CHAPTER SEVEN
"Hello, Ade."
"Yeah… what's happening?"
"A lot. As you can see, Desmond and Don are gone. We need to do something about it."
There was a pause on the other end.
"I'm completely confused," the Governor admitted. "Election is around the corner. I should be planning my second-term campaign, but everything is falling apart. I'm concerned about my life."
"I'm concerned about mine too," Abubarkar replied grimly. "Meet me in two hours. I'll pin my location."
"Alright."
The line went dead. Abubarkar lowered the phone and released a long, troubled sigh.
Edwin returned to the warehouse to find Tiger and Big Sam visibly on edge.
"Where is he?" Edwin asked, his tone calm but his eyes demanding answers.
"Over here, boss," Tiger replied, leading him to a locked room.
Inside, Don Kingsley was tied to a chair. At the sound of footsteps, his head jerked up. Fear flooded his face.
"Please," Don began again, desperation cracking his voice. "I can make you rich. Whatever you want, money, connections, power, just name it."
Edwin stared at him with cold disdain and pulled out his phone.
"So what's the plan for this old man?" he barked as soon as the call connected.
"Keep him tied up. He stays alive for now. We may need him."
Edwin nodded slightly. "Fine."
When the call ended, Don resumed shouting for help, his voice echoing uselessly against concrete walls.
Edwin hissed softly, gave him one final look, and walked away.
Abubarkar and Governor Afolabi met in an open field, surrounded by heavily armed soldiers. The tension in the air was thicker than the security presence.
"At this rate, I can't guarantee my safety," Abubarkar said bluntly. "I'm ready to leave the state. I wasn't born here. This isn't my land."
Afolabi sighed. "I can double your security. Triple it if you want. You're doing well here, you can't just abandon your businesses and disappear."
"Of course I can," Abubarkar replied dryly. "Unlike you, I'm not the Governor."
Afolabi managed a faint smile. "True. My misfortune."
"When do you plan to leave?" the Governor asked.
"Tonight. Every second I remain here feels like I'm waiting to be assassinated."
"Then I suppose this is farewell for now. Keep in touch."
"Always."
As Afolabi turned toward his vehicle, he called out jokingly, "And don't forget my campaign donation!"
Abubarkar forced a laugh. "I'll give heaven and earth to see you win."
What he didn't know was that the Embassy had already uncovered his travel plans.
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"Hello, Mr. Kolapo."
"My man! What's up?"
"I'm good… but I'm concerned about you."
"Concerned about me?" Moses chuckled lightly.
"Yes. How's your health? Especially your mental health?"
Moses laughed. "Ah, I see. You're playing the good doctor now right?"
Daniel laughed along. "My friend has been buried in investigations for months. Someone has to monitor his sanity."
"I'm fine," Moses replied. "What do you have for me?"
"I'm planning a hangout tomorrow. A break from all this police tension. I'll send you the details. Bring Ibrahim along, he needs it too."
"That sounds good," Moses said. "Send it ASAP."
"Done. See you."
Moments after the call ended, the location details dropped into Moses' phone. He forwarded them to Hassan and immediately called him.
"Commissioner Sir!" Hassan greeted playfully.
"Mr. Detective, how many criminals have you caught today?"
"Zero."
"Bad day? Or are the cases just too tough?"
"Get off me," Hassan laughed lightly.
"So you saw what I sent?"
"Yeah. A hangout?"
"It's from Daniel. Thought we could use a breather."
Hassan paused.
"That's thoughtful. I actually need it… but something about Daniel bothers me."
"Go on."
"He knows too much about this case. The way he spoke about Don Kingsley, it sounded personal. Are you sure he isn't involved?"
"Come on," Moses replied quickly. "He said that was his past. I don't think he has anything to do with this."
Hassan exhaled slowly.
"If you say so. Any update on the State Security head?"
"I'll look into him tonight. I'll tell you what I find tomorrow."
