Chapter 7: The Secret David Buried
1008 Words
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Secret David Buried
The stranger remained seated.
His smile was calm, almost fatherly, yet something about it unsettled Inspector David Eze far more than the pain in his wounded shoulder.
Outside the hospital room, everything was unusually quiet.
Too quiet.
There were no nurses chatting in the corridors.
No patients calling for assistance.
No sound of medical equipment.
Only silence.
The stranger folded his hands.
"You've noticed."
David's eyes narrowed.
"This isn't a hospital."
"No."
"What is it?"
"A place where important decisions are made."
David struggled to sit upright.
"Where's my phone?"
"Gone."
"My service pistol?"
"Safe."
"My colleagues?"
"They believe you're dead."
Those words struck harder than the bullet.
"What?"
The stranger calmly placed a newspaper on the bed.
The headline read:
INSPECTOR DAVID EZE KILLED DURING SHOOTOUT WITH UNKNOWN GUNMEN
Beneath it was David's photograph.
His pulse raced.
"They buried me..."
"Only on paper," the stranger replied.
"We merely helped the world believe what was convenient."
---
Miles away, Zara and Father Benjamin took refuge in a remote monastery nestled deep within the hills of Nsukka.
The monastery was home to only six elderly monks who had withdrawn from society decades earlier.
Its stone walls had witnessed wars, political upheavals and countless human tragedies.
Yet peace still lingered there.
One monk welcomed them warmly.
"You are expected."
Zara looked surprised.
"Expected?"
The elderly monk smiled.
"Professor Nwoke said one day a young woman carrying truth would knock on this door."
He led them into a small library filled with ancient books.
On a wooden table lay another sealed envelope.
Across the front was written:
FOR ZARA
Her hands trembled as she opened it.
Inside was a brief note.
«"If you have reached the monastery, then David has already paid a price for protecting you. Never blame yourself. Wickedness always attacks those who choose truth over comfort."»
Tears welled in Zara's eyes.
She whispered, "Please... let him still be alive."
---
That evening, Father Benjamin lit a small oil lamp.
"There is something Professor Nwoke never wanted published until the right time."
He reached beneath a loose stone in the fireplace and produced a faded notebook.
"This is older than the journal."
Zara carefully opened it.
The first page carried a date.
August 17, 1989.
It was Professor Nwoke's personal diary.
The handwriting was younger, stronger.
"Today we became four."
"Four researchers."
"Four dreamers."
"Four friends who believed truth alone could change the world."
The next pages introduced the names.
Professor Elias Nwoke.
Dr. Esther Bello.
Professor Ibrahim Hassan.
Justice Samuel Adeyemi.
The four had formed a research group dedicated to understanding why good societies slowly became corrupt.
For years, they travelled across Nigeria interviewing victims, leaders and families.
Then, one case changed everything.
Professor Nwoke wrote:
"We discovered an organisation hidden in plain sight."
"Its members occupied churches, universities, courts, businesses and government offices."
"They called themselves nothing."
"Others called them..."
The Circle.
---
Zara's breathing became shallow.
"So they've existed for decades."
Father Benjamin nodded.
"Much longer than that."
"What happened to the other researchers?"
The priest's expression darkened.
"One disappeared."
"One died in what police called an accident."
"The third..."
He paused.
"...betrayed them."
"Betrayed?"
"He joined the Circle."
The room fell silent.
Zara stared at the diary.
One of the professor's closest friends had chosen power over truth.
---
Meanwhile...
David studied the stranger carefully.
"You still haven't told me your name."
The man chuckled.
"Names create unnecessary emotions."
"What do you want?"
"We admire you."
David laughed bitterly.
"You shoot me..."
"...then claim to admire me?"
"We didn't shoot you."
David frowned.
"What?"
The stranger leaned back.
"You were shot by someone who panicked."
"Had we wanted you dead..."
He smiled.
"...you wouldn't be having this conversation."
David remained unconvinced.
The man reached into his jacket and placed a small photograph on the bedside table.
David froze.
It showed his younger sister, Adaeze.
Beside her stood two little children.
His niece and nephew.
"Where did you get this?"
"They're beautiful."
David's voice hardened.
"If you've touched them—"
"We haven't."
The stranger interrupted gently.
"But remember what Professor Nwoke discovered."
David remained silent.
The man continued.
"The quickest way to control a good man..."
"...is not through fear."
"It's through love."
---
Late that night, Zara could not sleep.
She wandered into the monastery courtyard.
The moon bathed the ancient stones in silver light.
An elderly monk sat quietly beneath a large oak tree.
Without looking up, he spoke.
"You carry heavy questions."
She nodded.
"I don't understand why love causes so much suffering."
The monk smiled softly.
"Love doesn't."
She looked at him.
"Selfishness does."
"When selfishness borrows the language of love..."
"It becomes almost impossible to recognise."
His words settled deeply in her heart.
She thought about Chief Obiora.
Grace.
Professor Nwoke.
Inspector David.
Even herself.
Every one of them had been wounded by someone claiming to act out of love.
Perhaps that was the professor's greatest discovery.
The most dangerous lies were not spoken by enemies.
They were spoken by people convinced they loved you.
---
Just before dawn, one of the monks rushed into the library.
"Father Benjamin!"
The priest looked up.
"What is it?"
"A visitor."
"We're not receiving anyone."
"He says Professor Nwoke sent him."
Father Benjamin's face became cautious.
"What's his name?"
The monk hesitated.
"He refused to tell us."
Instead...
"He gave us this."
He handed over a small silver pocket watch.
The cracked glass had stopped at exactly...
11:17.
The same pocket watch Zara had found in Professor Nwoke's hidden box.
Only one thing was different.
When she opened it this time, a tiny folded piece of paper fell into her hand.
On it were six chilling words.
«"One of you cannot be trusted."»
Zara slowly lifted her eyes.
Around her stood Father Benjamin...
...the six monks...
...and herself.
For the first time since this nightmare began, she realised the greatest threat might not be waiting outside the monastery.
It might already be inside.
End of Chapter Seven
- Writer
