KILLER - Episode 10

Think this is great? Share with your friends!

Nigeria's leading fictional story blog - Enugu-Port Harcourt expressway, the killer, swarm the river banks with dogs and flashlights, Nigerian Television Authority, Radio Nigeria, Enugu State Broadcasting Service, Asata serial killer, The police commissioner, children, some form of coded language, kill, her children began to cry out loud.

“Igbokwe is the killer…we must find him immediately!!!” Oifie said with urgency. He and Ogechi had just returned to Enugu, driving along the Enugu-Port Harcourt expressway like a spreading conflagration. After examining the pictures on Igbokwe’s phone, it was clear that he was the killer. On his phone, they found pictures of most of the girls that had been murdered in the past weeks. “I want men to swarm the river banks with dogs and flashlights,” he reiterated. “Gbolahan and Uzokwe were already out in the field early in the morning with dogs, sniffing for Igbokwe through the bushes near the river. “Oge, please send off Igbokwe’s pictures to Nigerian Television Authority, Enugu and the Enugu State Broadcasting Star TV,” Oifie shouted out instructions. “Make sure that his picture is beamed throughout the State and its surroundings. Also, give his name to Radio Nigeria, Enugu and the Enugu State Broadcasting Service. Make sure every living soul in this State knows his name. I want his name on every lip in this State!”

“I am on it,” Ogechi replied as she dragged her tired body to a waiting vehicle outside. “Yes sir, we know who it is now. He has been under our noses all the while. It was the very first man we arrested and his girlfriend lied for him. She did come back to inform us that she lied for him, but we did not have enough evidence to arrest him at the time,” Oifie explained to his boss over the phone. “People are afraid, Oifie. I want him arrested as soon as possible.” “Yes sir. We will catch him soon. He is badly injured. He can’t go far.” “Good. Make it fast.”

“My children are hungry. Please, can I get them something to eat,” the woman asked Igbokwe. He had slept for a few hours having tied the woman and her children firmly to a single bed. He had removed the gag over her mouth momentarily to ask her a few questions. “I will go downstairs with you. I need food myself. If you attempt to shout, I will send your head rolling on the floor,” he threatened as he waved a knife. “I won’t shout,” the woman promised. Her children were terrified. They cried in muffled tones because of the gags over their mouths. Igbokwe untied the woman and walked downstairs with her. She worked briskly to make a quick breakfast. As she worked, Igbokwe turned on the radio in the kitchen. “The deadly killer who has raped and killed multiple women in Asata Enugu is Igbokwe Agumba. He is a tall man, about six feet, four inches in height. He is a very intelligent and dangerous man. The police said that he is somewhere between Asata and Bisala Road along Mmiri ani. He is badly injured. If you have any information that could lead to the arrest of this dangerous killer and rapist, please contact the police at this number…” Igbokwe turned off the radio. The woman continued to work at the gas cooker. Her hands shook as she flipped eggs on a frying pan. Her heart was beating fast. Igbokwe watched her closely.

“Are you going to kill us?” she asked him. “I don’t know yet,” he replied coldly. Her land phone began to ring. “That must be my husband. He has been calling me since early this morning. If I don’t talk to him soon, he is going to call in the police or even the military. He knows people in high places. I need to talk to him,” the woman explained. Igbokwe watched her luscious lips as she talked. When she turned her back to him, he admired her backside, salivating profusely. “No, you can’t talk to your husband.” “Then, be prepared for the arrival of the police or military soon.” Igbokwe pondered the situation for a moment. “Answer it. I am going to be right behind you. If you try anything funny,’ I will cut your throat.”

She walked over the phone in the living room and picked it up. “Hi honey,” she said, managing to stay calm. Igbokwe was standing next to her. He could feel the warmth from her body. His eyes were fixated on his smooth skin. “I have been trying to reach you,” her husband said. “I was not feeling very well.” “What is the problem?” “Nothing serious. It was a minor flu. It is not gone yet, but I am taking some medication. The kids have it too, but they too should be fine with some medication.” Her husband’s heart began to beat fast. This was their code, but Igbokwe had no idea. They had agreed that whenever he was out of town and the gate man was on leave, should anything happen to them, she should tell him that they all had flu, but were on medication.” “The flu is still on?” He asked to confirm that there was danger in the house. “Yes darling.” “Keep taking your medication honey. I will be back next week. Please let me know if your flu persists.” “I will sweetheart.”

