The Presidential Mandate

The late model Mercedes-Benz sedan entered Las Gidi State before it was dark. It has left Binin City about two hours ago. The driver had probably broken several speeding limits, to be able to arrive Las Gidi at the time he did. The car had four occupants including the driver. They wore almost the same type of clothing, up to the color of their berets. Their heavy jackets were bulging, suggesting they were concealing some things under them. One thousand naira notes, had gotten them through the police checkpoints on the expressway. The driver knew where he was going. He was probably a resident of the great commercial, or was raised in the city as some point in his life. He followed the back roads that would get them to their destination faster, avoiding the notorious Las Gidi traffic gridlock. Overhead, a Las Gidi State police helicopter was on it’s evening sweep of the city. Las Gidi seemed calm from the air. There wasn’t much to report back. “Another cool and calm evening in Las Gidi,” the pilot told his copilot. “Guess we’ll be heading back to base.” “I guess you’re right boss,” the copilot said. “I just don’t know why I can’t shake this feeling that something is wrong.” “Ok,” the pilot said. “Let’s take one last sweep, then we’re headed back to base.” The copilot liked the idea. The helicopter flew over the speeding Mercedes-Benz, as the car gained the Lekki bridge. There was nothing out of the ordinary about a speeding car. Las Gidians were always speeding, especially when the road was free. There wasn’t many cars on the bridge, and the Mercedes-Benz zigzagged through them, as it headed to it’s destination. The copilot watched the car for a moment. He had a strange feeling about the car, but aside from a speeding violation, there wasn’t much he could call in for. He let it go. The first mistake of the night. The driver soon reached the Likki Phase One estate. A police Rapid Response APC was parked at the gate of the estate. The policemen sat on a bench beside the armoured vehicle, playing a card game. They watched as the Mercedes-Benz swung around the roundabout, and approached the estate gate at top speed. “Which kin’ rubbish be this one?” the inspector said getting up from his bench. He wanted to wave the car down, but the driver of the tinted vehicle blew past him, even before he could raise his hand. “Just see as that bastard dey drive.” “Oga Inspector,” his sergeant said. “Na their way be that na. Na so all these rich people pikin dey take speed dey kill themselves. Abeg leave them jare make we continue our game. No change card ooo.” “Your papa there,” the Inspector said sitting back on the bench. “Change which card? Me wey don finish you. Oya go market there. Chop two, chop am again. Last card, come on comot there.” The second mistake of the night. The Mercedes-Benz plowed through the night, as the driver tore through some roads in the estate, twice narrowly missing a head on collusion with oncoming cars. The two policemen stationed in front of the big duplex saw the car speeding down the road towards them. They had seen several cars speeding down the street to the house that evening. Several expensive cars were parked around the house. The driveway was however unoccupied. “These yeye idiots never come finish?” one of the policemen asked nobody in particular. His colleague was fishing for his cigarette packet from his breast pocket. “Why them dey like drive like mad people na something I never understand.” “My brother,” the other policeman finally found his cigarette packet and took out a stick. “Na so rich people pikin dey behave. Make we just do our job leave them make them dey do wetin they wan do.” The third mistake of the night. The driver swung the car into the driveway, and slammed down on the brakes, bringing the car to a screaming halt. “Which kin’ rubbish be this,” the first policeman shouted at the driver. “Come on comot this car from here immediately. You no see where others park their car abi?” The doors of the car opened at once and the men jumped out. The policemen were taken by surprise. The one with the cigarette was confused whether to go for his lighter or his rifle. Their guns were slung over their shoulders and they just couldn’t reach them on time. The four young men were aiming Mossberg 590A1 pump-action shotguns at them. They firsted at the same time, filling up the bodies of the policemen with hot lead from their 12 gauge shotshells. The policemen were thrown into the wall behind them. They fell slowly to the ground in a pool of their own blood. Three of the men advanced towards the house quickly, while the fourth man, who was also the driver, turned the car around, then crouched beside the Mercedes-Benz, which he had left engine still running, as he trained his gun on the street, to hold back anybody who would approach from the neighboring houses. The three men picked up the OBJ-006 assault rifles the policemen were carrying, and checked the ammunition. There was enough in them. Two of them slung their