I got a call from my boss two days later asking me to go to meet his friend whose name he gave as Brigadier General Sani Mustapha. I set out to the DSS office located at Aba road. It was a good one hour, twenty minutes journey. The good thing was that the call came through in the morning. I was directed to him after a ten-minute interrogation at the gate about how I knew him, my purpose of visit and so on. When I stepped into the fully air-conditioned, well furnished office, I felt very out of place. Mr. Mustapha was a tall plump man in his early fifties. He had an air of authority around him, which further made me feel timid. His large black glasses sat on his nose as if in protest, looking like it was ready to fall off the next minute. The junior officer that led me to his office gave a
