and a kind of soup that prisoners would not touch. The meat was always half decayed.
   Junior could have been happy to shun the kitchen completely but for his limited resources.
   It was only when the inter-platoon competitions kicked off that Junior had fun. He played for his platoon’s football team. Though the team didn’t win the football competition, they played in the final and this gave Junior an ample opportunity to ease off.

*****

   “Pre – pression!”
   A cloud of dust rose from every corner of the parade ground as corps-members stomped their feet.
   “Standa-taiz!”
   Again dust rose from all the nooks and crannies.
   “Pression!” the Regimental Sergeant Major commanded again. He was called RSM for short but corps-members called him ‘roadside mechanic’.
   Corps-members had gotten used to the command languages of the military. ‘Pression’ meant ‘attention’ while ‘standa-taiz’ meant ‘stand at ease’.
   “‘Stand easy’,” the RSM said at last and the corps-members relaxed.
   “This is where we come to the end of the morning drilling for today,” the RSM stated. “It is now time to go for lectures. Remember that nobody is exempted from lectures. As soon as I round off my address, every one of you is expected to file to the registration hall. Remember to be orderly as you go to the hall. Don’t break away from you platoons. Make sure you are at the lecture venue until the lectures are over and don’t disturb the lecture in anyway. You know what will follow when you break any of the rules. Stay away from troubles so that troubles will not make friends with you.
   “Now, starting with platoon one; forward march to the hall. Sharp sharp!” the RMS finished and corps-members started out to the hall with ‘sharp sharp’ in everyone’s lips. ‘Sharp sharp’ was the most popular slang on the camp. It meant that things should be done very fast.
   Junior walked absentmindedly in the company of his platoon members. He was always downcast when not in the company of Ken and Jerry. The two young men were the only friends he had on camp. They were just the kind of friends he wanted because they had a lot in common with him. They didn’t believe in wisecracking. They didn’t booze. They didn’t smoke and most importantly they didn’t womanize.
   This suited Junior well since he made a promise to himself not to aggravate his seemingly insurmountable predicament by befriending girls on camp.
    During the lecture which was the last in the schedule of events as corps members were to move to their places of primary assignment the next day, the camp commandant extolled the corps members for being of good behavior throughout the period the orientation lasted and urged them to remain good ambassadors in their places of primary assignment. There was bonfire later in the night and that signified the end of the orientation programme.
   The sojourn to Ogoja started at the end of the orientation programme. Junior was posted to St. John’s Secondary School Igoli, Ogoja. He wasn’t overly happy that he was sent to a secondary school instead of a bank or a related establishment where he could gain enough experience pertaining to his field, but God knew better.
   He was very disappointed on reaching Ogoja. He used to think that Ogoja was a big city because story had it on camp that Ogoja was the second biggest and finest city in Cross-River State after the Capital City, Calabar, but he was staring at a glorified village.
   He reported to his place of primary assignment immediately he arrived in Ogoja and was accepted. He was assigned to teach Economics and accounts. He settled down instantly and began to discharge his duties to the best of his ability.
   Teaching was a very rigorous work but Junior’s love for education and his desire to impart knowledge on others kept him going. He was so dedicated to duty that he didn’t stay up to one month in the school before becoming the apple of both students and teachers’ eyes.
   “You have a letter, sir.”
   Junior looked up from the book on his desk and saw a junior student extending a letter to him. He collected it and began to open it without delay.
   “Who gave it to you?” Junior asked the student while still opening the letter.
   “A postmaster brought it a while ago.”
   “Thanks,” Junior said and the boy left.
   The moment Junior saw the handwriting on the letter he knew without doubt who the sender was. It was Jane and she had written to inform him that there was trouble at home. That Uncle Andy had relocated to the village and might want to see him.                                                               
   Junior was overcome with cold sweat by the time he finished reading the letter. He was very worried. Jane’s letter lacked details but he could deduce that his darling uncle had lost his job. He must travel without delay.
   Armed with the letter from Jane, securing permission from both the principal and the NYSC Zonal Inspector was not difficult and the day after the day he received the letter, he was on a bus heading home.
   “What is going on, Uncle?” he asked the moment he set eyes on Uncle Andy. He didn’t even have time for greetings before asking the all-important question.
   Uncle Andy looked at him in surprise. “How did you find out I have a problem?” He asked with another man’s voice. He had lost his.
   Junior dropped his small travel bag on the floor and sat down. “Jane wrote me,” he answered. He was very impatient to hear the entire story. “So what happened?” he asked again.