pump-action shotguns over their shoulders, and advanced with the assault rifles. The loud music coming from the house, as well as the sound from the powerful Mikano generating set that powered the building, seemed to have drowned the sound of the shooting, as nobody in the house seemed to have noticed it. They didn’t notice the three armed men, who walked into the large sitting room, until it was too late. The man still armed with the shotgun, fired a 12 gauge at the music system, blowing the expensive Sony device into piece. There were five young men in the room with about seven young women. The men in the room, immediately recognized the color of the berets on the heads of the armed men. One of them started reaching for the pistol he had tucked under his shirt, but one of the assault rifle welding assailants released a semi-automatic burst of bullets into his chest, killing him in the chair he sat. Another started running for the next room, but a 12 gauge round lifted him from behind and threw him into the door, knocking it off it’s hinges. The assailants gunned down two more men, then grabbed the fifth man. They dragged him out of the house to their waiting Mercedes-Benz. “We can settle this,” the fifth man was saying. He was a half caste with more caucasian features than African. “I have money. My father can pay you anything you want.” He was silenced by a slap across the face by one of the men. The driver had already opened the boot of the Mercedes-Benz, and they threw the half caste into it. The boot was slammed shut, and the Mercedes-Benz raced off towards the road it had come from. A neighbor came out from his house as the Mercedes-Benz left. He had his phone held up to his ear, as he called the policemen at the gate of the estate. “You say wetin?” the police Inspector was struggling to concentrate between the call he just got, and the cards in his hands. “They kidnap who?” The Mercedes-Benz appeared again racing towards them. The windows were wound down this time. The Inspector listened to the description of the vehicle used in a kidnap, just as the Mercedes-Benz came bearing down on them and gunfire errupted from inside the car. The Inspector took three 7.62mm rounds in the chest, as the bullets threw him into the APC. His phone and the cards were already flying from his hands as he fell. The Inspector took two bullets in the abdomen and fell beside his superior officer. The Mercedes-Benz sped into the traffic. Motorists and pedestrians scattered at the sound of the shooting. The driver knew where he needed to turn to and evade police. He headed towards a road that would take them out to Epe. A Toyota Hilux truck, belonging to the police had arrived at the front of the duplex. The neighbor had called another team he knew, when he couldn’t get any response from the men at the gate. An inspector of Police led the team. The neighbor quickly told them what he had seen. The Inspector ordered his men back into the Toyota Hilux truck to chase after the Mercedes-Benz, leaving one of his men behind to follow him into the duplex. The young ladies were hysterical when he walked into the room, which was littered with four dead bodies. “Radio DPO,” the Inspector told the junior police officer. “Yawa don gas.” The Toyota Hilux truck will get to the get and meet the c*****e. Some people had called for help, and a few minutes later, a police ambulance, escorted by a police Toyota Hilux arrived at the scene. They were too late. Both men were dead. The helicopter crew was about heading back to the helicopter landing pad, when the message came through their radio. As the despatch described the car, the copilot realized his mistake. He would not report this. It was a career ender after hearing the name of the person involved. “You were right,” the pilot said. “This night isn’t cool and calm after all.” The copilot who was usually talkative, just nodded, as the pilot turned the aircraft around and started heading towards the direction the car was last seen. The Mercedes-Benz raced through Epe. The town was almost asleep, and didn’t seem to notice a speeding vehicle in the night. Many travellers, who wanted to avoid the Las Gidi traffic, used the Epe route. They were just another car conveying night travellers to their destination. The Mercedes-Benz came to a stop along a very empty road, surrounded on all sides by thick forests. There was a Toyota Sienna van parked there. Two men had been sitting there all alone. They had been smoking Indian hemp and cigarettes. They were armed with Mossberg 590A1 pump-action shotguns. They approached the Mercedes-Benz as the four men got down from it. “How e go?” one of the two men from the Toyota Sienna asked the four men. “E dey boot.” The driver opened the boot of the car and the half caste sprang at them. One of the men struck him with his fist, sending him reeling back into the boot. He started weeping. He knew who his assailants were, and he knew what they wanted. “Comot from there fast,” one of the men barked at the half caste. “Let’s