Scars (Romola 2)

53: A Rat

Olumide walked down the narrow hallway towards the Inspector General's office. A skinny man with a fair bald head, held a rifle whose mouth faced the ceiling while the man marched in front of him. He scrunched his nose. Was it wise to visit this stinky place one day to his friend's wedding?

The marching man stopped in front of the IG's cream metal door and knocked.

"Who is it?" A thick deep voice asked from behind the door.

"Sir, you have a visitor."

"Doesn't the visitor have a name?"

"One Mr. Olumide Makinde."

There was a brief silence and then the sound of shifting metal chair legs, screeching against a tiled floor. "Let him in."

The marching man opened the door and stepped aside. Olumide walked by him, staring at the small bump on his head. The light in the IG's office blinded Olumide for a few seconds, dispelling the darkness around the edges of his eyes that had bleed in from his time in the hallway. The cream clean walls overlooked pristine white tiles and a large fluorescent bulb over the right window provided the blinding source of light.

"Ah, look who it is."

"Olumide bore a smile on his face as the marching man shut the door behind him.

"Come here. Don't act like we are strangers." The man in the chair opened his arms and Olumide walked into the tight hug. Oh yes, he had forgotten. The man's hug could suffocate an elephant.

"How is your father?" The man released him.

Olumide nodded, finding the visitor's chair and settling into it. "You know how he is. He's still busy with his investments."

The IG laughed and poured some hot water from a silver aluminium flask into a black mug. He added some powdered coffee into the mug and stirred, before bringing the mug to his mouth, then sighing over the tails of vapour. "Do you want some coffee? I know you JJCs love coffee."

"No thanks. It's too hot for coffee right now." And not many people knew how to make cold coffee the way he liked. He reached for his tie and loosened it but he wasn't sure if the heat was from inside his body. His palms left swear prints on everything he'd touched since he got into the station.

"That problem can be easily solved." The IG grabbed a remote and aimed it at the large wite air conditioner behind Olumide. The air conditioner came to life with a crank and a blast of cool air as the IG shut his windows and settled into his seat. "I usually don't use the AC because we are supposed to be saving money. But for a special visitor, I can make an exception."

"I really appreciate it, sir." Olumide leaned into his chair. How long could he keep this smile on his face? He didn't know how much the thief had told the man.

The IG placed his hands together and tared at Olumide. "Now, I know you didn't cone here for coffee and conditioned air. You have more than enough of that at home."

"Yes." A sly smile perked up Olumide's cheeks. Home? He hadn't been home even after his father threatened to evict him out of the hotel. What was there for him at home?

"You must've heard that we caught that rat."

"How did you do it?" He wasn't here for a commentary or for a report of their activities but he couldn't give away how much he wanted an actual pound of flesh from the thief.

"Tracking the boy wasn't hard. Catching him was another matter. He was like a little rat. Those annoying ones that dart up and down your kitchen in the middle of the night."

Olumide nodded even though he could not relate to having rats in his kitchen. "So, how exactly did you catch him."

The IG beamed.