   Uncle Andy sighed bitterly. “It is a long story but the synopsis of it all is that I have been stripped of all I have laboured for all my life – my job, my house in Port Harcourt, my wife’s supermarket, my cars, my money – just everything. As I talk to you right now, I don’t have a dime on me. I have been made bankrupt.” Uncle Andy’s tone was filled with pain.
   Junior’s heart was heavy and he felt like crying - no, wailing - like a toddler but decided against it. That would not solve anything.
   There was an uncomfortable silence for a long moment before Junior spoke.
   “But Uncle, how did it all happen?” he asked again.
   Andy looked steadily at him and hissed. “I was framed up.” He closed his eyes briefly to suppress the tears that had welled up in his eyes. “Those who felt that I was a hindrance to their plans to loot the bank framed me up. They falsely implicated me in a fraud of two hundred and fifty million Naira. I don’t know how they forged my signature and made away with the money in question. The next thing was that I was summoned by the board of directors and when I couldn’t defend myself, they fired me while everything I have laboured for all my life was confiscated.” It was clear that Uncle Andy was trying hard not to be weighed down by emotions.
   Silence.
   “What of Auntie Nancy and the kids?” Junior asked.
   “They are visiting Nancy’s folks.”
   Another silence.
   “It is all right, Uncle. I believe that the Almighty God who sent you to my aid when I least expected it would take care of everything. He would surely send a messiah to us.” Junior said confidently.
   “The worst part of it is that I can’t secure job elsewhere. Which bank would want to engage the services of a man accused of fraud?” Uncle Andy said hopelessly.
   “With God all things are possible, Uncle. Have you forgotten? Just look onto Him and sooner or later all these things will become history.”
   Junior dipped his hand into his bag and pulled out a bundle of money. He had been receiving an allowance of eleven thousand naira from the Federal Government and a stipend of five thousand from his place of primary assignment. He had been so prudent with the way he spent money that he was able to save up to twelve thousand naira every month. He was therefore worth over hundred thousand naira after ten months of service.
   “I want you to have this, Uncle,” Junior said as he extended the money to the older man. “It is fifty thousand naira. Make sure the kids feed well and also see that Jane is sustained in school. I will see what I can do as time goes on. Please do not allow the situation at hand to weigh you down. I am sure that with God, this gloomy period of our lives would be forgotten in no distant time.”
   The older man’s vision was blurred with tears. He had been trying to suppress them but now he could not hold them back any more. He had to allow them flow. The tears that were rolling down his cheeks right now were those of joy not of agony and pains. He was so happy that his decision to sponsor Junior in school was right, after all. His effort had started yielding dividends…, at the most crucial moment.
   “Thank you so much, my dear,” Uncle Andy said shoving the money under his left armpit. “May the good Lord continue to lead you in the path of success.”
   “Amen,” said Junior. “But you don’t have to thank me Uncle. I couldn’t have been anything today without you.”
   “All thanks belong to God Almighty,” Uncle Andy said and Junior nodded in agreement.




CHAPTER NINETEEN




   “You have a guest, auntie,” Angela announced. “He says his name is Junior.”
   “J-u-n-i-o-r?” Mercy shouted and ran downstairs, taking two steps at a time. She met Junior standing in the sitting room and threw herself at him. Junior had to muster all his strength to withstand her momentum.
   Mercy covered his face with kisses and held him so tight in an embrace.
   “I missed you so much, darling,” she whispered into his right ear.
   “Same here,” Junior said. “Thanks for all the letters you wrote me. I hope you got the last reply I sent you.”
   “Yes, of course.”
   “I am so happy to see you,” Mercy was still holding him.
   “Same here,” Junior said again and felt that he should not use those two words again. He should use more romantic words. “So how are you?” he asked.
   “Can’t you see I am fine?” Mercy said and eased away from their embrace and turned around to enable Junior see every part of her. She was putting on a short skirt and a body-hugging blouse, which left nothing equivocal about her beautiful curves. Junior needed not to scrutinize her closely to notice that she was more beautiful than ever.
   “You look splendid,” Junior complimented.
   “Really?”
   “Yes.”
   “You are lucky then for I belong to you.” Mercy’s comment suddenly reminded Junior of his quagmire. How was he going to take care of the situation? The chemical balance was steadily tilting to Mercy’s advantage but how could he desert Jane? With Uncle Andy’s present condition, doing that was impossible.
   Father God, I am in a deep shit, he cried inwardly. Please come to my rescue.
   “You are sweating,” Mercy observed. “I will turn the air conditioner on.” She said and swept to the A/C and pressed two knobs and returned to Junior. Few moments later the room became cool.
