The First Lady's Kitchen

Chapter Two

OTU:

Okon’s voice wouldn’t leave my head. Even now, as we cut through the night in a convoy of black SUVs, the rain whispering against the windshield, I could still hear his broken voice echoing off the tiles of the kitchen where Glory Benjamin, Her Excellency, the First Lady of Akuneze State, had made him confess. He’d sworn he was loyal, that he only sent harmless updates to a colleague. But when Glory pressed the knife against his cheek and asked for the colleagues name, his mask cracked like a dry leaf.

“Ekaette,” he gasped. “She’s the leak.”

That name had changed everything. Now we were heading to Ewendo Housing Estate. Ekaette lived there. Young. Pretty. Worked as Glory’s personal secretary. Too smart for her own good. Too curious about numbers and meetings that didn’t concern her. The SUV hummed low as we approached the roundabout near Ewendo Estate. I was in the front passenger seat; behind me sat two of my men: T-Boy and Gideon, both wearing dark tactical jackets with the AK47s resting between their knees. Beside them, a black duffel bag of tools we’d probably need tonight: duct tape, zip ties, gloves, rags. No guns would be fired unless absolutely necessary. That was Glory’s order. She didn’t want blood unless it was unavoidable. But we all knew it would be unavoidable.

“Lights,” I said.

The driver, Etim, killed the headlights. We moved in silence, only the wipers scraping rhythmically. Her apartment was on Okorie Avenue, in the heart of the estate, a one-storey building with flowering hedges and polished fences. Money. Government salary money. Leaked money.

“Ten minutes,” Etim murmured.

I nodded, pulling my gloves tight. My mind was steady, but my stomach knotted the way it always did before a job. Glory didn’t tolerate failure. She smiled like sunlight, but her soul was darker than the tar roads of Upepe city at midnight.

I remembered what she said to me after Okon’s confession, her hand slick with his sweat.

“Otu, when the night opens its mouth, you feed it what it wants. Tonight, it wants Ekaette.”

***

We parked two streets away. From there, we moved on foot; four shadows slipping through the night. Rain had thinned to drizzle, painting the air with that wet, iron smell. I motioned them into formation: T-Boy to flank left, Gideon to the rear, Etim behind me. The compound light of Ekaette’s building glowed faintly yellow, but the rest was dark. A generator murmured in the next compound, dogs barked distantly, then silence. I checked my watch. It's 2:18 a.m. She’d be asleep I thought.

We scaled the fence easily. Years of this made me weightless. I landed on wet grass and crept forward, the rain cooling the heat that always rose in my chest before violence. T-Boy signaled from the left that a window is open. We fiddle with the knob and unlock door using our master keys together with other unique instruments in such a professional way that there wasn't a noise. Inside, her flat smelled of vanilla lotion, floor all titled and clean. I moved first, flashlight scanning the sitting room. There she was, Ekaette, curled on a sofa, a laptop open beside her, documents scattered. A journalist’s number scribbled on a sticky note. Confirmation. I was about to signal for the grab when her eyes snapped open.

She must have sensed us, maybe the air shifting, or the creak of T-Boy’s boot. She gasped, rolled off the couch, and darted toward the kitchen.

“s**t,” I muttered. “Get her!”

She slammed the kitchen door behind her. Glass shattered as she threw a bottle. I raised my arm; shards cut across my forearm. Gideon kicked the door hard, it splintered, and we stormed in. Ekaette stood barefoot, trembling, gripping a kitchen knife. Her nightgown was soaked in sweat, eyes wide with something raw, fear mixed with defiance.

“Don’t come closer!” she screamed.

I lifted my hand. “Ekaette, listen. We don’t want to hurt you.”

She laughed wild, hollow. “You think I don’t know who sent you? Tell the witch I’m not Okon!”

She lunged. The blade grazed my side as I twisted. I grabbed her wrist, slammed her hand against the counter, knife clattering to the floor. She bit my arm hard.

“Gideon!”

He moved in, but she kicked him in the shin and bolted toward the window. I lunged, caught her hair, yanked her back. She screamed, a sound that pierced bone. Then she found a second knife; God knows from where and slashed upward. It tore through my jacket sleeve, close enough that I felt heat bloom on my skin.

“T-Boy!” I barked.

He swung the butt of his gun. One clean, heavy hit to the side of her head. Ekaette dropped to her knees, panting, blood trickling from her temple. I stepped closer, chest heaving. Her knife clattered out of her hand. She looked up at me, eyes wild, voice cracked.

“You can kill me, Otu,” she whispered. “But what’s buried will still rise. You can’t silence all of us.”

I stared at her for a long second. I could’ve ended it right there. But Glory wanted her alive, at least for a while.

“Wrap her,” I said.

Gideon and T-Boy grabbed her arms, zip-tied her wrists, gagged her. She struggled, tears mixing with rain and sweat. Outside, the world held its breath. We carried her to the SUV through the back fence, her muffled cries lost in the hiss of the rain. As we drove out, red taillights slicing the darkness, I looked back once. Through the cracked window, I could see her blood smeared on my sleeve, her fear still echoing in my ears. Etim’s voice cut through the silence. “Boss… police lights ahead.” I peered forward. Two flashing blue beams coming from the main gate, patrol cars. Someone must have heard the noise.

“Don’t panic,” I said. “Take the service road. Behind Afrique amusement park.” The SUVs swerved down a narrow path, tires spraying mud. Sirens wailed faintly behind us.