settle this please,” he started pleading. “I have seven million naira in my bank account right now. I can get it for you right now. My father has more. He can give you a hundred million if you. Please let’s settle this.” “See this mugu,” one of the men shouted. “You no remember how Moji take beg you? You don forget so soon? Guy, e don pass wetin your money fit fix. Moji na my little brother. My brother wey I remain my mama breast for. My brother wey follow my footsteps go enter kush. You go waste my brother. God punish you bagger.” The half caste knew who Moji was. For the first time, I was really scared. With a family member, money could get off the table pretty fast and he saw it happening. He was a member of a university cult named Red Skulls. The men in front of him were members of a rival cult, the Scorpions. In recent times, both cults had been engaged in violent clashes, which had cost several lives. He remembered Moji. He shot Moji twice. Moji had begged for his life but he still shot him. The other person he shot that night didn’t die. He found out the Scorpions had taken him to a secret hospital for treatement. He had paid so much money to find the wounded man and kill him, so that he would not be able to finger him in the killings, which was being investigated by the police. The Scorpions found him first. He started saying something, but Moji’s brother pulled out a DICOG made GP-1 pistol, which was the Gongolan licensed version of the Browning P-35, from under his shirt, and fired five shots into the half caste’s body. They watched him slowly die. They left him inside the boot of the Mercedes-Benz, and got into the Toyota Sienna. They removed their cult uniforms, and wore the jackets usually worn by the notoriously infamous Police Anti-Cult unit. With the c*****e they had left behind, the police would be on the look out for the Mercedes-Benz and men dressed like cultists. They would be able to beat every police checkpoint with their new disguise, and if need be, they were ready to shoot their way through. They had accomplished their mission and that was all that mattered. A police patrol team would spot the Mercedes-Benz while on a routine run. The engine was still on, with all the lights left on. The policemen had received the BOLO about a car matching that description. They approached cautiously with their guns drawn. The Inspector leading the team saw the bloody boot. It was obvious the assailants had abandoned the vehicle for another one. The Inspector looked into the boot. He sighed and shook his head. “Radio headquarters,” he told the man with the radio. “Tell him what we found.” The phone rang for the fourth time. The Commissioner of Police woke up as it started ringing for the fifth time. He was ready to lash out at the caller. The day had been a very hectic one for him. It was his personal assistant calling. The Commissioner’s words of reprimand died in his mouth as the assistant broke the news to him. His wife was awake now and watched the expression on his face change. “I’m on my way,” he said as he lowered the phone from his ear. “What’s the matter?” his wife asked. “Serious trouble darling,” he managed to say. “Very serious trouble. I have to get to the office right away. I’ll brief you when I get back. Get my aide to get the cars ready.” She quickly left the room, while he quickly got into a fresh set of uniforms. He was fully dressed by the time she returned. “Just be careful,” she said to him. “I will,” he didn’t want to tell her it had gone beyond that. His convoy consisted of two Toyota Hilux Trucks and a Toyota Landcruiser Prado SUV. He rarely went out with the motorcycle outrider at night. His aide-de-camp was standing by the door of the SUV. He opened the door as the Commissioner approached. The Commissioner climbed into the SUV and his aide-the-camp climbed into the front seat. “To my office,” the Commissioner instructed the driver. “Yes sir.” The Commissioner called his personal assistant as the vehicles left the compound. “Where is he now?” He listened as the assistant told him. He ended the call. He was very disturbed. “Change of direction,” he told his driver. “Take me to the Las Gidi State University Teaching Hospital, to the morgue.” The aide-de-camp got on his radio and contacted the led vehicle of the change. There were about six police Toyota Hilux Trucks at the morgue. Two DPOs were there with their subordinates. They led the Commissioner into the morgue. They also briefed him as they went in. The attendant had the body on the table. The Commissioner recognized him immediately. He waved the DPOs to silence, as they were trying to give their excuses for what had happened. “I need to call the Inspector General of Police,” he said. Everybody fell silent. None of them wanted to be him. He didn’t want to be him at that moment. It was one call he didn’t ever want to have to make. “Dayo,” the Inspector General’s voice came through at the third ring. “How is Las Gidi? Hope all is well this one you are calling this late?”