   “Have you been able to secure a place for your internship?” Junior asked, determined not to allow his divided love ruin his reunion with Mercy. They had not seen each other for about a year now. And that was too long a time.
   “Yes, I have.”
   Mercy had just graduated from the university and as a pharmacist, she was required to have a year of internship in a general or teaching hospital before going for Youth Service.
   “Where?”
   “Lagos University Teaching Hospital.”
   “Great!” Junior said happily. “That means seasoned experience and good pay.”
   “I am only interested in the experience not the pay. You know I never lacked money.” Mercy bragged.
   “You never lacked money, all right but you never made it yourself. Don’t forget that it is more gladdening to make one’s own money. You feel more secure to know you could always survive on your own. I learnt that during my service year.”
   “You are right, my dear. I retract my earlier comment,” Mercy picked up Junior’s bag. “Come, let me show you to your room.”
   “Isn’t your mother home?” Junior asked in a low tone as they walked across the sitting room to the staircase.
   “No, why do you ask?”
   “Well, seeing her and knowing her impression about me determines whether or not I will have a room in this magnificent house,” Junior said while looking around to consume the splendour of the sitting room.
   “Come on,” Mercy urged him on, taking his left arm in hers. “You don’t need to worry about mom. I am sure she will like you. She has no choice.”
   Moments later Junior was at the dining table eating like someone that just regained his freedom after many years of incarceration. Mercy sat opposite him, watching.
   Junior looked up after a while and saw that Mercy was watching him with a smile on her face. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked and dropped his spoon. “Okay, I eat like a hungry dog, isn’t it?”
   Mercy laughed. “That’s not true. I am just admiring you, dear. It’s been a long time I saw you last.”
   “Aha! That reminds me. What did your mother say when you talked to her about giving me a job in the Bank?”
   “What do you think she would say? No? I have told you that mom had no choice. She does anything that pleases her only child.”
   “I am very uneasy about meeting her and I won’t relax until I do.”
   “Eat your food, my dear and stop worrying over nothing. Mom is a very nice person. I am sure you will like her when you meet her,” Mercy assured him.
   Junior looked steadily at her and then picked up his spoon once again.
   Mercy and her visitor were in the sitting room later that evening watching a movie and chatting away when the front door opened and a middle-aged woman walked in.
   “You are back, mom,” Mercy rose and welcomed her mother with a hug.
   “How are you, my baby?” The older woman asked Mercy totally ignoring the young man in her company. Junior was now on his feet.
   I said it, Junior thought ruefully. I knew she would not like me. I am certainly not their class. She doesn’t even have time to look at me.
   Junior felt so dejected. From Mercy’s mother’s disposition there was no way he would be given a job in their bank and that meant an interminable roaming of the labour market in search of a non-existing job. Father God, please smile down on your humble son once again. Touch this woman’s heart that she may accept me even in my lowliness.
   Mercy’s voice brought Junior back from his deep thought. “Mom, may I introduce Junior, the boy you refused to come and see in school. Since Mohammed has refused to go to the mountain, the mountain has decided to pay him a visit. He just finished his Youth Service and has come to join our bank.”
   The room was dimmed. The bright bulbs were not turned on. Mercy’s mother’s eyes were still trying to adapt to the dimmed environment as she just came in from a very bright weather outside. Junior was just a silhouetted figure so she squinted to see him well.
   “How are you, my dear?” she asked Junior and then froze when she saw him with clarity.
   Junior didn’t bother to respond to her question because he noticed that something had happened to her. He became so confused. The woman had no doubt drifted into a trance and he was convinced that he was the cause of her apparent oblivion. He certainly reminded her about the past. Junior was sure of that but the kind of past it was he had no iota of idea about. Father God please let it not be that I reminded this woman about her ugly past. That will surely ruin my chances, he prayed. 
   Mercy was observant enough to notice that an invisible force had hit her mother. “What is the matter, mom?” she asked with apprehension.
   Mercy’s voice aroused her mother from her daydreaming. “Oh, nothing, I am all right,” she said quickly and turning to Junior, she managed a smile. “You are welcome, my dear. Have a seat and make yourself comfortable,” she said as she started towards the stairs. “I will rejoin you shortly.”
   As she ascended the stairs, Mercy and Junior stared at each other with perplexity. “What has come over mom?” Mercy asked.
   Junior only shrugged with frustration. He was bereft of words.
   Mercy started for the stairs. “Sit down while I find out what the problem is. I will be back in a jiffy,” she told Junior over her shoulder and went upstairs.
