The Ransom Dealers

The Scammers

"Bros how far?" came the deep voice on the other side of the phone.

"I dey", Abdul answered. "Wetin dey happen?"

"Oh boy, you better find us another target oh… Ground no level at all", the voice, belonging to Femi, replied.

"Let's go to w******p call abeg, you know this line is not clean", Abdul advised.

"Okay", and Femi ended the call. Immediately, he connected his mobile data and went into his w******p. Quickly, he scrolled down to Abdul's contact and dialled. As he waited for the line to connect, he shook his head pityingly. He had to even be careful and manage his data! It seemed impossible that two months ago he had over five million naira to his name.

The problem with me, he thought, was that I can't leave girls alone. There was this fatalistic urge that drove him to want to have every girl he sees, as long as she is on the make. His s*x echo was off the charts, because Femi was known to sleep with an average of three girls on a daily basis. That was his curse.

Femi had always been a kind of terrorist right from childhood. At a tender age of four, he would chase a chicken, catch it and twist it's neck. He would then stand back and watch it writhing until the life ebbed out of it's body. He was born naturally cruel.

At the age of seven, he had become an accomplished thief. He stole money from his mother, his father and anyone unlucky enough to be reckless around him. At first it was hard for his mother to believe he was the culprit, because Femi had an innocent, handsome, baby-like face. At first glance, he looked like someone you could trust. But Femi was to be trusted like the fox.

At the age of fourteen, he had discovered the secret pleasure that lay between the thighs of a woman. From the very first time, he was insatiable. He was thirty five now, and his body count was unimaginable. By the time he was twenty five, Femi had slept with almost every girl in his street, raped about a dozen and gotten four of them pregnant simultaneously. It was time to have a change of scene. He bailed to Kano.

It was inevitable that Femi would slip into a life of crime. There was nothing criminal he wouldn't do as long as the money was right. At a point, he even entertained the thought of becoming a professional assassin.

The w******p call finally connected, and Abdul said, "you know everything here is encrypted, so it's safer to talk here".

"Yeah… I get, I get. I said things are bad for me oh, isn't there any deal we can hammer?", Femi asked.

"Bros we have to take it easy for a while nah… you know we can't touch that account we hijacked again. We have to work on another account", Abdul said.

"Toh no be you be the banker? Check and find another one abeg. I'm broke wallai.", Femi said

Abdul was shocked. "Broke?!" He exclaimed. "Just six weeks ago we split ten M between us. Wetin you dey carry money do? Which kind nyash you dey f**k like this? Haba bros!"

"Hahahaha!", Femi laughed mirthlessly. "Na foreign nyash… See, forget that thing. Let's have some action abeg!"

"Gaskiya for now, nothing dey. But give me some time to arrange something", Abdul said.

"That's my guy!", Femi hailed. "I knew I could count on you".

After disconnecting the call, Abdul went back to work. He had so many entries to make, and there was no time to check time. It was already heading to 16:00hours, and he wanted to be home early today.

Abdul worked as an operations staff with First Bank Plc, Lagos Street, Kano. He had graduated from Bayero University Kano, with a First Class in Economics. He served his NYSC in one of the First Bank branches in Katsina State, and such was his proficiency for figures that he was automatically retained to work in the Bank.

Abdullahi Adams was born into a middle income family that was fairly successful. His parents were both nurses at the Aminu Kano Teaching Hospital, and between them made a reasonable enough income to take their three boys through the University.

His job paid well, very well. But being a member of the Fast-Lane Association, what he made seemed like peanuts. He had serious ambitions, and a lousy three million a year wasn't gonna cut it.

He had worked for two years, handling cash, watching how some customers' accounts swelled every now and then with hundreds of millions (sometimes even billions), of naira. He had the money itch, but had never made any attempt to commit financial malpractice.

He went into crime accidentally, unintentionally and unawares.

A customer of his, Hussaina, brought some cash deposit to be counted, confirmed and banked. She worked as a secretary for Mudassir & Brothers, the textile magnet. The average cash she paid in weekly was thirty million naira, all in small denomination. The highest denomination was two hundred naira, and the money was usually worn out. It usually took them the best part of three hours to arrange, count and strap all the money.

On that fateful Friday, while they were counting and strapping the money, Hussaina mistakenly dropped a bundle of two hundred naira notes on his side of the table. Twenty grand.

He looked up from his counting, then realized that she was not aware of the incident. His mind told him to inform her, but then his dormant greed overrode his good intentions. He kept mute. When they were done with the counting, there was a shortage of thirty two thousand naira. There usually is a shortage while counting such large amounts of money.

He left that day, twenty thousand naira richer, but guilt in his heart. That was the beginning…