Chapter 6: Lagos Silence
942 Words
Lagos hit different at 8 PM.
The air was thick with heat, generator fumes, and the sound of a thousand conversations competing at once. I stepped off the bus at Ojuelegba and pulled my cap low. No tablet in hand this time. Just my phone and the address Aisha had sent me an hour ago.
_“They’re here, Tayo. I saw them. Don’t come alone.”_
They. Plural.
After Kano, I thought they’d gone quiet. Two days of nothing. No messages, no threats, no new locations. I thought I’d bought us time.
I was wrong.
Aisha’s apartment was on the 3rd floor of a building in Surulere. Stairwell smelled like bleach and burnt rice. I took the steps two at a time, listening for anything out of place.
Her door was open.
I pushed it in slow, heart hammering.
Aisha was on the couch, unhurt, but her hands were shaking. Two men sat across from her. Early thirties, plain clothes, nothing memorable about their faces. That was the point.
One of them stood up when he saw me.
“Tayo Bello,” he said. Not a question.
I didn’t answer. I stepped inside and kicked the door shut behind me.
“You’ve been busy,” the other man said. “Abuja. Kaduna. Kano. 2,300 people kept their money because of you.”
“Where’s the tablet?” the first man asked.
I glanced at Aisha. She shook her head once. She hadn’t told them anything.
“I destroyed it,” I said.
The first man laughed. “Lies. We track the signal. It’s offline, but it existed. You’re not that good.”
I looked at Aisha. “Go in the room. Now.”
She hesitated, then moved.
The second man reached for his waist. I didn’t wait.
I grabbed the coffee table and flipped it. Glass shattered. The first man stumbled back. I hit the second man’s wrist before he could draw, and his phone clattered to the floor.
That was the mistake.
Because the phone wasn’t theirs. It was mine.
The old burner I’d used to register the cloud server. The one I’d thrown away in Kano. They’d found it.
The first man picked it up, scrolled, and smiled.
“Server IP. Backup access logs. You’re sloppy when you’re angry, Tayo.”
I froze.
“Ledger_cleaner is hosted in Frankfurt,” he continued. “One call, and it’s gone. Your whole system. All the evidence. All the people you saved.”
I stepped forward.
He held up a hand. “Don’t. We don’t want to hurt your sister. We want you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re good at this,” he said. “Better than anyone we’ve hired. We’ve been watching you for months. The way you traced that first payment. The way you moved without leaving a trail.”
“So you’re recruiting me now?” I said.
“We’re offering you a choice,” the second man said. “Join us. Build the system with us. Or we leak your name, your sister’s address, and every IP you’ve ever touched to the police. Explain to them why a ‘cybersecurity consultant’ was blocking payments across three states.”
Aisha stepped out of the room. Her face was pale but steady.
“Tayo, don’t,” she said.
I looked between them.
They had me. They knew it.
Unless I gave them a reason to hesitate.
I pulled out my phone and opened the cloud server dashboard. Hit ‘Emergency Wipe’.
The first man moved fast, but not fast enough.
“Stop!” he shouted.
“Too late,” I said. “In 10 seconds, Frankfurt is empty. No server. No logs. No evidence. Just 2,300 angry victims with no one to blame but you.”
His face changed.
“You’re insane,” he said.
“Maybe,” I said. “But I’m not working for you.”
The second man looked at the first. They had a silent conversation with their eyes.
Then the first man nodded.
“Wipe it,” he said.
I hesitated.
“Do it,” he said again. “We’ll walk. For now.”
I pressed confirm.
The screen went black.
Server: Offline.
All data: Deleted.
The room was quiet.
The first man put the phone down. “Good. You’ve got balls.”
He walked to the door. The second man followed.
At the door, he turned back. “We’ll be in touch, Tayo. People like you don’t stay retired.”
Then they left.
I didn’t move for a full minute.
Aisha came to me and grabbed my arm. “Are you okay?”
I nodded. My hands were still shaking.
“They’re not done,” I said.
“I know,” she said. “But you saved those people. And you’re safe. For now.”
Outside, Lagos was still loud. Still moving.
Inside, it was quiet for the first time in a week.
I sat down on the couch.
The tablet was gone. The server was gone. The evidence was gone.
But the names, the methods, the pattern—it was all in my head.
They thought they could recruit me.
They didn’t understand. I wasn’t doing this for money. I was doing it because nobody else would.
And if they came back, I’d be ready.
Aisha sat next to me. “So what now?”
“Now,” I said, “we sleep. Tomorrow, we disappear.”
She nodded.
I turned off the light.
Somewhere in Lagos, two men were making a call.
And somewhere else, 2,300 people were sleeping better tonight.
That would have to be enough.
For now.
- Writer