   Junior did not sit down as he was bidden. How could he sit down when he was worried to hell? He clasped his arms across his chest and began to pace. Just as he was not settled, his mind was also not settled. His mind was wandering in the wilderness.
   When Mercy’s mother reached her room, she made straight to the nightstand. She pulled the drawer out and after a few moments, brought out a card. She sat down on the bed and began to look at the picture in her hand with rapt attention.
   The picture in her hand was that of her husband when he was about Junior’s age. She had kept most of her husband’s pictures away because she didn’t want them to keep bringing back to her memories of the past. She only went for the pictures when it was necessary to recapture sweet old memories.
   But this time, she had a different reason for going for the picture. The young man in her sitting room looked every bit like the man in the picture - her late husband.
“People can really look alike.” She concluded. She was still looking at the picture when a knock came on the door.
   “Come in”. She said and hid the picture under the pillow.
   The door opened and Mercy stood in the doorway scrutinizing her mother. She entered the room later and joined her mother on the bed.
   “What is the problem, mom?”
   Her mother looked at her and tried a smile. “There is no problem, my dear. Believe me.” She was still smiling.
   “Stop pretending, mom. You know as well as I do that all is not well. The expression I saw on your face in the sitting room moments ago told me that all is far from being well. Why not go ahead and tell me what the problem is. Please!” Mercy pleaded.
   “You had better believe me, my dear. You know I can’t hide anything from you.” The older woman maintained.
   Mercy looked steadily at her mother. “It is about Junior. Isn’t it?” She asked and her mother turned to face her. “You don’t like him. Do you? Tell me you don’t, mom. There is no need hiding your feelings. Just blurt it out. Though your action has said it all, I still want to hear you say it.” Mercy was becoming impatient and that was breaking her mother’s heart.
   “I will advise that we drop this subject because it will not benefit us both but be it known to you that the expression you saw on my face in the sitting room had no direct link to how I feel about the young man you call your friend. In fact, from the little I have seen about him, I can say I like him. Yes I do.” The older woman said, nodding severally.
   “You don’t sound convincing, mom.” Mercy said as she rose to her feet. “Just try to recapture the way you referred to him … ‘the young man you call your friend’. How could you refer to him thus if actually you like him as you claim.” Mercy said as she moved some steps away from the bed.
   “I apologize for referring to him thus. It was just that I couldn’t remember the name you called him.”
   “How would you remember his name when you never showed interest as I introduced him? You hated him at the first sight. Mom, why? Why do you hate Junior? Why? Is it because he doesn’t come from a rich family? I am totally disappointed in you. I never knew that you of all people would get yourself involved in a shameful act like this. I am pissed …” Mercy’s voice tailed off when her mother rose to her feet and with the speed of light reached her and slapped her across the face.
   Mercy spontaneously grabbed her cheek and gaped at her mother. “You slapped me, mom?” Mercy could not believe it. Her mother as long as she could remember had never raised a finger at her.
   “I will slap you again and again if you don’t mind the way you talk to me.”
   Mercy ran out of the room, still holding her cheek, tears were flowing freely from her eyes. She made for her room, lay in bed and cried hot tears.
   She was still crying, fifteen minutes later, when her mother showed up in her room. She was also crying.
   By the time she left her daughter’s room that night, mother and daughter had buried the hatchet and become the best of friends once again.


*****


   Junior had spent about one month in his new home. Life could not be more blissful. He had everything he needed and much more. Mercy’s mother had proved beyond all reasonable doubts that she liked … no … loved him. Life was wonderful but one thing still bothered him. He was yet to be given the much needed job. For close to one month, Mercy’s mother had promised to meet the Bank chairman on his behalf but she was yet to do that. He could not understand why it was taking such a long time for her to get him a job in her husband’s bank.
   “You are not eating your food,” Mercy observed.
   Junior looked at his lunch – garri and egusi soup and then shifted his gaze to Mercy. “I don’t have appetite for food.” He said bluntly.
   “What is the matter? Are you sick or something?” Mercy asked leaning forward to feel his forehead.
   “Yes I am sick.” Junior’s voice was a bit higher than normal. “I am sick and tired of being a couch potato. Of what use am I to this house? I only eat, sleep, wake up and eat again-nothing more, nothing less. I feel like an obligate parasite. And I must tell you I am losing my sanity on daily basis.”
   Mercy could imagine how Junior felt. “Calm down, Junior. I know how you feel. You feel you are wasting away. You feel unfulfilled but I can assure you that all that will change very soon. I will talk to Mama when she comes back today. I will get her to do something as expediently as possible. Trust me,” she assured him. “Now smile for me and eat your food. Please!” Mercy pleaded.
