Dead Men’s path 1
Eden Watford walked to the window of his apartment and stared out of it at the city of Tennessee. The lights were on and about. Darkness seemed to have been pushed into the smallest corners. But he knew it was in those corners that evil was bred.
He had a tough task in his hand. Sometimes he wondered if he should not just quit everything altogether and travel to Mexico. Lie on the beach with girls in bikinis calling him over. Of course, they would call him over, he was handsome. It was something that he could not help. Every time he thought of getting away, his mind countered him, bringing up pictures of the beautiful things he had in mind for the city.
“Oh, Nineveh, Nineveh.”
He sighed and walked to the bar. The wine bottle kissed the glass lightly and poured some of its content into it. Eden drank that up, gobbling it down like famine. He sat down at his little bar and wondered on his many possible actions. It was sad that he could almost do nothing. His hands, as the saying goes, were tied.
Well, damn everything. He walked into the big room and turned on his console. The TV screen came to life and he sat back down in his favourite couch to play a racing game. It was what he did when his head was full. It Helped him see the world in a new perspective. Gamepad in hand, wine on the side stool, he started the racing game.
His mind was immediately taken off his problems and became geared towards making first position at the end of the race. His eyes lost the lost look he had earlier. The look was replaced with one of determination and sheer will.
There was focus inside those eyes. In the next five minutes, he rode through the winding roads and dangerous mountains, with barriers jutting out suddenly from the ground. It was not unlike Tennessee’s political field. The metaphor could only seize his mind for a while before he banished it and focused on his game.
“Yes!” he shouted as he cleared the last line. He was first.
Eden had always been first among his brothers and cousins. He was the one with the best record in law school in the family. He always got the job done. But he was stubborn. His father, Reddington Watford was always at loggerheads with him because of some matry-lije ideas he had about politics.
“Family first, before duty,” the old man would say.
“No, it’s duty first,” he would counter.
Reddington would begin to rant on how ungrateful he was. It was his name that got his stubborn son all the support he needed to become a congressman, but the boy thought he was old enough now to sit in judgment over his family.
That was why Eden hated family anything. Each reunion served only to push him farther and farther from his family. He had resolved he was not going for any other reunion.
His phone rang then.
“Congressman Watford,” he said.
“Hello, congressman. It’s been 24 hours.”
“Eva,” Eden, his face parting into a smile.
“That’s right, sweet congressman. When are you passing out bill?”
“And what’s this bill about, if I may ask?”
Eva loved playing around. Recently, this had been her subject of fun between them. He did not mind, although… although it made him wonder if she knew about his father.
“The bill for sex. We, women, deserve good sex with handsome men like a certain Eden.”
“Oh, that Bill? It’s been passed. If you would like to reap its fruits, go see Eden.”
“I’m right in front of his door.”
“Oh, you heard me. Bye, I have to meet him now.”
The line went dead same time the doorbell rang. Wow, Eva. The girl is full of surprises, Eden thought. He hurried to the door and opened it. The girl launched into his arms and pinned him with her hug. She reached up for a kiss, for which Eden gladly obliged.
“Well, senator, it’s been a while,” Eva said, shutting the door.
“I’m not yet a senator,” Eden countered, but he was smiling.
“In my head, you are already. Who would pass up on the chance of voting a genius to vote for that old man.”
“’That old man’ is experienced and his ass was the last on that seat.”
“Hmm, you say such foul things for a congressman. Words like an ass should not be in your dictionary.”
“Well, it was not. You came with all that.”
Eva reached for another kiss. This one lasted longer than the first and reminded Eden why he was still in politics. He walked in it for Eva. With the many reforms he had kicked off as a congressman, Eva looked at him like he was somewhere close to God.
She could not believe that someone could be that good, which was really funny. He knew he was far from good. Add that to the fact that he was plagued with a family who did more to favour themselves than the people that elected them. He was well and truly lost, but he did not care. He would ride on Eva’s sentiment.
“You know, I was thinking of withdrawing from the Senate race.”
“I was just thinking I should withdraw from politics. It’s tiring.”
“Don’t you dare, Eden. Think of the many people that need you.”
“I’m not so sure anyone needs me.”
“What of me?”
