DIRTY POLITICS - EPISODE 3

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Nigeria's leading Story Blog; Nightmare, action thriller, jabbing pain, mingling with politicians, lying dead, shallow grave



Business District, Azonto, Agudugba
Jariye Adighibon stood by the window in his office located in one of the high-rise buildings in the business district of the state capital, Azonto. He read the document in his hand one more time. His sister Grace had told him to open it only if she was killed somehow. They were very close to each other. Each time he thought of her not being around anymore, it widened the chasm her death had created in his heart. Grace was adventurous, just like Jariye. He tried to protect her from the dangerous investigative journalism she did, but Grace was not the type to be protected – until she felt a real threat on her life. Jariye read the document again. 

So this was the person with Dilingo at the time of Maxwell’s death. They had been meeting together for months, always on Saturday evening. On this Wednesday she arrived early. She looked somewhat disheveled; in a hurry. She took the same suite and waited for Dilingo. At first he did not want to come over. Millicent and I had bugged the room so we could listen in to their conversations. She was furious over the phone, insisting that he come over right away. He caved in and left his post at the government house and rushed to Enitona Hotel. 

It did seem that she was either mad that she could not have Dilingo all to herself – maybe she was tired of the hide and seek and wanted to have him all to herself. Of late, from what we heard them talk about, she was asking him to leave his wife for her. The other scenario was that she knew something. Maybe someone paid her to lure Dilingo away from the governor; maybe someone involved in the murder. We are leaning towards this line of investigation because Dilingo did not make it back to the government house that night. We think the killers got him on his way back. He is probably lying dead in a shallow grave somewhere. Millicent said she was going to talk to a politician and a policeman; she did not tell me who. She was always like that. She would strike open an inroad and let me in on it afterwards. This time, she never returned. I think she too is dead. Someone powerful killed Maxwell. The same person may be plotting my death and the death of other people. You must find them. Be careful Jariye. Please be careful, but if I die, you must find them. We cannot keep quiet over this…

Jariye was a busy and successful lawyer. He wondered how to go about this heavy burden thrust upon him by his beloved late sister. He looked at the name Grace had scribbled down again. I have to find a way to reach her, he thought. He placed the note on his desk, walked to the window and peered down into the bustling streets. A lone streak of sweat trickled lazily down his forehead as it journeyed to his chin before perching firmly on his shoulder after a free fall as it dropped off his face.

Charity parked her car and walked into a cafĂ©. She ordered coffee. As the salesgirl prepared her coffee, Charity peered over her shoulder. She had seen the same car follow her as soon as she left home earlier, and now the same car is a stone’s throw from hers. She had been dealing with important politicians long enough to know when someone was following her. Who could be doing this now? She thought. She took hold of the warm cup of coffee and took a sip. Shortly afterwards, she returned to her car, revved up the engine and hit the road again. She made a sudden left turn towards Marcus Avenue. She looked in her rearview mirror every few seconds to see what her follower would do. This time, he drove by. Charity drove around the area, not wanting to drive to the office yet. She wanted to make sure that she was not being followed, so she kept her eyes on her rearview mirror while she drove from one street to another. There was no sign of the car that had seemed to be following her earlier. 

Maybe I was being paranoid; she thought as she took a left turn and returned to her original path to work. She arrived at work before anyone else. Quickly she turned on her desktop and opened up a file to make it look like she was deeply immersed in some assignment. As soon as the cleaners were done cleaning the governor’s office, she sneaked in. She looked around for spots to hide the bugs. Carefully and briskly, she unzipped one of the leather arm rests in the office and placed one underneath it. She felt the outside to make sure that it was well concealed. She was convinced that it was not noticeable. Then she went to the bookshelf behind the governor’s desk and planted another one inside a huge text. Then, she placed the book back. With other texts pressing against it, the bug seemed well concealed. Then she placed the third one in the book shelve by the entrance. She made sure it was stowed behind those big law texts where no one would think to look for them. She returned to her desk as quickly as she had left it.

After work, she drove to the market to pick up some groceries. Then, she hopped back in her car and cruised home. When she got home, there was power outage. She parked in her garage and walked to her front door. An eerie feeling struck her as she let herself in. She had a bright fluorescent torch which she took to work every day. She had picked it from the car on realizing there was no power in the area. Charity was a very careful person. She could tell that the couches in her living room had been moved slightly. She was certain they were not in the same position she had left them in the morning. Fear gripped her. She reached for her kitchen door. Her hands shook as she squeezed the handle. She turned the handle and pushed the door open. Inside, she looked around and a few things seemed out of place. Her heart began to beat faster. She recalled being followed in the morning. She rushed to the bedroom. She had a gun there. Vincent had given it to her some years earlier but she had never used it. Maybe it is time to start carrying that gun, she thought. In the bedroom, she was even more certain someone had been in her apartment. When she opened the drawer, her gun was not there. She made a run for the exit door and that was when a big strong palm covered her mouth from behind. Her assailant was masked. 

She tried to fight him off but he was too strong. She punched, pushed and yanked at him, but he tightened his grip over her mouth and began to apply pressure on her neck with his other hand. She kicked her legs in the air as much as she could. She thought of how many times her best friend Isinye had advised her to stop mingling with politicians and find a decent job for herself. She wished she had taken her advice. She thought of her parents and siblings. They depended so much on her. She kicked harder and dug an elbow into her assailant’s ribs.  He winced but he wouldn’t let go. His grip tightened even harder. She could hear him breathing heavily as he applied more pressure on her neck. Although pains zipped through her body, the agony of not seeing her family again pounded her soul painfully like a sharp sword mercilessly gorging out the delicate eyes of a fish.

She tried to gasp for air, but none was coming. Her air pathways were completely cut off. Then he began to squeeze her neck. He wanted to get the job over with. Charity wanted this to be a dream. She wanted to wake up and find out it had all been a nightmare; she desperately wanted to see her family again…to spend more time with them. She kicked yet again, this time with every ounce of life left in her. Her eyes were open…wide open. She seemed to be begging with her eyes; please spare my life. God please save me. A streak of tears drizzled down her face as she felt the cold hands of death engulf her rapidly weakening body. She tried to kick and wriggle one more time, but her strength had deserted her. A jabbing pain pierced her heart at the prospect of losing her young life before she actually reached her full potential. Then total oblivion took over. She crossed the great beyond. He dropped her limp body to the ground, bent over and felt her pulse. She was gone. He jumped downstairs, carefully opened the door and sneaked outside. He took his mask off and walked casually to his car, which was parked a block away. He got into his car and sped off, leisurely.
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Written by:
Victor Chinoo

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Moofyme.com: An African Literary Blog: DIRTY POLITICS - EPISODE 3
DIRTY POLITICS - EPISODE 3
Nigeria's leading Story Blog; Nightmare, action thriller, jabbing pain, mingling with politicians, lying dead, shallow grave
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