As soon as the woman’s husband got off the phone, he dialed the commissioner of police in Enugu. He and the commissioner were good friends. “Someone is in my house…someone is holding my family hostage in our house,” he announced to the commissioner. His voice was filled with anxiety. “Who, Martin?” The commissioner asked. Martin Ukaegbu explained his discussion with his wife to him and how their code worked. “You still live in your house by the River on Bisala Road, right?” The commissioner asked. “Yes.” “My God!” “What is it?” “I just spoke to my men working the Asata serial killer case. They think the killer, who is badly injured is that area.” Martin’s heart sunk into his stomach. “I am sending more men to your house now. I will have the chief investigator lead a team of men to your house. We have to be careful, though to make sure that your family is extracted from the situation without being harmed.” “Anything you can do…anything to free my family from that demon.” “I will do my best, Martin.” “I am boarding a flight this afternoon to return to Enugu.” “I will see you when you return.”

The police commissioner quickly called Oifie and gave him Martin Ukaegbu’s address. “You have to be careful. I want you to take your best men and approach this very methodically. Nothing must happen to Martin’s family,” he instructed Oifie. “I will do my best, sir.” Oifie, called in Gbolahan, Uzokwe and Ogechi. With them were three highly well trained police squads. The squads were strategically positioned in the area, with one group at the top of the street and another next door. They managed to convince Martin’s neighbor to vacate his building momentarily. As soon as the neighbor realized that the feared killer was operating next door, he left with his family, allowing the police to operate from his compound. The last group was a plain cloth unit. The members disguised as farmers and fishermen in the bushes behind the building. They were careful not to come too close to the house, so as not to arouse the Igbokwe’s interest.

“Is he going to kill us?” Umunna asked his mother. Igbokwe had allowed them to eat together in the room with the door locked. They were too afraid to shout. “I don’t know, but don’t worry. I have passed some information to your father. It is only a matter of time before the police come to rescue us,” Joy explained to her terrified children. They ate in silence, except for their poor hearts that were beating incessantly. All of a sudden, the door flew open. Igbokwe stood by the door. “Did you say you passed some information to your husband?” He yelled at Joy. He had been eavesdropping on them, standing by the door with his ears pressed against the door. “No,” Joy lied. “I was just trying to calm the children down.” “I don’t believe you, woman!!!” He shouted.

He slapped her across the face and her children began to cry out loud. “Shut up!” Igbokwe shouted, waving a knife. He tied Joy again and gagged her mouth after which he did the same to her children. Then, he ran to the window and pulled the curtain aside. He peered into the street, scanning every movement in the street for any sign of police, but he found none. At the same time, Oifie and his group were carefully watching from the top floor of Martin’s neighbor’s house.    They saw the window open slightly. “I think he is watching the street. No one goes outside without being disguised. Remember he has met all of us before, so we can’t make him agitated. The woman in there and her children must not die,” Oifie explained.

Then, he ran to the back window, pulled the curtain slightly aside and peered into the bushes. He saw a few men some distance from the house. They were cutting trees and paddling canoes. He knew the area well and he had never seen such activity there. Something was odd about the movement. He ran back to the room, untied Joy and dragged her to the living room. “I don’t believe you. I have a feeling you actually used some form of coded language and tipped off your husband. “Are the police here now?” he asked her. His voice was laced with worry and concern. He felt pain in his back and in his thigh. His wounds hurt. “I did not tip him off. I was just trying to calm my children down.” “Liar!!! I know this area well enough. I saw some men in the bushes. It is not normal. Now, I want you to call your husband and tell him to tell the police to back off or you are dead!” He barked instructions at Joy.

She shook her head in tears. “I did not tip my husband off,” she pleaded. “Do as I say!” He slapped her hard again. “Do you want me to cut you open?” He wielded a knife menacingly at him. Before Joy could think of what to say, Igbokwe grabbed her neck and reached for her neck with the knife. “I will call him now!” Joy shouted. “Please don’t kill me. Who would take care of my children if I were dead? Please, I beg of you, don’t kill me. I will call my husband now. If you kill me, my husband will come after you. Please, spare my life and I will make sure he lets you walk away unharmed,” Joy begged for her life. “How dare you!!!” Igbokwe shouted. His knife-wielding hand shook in anger. He managed to stay his hand, dropped the knife on the side stool beside the couch and began to rip off her clothes.