"Alright. Stay safe."
"You too."
They hung up.
Unseen by both men, the web around them was tightening, quietly, methodically, and far closer than they realized.
The night deepened, but sleep did not come easily to those who still had something to lose.
Abubarkar sat alone in his study, a half-packed suitcase resting open on the couch. Documents were neatly arranged inside, passports, sealed envelopes, emergency cash. The kind of preparation that spoke not of travel, but escape.
He checked his phone again.
No new messages.
For a man who had spent years controlling outcomes, the silence now felt unfamiliar… and dangerous.
Across the room, the television played muted news coverage. Analysts speculated, headlines rolled, but none of them knew the truth. Not yet.
A soft knock came at the door.
"Come in."
His aide stepped in cautiously. "Sir, the vehicles are ready. We can leave whenever you give the word."
Abubarkar nodded but didn't move.
"Has anyone else been informed?" he asked.
"No, sir. Just as you instructed."
"Good."
The aide hesitated. "Sir… are we expecting any interference?"
Abubarkar finally looked up.
"If we were," he said quietly, "we wouldn't see it coming."
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Later that night, KC sat slumped on the couch in his office, lost in a storm of thoughts. The hours had crawled by, yet he remained there restless, helpless and trying to piece together what might have happened to his boss.
His phone rang.
Without checking the caller ID, he answered, his voice heavy with exhaustion.
"Hello…"
"Mr. Kenneth Cole."
KC froze.
The sound of his full name sent a chill down his spine. His eyes widened as recognition struck.
Slowly, he rose to his feet.
Only one person called him that.
"Chike… you're alive?"
"Yes," Chike replied calmly.
"Where have you been all these years? After you left, you vanished, no contact, nothing."
"I had my reasons."
KC exhaled sharply. "Hmm… and tonight? Is there a reason for this call?"
"Of course," Chike said. "I have a proposition for you."
"A proposition?" KC muttered, tension creeping into his voice. "Let's hear it."
"I need you to organize a riot," Chike began. "The Governor is hosting a campaign flag-off event in three days at the City Square. I want you to mobilize people, men, women… even children to protest and disrupt the event..."
KC cut him off, his tone rising. "Children? You want me to involve children in a riot? Do you even hear yourself?"
"I do," Chike replied, unshaken. "It must look peaceful but in the chaos, there will be a shooting. And it's aimed at one man."
KC's grip tightened on the phone. "You're planning to assassinate the Governor?"
"Yes."
Silence fell.
"You know I could report you right now," KC said slowly. "You'd be arrested before you even get close."
Chike laughed mildly.
"No… you won't."
"And why wouldn't I?"
"Because I have something you need."
There was a deep pause before KC asked inquisitively, what?
"I have Don." Chike responded.
KC's breath caught. He pulled the phone away from his ear, as if to confirm he hadn't imagined it.
Then his phone beeped.
An email.
With trembling hands, he opened it.
A photograph stared back at him, Don Kingsley, bound to a chair, alive but helpless.
KC exhaled deeply, relief and fear colliding within him.
"How… how did you pull this off?" he whispered.
"Let's just say I learned a lot under your watch," Chike replied coldly. "Now think about it, would you really want your boss to find out you had a chance to save him and did nothing?"
KC began pacing, his thoughts spiraling.
"He's alive," Chike continued. "And he stays that way as long as you hold up your end of the deal."
KC stopped.
"So… what's it going to be, Mr. Kenneth Cole?"
A long silence followed.
"…Fine," KC said finally. "I'll do it. But I need to know I can trust you."
"As long as you deliver," Chike replied, "you have nothing to worry about. When the plan succeeds, you'll receive the location to retrieve Don. But if you fail…" His voice hardened. "The details go straight to the police. And you know how that ends."
KC swallowed hard.
"And just to show you how serious I am," Chike added, his tone dropping to a chilling calm, "watch the news. A midnight flight is going down. Consider it a reminder, no one crosses me and walks away."
