FORCE HEADQUARTERS, LOUIS EDET HOUSE, SHEHU SHAGARI WAY, ASOKORO, ABUJA, NIGERIA.
"My apologies for the short notice," the Inspector-General of police said after the commissioners replied to his pleasantries. He was a grim-looking man with a pot belly, which he tried unsuccessfully to tuck away into his trouser. He sported a tuft of hair he called a beard on his chubby chin.
The commissioners in attendance silently nodded their heads. All of them, seated in brown leather chairs in this room, looked like reluctant children that had been forced out of bed to face chores on a harmattan holiday morning.
They all knew the Inspector General well, at least to a certain degree. And he was anything but apologetic. The little speech he delivered was just for formality's sake.
Having no more elaborate preamble and no more time to waste playing polite, the Inspector-General got down to business.
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"So, ladies and gentlemen, I want to know where we are with the discovery of the main hideout of this syndicate and the capture of its leader," the Inspector-General of Police stated as he leaned forward from his seat and steepled his fingers on his burgundy table.
The Commissioner of Lagos State, Flourish Bambi, who was a tall and athletically-built woman in her late fifties, spoke up first.
"Sir, I'm afraid that a lot of things about these people still remain a mystery to us. We haven't gotten enough information about them. Even the little Intel we have on them hasn't gotten us far."
The IG frowned deeply, clearly annoyed by the flimsy report from the police commissioner of Lagos State.
"I can't believe what you're telling me, Flourish. The last time we had this meeting, you told me that your best hands were working on this. You told me that they were following every trail these snakes forged. That your team was picking up forensic evidence. As a matter of fact, I clearly remember you telling me that plans were in motion to capture these people." He wagged his finger at her for emphasis while he addressed her.
"Yes, sir, I did and that is..." she started to explain but the IG cut her off.
"From what I can remember, you're not the only one who gave me such assurances." His eyes, narrowed and intense, scanned the other commissioners as he said, "You all did."
His gaze lingered on each one of them, challenging them to deny his accusation. When no one did, he resumed talking.
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"So, you are telling me that since our last meeting, you've not been able to gather any actionable Intel?"
The question was particularly directed at the Lagos State police commissioner but since he didn't specify her name, Flourish kept mute, partly from embarrassment and partly because she had nothing to say.
"What about you, John? What do you have for me?" the IG asked the Abuja Police Commissioner as he leaned back and crossed his arm over his chest.
John squirmed in his seat as he anticipated the angry retort that he was sure would come from the Inspector-General when he gave his own answer. "Sir..." The commissioner stuttered a little, regained his composure by clearing his throat, and continued.
"Sir, these people have been covering their tracks so well that we haven't been able to follow any lead. But I can assure you that we are trying our best to give these criminals a taste of their own medicine."
"False assurances again," the IG replied sharply, glaring at the commissioner. "These people have been operating for how many years now? Instead of doing the needful, all you've been giving me has been mere words. How long, commish? How long will Nigeria continue to accept only words as assurance? When will you put your words into action and bring me the desired results?"
He was livid now and his voice rose. "Do you know how many people are depending on you? Do you know how many people are depending on me as Inspector-General of police? Do you know how many people are depending on the Nigerian Police Force to carry out the annihilation of this syndicate? Do you know that every second, minute, hour, day, week, month and year that passes by without the capturing of these people means the victimization of another innocent citizen out there? Do you know that it is the destruction of another innocent citizen's property?"
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The Inspector-General was rattling on and on with his torrent of questions that came in consecutively and the commissioners dared not interrupt him. Even the boldest among us them sat mute, not wanting to unplug yet another fuse of rage in the IG.
Finally, he seemed to pause for breath, then, his gaze leveled on the Rivers State Police Commissioner. "Please tell me you have a better report for me, Abubakar?" the IG asked with a sliver of hope, rubbing his temples.
The commissioner, who had been sitting on the edge of his seat due to agitation as he watched two of his counterparts being berated by the Inspector-General, quickly began his reply.