Eden smiled. She always ended it with that. He had gotten what he was after, which was a tad selfish. He had gotten the feeling of validation from Eva. It was the spur he needed going into the second half of the election campaign.
“Eva, what can I ever do without you?”
“Nothing, sweetheart. Absolutely nothing.”
Samuel Ogechukwu thinks of himself as a writer, a superhero, a songwriter, the prince in shining armor for some lady in his fairy tale. He believes this too, because well, his stories are his, and he can be anything in every one of them.
LAST ASSIGNMENT 9
LAST ASSIGNMENT 9
The seemingly harmless mistake almost took her life. Precious should have known better. At Camp Peary, the CIA training facility which is also known as “The Farm,” agents are taught not to ever do anything that will push them to the climax of emotions during op.
Precious was at the climax of positive emotions. Her guard was down and she was vulnerable. She heard the side mirror of the blue Camry beside her shatter to pieces. The shot was pretty close.
Her training took over immediately. The first thing was to take cover to her advantage. She saw a turning to her left and dashed into it. The black figure behind her smiled, that was what he had wanted. Precious had just walked into his trap.
He was called ‘’Lone Wolf’’ by those he worked for. Most of the killings he did were done alone and were done with precision and dexterity. His latest hit was the killing of Alo Bidemi, A governorship aspirant of the Action Party. He had framed it very well. Autopsy revealed stroke as the cause of Bidemi’s death.
That was story for the media. Lone Wolf injected an overdose of Heparin into Bidemi’s system in his sleep. Before the next morning, Bidemi was effectively dead. That was not his first time of killing at the GRA. He only needed to take the turning before the one Precious took, soon they will be seeing each other face to face.
The sun had completed its slow descent. It was getting dark. Precious almost froze as she saw the male figure walking towards her. His domineering appearance radiated evil. He flashed a sad smile as he strode towards her. Before she could reach for her gun he was already pointing a silenced 45-caliber semi-automatic pistol. He stopped few steps away from her.
‘’Hey broad, I want to make your death easy, I won’t kill you with this but this,’’ he growled as he produced a knife. ‘’Any last wish before you die?’’ Precious giggled, ‘’you motherfucking son-of-a-bitch. You’re such a coward, I can see it in your face, you can’t even do a clean job!’’ He was surprised to be confronted by the tiny thing standing before him.
‘’I will send you to he…’’ Before he completed the sentence, he swung the knife at her throat. Her extraordinary reflex enabled her catch the thrust. Then with her left hand she delivered a deft jaw breaking blow, and two successive kicks into his gonad.
He doubled over in pain and attempted a right jab, but Precious was ready for that. With her pointed stiletto heel she kicked his temple. His skull was not as hard as it looked, really. He was staggering now trying to find his feet.
‘’Don’t ever in your miserable life mess with a master yogi.’’ With that, she gave the farewell smackdown, delivering the kick that brusquely brought him down.
Precious reached for his knife and drove it into the base of his skull and turned it here. With a cold flinch, death crept into his body.
She pulled out the knife, reached for a blue face towel and wrapped it neatly and hid it in her Armani bag. With the knife safe with her, she searched the black man and saw Akingbade Jubril’s business card. She cursed under her breath, ‘’these idiots have infiltrated the DSS, how the hell on earth did they know I’m here?’’ She left the scene making sure no evidence was left behind.
Precious was tired when she got back to the safe house. she slumped on the bed and dialed her boss’ number.
LAST ASSIGNMENT 8
LAST ASSIGNMENT 8
The election that made Oke Emmanuel the governor was called miraculous by those who believed in it. Three weeks before the elections, the candidate of the major opposition party- Action Party, Akingbade Jubril was the favourite to win. He had the support of the masses and even that of the sitting President, Galadima Hammed.
Things changed when The Punch Newspaper Investigative Journalist, Mohammed Hassan, brought to life some dead news from his past to speak against his ambitions.
While serving as the Commissioner for Finance, Jubril did many shady deals and buried them well. But two were not well covered. One, he diverted pensioners’ funds to build himself a world-class hotel- the Lakesun Hotel at Oba Adesida Road. In justifying his actions, he asserted, “I borrowed it, and will refund as soon as the profits come in.’’ But profits didn’t come in as planned.
