He stepped away
from the door and closed his eyes. Still, Ochuko could not shake the effect the
girl had on him. He could not understand why her calm, sad features invoked
such feelings of despair in him. The image of her tethered to the bed like a
Ramadan ram, wearing the same clothes she had been wearing every day for the
past seven days, suffused him with regret and pathos.
Her name was
Fechi. She was about fifteen years of age, light-skinned, plump and short. She
was their latest victim, the newest lamb his gang looked up to for the Golden
Fleece.
The six-man gang of
kidnappers was created about three years ago by Obule (‘Chiefo’ as he was
fondly called by his boys). Ochuko recalled how Obule had cajoled him into
joining what he had termed a ‘lucrative business venture’ back then. He had
been weak, he had given in, using his joblessness as an excuse. It had turned
out to be as juicy and profitable as Obule had promised, and easy to execute.
All they had to do was target easy prey such as children of ‘big men’, women
with rich husbands or old folks with wealthy children. They never asked for less
than five million naira as ransom, and the sharing system was always fair.
Ochuko could now boast of over seven million naira in his account.
He took one more look
into the stark, depressing little room, before shutting and locking the door.
He went in search
of Obule.
The rest of the bungalow
was just as rugged and sparsely furnished as the room in which the girl was cooped
up. It was an abandoned building at the end of a street of similar near-ramshackle
buildings somewhere deep in the bowels of Ikorodu.
Ochuko found Obule
outside the bungalow. He was sitting alone on a wooden stool beneath a dongoyaro tree. Tall and ruggedly muscled,
he fitted perfectly into anyone’s image of what the leader of a gang of kidnappers
would look like.
“Chiefo, we need
to talk.”
“About what?”
“The girl now. When
are we going to let her go?”
Obule’s
ever-present scowl deepened. “Why are you talking like you don’t know our mode
of operation. Is it possible for us to let her go without collecting the ransom
money? O’boy make sense now. We have to keep her here till her father pays.”
“I know. I am just
afraid of something happening to her while she’s still in our hands.”
“Lailai! Nothing will happen to her in
our hands. You better make sure of that… after all you are her caretaker.”
Obule gave a small chuckle at his own pun. “Shebi
Rino and Hassan have gone to town to pick up the dough from her old man. Let’s
see how that goes na. It’s her father
that is causing her suffering and not us. I don’t know why the yeye man has been delaying since.”
Those words were barely
out of Obule’s mouth when they heard the clang of the gate swinging open. They
both pivoted to face it, duplicate looks of expectancy in their eyes. They knew
it had to be Rino and Hassan returning from their rendezvous, and they were
right. Rino and Hassan sauntered through the gate and made straight for them.
The moment he saw them, Ochuko’s heart took a dive for his feet. There was no
trace of the large sum of money the duo had gone to collect.
Obule shot to his
feet, an alarming look of fury contorting his features into a gorilla-like
mask.
“Where the money?”
he queried the two.
“The man no show
o,” was Hassan’s response. He was the only member of the group that was from
the western part of the country. “The baga
no just show up.”
There was a moment
of stunned silence, like the lull before a storm. And the storm did come. Obule
fumed and raged in fury. “I should just kill the girl right now and put an end to
this nonsense once and for all!”
Ochuko was stunned.
“Bull, calm down,
man.” That was Rino, him whose real name no one knew. He was a very light skinned fellow, and the
youngest of the lot. He spoke and acted like one who had just returned from the
States, and he had nicknames for them all which he insisted on addressing them
with. Obule was Bull, Ochuko was Chucko, Hassan was Hans, Uzor was Uzzie but
Junior because his name was already a Western one, remained Junior. With his
light complexion and false accent, Rino was easily and always mistaken for a
half caste American.
“I’m not calming
down!” retorted Obule. “What game is that man playing with us? He promised to
be at the pick-up zone today with the money.”
By now Uzor and Junior
had joined the foursome, attracted by Obule’s noise. Ochuko was certain Fechi was
hearing everything, and could imagine how scared she must be at the moment.
“I wish I can call
the baga right now, but no, that’s
too risky,” Obule was saying as he toyed with his phone. “I would have liked
him to hear us hurting his daughter, maybe then he would know we mean
business.”
Ochuko was really
nervous now; he had never seen Obule like this.
“I am tempted to
call him right now, I’m really tempted…” Obule was still saying as he continued
to scroll through his phone, a Blackberry Bold 5. Then suddenly he stopped, his
face screwed into a comical expression of surprise. “Obasi eee!” he screamed after some seconds. “See this man o.”
“What is, Chiefo,
what is it?”
“See the news
flying about on Twitter. It’s on breaking news that Chief Emezuruike has paid
the ten million naira ransom money to the kidnappers of his daughter and he is
now awaiting her safe return. Imagine that! Imagine him claiming to have paid
us, when he did not even show up at the rendezvous. This man must pay for his
lies!”
He continued
ranting like that, promising to make Chief Emezuruike, Fechi and the whole of
the Emezuruike clan pay for the slight on the gang, while the other members watched
him quietly. They knew the bane of Obule’s life was his bad temper, and whenever
he was riding on a wave of fury like now, it was best to let the storm of his
anger run its course and peter out.
But peter out it
did not. This time, Obule’s temper seemed to increase the more he ranted. Then
he announced decisively, “It’s time to put an end to this nonsense. We kill the
girl and send pictures to her parents. Come on, guys.”
He made to rush
into the bungalow, but Ochuko jumped into his path. “Common, Chiefo. Don’t make
critical decisions when you are mad. Remember your promise never to kill any of
our victims …”
“Promise ko, promise ni,” Obule snarled and made as if to brush Ochuko out of his way.
“…besides, what’s
to make us certain that the Chief did not truly make the drop like he claims?”
As he spoke, Ochuko threw a loaded glance at Rino and Hassan.
“Wetin you dey try
talk? Say we collect money from the man come dey lie for Chiefo? Ehn?” Hassan
flared.
“You saying shit,
man,” Rino added.
Ochuko saw that
his words had had the desired effect on Obule. He now had an uncertain look in
his eyes.
“Are you guys sure
that Chief Emezuruike did not make the drop?” he asked quietly.
“Ah! Chiefo you dey wound my heart,” Hassan exclaimed,
hitting a fisted hand on his chest to buttress his statement. “How you go
believe say we fit do than kind thing? After all these years wey we done dey?”
“Na question I ask.”
“Chiefo, I swear…I
fit use anything swear. In fact, make we go call the man for phone together,
make him come talk am again say him drop money.”
“Okay. Make we go
town go call the man then,” Obule accepted. “Junior, follow us.”
In fifteen minutes
they were all gone—Obule, Rino, Hassan and Junior—to somewhere far from their
hideout, in order to prevent their location being traced from the phone call. Ochuko
knew what he needed to do and knew he didn’t have much time to do it. He had to
help the girl escape before Obule and the others returned. He knew once Obule
returned with proof that Fechi’s father had indeed defaulted, he would do as he
had promised – kill the girl or hurt her badly. He had to prevent that and the
only way to do it was to help her escape.
Copyright, Sabigirl.com.
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