The Man From Lagos Read online

  “Idowu, it’s Sade,” she said softly. Tears broke through her composure.

  “Sis, what is wrong?”

  “Sorry I haven’t called in a while, but Baba passed away today.”

  “What did you say?” On the other side of the Atlantic, Peters was now sitting straight up in bed, trying to shake the sleep from his head.

  “They killed him, Idowu. They came for him, and he is dead.” Finally overcome with emotion, she fell to her knees right there in the car park of the morgue. Sade couldn’t keep it together any longer. That strong, calm, confident demeanor was all a lie. She was hurting, and just hearing her brother’s voice allowed her to finally see her true feelings about their father being ripped from her life before she was ready for him to go. She needed this. Needed someone to talk to. Someone who would understand truly what she was feeling and didn’t care that she was in the grips of her emotions.

  “What happened, who killed him, what do you mean he died today?” Peters demanded.

  Sade wiped her tears away and finally got off her knees. She moved closer to the parked cars, away from the morgue entrance, for more privacy. She went through explaining all the details of the visit to the bank, the reason they were there, and how Baba collapsed in the rest room when they were about to leave the bank. She recounted how she had tried her best to save him but couldn’t.

  “I’m so sorry, Idowu, for not saving him. I tried my best but I couldn’t fix it,” she said over and over again. She felt herself starting to cry again. This was raw emotion from a woman who everyone thought ate nails for breakfast. After all, she was human. This was pain. True pain for the loss of her father who had been everything to her, and she didn’t know how she could go on without him.

  “When can you come to Lagos?” It came out as a plea.

  Idowu didn’t know when he would be able to come home. He had planned to stop in Singapore first before he headed to Lagos

  “I’ll call you when I get to Lagos,” he responded.

  “Okay, that is good enough. Take care—and we’ll talk soon. Please be careful.”

  Chapter 24

  Janazah

  People started arriving early for the funeral ceremony at the estate. It was decided to hold prayers, rituals, and rites at Baba’s home, as it allowed for better control than the public areas of the mosque. Femi brought in extra people to watch over everyone arriving. Would any stranger be so bold to attend if he or she wasn’t known to the family? The usual procession of businesspeople, politicians, school mates, and workers from all his businesses were also in attendance.

  The imam from Baba’s mosque delivered the prayers. Facing toward Mecca, he turned his back to everyone and stood closest to the body. As custom dictated, everyone stood through the funeral, and Sade thanked the imam at the end of his prayers. She was not allowed to attend the actual burial; women were not allowed. Femi would attend along with Kwesi and Niyi.

  Just like that, Baba was gone.

  Now it was up to her to keep things going. As the shock wore off, she thought about the situation clearly. He had been adamant that they visit the bank to make the changes they’d spoken about permanent. Did he know something she didn’t? Did he know he would die soon? It was too much of a coincidence that one of his businesses was attacked and Lanre was nowhere to be found. The IG’s questions also intrigued her. He knew Sade’s father from their schooling days but was very cold and offered very little sympathy. Was he in on it? As ever, she would meet with Femi to put everything in order and talk about what to do next.

  *

  Femi showed up at the house around eight a.m. He seemed distracted. He was still waiting for Sade to share her strategy for finding out if Lanre was indeed hiding at the club. He was ready to make his move but wanted to find out what she had planned.

  “Femi! Femi!” Sade called to him. “Didn’t you hear me call your name? Where is your mind today?”

  “Sorry, my mind was on Lanre,” he said.

  Sade looked down and seemed to be collecting her thoughts. “Sit outside the club this Friday and wait.”

  Femi seemed confused.” For what?”

  “If Lanre shows up, then take him,” Sade responded. “If his girlfriend shows up again, then take her, but quietly.” Sade knew of Femi’s sometimes heavy-handedness and wanted to make sure she was alive for questioning. “Take her to the house in Ikeja and call me with updates.”

