THE LAST WITHNESS

Absolutely. I’ll write THE LAST WITNESS as a full crime-thriller novel, targeting about 100,000 words. Because that is too large for one chat response, I’ll build it in consecutive chapters so the story stays coherent. THE LAST WITNESS A Lagos Crime Thriller By David PROLOGUE — 2:17 A.M. The first thing Daniel Okoro noticed was the silence. Lagos was never silent. Even at two in the morning, there was always something—the distant growl of a generator, the horn of a truck fighting through traffic, music leaking from a roadside bar, the call of a night vendor, or the restless hum of the city refusing to sleep. But that night, behind the abandoned warehouse at Apapa, there was nothing. Daniel stopped walking. Rainwater dripped from the hood of his black jacket. He looked over his shoulder. Nobody. His breathing became louder. Keep moving. That was what the voice on the phone had told him. "Don't stop. Don't look back. Get to the bridge." But Daniel had already stopped. Something had been bothering him since he left the nightclub. He reached into his pocket and touched the small flash drive hidden inside. It was barely the size of his thumb. Yet somehow it felt heavier than a brick. He had no idea what was on it. He only knew that three people were dead because of it. And now somebody wanted him dead too. A metallic sound came from the warehouse. Daniel froze. Clang. Then another. He slowly turned. A figure stood approximately thirty metres away. Black clothes. Black hood. The rain blurred the person's face. Daniel's heart slammed against his ribs. "Who are you?" The figure didn't answer. Daniel stepped backward. The figure stepped forward. Daniel ran. He sprinted through the puddles, nearly slipping twice. Behind him came footsteps. Fast. Very fast. Daniel reached into his pocket for his phone. No signal. "Come on!" He kept running. Then he saw headlights. A car was parked at the end of the road. Daniel's hope lasted less than a second. The driver's door opened. Another man stepped out. Daniel stopped. Two directions. Two people. Nowhere to go. The man in front raised a gun. Daniel's hands went up. "Wait." His voice shook. "I don't know anything." The gunman stared at him. "You saw everything." Daniel swallowed. "I didn't." "You did." The gun came up. Daniel closed his eyes. A gunshot shattered the night. CHAPTER ONE THE BODY Detective Amara Bello hated crime scenes before sunrise. Not because of the bodies. Bodies were easy. They didn't lie. They didn't change their stories. They didn't suddenly remember something important after you threatened to arrest them. People did. Amara stepped out of the police vehicle and looked toward the warehouse. It was 5:41 a.m. Rain still covered the city in a thin grey curtain. "Detective." She turned. Sergeant Ibrahim Musa approached her holding a transparent evidence bag. "We found this beside the body." Amara looked at the bag. Inside was a mobile phone. "Victim?" "Yes." "Identification?" "Daniel Okoro. Twenty-eight." "Occupation?" "Photographer. Freelance." Amara looked toward the warehouse. "And the cause of death?" "One gunshot." "Weapon?" "Not recovered." She nodded. "Any witnesses?" Musa hesitated. "One." Amara looked at him. "Alive?" "Yes." "Where?" He pointed toward the ambulance. Amara walked over. A young woman sat inside the ambulance wrapped in a silver emergency blanket. She looked terrified. Her face was wet. Amara climbed inside. "What's your name?" The woman stared at her. "Chioma." "Chioma what?" "Okafor." "Did you know Daniel?" The woman shook her head. "No." Amara studied her. "Then why were you here?" Chioma looked toward the warehouse. "I was looking for him." "Why?" She didn't answer. Amara lowered her voice. "Chioma, a man is dead. If you know something, now is the time to tell me." The woman began crying. "I didn't kill him." "I didn't say you did." "You have to believe me." "I will listen to whatever you have to say." Chioma looked directly into Amara's eyes. Then she whispered: "Daniel wasn't supposed to die." Amara waited. "Who was supposed to die?" Chioma's lips trembled. "Me." CHAPTER