   Junior could not help smiling and eating but there was every indication that he wasn’t enjoying the food – not because it wasn’t delicious but because the appetite wasn’t there.
   Mercy and Junior were still eating when her mother came back from the salon where she had her hair done.
   “Welcome, mama,” both chorused, rising to their feet. Junior was topless and the dark patch on his right chest was very conspicuous. When Mercy’s mother saw the patch, her brain began to spin and she began to stagger. Mercy and Junior rushed forward to catch her but it was too late. She landed on her back and became still. Junior made to pull her up but Mercy wouldn’t allow him. She reasoned that her mother probably fainted due to insufficient oxygen in her brain and therefore should be allowed to remain in her present position to enable more blood flow to the brain.
   “Just watch over her while I call her doctor,” she told Junior frantically and dashed to the phone.
   The doctor arrived about twenty minutes later. He examined the patient and asked that she be taken to her room. With the doctor’s assistance Junior and Mercy quickly took her to her room.
   “She will be fine,” the doctor assured them in the end. “She had a vasovagal attack but like I said before, she will be fine. I will come and see her tomorrow,” the doctor promised as he picked up his briefcase to leave.
   “Thank you, doctor,” Junior said to the middle-aged doctor who was already crossing the door threshold.
   When Mercy’s mother regained full consciousness, it was around 7:30pm. She opened her eyes and saw Angela sitting on the edge of her bed.
   “Where is Adannaya?” she asked.
   Angela was so excited. “In the kitchen preparing dinner.”
   “And Junior?”
   “He is helping her as usual,” Angela submitted, rose to her feet and started towards the door.
   “Where are you going?” Theresa asked.
   “To tell Auntie and Uncle that you have woken up.” Angela answered as she held the door latch.
   “Don’t tell them yet. Wait until they are through with dinner. But I will want to see Adannaya alone immediately they are through. Is that clear?”
   “Yes ma.” Angela answered and left the room.
   When Mercy appeared in her mother’s room later that night, she saw her mother pacing the floor.
   “Thank God, mama. You are up and about”.
   Theresa turned to face her daughter. She looked harassed and worried.
   “You don’t have to worry mama. I am sure that whatever happened wasn’t serious. The doctor said as much”.
   Theresa fixed her gaze on Mercy. “How much do you …?” Her voice tailed off. She was searching for the best way to express her thought.
   “Yes?” Mercy said, urging her on. There was fear in her eyes – fear of the unknown.
   “How much do you know about Junior’s family background?” Theresa completed her question.
   Mercy hesitated as she tried to understand the essence of the question. “Not much. He told me that he was an only son – an only child of his parents. He also told me that his parents were rural dwellers. His father is a hunter…”
   A hunter? Theresa asked in her mind and began to pace again.
   “…while his mother is a petty trader,” Mercy supplied, still wondering what was going on. “Do you think you know him or his parents?”
   Theresa stopped pacing and stared blankly at her daughter. “I think I knew his father.”
   “Really?” Mercy could not believe her ears. “Who is he? Am I supposed to know him, too?” She was so excited that she never considered that her mother used ‘knew’ instead of ‘know’.
   Theresa hesitated.
   “Talk to me, mom for I am dying of suspense,” Mercy cried.
   Theresa sighed. “Perhaps his father was my husband – your late father. I have the feeling that ‘your’ Junior is my son, Emmanuel.”
   Mercy’s eyes became huge with astonishment. She opened her mouth but no word escaped it.
   “What are you talking about, mom?” she asked when she finally recovered her ability to speak. “What makes you think so?”
   Theresa quickly went to the bed and picked up the picture she had left there and then walked back to her daughter.
   “Mercy …” she called softly, “I am sure you can’t understand why I am saying all this about Junior just after fainting and regaining consciousness. But just have a look at this picture,” she held out the picture to Mercy.
   Mercy looked quizzically at her before collecting the picture. One look at the picture and her jaw dropped. “Mom,” she screamed in a hushed tone, her eyes shuttling between her mother and the picture in her hand. “How did you come about his picture?”
   “Whose picture?” Theresa asked.
   “Junior’s of course. This is Junior’s picture.”
   “There you are!” Theresa said spreading her hands and pacing about briefly. “That’s not Junior’s picture but your father’s when he was Junior’s age. Can’t you see that there is no difference at all?”