  This was the permission he’d been waiting for. “Okay,” he said and got up to leave.

  Femi started to make his way out of Baba’s study but glanced at Sade one last time before departing. She looked settled in her father’s office. Even the way she sat in Baba’s chair reminded Femi of him: no matter what news or story you were delivering, he always sat at the edge of his chair. It would be pushed up close to his desk with him leaning forward as if he was ready to pounce like a threatened tiger. Like father, like daughter. Like him, any conversation that took a place in this office required the occupant of that chair to pay close attention to whoever was invited in. This office was already hers.

  “I will update you,” he said, as he’d said to Baba a thousand times, and took his leave.

  Femi fished out his mobile phone and dialed Kwesi. Once he reached him, he conferenced in Niyi.

  Femi said, “I need you both to meet me at my house straight away.”

  *

  He put his car in gear and made his way out through the gates. He made sure to check his rearview mirror to be certain the gate closed as soon as his car cleared. The guards were more careful now—so careful that he feared that through their eagerness to show him their thoroughness, they would accidentally scratch his car. He laughed as he turned onto the main street away from the estate’s cul-de-sac.

  It took Femi two hours to get home. He checked Google Maps to see how long it was supposed to take—twenty-five minutes. He didn’t know why he bothered checking, but it amused him to see how Lagos traffic flummoxed the internet giant.

  When he arrived, Kwesi and Niyi were there waiting for him at the front of his house. Even though the gateman knew who they were and would have let them in based on Femi’s instructions, they waited outside anyway. They always did. Femi never asked them why; he thought they might just feel more comfortable waiting for the Oga to show up first.

  Kwesi was the first to speak.

  “Oga, ah, nah traffic catch you like this?”

  Femi let out a chuckle. “Google Maps says it should have taken only twenty-five minutes.”

  Kwesi had a puzzled look on his face. “You dey still use Google Maps? I no get time for Google Maps O’,” he said, letting out a laugh.

  Femi approached the two men and looked at Niyi, who was somewhat quiet. “Niyi, how you dey today?”

  Niyi didn’t look to be in a playful mood. “Fine, sir, just fine.”

  Of course, Niyi was still mourning Baba, and he was eager to avenge the death. Niyi held grudges. He didn’t know if Lanre was involved, but he was sure going to ask some questions when they found him. Femi was glad that Sade had finally given the order to bring Lanre in.

  They made their way into Femi’s house. Femi first detoured to the kitchen to grab a few beers before making his way to the parlor. Femi had no maid or cook or driver. He certainly could afford those luxuries, but he didn’t trust anyone. Anyway, his mom had taught him to cook and clean and even showed him how to sew. He didn’t need anyone. Someday, he wanted a wife and maybe kids. Right now, he didn’t have time for either. And he loved his bachelor’s life, the freedom of no explanations. Sade always joked that he loved to do things his way, and that he was already too stubborn to change.

  After some small talk among them, Femi got down to business. They all stood at a large table where Femi had building plans and a large notepad full of scribbles.

  “So, these are the building plans of the club,” he began. “There are only three entry points. The front door which we know is guarded by those tree trunks.” They
all laughed at his description of the bouncers. “The next entry point is through underground parking. There are two guards there, and I believe that they are armed, so we have to make note of that.”

  Kwesi and Niyi nodded.

  “The next entry point is in the back of the club, but it can only be accessed if you jump the fence ringing the three-sides of the club.”

  Femi elaborated on the private entrance to the space that accessed Mama’s elevator to her residence. It was the most heavily guarded, but it provided very easy access to the fourth floor. If Lanre was holed up on that floor, that is how they would get access to him. Femi finished laying out the options. He now wanted to know what they thought and how they would go about gaining entry. He didn’t bother telling them about Sade’s plan yet. They all knew that the longer they waited, the more likely Lanre would be shuttled out of the country to parts unknown. They had to move and move fast. Time was of the essence.