TWO THE PHOTOGRAPH At 7:13 a.m., Amara stood in the evidence room examining Daniel's phone. The device was badly damaged. The screen was cracked. There were twelve missed calls. Eight from an unknown number. Three from a contact saved as M. One from his mother. Amara tapped the screen. Nothing. She handed it to the technician. "Can you recover the messages?" "We'll try." "How long?" "Could be an hour. Could be two days." "Make it one hour." The technician smiled nervously. "Yes, ma." Amara walked away. Her phone rang. "Detective Bello." It was her superior, Commissioner Adeyemi. "Sir." "Come to my office." "Now?" "Immediately." The call ended. Amara frowned. There was something about the commissioner's voice she didn't like. Twenty minutes later, she entered his office. Adeyemi was standing beside the window. He didn't turn around. "Sit." Amara sat. "What happened?" "The Okoro case." "Yes." "You're removing yourself from it." Amara stared at him. "Sir?" "You heard me." "Why?" "It's being transferred." "To whom?" "Special Crimes." "Sir, with respect, why?" He finally turned. "Because it involves people above your pay grade." Amara remained silent. The commissioner walked to his desk. "This is not a normal murder." "I know." "No. You don't." He opened a folder. Inside was a photograph. He pushed it toward her. Amara looked down. Her expression changed. The photograph showed Daniel standing outside a luxury hotel. Beside him was a man Amara recognized immediately. Chief Emmanuel Durojaiye. Businessman. Philanthropist. Political power broker. One of the richest men in Lagos. And one of the most protected. "What is Daniel doing with him?" Amara asked. "That's what I want you to forget." Amara looked up. "Sir?" "You are no longer investigating this." "Who ordered the transfer?" The commissioner said nothing. Amara understood. Someone had already reached him. She stood. "With respect, sir, I can't pretend I didn't see this." Adeyemi's expression hardened. "You can if you want to keep your badge." Amara stared at him. Then she left. CHAPTER THREE THE LAST MESSAGE At 10:26 a.m., Amara received a text. UNKNOWN NUMBER You are asking the wrong questions. She stared at it. Another message arrived. Ask what Daniel photographed. Then: Ask who wanted the photograph destroyed. Amara immediately called the number. It was unavailable. She looked around her office. Nobody seemed to be watching. She opened Daniel's recovered files. Hundreds of photographs. Weddings. Birthdays. Buildings. Cars. Politicians. Celebrities. Nightlife. Nothing unusual. Then she noticed a folder hidden beneath another folder. The name was: 17 She opened it. There were six photographs. The first showed a warehouse. The second showed a black SUV. The third showed three men standing outside the warehouse. The fourth showed Chief Durojaiye. The fifth showed a police officer. Amara stopped. She enlarged the image. Her stomach tightened. She knew the officer. She had worked with him for three years. Detective Samuel Adebayo. The sixth photograph was different. It showed a table. On the table were several envelopes. Money. A pistol. And a blue file. Written across the file in bold black letters were four words: PROJECT BLACK WATER Amara stared at the photograph. Then her office door opened. She quickly closed the laptop. Her colleague, Detective Kunle Ajayi, entered. "You look like you've seen a ghost." Amara forced a smile. "Just tired." Kunle sat opposite her. "I heard the case was transferred." "It was." "Special Crimes?" "Yes." He nodded. Then he leaned closer. "Amara." "What?" "Don't investigate this." She looked at him. "Why?" Kunle's eyes moved toward the door. "Because Daniel wasn't the first person who tried." Amara's voice became quiet. "What happened to the others?" Kunle stood. "They disappeared." He walked out. Amara remained still. Her computer screen reflected her face. Then her phone vibrated. One new message. YOU'RE ALREADY ON THE LIST. She looked toward the window. Across the street, a black SUV was parked. Its engine was running. And someone inside was watching her. TO BE CONTINUED...