   Mercy was shocked to think that her sweetheart could be her brother. That would be the best thing that would ever happen to her – her family. Her mother had told her the story of how her only brother, Emmanuel was kidnapped before she was born. She knew how miserable her mother felt whenever she remembered the incident and now prayed fervently that God should make her mother’s claim true.
   “But mom, don’t you know that people without blood relationship could still look alike?” Even as she asked this question, something in her told her that her mother was right. The common comment made by her friends and acquaintances back in school plagued her mind. They had always asked if Junior was her brother whenever they met him.
   Though they didn’t look like identical twins probably because they were not of the same sex, Mercy was aware of their resemblance. It however never crossed her mind that Junior could be her brother. He resembled her father whom she had seen in pictures but she never allowed the resemblance occupy her thought. Unrelated people could look alike.
    “That’s true, my daughter,” Theresa began to pace again. “Unrelated people could look alike but something in me tells me that he is my son.” Her voice quivered with emotion and Mercy couldn’t hold back her tears anymore. Her tears began to run like flood.
   Theresa was crying too. She went back to the nightstand drawer and pulled out another picture. “I kept all these pictures away because I didn’t want my past to stare me in the face all the time. There was a time I wanted to destroy them but now I thank God I didn’t.” She used the back of her left hand to wipe off the tears in her eyes and then handed the second picture to Mercy. Mercy collected the picture with open curiosity and began to stare at it.
   “The boy in that picture was your kidnapped brother and as you can see, the triangular black patch on his chest is also on Junior’s chest. That was what I saw and then fainted. Theresa heaved a sigh. “See, Junior looks every inch like your father. You can attest to that, yourself. He also has a triangular black patch on his right chest just like Emmanuel. And I am sure he was born about the same period Emmanuel was born. Junior’s father is a hunter, my daughter. It is possible that Emmanuel’s kidnappers dumped him in a bush where the hunter saw him and took him home and of course brought him up.”
      Mercy became numb as she had a critical look at the picture in her hand. In the picture, were her father, her mother, a man she suspected to be a doctor by his attire and a midwife holding a small boy who had a triangular black patch on his right chest just like that on Junior.
   Mercy’s legs buckled and she managed to walk to the bed where she sat down to avoid slumping on the floor. She covered her face with both hands and began to cry.
   Her mother walked across to her and pulled her up to her feet. Both women held each other and cried their eyes out.
   “He is your son, mom,” Mercy sobbed when she was calm enough to talk.
   Theresa’s face, which was smeared with tears, lit up as though Mercy was the last arbiter and she had just been waiting for her to make the assertion.
   Very early the next morning, Junior, Mercy and Theresa were in the car heading to Junior’s hometown to meet his parents. Mercy was behind the wheel, Junior occupied the passenger’s seat in front while Theresa was at the back.
   There was absolute silence in the car throughout the period the journey lasted. Everyone was occupied with the thought of the possible outcome of their trip.
   The trip would probably change the lives of many people.
   Junior’s foster parents were very worried to see their son and his companions. Was it not only last month that he left for Lagos? Why was he back already? Was it that the person that promised him job disappointed him? Who were these people with him? Did he run into trouble?
    Too many questions and no answers.
   “What’s the matter, son?” George asked.
   Junior smiled to dispel his parents’ fears. “There’s no problem, papa.”
   “Are you sure?” Monica interjected, not convinced.
   “Yes, mama. There’s no problem at all,” he reaffirmed.
   Silence.
   “Who are these women with you?” Monica asked, suspicion written on her face.
   “Er…” Junior said not knowing exactly how to refer to his companions, “…they are friends and they wish to speak with papa.”
   “About what?” Monica asked impatiently. She knew that she was being annoyingly inquisitive but couldn’t help it. She had to be sure that her beloved son was not in trouble.
   “Well, I think they will be in a better position to explain,” Junior said and Monica’s red eyes as well as her husband’s fell on Theresa and her daughter.
   This man is a hunter, Theresa reminded herself. Emmanuel was probably abandoned in a bush and he found him while hunting, she concluded.
   “May I have a private audience with you, sir,” Theresa requested of George.
   “Sure,” he said and followed Theresa. He kept glancing back at Junior and Monica until he was alone with Theresa.
   Theresa smiled. “I am very sorry for causing you and your wife anxiety by this unscheduled visit,” she stated. “We couldn’t help it because there is something very urgent and important that we wish to find out from you and I will appreciate it if you tell me the truth.”
   “I promise to make the truth available to you if it is in my possession,” George said after a brief thought.
   It did not cross his mind that the woman before him could be the mother of his most cherished son; the son who was about to salvage him and his wife from the shackles of abject penury; the son that would carry the name of his family to the next generation.
