Drugged!

(Hi friends,
It’s been quite a while. Apologies for the little delay to really get going. We’re simply putting finishing touches to a couple of essentials and tying a few loose ends. In the meantime, do enjoy this African sci-fi snippet.)

 

Kabir’s made-in-Nigeria Super XL Innoson covert electric police car glided noiselessly over the expanded Lagos-Shagamu highway. In his head, he could still hear the heart-rending pleas of Ogbonna as armed policemen tasered and landed several blows on him that wet and cold Saturday morning.

The Black Maria had driven noisily into the Ikeja headquarters of the Lagos Police Department (LPD) and Ogbonna, handcuffed and battered – and curiously the only one held in the stench-filled cells of the Black Maria – hurled out of the police van and dragged by his cuff.  

Not that this was unusual. As a Superintendent of Police (SP), Usman Kabir had witnessed worse scenes. He remembers when a five-member criminal gang was brought into the police compound literally half-dead. The police had engaged them in several hours of shoot-out at midnight before the police subdued them with their newly-acquired laser guns and super night vision goggles.  

But unlike the scenario with Ogbonna, this was a group; a criminal gang that had long terrorized the state. The Chief Police Commissioner (CPC), Kayode Ajala himself had expressly ordered the SWAT mission to arrest the notorious gang, while he remotely monitored the mission on camera via a satellite chip embedded in the night vision goggle of the leader of the SWAT team.

This was different. The images of a terribly molested and handcuffed Ogbonna kept playing back in Kabir’s head like it was on auto-play. Ogbonna had looked helpless and frozen in the icy drizzles of that early dawn and with clumps of red mud hugging his torn jeans and shirt kept. It pounded Kabir’s heart and seared his conscience.

For goodness sake, this was 2085 and police operations across all the independent state police departments in Nigeria were now as civil as they are efficient, effective and loved by the people.  Gone were the days when the average citizen viewed a security officer with distrust, disdain and as a willing tool of oppression and brutality by the rich and connected. CPC Ajala particularly emphasized professionalism among the officers so that the LPD maintained the high reputation it had built over the past 15 years.

But there was another factor; and this was perhaps a bit sentimental for Kabir. Ogbonna had been his campus mate at the Ahmadu Bello University some 10 years ago. Although they never really belonged to the same inner ring of friends, Kabir secretly admired Ogbonna. His principled lifestyle was everything Kabir had always wished he could force himself to cultivate as an aspiring secret service officer. Ogbonna was studying to be a doctor, while Kabir was reading for degree in criminology.

The virtual screen on the car dashboard beeped and interrupted Kabir’s thoughts.  It was the CPC, Kayode Ajala.

“Where are you off to, SP Kabir?” the police chief asked. “I needed you to debrief me on last night’s operation, but I see you’re on the road again.”

Kabir rummaged for a good excuse in his mind. “Yes, sir. I’d like to quickly conclude on some last bits of the puzzle and tie some loose ends.”

“OK,” Ajala grunted. “Just make sure I get the feedback ASAP.”

Kabir grinned. He had told a white lie. But the smile quickly gave way to a grim face as the car hit a bump or two as he veered off the highway. He had got to Ijede, a sleepy town tucked away in the hinterlands of Ikorodu. 

He drove the car into a parking lot and put on a fez cap to match with his faded jeans and t-shirt. He was now wearing the look of the regular guy on the street. 

He politely asked a couple of passersby for the nearest estate in Ijede. ‘Ijede’ and ‘Estate;’ those were the only two words that formed the clue he was working on. Those were the only two words Ogbonna could whimper before he was dragged into a dingy cell.

He had also mentioned ‘Please’ in a tired voice, stretching his bruised and shrunken hands pleadingly to Kabir. He had instantly recognized Kabir, but the circumstances defied pleasantries or any form of catching-up from old times.  In Ogbonna’s swollen and barely opened eyes, Kabir could see a faint glint of hope his old pal was reposing on him.

Someone had now directed him to Millenium Estate, Ijede and with his undercover police investigative skills, he quickly located Ogbonna’s apartment. When he knocked and the door was opened, he saw Ogbonna’s wife and a few family members consoling her. Her eyes were red and bulging and flooding with tears. She sprang to her feet. Somehow, her sixth sense recognized that Kabir was a policeman.

“Sule set him up. Sule set him up oooo,” she began a teary and unsolicited narration, spreading her palms to the ceiling with a note of resignation in her voice.

“Sule planted the drugs in his car oooo. He had always boasted he was going to deal with Ogbonna over a personal business deal,” she lamented further.

 Again, Kabir’s police undercover skills kicked in and he decided to meet with Sule with a strategy. “Stay calm, ma. I give you my assurance. Ogbonna was my friend back in ABU. I know him well,” he said and slinked out before he could get any elaborate response.

A couple of hours later, Kabir was posing as a secret drug buyer and bantering with Sule as a joint.

“You want some dope, men?  I give you some; but you’ve got to have some real dough, know what I mean…” Sule rambled in a fake Jamaican accent.

Kabir pretended to want to check his wristwatch and switched on the inbuilt recorder. “$30, 000. My clients are big time!”

“Shit! I like you already, mheen.”

“But, first, my boss will like to meet you,” Kabir said and wrestled Sule to the floor and cuffed him. “My boss is CPC Ajala.” Then he led the suspect to his covert electric police car.