The Man From Lagos Read online

  Peters saw everything unfold before his eyes. Sarah must have been surprised by the bump and tried to keep the car from the median. She overcorrected, probably thinking of the wet roads. She then must have thought about avoiding the cars to her right and overcorrected again, and this time it was too late to recover. Her tires met the wet grass. She bounced and swerved and must have hit a drainage grate—the front right wheel broke from the axle and rolled away. The car tumbled into a roll, and it rolled three times before it came to a violent stop against the crash barrier that kept one side of the highway from the other.

  Peters was shaking. There. Right there. That was the moment Sarah died. He cradled his head in his hands, his heart slamming and breaking over and over again in his chest, like the car rolling. Sarah’s death—something in him died at that very same moment.

  People don’t survive that type of accident. Please let her not have suffered. It took a while before they got to her. The rain and heavy traffic didn’t help. Was she conscious for a while? He couldn’t let himself think about it. He wasn’t ready.

  When Peters had gotten the call, it still took forever to reach the site. By the time he arrived, they had cut Sarah out of the car and had her on the stretcher with a board under her. She had a neck brace on. He almost didn’t recognize her. He looked on from the other side of the highway, powerless to do anything. He could have run across the lanes over to her, but he didn’t want to cause a scene or prevent them from their work in case they were trying to save her.

  And then they’d pulled a sheet over her. A paramedic slammed the ambulance doors. An officer helped direct it onto the clear lane. They didn’t even turn on the emergency lights.

  Joe had discreetly stepped away, and now the room grew brighter as he raised the blinds.

  “Where did it go?” Peters asked.

  “Peters?”

  “I want to know where the Chrysler went after the hit and run.”

  Joe nodded and sat down again. “Yeah. I was able to track them to their final destination.”

  He went through the car’s path to the Minneapolis International Airport. The car took the National/Avis/Hertz/Enterprise car rental return exit by the airport. From there, he couldn’t track them since his area of government had no access to any of those cameras. Peters had to think. The people who killed Sarah must have been confident that their mission was a success and so they left town. It was also possible that they surveilled his house and saw that they killed the wrong person and were just changing rental cars. The house surveillance footage didn’t show anything out of the ordinary, so the likely story was that they had already flown back to wherever they’d come from. All he could think of was that they had to have been out-of-town hitmen, as his sister had warned. But where did they fly off to? No way his father’s enemy would send someone from Nigeria.

  His mind circled once around the old question: Why him? He wasn’t involved in his father’s business. He hadn’t been home to Lagos since he was a kid. There was more to this and he was going to find out for sure. His answers might be in Lagos. He would fly to Mars if that was where he would find Sarah’s killers.

  He couldn’t waste any more time thinking about it. Peters would look into clues from his damaged car—later. First, he had to contact Tyson.

  Chapter 13

  Flight Plan

  Peters called the chief back. He planned to stop by her office to tell her what he’d found. She offered instead to come to him. They were going to meet tomorrow, and she could share her news, as well. It was fine with him: he wanted to do some more digging and make another call. It was one he dreaded, but this was the only way he could get any information about travelers who flew in and out of an airport. He needed someone who had access to FAA information. And the only person he could trust and would get him what he needed was Tyson Williams.

  Tyson was his handler back when he was a Gray. Tyson was good; he’d been with the Homeland Security Investigations agency for twelve years when Peters was assigned to him. He had a baseball player’s build and a small scar over his left eyebrow whose story he would not tell. He’d been a field man in the past and hung on to the physique. For all their missions, Peters had only met him in person four times.

  The first time was in the basement of the Minnesota State University, Mankato, library. That was where Peters picked up his first assignment and backstop information. The three other times were debriefing sessions after overseas missions that had national security implications. Peters otherwise would use dead-drops to deliver and receive information.

  Peters headed home and went straight to his office. He grabbed a golf trophy on his shelf and turned it upside down. He twisted the false bottom and pulled out a card with just a number on it. He dialed the number and after three rings, someone answered.

  “Pizza House, is this for delivery or takeout?”

  “Takeout,” he said.

  “How many pizzas today, sir?”

  “I’m having a large party and I will need three sodas, six large pizzas, and five breadsticks.”

  The voice over the phone paused and then confirmed the order. “And sir, we have construction going around our building so if you could park on the east side and then call us when you arrive, we will bring it out to you. What is your make and car so we know it’s you?”

  “I’ll be driving a Red Toyota Camry.”

  “Will that be all, sir?”

  “How long for it to be ready?”

  “About three hours, sir.”

  “Okay, thank you for your time.”

  Peters hung up, stifling a cringe. He had to get to St. Paul in three hours. He had vowed to never dial that number no matter what. But for what he needed, there was only one place he could turn to.