   “Is your wife the biological mother of your son, Junior?” Theresa asked, looking George eyeball to eyeball.
   George’s eyes widened and cold sweat overcame him.

*****

   “Mom!” Emmanuel called out. His voice was filled with excitement as he rushed into the sitting room where his mother and sister were chatting. For over a week now he had been ransacking his father’s study hoping to find any document that would enable him recover his father’s bank from Mr. Joseph.
   Since he became aware of his true parentage and also heard the story about Famous Bank - how Mr. Joseph took it over upon his father’s death - he had decided to lie low until he was ready to take back what rightfully belonged to him.
   “At last the key to recovering Famous Bank is here,” he announced jubilantly.
   “How do you mean, son?”
   Mercy was looking up at him.
   “Have a look at this,” Emmanuel said, dropping a sheet of paper on his mother’s laps.
   Theresa stared at her lost but found son for a while and then reached for the document. She glanced at him again and began to read.
   Thinking that allowing her to go through the document herself would kill time, he decided to inform her of the contents.
   “Mom… that is the legal agreement between dad and Mr. Joseph with Stanley Nwachukwu, Famous bank former GM and Barrister Williams, the bank’s former Legal Adviser as witnesses, concerning the ownership of Famous Bank Nigeria Ltd. The agreement makes it clear that the ownership of the bank should continue to be 85% to dad and 15% to Mr. Joseph unless the duo or their next of kin decide to review the agreement. I am sure that dad didn’t enter into another agreement with Mr. Joseph before his death and I can rightly guess that you never did either, afterwards.
   “So whatever Mr. Joseph must have done over the years is not in compliance with this agreement and therefore will be considered null and void,” Emmanuel finished and pursed his lips triumphantly. He was no doubt satisfied with his finding.
   “What do we do now?” Mercy asked, rising to her feet and their mother followed suit.
   “I think we should confront Mr. Joseph right away,” Theresa submitted. She had felt so bad to discover Mr. Joseph’s deed and could not wait to get back at him. To have the last laugh!
   Emmanuel smiled and shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, mom. Confronting him now might be rash,” he said. “We need to tie up all the loose ends before confronting him. We can’t afford to make any mistakes.”
   “What else do we need to do? This agreement is very clear. It is enough to push that oaf out.” Theresa insisted.
   Emmanuel paced around briefly. “Patience, mom. Patience,” he said holding up both hands. “Just leave everything to me and I can assure you there will be no mistakes. Or don’t you trust me?”
   A true son of his father, Theresa thought.
   “Who will I trust if I can’t trust my only son?” Theresa shrugged and sat down.
   “And who will I trust if I don’t trust my only brother,” Mercy said, and sat down too. She turned to her mother, grimaced in a funny manner and they all laughed.
   Around nine o’clock the next morning, Emmanuel arrived at Williams and Williams Chambers. He walked up to the young lady at the reception and spoke to her.
   “Excuse me, please,” he said and the lady looked up. “May I see Barrister Williams?”
   “Just a moment,” the secretary said and reached for the phone on her desk. She punched few numbers on the cradle and talked to whoever was on the other end briefly and then replaced the phone. “You may go in,” she told him.
   Emmanuel was surprised to see the man behind the desk as he walked into the Barrister’s office. Contrary to his expectation of seeing a man grey with age, the occupant of the office was a man he was sure was not up to thirty yet. He must have gone to the wrong place. But he got the address right. Okay, maybe Barrister Williams had got an assistant, he thought.
   The young Barrister rose to his feet the moment Emmanuel entered and held out his hand which Emmanuel took in his. “You are welcome,” the Barrister said.
   “Thanks.”
   “You may have a seat,” the young barrister said, motioning Emmanuel to a seat.
   Emmanuel sat down. “Thanks.”
   “Anything we can do for you?” The Barrister asked folding his arms on the book on his desk. He must be a very competent lawyer. Emmanuel could deduce that from the confidence he exuded. He looked completely in charge.
   Emmanuel leaned back on his seat and folded his arms across his chest. He cleared his throat. “Please, it is Barrister Williams that I wish to speak with,” he said courteously.
   “You are already speaking with him,” the young Barrister said with a smile.
   Emmanuel narrowed his eyes. “The Williams I am talking about is supposed to be an elderly man because the event for which I need to see him took place many years ago. I am sure you were a toddler then that is if you had been born,” Emmanuel told him.
   The young man smiled again. “You are talking about my father then,” Barrister Williams junior said, pointing at a framed picture hanging on the wall behind him. “He has retired.”
