Off to Mallam Isa.
1013 Words
For some minutes, Westsider stood behind the murdered prostitute. For all her smartness this is a very cheap death.
Except for her neck snapped backward, she seemed to be having a peaceful sleep.
He let his dark gaze slide over her skin, shining even in death, dipped his hand in his pocket, and brought out a small walkie-talkie dialing a number.
A voice connected on the other end.
"Agent 007." Westsider barked. "Connect me to the commander."
The voice from the other end seemed busy.
"Commander is busy now, maybe I can be of other assistance."
"No." He replied.
My shining moment! he thought.
"It's very urgent, I need to talk to him now." He said.
"Wait and let me see what I can do." The voice replied.
The line went blank, then he heard some noise like the scratching of a spoon on tiles.
"Damn line," he thought and waited.
one minute.
two minutes.
Tired of waiting, he closed his eyes and gave a wide yarn.
What a fruitful night.
Tafa's walkie-talkie ring.
This is better be good, he thought. He will need to kick somebody's arse if otherwise.
He pressed the receiver's button and put the phone closer to his ear. Heard the messages, barked an instruction, and cut the call. Something struck! Onestar, an albino's briefcase, and a murdered prostitute.
The descriptions of the albino seemed more than a mere coincidence.
Is his prayer already answered?
His men standing at sharp attention, nobody moving a muscle as he informed them of what was expected of them.
He believed the information had increased their aggregate blood pressure by a few thousand points and some of them he knew will be wishing they had been among the ninety-nine percent of applicants who had not qualified to be here or among the lucky ones on leave.
He instructed them to kill power in the selected areas to eradicate extraneous magnetic interference, they should move in pairs of four with infrared goggles for clear vision and the use of traditional bug sweepers, recalibrated for such flux field like this.
"Any question?" Tafa asked after a few minutes of intensive instructions.
"What if we don't find it on time?" A silly-looking officer asked.
Tafa gazed at the officer who asked the question from beneath his red beret.
He dismissed the group with a somber salute.
"Godspeed men."
Minutes later, along with his four trusted men, he raced towards lucky stars hotel.
Westsider is smiling now, his tenth smile tonight.
Three months of trailing this notorious rogue had finally paid tonight, he is now a witness to a murder and the sole testifier against Onestar.
Westsider believes his life has changed from this one incident, he expected to be famous and promoted for this.
Scratching his goatee beard brought him instant relief, he had grown this not only for fashion but because he believed it makes him look more clever.
He brought out his portable digital camera, snapped the picture of the murdered prostitute.
Suddenly, his ears picked someone sneaking on him, he pressed the capture button mainly to produce light to see the shy visitor.
His flashlight caught the physique of a giant, white as a ghost. Shocked. He opened his mouth to scream, his throat produced no sound.
Perplexed, he watched as the ghost descended on him.
Powerful snow-white hands clamped over his mouth from behind, muffling his scream.
The hand smell of alcohol and cigarettes.
The white albino produced a small revolver and aimed it at his forehead.
Westsider felt his groan growing hot, unbelievably, he just wet himself.
"Where is my briefcase?" A menacing voice asked.
The albino doubted anything could match the anguish gripping his pale body.
I had failed Shakau.
Far worse, I have endangered the work of Allah.
Tonight was supposed to be a night of celebration, but his lust had brought his ruin, brought the ruin of holy mission.
Finally overcoming enormous trepidation, the albino tied up his prisoner, lift him over his shoulder like a baby, and disappeared into the night.
Some minutes later, he emerged at an uncompleted building adjacent to the hotel, he had found a safe place, dropped the unconscious lad on the floor.
A second later, he was enjoying pouring his urine on the boy's face and watched as he stir awake, looking at him with somber's eyes.
"Where is my briefcase?" He asked.
"Your briefcase?" The young lad asked back, looking disoriented.
It seemed he knew nothing of it. Who killed the prostitute? He thought aloud.
One more bloodshed.
"Ina Ilahi was Ina Ilehi rojiun."
The albino offer a departing prayer for his prisoner, with his hand poised, he aimed for his neck.
"Wait. " The lad screamed, remembrance glittering in his scary face.
"I know who has your briefcase."
"Really?" The albino asked.
"Yes." The boy replied.
"Don't kill me and I will tell you how to get back your briefcase back." The boy begged in a pleading tone.
The albino paused to consider this, he hardly made deal with his prisoner, and when he does, he makes sure he breaks it. But what's the point in getting the poor boy worked up.
"Okay." The albino replied, "tell me how to get my briefcase back."
The boy nodded fearfully.
"Listen and I will tell you who has your briefcase and where to find him. His name is one star, he is Seven feet tall, fair with a scary face, and walked with a limp." He paused to catch his breath for a few seconds.
"You won't miss him in his black jeans shirt and blue trouser on his way to Sabo to Mallam Isa's shop.
His shop is number Thirty-five, beside Sabo market.
Okay, the albino said, he considered killing the boy for more fun and at the verge of deciding when he heard the sound of a Hilux truck. Glancing through the opened window, he saw a police car where the murdered prostitute lies.
The albino left the weak boy and sneaked through the back door.
Off to Mallam Isa.
- Writer