  Niyi spoke first. He looked very focused and hung on Femi’s every word, actively studying the options that Femi had just laid out. He said, “I like the back-of-the-building option. It will provide us cover from the street. We just have to control the parking garage if we are to have any chance.” He added, “We could replace the guards with our men, which will allow us to work in the back without worry. The cars coming in and out of the private garage won’t know any different, since they hardly pay attention to who waves them into an open parking space. We just need to make sure that we are wearing the same uniform as they are, so we do not create suspicion.”

  Kwesi agreed. “I like that idea.”

  Niyi said, “I grew up around that area and still know some boys who live behind the building. I can visit them to get a better look at the back.”

  The fence would be easy to scale, they thought, based on the plans in front of them. What they needed to know was what type of CCTV the building used. The group’s main concern was that if it were an infrared camera, they could be spotted at night and be exposed before a shot was fired. They had to know, and either way, they would need a contingency plan for each possible type of camera.

  Niyi said, “I will handle that when I’m visiting my boys. I will have all the information before Friday,” he promised.

  They all agreed that this Friday would be used for reconnaissance. They figured the club would be packed as usual, so no one would notice them sitting in the car on a side street facing the club. Femi knew that the street vendors also provided good cover when needed. He remembered one time when he tracked someone to a building and sat in his car for six hours. He ended up spending over a thousand naira on street vendors alone. He used them for cover and to also stretch his legs to move around for different viewpoints in case his subject was sneaking out through a side door. Femi had been able to get his man, and he would have missed him if he just stayed in his car. So, he would use the same tactic with their stakeout at the club. He was hoping the hot-peanut seller would be around today. They were Baba’s favorite, and he always asked Femi to bring some back to the estate. Femi would find some today in honor of Baba—he would snack on them as he worked to find his boss’s killers.

  Chapter 25

  America

  The funeral was beautiful, even to Peters, who felt that his ability to notice beauty had been scooped out of his chest. Yet the tears and joy worked at him. The pastor’s words reached through the hole in his chest. Sarah was dead, but the love people felt for her pushed in from all sides that day, holding Peters up.

  “We should not forget the person and all the good deeds she will be remembered for.”

  Everyone from her past and present attended. A lot of Peters’ colleagues also attended, in uniform no less. There was a choir from Atlanta that Peters didn’t invite but which came anyway. The chorister, a guy named Vincent, sang a chillingly ethereal rendition of the Lord’s Prayer. Sarah’s two sisters sat next to him in the pew, along with their spouses and kids. Not the best circumstances, but it was good to see and spend some time with them. Peters made sure to talk and greet and hug as many of the attendees as possible, and was surprised to notice that the effort was salutary.

  Sarah’s sisters and family had to leave right after the services, as much as they regretted it—one had a business, the other, Margaret, was a head nurse at a hospital in Maine. But they made it clear that Peters was family and should visit whenever he wanted to. Somehow, they all admitted, they had taken life too much for granted in letting the years go by without spending time together. And now Sarah was gone. Peters promised to make the trips; he had never visited Colorado or been to Maine.

  And then they left, too.

  Just when the solitude was about to crash in on him again, Peters noticed one guest who had been staring at him for some time. He had first noticed the Asian gentleman who walked in after the service had started. He sat in the back pew and kept his head down, staring at the program, and didn’t look up until the service was over. It seemed like he was studying it or sleeping. Peters didn’t know.

  The man finally approached Peters as he sat in one of the pews. Peters wasn’t concerned, but was on guard anyway.

  “Hello. Did you know Sarah?” Peters asked.

  The man bowed and spoke at the same time. “Sir, my name is Ashton Nakamura. I flew in from Singapore last night. I bring word from Mr. Vue.”