   Emmanuel nodded severally with understanding. “I see,” he said thoughtfully. “But I hope I can still reach him if I need his help.”
   “Sure,” the young barrister said with nods. “I will arrange for you to meet him if you want me to.”
   “I will appreciate that.”
   Emmanuel could not be happier after his meeting with Barrister Williams senior. The old barrister was not only able to produce his own copy of the agreement but also promised to appear in court as a witness if necessary.
   Junior was now well equipped to confront Mr. Joseph. The fear that observers might doubt that he was actually David’s biological son was put to rest by the overwhelming evidence from all angles. The hospital where he was born; his foster parents and the picture in his mother’ possession all buttressed the fact that he was fathered by Dave and mothered by Theresa.
   Famous Bank Nigeria Ltd. was his bequest and he was ready to retrieve it from the de facto chairman no matter what it would take him.


*****

   “There’s a young man here to see you, sir.”
   “Let him in,” Mr. Joseph said. He neither looked up nor asked who his visitor was. He was so engrossed in what he was doing that he didn’t notice the visitor come in.
   “Good morning, sir.”
   “Good morning,” the bank chairman responded, still not looking up from his desk.
   The visitor waited for a moment. “May I have your attention, sir,” he requested with disrespect in his voice.
   The chairman was angered by the visitor’s remark. Who was he to come into his office and demand for his attention instead of waiting patiently until he was ready for him? He must order the manner- bankrupt idiot out of his office with immediate effect. He was however tongue-tied when he looked up and saw his visitor. He was not in doubt concerning who he was.
   So this boy was not killed after all.  Stan had messed me up. That bloody fool. Mr. Joseph thought.
   His thought was broken into by Emmanuel’s next statement.
   “I can see from the expression on your face that you find my face familiar. Just to confirm your thought, I am Emmanuel, the son of the owner of this bank. I have come to take over the chairmanship of my father’s bank and I must thank you for taking care of the bank until I came of age. God will reward you.”
   Mr. Joseph looked steadily at him and then smirked. “That won’t be possible,” he said, still smirking, “because I now have more shares in this bank than your family. I am sure you have been told so.”
   “Really? Well, that will be a matter to be decided in a court of law,” Emmanuel said and stormed out of the office.
   Though Mr. Joseph was overly disturbed by the sudden reappearance of David’s son, he was very confident that he wouldn’t lose Famous bank to Dave’s family in any court of law. He felt that he did his homework very well but little did he know that Mr. David Eze duplicated the agreement, which he thought that he had pilfered from his study.
   “If you like go to the Supreme Court. I have taken over this bank and that’s for good. There’s no going back. Idiot!” Mr. Joseph shouted at Emmanuel even when he knew that the young man was out of earshot. He hissed and returned to his work.
   But he had lost concentration.








EPILOGUE




   “Having carefully considered all the evidence before me,” the judge started after a month-long court proceeding in the case filed by Emmanuel Eze against Honorable Joseph Bright concerning the ownership of Famous Bank Nigeria Ltd., “I have no hesitation in coming to the conclusion that Mr. Joseph Bright acted in contravention of a duly signed agreement. I therefore rule that the ownership of the bank be reverted to the status quo ante - that is 85% to Mr. David Eze’s family and 15% to Mr. Joseph Bright -with immediate effect.
   “I wish to advise all the relevant parties to abide strictly by the ruling of this court as noncompliance of any form would be in contempt of court.”
   The judge slammed the gavel on his desk and rose to leave.
   “As the court pleases,” the court rose and chorused as the judge started out of the court.
   The judge was yet to depart the court when Mr. Joseph grabbed his left chest and before anyone could come to his aid, he slumped on the floor. An ambulance was promptly sent for and he was rushed to the Lagos University Teaching Hospital where the doctor in charge declared that he had suffered a major heart attack.
   One month later, Emmanuel was in his office chatting with Uncle Andy, the new GM of Famous Bank Nigeria Ltd. and Jane, his fiancée, when the phone rang.
   He picked the phone. “This is the office of the chairman, Famous Bank Nigeria Ltd.,” Emmanuel said into the mouthpiece.
   “This is your sister, Mercy from Lagos University Teaching Hospital,” a female voice on the other end said. “Mr. Joseph is dead. He died of heart failure few minutes ago in this hospital,” she informed her brother.
   “Really?” Emmanuel asked without any form of sympathy in his voice. "That serves him right. He should go to hell and take it over from Lucifer.”


THE END