KC's heart skipped.
"Don't bother tracing this call, because you can't" Chike concluded.
The line went dead.
The next day, Moses and Hassan met Daniel at a resort for what was meant to be a break from the chaos.
For a moment, it worked. Laughter returned. The tension eased.
Then the television cut through everything.
A breaking news headline flashed.
The broadcaster's voice echoed across the room:
"The state is once again in turmoil as another prominent figure has been confirmed dead. At exactly 1:25 a.m. this morning, a flight crashed just six minutes after takeoff. Sources confirm that Mr. Abubarkar Mohammed, along with his aide and two others, were onboard…"
The room fell silent.
"What was believed to be an escape has turned into a tragic end. Authorities are yet to determine whether this was an accident or a targeted attack. Meanwhile, the governor had earlier announced his Campaign Flag-off at the City Square on Saturday at 4pm prompt..."
Hassan slammed his fist on the table.
"Not again! Not again!" he roared. "Another lead gone!"
Daniel stared blankly at the screen. "Looks like the Governor is still running for a second term…"
"This has to end!" Hassan snapped. "They can't keep getting away with this, not the Pentarchs, not Agent Shadow, not the Embassy!"
Moses leaned forward, his expression hardened.
"The Governor's campaign flag-off is on Saturday. I'll review his entire security detail. If this is the Embassy's doing, they'll strike again. And if they don't…" he paused, "…then the Governor has questions to answer."
"True," Daniel added quietly. "But without proof, nothing sticks."
Hassan exhaled slowly. "We'll all be there. Moses, you have to be. I'll be there too. Daniel, you stick with me."
A heavy silence settled between them.
"Everything tells me we're close," Moses said.
"Maybe," Hassan replied. "But close doesn't mean closure."
He turned to Moses. "What about the State Security head?"
Moses hesitated, glancing briefly at Daniel before looking back at Hassan.
"I dug into him," he said finally. "Tim Alfred… isn't his real name."
Hassan's eyes narrowed.
"He's Striker, the leader of the Nightmen. They handled operations for the Governor and the Pentarchs before the election. Assassinations. Bribes. Clean-ups..."
The weight of the revelation hung in the air.
"They were behind the death of the supposed PRP candidate, Mr. Tobi," Moses continued. "And Godwin Okafor… Desmond's brother. All of it."
Hassan leaned back slowly.
"They embedded them into the State Security Service," Moses added. "Official cover. Unofficial work."
"How did you find out?" Hassan asked.
"We picked one of them up," Moses replied. "He was hardened at first but after pushing his button, he broke. He's willing to testify, if we protect him."
Hassan let out a long breath.
"This is war."
"A war against the Governor," Daniel said quietly.
"That's not a fight
"This is massive. We're in for a big battle, brother," Hassan said coldly.
"A big battle indeed," Daniel added. "And any fight involving the Governor is not one you win easily."
"Yes," Moses replied firmly, "but the Governor isn't invincible."
Daniel gave a faint, knowing look. "Maybe not… but you work for him."
Silence fell between them, thick, uneasy, unresolved.
Hassan exhaled slowly, breaking the tension. "I guess this hangout didn't turn out the way we planned. Let's call it a day. We'll need our strength for Saturday."
"Yeah," Moses and Daniel agreed almost in unison.
Hassan straightened. "I'll dig deeper into the Chief's death. Moses, stay sharp at the office, anything unusual, anything at all, I need to know immediately."
Moses nodded. "You've got it."
Daniel raised a brow with a faint smile. "And me?"
Hassan smirked lightly. "Stay out of trouble, boy… and don't be late on Saturday."
A brief chuckle passed between them, but it didn't last.
The weight of everything unsaid lingered.
And just like that, what was meant to be a moment of relief ended as another turning point, cut short by a headline that had pulled them deeper into a storm they could no longer escape.