  Peters thought for a second. He didn’t remember a Mr. Vue from Singapore. As the man came up from his bow, he extended a red envelope toward Peters. Odd. He could have easily dropped it off in the basket by the entry doors like everyone else. Peters took the envelope, still keeping his eyes on the stranger. He wasn’t a threatening man; slight of build, with none of the internal steel that Peters could detect in a trained fighter.

  Once Peters took the envelope, the guy took a step back as if to remove any tension or threat that Peters might feel. The envelope itself was a specimen. It had a wax seal on the folded edge with a V initial. Inside was a letter.

  Peters hesitated and looked up. Ashton was still standing there staring. Peters guessed he had to make sure the letter was read or he was probably going to catch hell back home.

  “Mr. Peters,” the letter started. After reading it, Peters stood up and bowed toward Ashton. He then walked over and shook Ashton’s hand. The color came back to his face.

  Peters had had to think long and hard about the Vue name. Now he remembered. Mr. Vue was one of his father’s best mates when he was a kid in Lagos. He remembered Mr. Vue visiting once a year since he was about five years old. He remembers traveling with his father to Singapore and staying at Mr. Vue’s big house close to the water. He remembered seeing a lot of guards there at the house.

  The letter itself was informative and intriguing. Mr. Vue said that it would be worth Peters’ time to see him before heading to Lagos. How did he know he was going to Nigeria? Must have heard about Baba and assumed that his son would go back to put the mystery to rest. After a moment’s thought, Peters didn’t mind making a stop in Singapore before heading to Lagos.

  “Tell Mr. Vue that it would be an honor to come and see him as soon as I can,” Peters said to Ashton.

  That put a huge smile on Ashton’s face. “Your acceptance is a big relief,” he said. “I will be happy to convey your plans.”

  He thanked Ashton again for coming and delivering the note. “I will let him know when I’m on my way.”

  And that was it. Ashton bowed again and then he was gone. Peters tucked the envelope into his jacket pocket and looked around one last time. He walked to the front and stared at the urn holding Sarah’s ashes. Another round of sadness hit. It was Sarah’s decision to be cremated. Neither knew that it would come so soon. He’d argued with her about her decision. He’d selfishly said that it wouldn’t be fair of her, giving him no grave to visit, if she were to die before him.

  Now he saw that this was the best decision she could have made. He could have her close to him every day. Peters picked up the urn and walked out into t
he parking lot. Except for a few church employees’ cars, his was the only one left.

  It was time to take Sarah home.

  Chapter 26

  Lost

  Peters slept for ten hours after getting home from the funeral. He didn’t think he was that tired, but his body said otherwise. He’d turned down offers to get a drink or something to eat after the ceremony; he just wanted to be at home with Sarah. He knew he wouldn’t be good company anyway—the urn would have sat in the car and he didn’t want to leave Sarah alone while he made merry in some eatery.

  Today, all he’d eaten was breakfast, a bagel and cream cheese with a Sprite Zero. He knew she would be disappointed in his diet, but he’d felt lost at the grocery store when he’d stopped to pick up a few things. Somehow after almost an hour in the aisles, he’d emerged with bagels, cream cheese, Sprite, two bananas, some garbage bags that were the wrong size, and a T-bone steak. Sarah had made lists. Peters didn’t, and it showed.

  He sat down and called the travel agent. This was no ordinary agency, but a front that handled logistics, shared information, and passed messages to and from Gray agents in the field. He was hoping for some information on the whereabouts and itinerary of the occupants of the Chrysler 200.

  A perky voice answered the phone. “Sun, Sand, and Fun Travel Agency, my name is Anita. Where would you like to travel today?”

  When Tyson had met Peters in St. Paul, the code he shared started with MSP, so Peters started with that.

  “Yes, I’m out of MSP and I’m not sure where I would like to go for a vacation. Can you recommend a place and a possible itinerary for me?”

  Anita said, “Why yes, I’d be happy to.” After a few seconds, she started giving him the information he was looking for. “Have you ever been to Africa, sir?”

  Ah, so they did come from Africa.