TWISTED PATH (Episode 17)
Fatima felt something strange tingling her body and when she opened her eyes, a man was on top of her with his fingers tracing its way through her body. She wanted to fight him off but realized her hands and feet had been tied. As the man noticed she was about shouting, he forced her mouth open and stuff some pieces of rag inside. Fatima tried to scream but her voice wouldn’t come out, she watched in horror as the man explored her body with his mouth. His hand reached underneath her gown and was about ripping off her pant when someone suddenly came in.
“Hamza” Someone called.
He stopped and looked behind him to see the man who had called him.
“What is it?” He barked.
“The Sheikh ask me to fetch the prisoner.”
Hamza got up and button his trouser.
“We will finish our business later.” He said to the half-naked Fatima before leaving.
The man who had just came in unlocked her chain and removed the rag in her mouth.
“Get up now.” He ordered at gunpoint.
Fatima gathered her broken self up, tied her torn clothes together and led while the man directed her from behind. She literally dragged herself all the way till she was asked to stop behind a giant door. The gunman knocked and the door opened revealing a big sitting room. Fatima was led in and made to sit in front of a dark-skinned man in his late sixties with a heavy beard and his head covered with a turban. Flanked by two heavily armed guards, he enjoyed his sumptuous meal.
“I can see someone is making a toy out of you ?” The man said gazing her torn clothes.
“Am sure you enjoyed it, didn’t you?”
Fatima’s mind was far from the question, she was busy wallowing in her thought trying to figure out how she would escape. A slap landed at the back of her neck and jolted her out of her thought. Tears formed in her eyes as she gazes at the bearded man again. The man said something in a strange language and his men laughed.
“What is your name lady?” He asked.
“Fatima .” She replied.
“I was told you are a healer.” He asked again and Fatima nods her head in response.
“You are lucky you have a relevant skill. You will take care of my men’s wound.” Sheikh said.
“Take her to the ladies room.” He ordered and Fatima was dragged away.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Jamal and Mohammed trekked a few meters before taking a taxi at the bus stop. Countless questions raged in Mohammed’s mind as they sat quietly in the taxi but the paramount one was where Fatima was taken to. He wanted to ask but restrained himself so as not to show that he has affection for the girl. He prayed in his heart for her safety.
The taxi stopped at the gate of a hotel, they both alighted and went in. He was surprised when Jamal booked a suite and got the key.
“What are we doing here?” Mohammed asked after they were fully settled.
Jamal opened the leather bag he had been carrying with him all day, brought out a parcel and threw it to him. Mohammed opened it immediately and saw different photos of a beautiful lady.
“What is this?” Mohammed asked.
“That’s our mission,” Jamal answered.
“Who is she?”
“Her name is Rosaline Balogun, a student of Flendid University.” He replied.
“How does she relates to our overall mission?”
“Don’t worry yourself about that, just make sure you get close to her. Make her fall in love with you.”
“Am I supposed to be playing Romeo and Juliet with a girl when there is a war out there for us to fight?” Mohammed complained.
“I need you to understand something, every war needs a weapon to fight it. This girl is our weapon and we have sent you our warrior to get it for us.”
“When do I get started?” Mohammed asked.
“Right away but firstly you need to create a new identity for yourself. Use this credit card to get whatever you need. All the information about her is in the parcel.”
Mohammed took a long look at the young lady in the photo, he couldn’t figure out how such an innocent looking lady would be the terrorist’s secret weapon.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Abeeb gallantly entered the director’s office. Inside seated the director himself and Clement.
“Agent Abeeb, I know you are aware that Mohammed has been sent in.” The director said after the necessary salutations.
“Yes, sir.” Replied Abeeb.
“We have reasons to believe he is going astray, we need you on the field to monitor and handle him.” The director said.
“We understand through surveillance that he is still in the city. You have to track him down and make sure he didn’t try anything funny.” Mr. Clement handed him a tablet.
“Alright sir, I will give it my best,” Abeeb assured.
“Remember this is a covert mission, you need to be discreet about it.” The director warned before Abeeb left.
Written by Oluwafunminiyi Komolafe
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.