Chapter 3: Abuja Noise
919 Words
The bus to Abuja left at 7:00 AM.
I didn’t sleep on it. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that chat message: _“We won’t forget you.”_
They knew my name. That meant they were close. Closer than Lagos Island, closer than an old man with a street cart.
By noon, Abuja was hot, dry, and loud with traffic. The tablet buzzed in my bag the moment I stepped off at Jabi Motor Park.
New location: *Wuse Zone 5.*
Message: _“They’re running it from a cybercafé. 500 people this time. Stop them before 6 PM.”_
500 people. ₦25 million.
They were doubling down.
I walked fast. Wuse Zone 5 was full of shops, phone dealers, and cybercafés with peeling posters of betting odds on the walls. If you wanted to hide, this was the place. Too many screens, too much noise, too many faces.
The café was called “FastNet Hub.” Blue sign, cracked glass door, 20 computers inside. Kids were playing FIFA, others were watching t****k at full volume. Nobody noticed me.
I sat at computer 14. Logged in as “Guest.”
The tablet in my bag synced with the café’s Wi-Fi automatically.
There it was.
A laptop in the back corner was running the same chat app from Lagos. The screen was half-hidden behind a stack of recharge cards, but I caught the account number.
Account 9021187434.
The same ghost account.
They weren’t being careful anymore. They thought I couldn’t find them.
I checked the scheduled payment.
6:00 PM sharp.
500 accounts. ₦50,000 each.
All opened this morning with BVNs that didn’t match the names.
I had four hours.
I couldn’t use my old Veris login here. Abuja was a different branch, different IT team. If I tried to access their system remotely, I’d leave a trail a child could follow.
So I went old school.
I walked to the back of the café, pretending to ask about printing. The guy running the place was maybe 22. Headphones on, eyes on a football stream.
“Can I use the printer at the back?” I asked.
“Yeah, ₦200 per page,” he said without looking up.
Behind him, on the desk, was the laptop. Unlocked. The chat was still open.
I bent down to plug in my flash drive, like I was setting up a document. My hand brushed the laptop’s power button.
It blinked off.
“Eh! NEPA?” the guy shouted, sitting up.
“No light,” I said, pointing to the ceiling.
He sighed, grabbed a power bank, and plugged the laptop in. While he did that, I slid my flash drive into the USB port.
Ledger_cleaner copied itself in 4 seconds.
“Okay, it’s back,” he said.
“Thanks,” I said, and walked back to computer 14.
Now I had access. But I couldn’t run the tool from here. The café’s network was public. If I triggered it, they’d see the source IP was FastNet Hub. That would point straight to me.
I needed to trigger it from somewhere else.
At 4:30 PM, I left the café. My hands were sweating.
I went to a small phone repair shop two streets away. The owner, Mama Bisi, had let me charge my phone there last month when I was tracking a different scam. She didn’t ask questions.
“Abeg, can I use your Wi-Fi for 5 minutes?” I said.
“Free today,” she replied, smiling. “You look like you’ve not slept.”
I connected. Logged into a public cloud server I’d set up last week.
Uploaded ledger_cleaner. Set the timer for 5:59:59 PM.
Target: Account 9021187434.
Action: Block payment.
If this worked, the payment would fail and the 500 people would be safe.
If it didn’t, I’d have their faces on CCTV and my own face on the run.
At 5:55 PM, I walked back toward FastNet Hub.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number again.
_“You’re in Abuja. You’re slow.”_
I stopped walking.
They knew I was here.
That meant they were watching the account. Watching the IP addresses. Watching me.
I kept moving.
At 5:59:30 PM, I stood across the street from the café.
5:59:55 PM.
The laptop inside was still on. I could see it through the glass.
5:59:59 PM.
Ledger_cleaner triggered.
For a second, nothing.
Then the laptop screen flickered. The chat window closed itself.
The guy at the counter swore. “System hang! Wetin happen?”
I didn’t wait to find out.
I turned and walked away.
---
At 6:05 PM, the tablet buzzed.
_“Mission complete. Network node burned. They’re moving the server.”_
I exhaled. 500 people kept their money.
But the next message made my stomach drop.
_“New location uploaded. Kaduna. You can’t save them all, Tayo.”_
Kaduna.
They were testing me. Spreading out to see if I could cover everywhere at once.
My phone buzzed again.
Unknown number.
A photo came through.
It was me.
Sitting at computer 14 in FastNet Hub.
Timestamp: 2:13 PM today.
They had been watching the whole time.
_“We know where you sleep, Tayo. Stop playing hero.”_
I deleted the photo. My hands weren’t shaking anymore. They were steady.
They wanted me scared.
I wasn’t scared.
I was angry.
I opened the tablet and typed “Yes.”
Kaduna was next.
Let them run.
I’d be there first.
- Writer
