CALLED TO INVESTIGATE
The AC in Alhaji Okoro’s Ikeja office was cold, but sweat still ran down Tunde Adeyemi’s neck.
“Gentlemen,” Alhaji Okoro said, his voice heavy. He was in his late 50s, agbada crisp, but his eyes looked 10 years older. “My son Emeka withdrew ₦20 million from Zenith Bank, Ikeja branch, three days ago. Since then, nobody has seen him. Not his phone. Not his car. Nothing.”
Kunle Adeyemi, Tunde’s younger brother, leaned forward. At 19, he had the same sharp eyes as Tunde, just less patience. “Have you gone to the police, sir?”
“The police?” Alhaji Okoro scoffed. “Half of them work for me. The other half work for my enemies. I need people my son will talk to. People his age.” He slid two photos across the mahogany table. One of Emeka - 20, dreadlocks, gold chain. The other of a bank withdrawal slip.
“Money is not the problem,” Alhaji continued. “Find him. Bring him home. ₦2 million when you do.”
Tunde and Kunle exchanged a look. Their dad, Chief Adeyemi, retired DSS, taught them one rule: follow the money.
“We’ll take the case,” Tunde said.
That night, they started at Emeka’s last known location: Whisper Lounge, Victoria Island. Bartenders remembered him. He was with two men. One was tall, tribal marks. The other wore a cap low over his face.
“Did he seem scared?” Kunle asked.
“Nah,” the bartender said. “He seemed... excited. Like someone who just got paid.”
At 2am they drove back to their flat in Yaba. Kunle was driving. Tunde was checking Emeka’s i********:.
A notification popped up.
New story. Posted 5 minutes ago. Location: Seme Border.
The video was 3 seconds. Dark. Just Emeka’s voice whispering: “Don’t trust anybody. Not even dad.”
Then the screen went black.
Kunle slammed the brakes. “Bro... what?”
Before Tunde could answer, something moved on the passenger seat.
A coiled shape. Scales. Eyes like glass.
Eku. The African Rock Python.
It had come through the slightly open window.
It struck.
Kunle screamed and swerved. The car skidded toward the gutter. Tunde grabbed a bottle from the cup holder and smashed it over the snake’s head. Eku hissed, dropped to the floor mat, and slithered out the window into the darkness of Ojuelegba.
Both brothers were shaking.
“That wasn’t a random snake,” Tunde whispered. “Someone sent it.”
Kunle looked at his phone. The i********: story had already deleted itself.