Secondly, he had an affair with his then secretary, Chidinma Eugene. She got pregnant, and he blamed her for being careless. ‘’Don’t tell me you are not wise enough to use contraceptives when spreading your legs for a man you are not married to,’’ he barked at her when she told him about the pregnancy. For fear that his reputation might be damaged. He made her abort. She died on the abortion table, a free sacrifice to Yama, the Hindu god of death.
When dealing with ladies, one must be very careful because whatever one does with a lady, she will tell at least one person before she dies.
In the Zippergate Scandal, Monica Lewinsky never wanted to say anything about her amorous relationship with Bill Clinton. It was her friend Linda Tripp in whom she confided that sold the story to agent Lucianne Goldberg. Chidinma confided in her friend Akinsipe Olapeju, and she sold the story to Hassan with convincing evidence.
To Jubril, Olapeju was used by the PPP to destroy his political career. He was not a man that easily forgave. The shock of the event spun him into a deep depression. And though he eventually got out of it, he never really got over it. He wanted revenge.
Those people were worse than himself after all, and nothing had happened to their political careers. He wanted to destroy the PPP in Ondo State together with everything it represented. He saw himself as a tool in God’s hands to wipe out those men. He was the one that planted the terrorist on the sunlit street of Alagbaka Akure.
As Agent Precious was returning to the safe house, She slightly shaking her tiny waist as she sang along to Simi’s “Soldier.” Soldier go, soldier come, soldier do wetin you want, but don’t fall in love with me. Solider me I no dey do. Solider find another boo, but don’t you fall in love with me, Mr. Soldier….’’ And then, something happened that made her knew she was in trouble.
LAST ASSIGNMENT 7
LAST ASSIGNMENT 7
It was 2:00 am. Normal men were expected to be sleeping, but he wasn’t asleep. His heart was heavy as a stone. Knowing what it meant, he walked out of Akindeko Hostel, Block B, Room 2, and went to the Car Park to unleash the burden. He knew within himself that he was to pray for the election that was coming up. He prayed for 2 hours until he felt ease inside him. He had done his job.
When she got to Akure, Agent Precious went to the DSS safe house, located in a classified location at GRA. The safe house was codenamed Guntal Boulevard, fortified with heavy armor-plated doors and bulletproof lexan windows. It was designed to withstand any external bomb blast with minimal effect on the inhabitants. All DSS safe houses were built by the Israeli Intelligence Agency – Mossad.
Secret agents are masters at manipulation, especially their physical appearance. Precious wanted to see where the PPP’s Headquaters was located and she wanted to do that with the demeanor of an undergraduate. She took her bath and came under the transformative power of make-up.
She wore a flowery formfitting knee length dress with strappy high heel sandals. Her tote bag held a loaded 45 caliber Taurus 24/7 OSS pistol with a sound suppressor. Her left hand cradled three higher education notebooks as she would have carried a baby.
She stood at Oriental Filling Station, opposite the PPP secretariat and acted as if she was waiting for a cab. But in essence, the PPP secretariat was under her surveillance. To her advantage, it was a bit difficult getting a taxi at that spot.
It was not the best to stay in a position where you can be easily spotted when you are gathering information about a person or a place, but there are times when you can break the rules and get away with it. That day was one for Precious. She took a quick mental note of critical things about the building under her watch.
Precious reached for her phone, she feigned receiving a call but all she wanted to know was how many minutes she had spent – five minutes more than she planned. It was time to leave.
Precious stopped a taxi
‘’North gate, drop.’’
‘’I will pay 1500. Please drive fast, I have an important appointment to catch’’
The driver opened the front door happily. His taxi climbed the mountainous road that laid before it and descended the road to Oja. He was about to get to the overhead bridge when Precious said ‘’I will drop here.’’
‘’But you said North gate naa.’’ He replied rather perplexed. She gave him two new One thousand naira notes and left without asking for her balance.
She went into a boutique and bought some new clothes. “Do you have a restroom here?” she asked the attendant. “Yes, ma. It is down the hall to your left.’’ She came out to another person. On her way back she threw black nylon into a trash bin. It contained the clothes she wore before she entered the boutique.
It was getting dark, time to return to the safe house.