Like a rabid dog, he tore at her dress with strength. She tried to stop him, but before she knew it, the nightgown she had been wearing was ripped to shreds. He pressed her down on the couch and attempted to mount her. She closed her legs tightly, fighting with her hands as much as she could. “If you yell, I will kill you,” he reminded her. She wanted to shout, but the thought of her children upstairs left her emotionally shackled. One word, she knew he’d kill him and perhaps her children afterwards. “Open your legs!!!”  He ordered her, but she refused to oblige him. Then, he slapped her powerfully across the face. She winced, but refusing to shout or open her legs. Then, the phone rang. He paused for a moment wondering what to do. “It must be my husband,” Joy remarked. Igbokwe got up and walked to the phone. His anger had gotten the better of him. He picked up the phone and yelled into it. ‘If you send the police here, your family is dead.” Martin’s heart was beating even faster. Igbokwe hung up before Martin could say a word. A few seconds later, there was a bang on the gate as Igbokwe returned to Joy in an effort to finish off what he had started.

He looked through the window. There was a man at the gate. “Come here,” he called arrogantly to Joy. She managed to wrap what was left of her dress around herself and walked over to him. “Who is that?” “That is my brother.” “Does he have a key to the gate?” “No.” Joy’s brother called Joy’s cell phone and the landline severally, but there was no answer. Then, he left. Igbokwe allowed Joy to return to her bedroom. She put on another dress before he tied and gagged her again. At nightfall, darkness took over the sky. As is on cue, the power company struck. Power to the area was cut off. Through the governor’s office, Oifie had asked the power company to cut off power in the area. “Do you know how to turn on the generator?” Igbokwe asked Joy. She shook her head. He removed the gag from her mouth. “How do I turn it on?” “I don’t know. The gate man always did it, but he is on leave,” Joy explained. He took a touch and checked the big engine. There was no gas in it and none anywhere in the house either. Angrily, he returned to the bedroom next to where he was holding Joy and her children captive. An hour after the power went off, Oifie , Gbolahan, Uzokwe and ten other police men jumped into the compound from the back. They were heavily armed. They had been watching Oifie’s torch as he checked the generator downstairs before retiring upstairs.  He had moved too quickly, so they were not able to shoot him from the next building. They moved quietly, looking for an entry point into the building.


                                           CLICK HERE TO READ EPISODE 9

Written by:
Victor Chinoo

Please, don't forget to share this story with your friends on Facebook, Google+, Pinterest, Twitter etc. Thanks! for breathtaking stories and exciting articles, every day!!!

NOTE: The contents on this site are the intellectual property of the writers. No permission has been granted for the reproduction of our contents to any individual or to any organization, in part or whole on any platform, electronic or otherwise.

Poster Source: claims no credit for any images posted on this site unless otherwise noted. Images on this blog are copyright to its respectful owners. If there is an image appearing on this blog that belongs to you and do not wish for it appear on this site, please E-mail with a link to said image and it will be promptly removed.



Action Comedy Epic Horror Inspiring Podcasts Romance Series Short Stories slider Story Videos
item An African Literary Blog: KILLER - Episode 10
KILLER - Episode 10
Nigeria's leading fictional story blog - Enugu-Port Harcourt expressway, the killer, swarm the river banks with dogs and flashlights, Nigerian Television Authority, Radio Nigeria, Enugu State Broadcasting Service, Asata serial killer, The police commissioner, children, some form of coded language, kill, her children began to cry out loud. An African Literary Blog
Not found any posts VIEW ALL Readmore Reply Cancel reply Delete By Home PAGES POSTS View All RECOMMENDED FOR YOU LABEL ARCHIVE SEARCH ALL POSTS Not found any post match with your request Back Home Sunday Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday Sun Mon Tue Wed Thu Fri Sat January February March April May June July August September October November December Jan Feb Mar Apr May Jun Jul Aug Sep Oct Nov Dec just now 1 minute ago $$1$$ minutes ago 1 hour ago $$1$$ hours ago Yesterday $$1$$ days ago $$1$$ weeks ago more than 5 weeks ago Followers Follow THIS CONTENT IS PREMIUM Please share to unlock Copy All Code Select All Code All codes were copied to your clipboard Can not copy the codes / texts, please press [CTRL]+[C] (or CMD+C with Mac) to copy