  *

  Three hours later, he parked on the east side of the building and waited. Peters was glad to see clear skies with no chance of inclement weather. This would allow him to see who came and went past his car. Kids on bikes. Couples walking hand in hand laughing like they didn’t have a care in the world—he noticed them all. Peters noticed a homeless man coming up from behind on the right.

  The homeless man looked steady on his feet, maybe too steady. He was the only roughly dressed person here. Peters opened his door slowly with his right hand firmly on his weapon. He didn’t know what to expect and wasn’t in a trusting mood today. The homeless man kept coming toward his car. Peters got out and leaned against the car, hand not far from his shoulder holster.

  “Hey buddy,” Peters called out. “You need a ride somewhere?”

  The man stopped and looked up, just staring at Peters.

  “Can you give me a ride to get a slice of pizza?” the man finally responded.

  Peters relaxed and let go of his weapon. “Sure, get in. I’ll take you to the best pizza place in town.” He slid into the car first before the homeless guy got in. His hand hovered with a clear line to his weapon as the homeless man opened the passenger door and got in—barely fitting his tall frame in the front seat.

  “So, what kind of pizza do you like?” Peters asked.

  “The kind that takes three hours to make,” the man said. “Peters, it’s good to see you.”

  Peters would know that voice anywhere. “Tyson, thanks for coming.”

  “No problem, I’m just excited to hear from you after all these years. And hey, I’m sorry to hear about Sarah. You know I couldn’t make contact to offer my condolences.”

  “I know, Tyson,” Peters’ responded as he pulled the car away from the curb.

  “When you left, you said that you were done. Are you coming back in?” added Tyson.

  “I meant what I said when I walked out of that life. You know what my reasons were. Just because something happened to Sarah doesn’t mean I’m looking for a job. What I need is a favor.”

  “Shoot.”

  Peters said, “I need to find out where two men flew to out of MSP last week.”

  Peters handed him the details
of everything he had so far. The list included the make and color of the rental car. The exit they took at the airport to return their rental. He wanted pictures if he could get them, the whole flight plan… anything.

  “Can you do that for me?” Peters asked.

  Tyson said, “Do you think they had something to do with Sarah’s death?”

  Peters didn’t want to give Tyson any more information or offer any thoughts on why he was asking for that information.

  “Just, can you do this for me please?” Peters asked again.

  “Sure, Peters. How soon do you need it?”

  Peters said, “Yesterday.”

  “You know I can’t call you with this information.”

  Peters said, “I’ll call the travel agent tomorrow.”

  And with that, the homeless man got out of the car and disappeared around the back of the state capitol building. Peters knew that Tyson could get the information he needed. He had access to all the cameras and systems that tracked people all over the world.

  Peters pulled out and headed for home. It was a long day. The chief changed her plans for their meeting to tonight. He hoped she had good news for him. Peters could use some information that would help him find those men.

  Chapter 14

  The Room Is Spinning

  Peters dried himself off in the shower, remembering for the third time that day that he had to call Sarah’s sister back soon. Sarah needed a funeral, even if he still couldn’t believe she was dead. He dressed and headed down the stairs just as the doorbell rang.

  The chief was early. She stood on his doormat in civilian clothes, carrying a folder under her arm.

  Peters said, “Come in, Chief.”

  “It’s good to see you, Peters. How have you been?” she added.

  “Doing better, boss, doing good!” Peters led her to the living room with a forced cheerfulness. The chief tried to make small talk, but her body language and her tone betrayed her. Neither of them could pretend this was a normal meeting, and there were developments in the case they needed to discuss.

  The chief noticed Peters’ impatience and got down to it. She held up the folder. “This is the medical examiner’s report. I wanted to talk about it with you at home instead of at the office.”

  His stomach turned. Peters said, “What is it, Chief? I can handle it.”

  “Peters…” He’d never seen her struggle like this. She shifted her tactic, unwilling to take the head-on approach. “Peters, the medical examiner runs all kinds of tests, you know, right? They run tests for alcohol, drugs—”

  “Of course.” He thought it was a joke. This was policework 101.

  “Peters, the blood tests confirmed that Sarah was pregnant when she died.”

  The room started spinning in Peters’ head. He’d had a feeling about the appointment, hadn’t he? He’d expected good news. He hadn’t wanted to believe it, and then since the accident he had set that memory aside, but now the chief confirmed it. The memory of that hope flooded him. And as the news finally caught up to his brain, he bolted off the couch.

  “Chief, don’t tell me that!” he yelled.

  The chief stood up and moved toward him. The only thing she could do was hug him.

  “I’m sorry, Peters, I’m so sorry.”

  Peters fell to his knees taking the chief with him. She didn’t let go and was kneeling with him as he sobbed uncontrollably. His buried head in her shoulder heaved as his sobbing grew louder and louder. All the chief could do was continue holding him while whispering in his ear, consoling him.

  She finally got him to stand up and sit on the couch. She left him and went into the kitchen to get him some water and some paper towels to wipe his face. She sat down next to him after handing him the glass of water. He still couldn’t speak.