"Sir, my men and I are onto something. Just give us more time and I promise you that we shall hit pay dirt."
That statement from Abubakar was a little ruse and even he knew it, but he hoped he sounded convincing to the IG.
"We've made them our higher priority. I can assure you that we've been making progress. All we need is more time. Just give us more time, sir," the commissioner finished. Sweat leaked on the ridge of his mustache and he resisted the urge to clean it off with his palm lest he showed his nervousness.
"How much time do you need, oga commish?" the Inspector-General asked, looking at Abubakar squarely with his beady eyes.
"Don't you know? Don't you know that time is of the essence?"
"I do, sir, but..."
"But what, oga commish?" the Inspector-General asked in exasperation.
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"Sir, at the moment, we are..."
"Can't you see that time is what we unfortunately don't have on our side?"
"Yes sir, and..."
"Whatever you are doing, do it fast! Have I made myself clear?" the IG bellowed, slamming the table.
"Yes, sir," the Commissioner replied meekly like a drenched and whipped cat.
"Act fast, oga commish! Time is of the essence. How many times do I have to say that before it sinks into your skull?"
And without waiting for Abubakar's reply, he immediately turned to the Kano State Police Commissioner whose name was Aisha Yesufu and asked her the same question he had asked three of her counterparts.
This commissioner was the only one that seemed to have a bit of good news for the Inspector-General of police.
At the age of forty-two and also a graduate of the Kano State Police College, Aisha Yesufu was currently the youngest state police commissioner. She had earned her current office through her diligence, consistency, dedication and hard work.
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Before being promoted to the rank of a commissioner, she'd worked with the counter-terrorism unit of the police force to bring an end to a lot of heinous crimes that was being perpetrated in the country. She'd been rewarded with a double promotion after she successfully led several covert operations. She'd also won three integrity icon awards among others and had been part of several United Nations peacekeeping troops.
Aisha was the youngest in this conference meeting but apart from the Inspector-General of police, she was the one with the most accolade.
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FIRST ARTILLERY, ABA ROAD, PORT HARCOURT, RIVERS STATE.
As Mrs Righteous Green continued driving back to her home, she felt as though the weight of the world was crashing down upon her, threatening to bury her alive.
She thought back to the events that had taken place within the past five years and fresh tears of gut-wrenching sorrow streamed down her face. She let them flow freely, sobs whacking her chest. She managed to keep her hands steady on the wheels as she drove through a blur of tears.
What's happening? How did I get to this rock bottom point? And, and why?
"God, why me?" The question came out as a whisper.
She cursed in frustration—something she trained her children to never do—and mentally chided herself.
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She groaned and slapped her steering wheels hard with both hands.
"God... God, I ask you again. Why me?" Her voice, though quavering from the tears, was louder this time.
She bawled, out of the blues, and nearly collided with a Highlander moving ahead of her. She veered her steering just in time to avoid a collision.
Thanking her stars that her carelessness did not cause damage to her car and her body, she sniffed and quickly wiped her tears with her sleeves. She resumed her tirade of questions to God again, breathing steadier this time around.
"God, do you still love me? No. Have you ever even loved me?"
"Yes, my dear beloved. I love you so much, more than you could ever imagine," the still small voice replied to her but she found it hard to believe.
"Oh, my daughter... My baby girl... Ayanate didn't deserve what happened to her."
"She loved you," Mrs Righteous whispered bitterly. "My sweet baby girl still loves you and yet, you idly sat down and allowed this to happen to her. Why? I demand to know why you've been so cruel to us? Is it because of my sin? Then you should have punished me instead."
The question kept bubbling from her grief-ridden heart and spilling through her lips. She didn't stop. If only he would answer her with something more concrete that all that I-love-you talk. Did he even listen to her anymore?
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No one, not even a sworn enemy, deserved to go through what she had gone through in her life.
She hadn't asked for this, at least not intentionally. She didn't bargain for it. Now that life was overdosing her with an ample share of its sour grapes, she was dead tired of everything.
Her woes began in earnest when she came in contact with Henry Green.
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