  Chief said, “I’m so sorry. I know how much you and Sarah wanted this.”

  Peters finally spoke. His words were soft and frightening. “Chief, I’m going to kill them all. I don’t care who they are, I’m going to kill them all.”

  This is what the chief feared. A man of Peters’ skill and abilities will surely use them until everyone or anyone who had anything to do with Sarah’s death would be brought to account. All hell was going to break loose. The chief knew that she couldn’t have him running around wild and reckless. She also knew that keeping a car on him was a waste of time as he would lose them in the first store or shop he went into. And he also wouldn’t stand for it. It actually wouldn’t work. The chief knew that Peters could disguise himself as anything. She had to reason with him. She had to convince him to let her take the lead on this and she would promise to share everything with him and let him assist any way he could. She didn’t want him doing something that would get him charged with something that would put his freedom in jeopardy.

  “Chief, I’m going to be fine, I promise. I know what you are thinking, I won’t do anything stupid,” he added.

  The chief knew that he was just trying to appease her. “I need you to promise to call me tomorrow. You can come into the office and we can talk about how we manage this investigation,” she added. “I can put as many people on this as needed. You know that, right?”

  Peters knew her last statement was a lie. Everyone’s plate was full and there wasn’t anyone extra to spare from the large caseload of unsolved homicides. Peters still promised to call her soon. She hugged him one last time and left. He shut the door and went straight into his office. He started looking for his passport. He remembered that it was in the black locker in the basement. He had his other important papers and things in there. It was time to pull them out. But first, he had to give Sarah the funeral she deserved.

  Her sister Kalista was happy to hear from him. She sounded sadder than he’d ever heard her before, and they cried together on the phone. Without any prompting from him, she asked his permission to finalize an itinerary for next week: she would fly in next week with her husband and kids coming behind a day before the funeral. She was Sarah’s executor, already had a copy of the will, and had made some preliminary calls. He was never any good at this type of stuff. He was fine with everything she’d done, and meanwhile, he’d use his skills to find and execute her killer—that part, though, he kept to himself. Kalista gave Peters some ideas on how to help with the arrangements, and he promised he’d get to it after hanging up with her.

  He first called the church that he and Sarah attended on occasion. The pastor was helpful, and in no time, everything was set. Next, he called the florist and ordered the arrangements Kalista had already described to him. The less he had to think, the easier it was to do the tasks.

  Peters also got on the computer and emailed everyone whom he knew Sarah would want at the funeral. He also posted the information on social media so that everyone who knew Sarah who wasn’t on the email chain would have all the details and would have a chance to join them in celebrating her life. Once all this was behind him, he would get about tracking down her killers. It was Sarah’s time now. Everything else could wait. The time would come for all to pay.

  Chapter 15

  Nigeria

  (3 weeks before)

  The phone rang six times before someone picked it up. Kemi, the housemaid answered.

  Kemi said, “Hello, who is this?”

  “This is Femi, I need to speak to Baba straight away,” he replied, making sure his voice conveyed the urgency of his request. Femi knew that this could not wait until morning. What he had to tell Baba was that important. He didn’t care that it was 2 a.m.

  “Hold on, I’ll go and wake him.” She set the phone down on the table and rushed. The last time she had to wake Baba, his father had died unexpectedly and his mother had called to tell him. He had a satellite phone, but only a few had that number.

  Baba, clearly upset that he had been woken up in the middle of the night came down reluctantly.

  “Who is this?” he demanded.

  Femi said, “Sorry to wake you, sir.” And before Baba could r
espond and not wanting to waste any more of Baba’s time, Femi got right to the point. “The Apapa location was attacked by armed robbers.”

  It took a moment for Baba to process what he just heard.

  “What!” said Baba, even angrier.

  Femi repeated what he just said. “They took all the money from the warehouse, and killed two guards and three of the workers.”

  Baba needed to know all the details. He glanced over to Kemi, who was still standing a few feet away.

  “Bring me some tea,” he said.

  Kemi hurried off to the kitchen. It was going to be a long night.

  Femi Aja was Baba’s most trusted lieutenant. He was in charge of security for Baba’s businesses. Those who always saw Baba and Femi together would jokingly state that Femi was Baba’s walking stick. Femi was a looming presence—well-built, tall and bald, with a dark insinuation of facial hair. He had a strong, confident voice and suffered no fools. People respected him, but most important, Baba trusted him. It had been fifteen years now. Femi was one of the longest-tenured employees of the Peters Group, Baba’s holding company.

  Femi wasn’t married. He wasn’t the settling down type, and he trusted no one. His work came first. Baba wanted him to be on high alert at all times with no distractions. Therefore, protecting Baba and overseeing the security of his businesses drove every breath in his lungs. Otherwise, he might end up back on the streets, fighting to earn money. He did not miss the brutality of that life.