MARRED

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - HAUNT

Ahmad

I reclined against my chair, examining the images before me.
Earlier this morning, Sa’ad had turned them up to me from his first investigation.

Sa'ad was a senior special Investigator I hired almost two weeks ago. Zayyad said he was one of the best and I trusted Zayyad.

On the right side of my table were three images of a young man in his late thirties staring back at me.

In the first one, he wore a white polo shirt, a white trouser,and a white face cap as he stepped into the golf club with a young lady. Clearly, a man up for some sport.

Another, of him in white caftan in a restaurant with his family. Another with him stepping into his Range rover as his boys opened the door for him.

Oloye Adeboye Ajibola. That was his full name. He was quite young. Thirty-Seven was not an age you would expect an influential gang star leader to be.

On the left side of my table were several images of another man not so neatly dressed and certaintly not unfarmiliar to me.

His long facial scars had haunted my dreams for years. The man was still alive and clearly still up to his old tricks.

In one of the photos, Dagger passed something in an envelope to another man. In another, Dagger was captured standing behind Oloye as he gave a speech at a school. The bodyguard pose was impressive. In another photo, Dagger was looking behind him as he walked towards a riverbank, and then, one with Dagger talking on the phone, with a gun in his hand.

Dagger! That was certainly a name I wasn’t to forget in a hurry.
It has been two weeks since I recovered all memories of my past with Amanah.

I had not rested since then, trying to fit in the rest of the puzzles.

Finding Amanah's former adopted family, and in fact, getting more details about her Okene heritage. She had to still have family there' right? Why had they abandoned her the moment she lost her parents?

My suspicion that Oloye was involved with Dagger or the child trafficking business was rewarded with some image evidences.

Images of Dagger and Oloye was everywhere. But it wasn't Oloye's power that awed hum the most. It was his backings.

For the public eye, the man was the owner of a business school and several private secondary schools in Nigeria.
But behind that envious young entrepreneur look was the evil child trafficking villain.

Linking these images to the devilish street would be impossible, but for Allah's aid in Sa'ad's findings.

They had not stopped at me. In fact, every month, there were new "merchandise shipping."

They were not so lucky tonight, for we got intel on their new operation. The daughter of a past client, a business tycoon who went missing from school last week to be 'shipped' along with several others.

Sa'ad and his team were on it. I still believed in a Nigeria where not all the security personnel have sold their dignity to the highest bidder. So, tonight, In Shaa Allah, we will simply rescue the girls, while gathering more evidences.

It wasn't going to be easy, but with the right team and strategy, we will succeed, In Shaa Allah.

Then, the images of a woman I recognize so well greeted me. Sameera. She was old now. She had been the very root of their success years ago. Seventeen years had passed, but she was still in the game. It disgusted me beyond words.

She was now 'Gogo' who recruited young ladies into the business. Clearly, her position entitled her to certain quick information. She had eyes and ears to the low grounds and hence, it was easy for her to escape Sa'ad's men, but her days as ‘Gogo’ were  numbered. She couldn't have forever, especially with a family that lead a loud social media life like her Sister, Son and daughter.

Something moved at the corner of my eyes. I glanced at the table monitor and saw Amanah making her way to my office.
Immediately, I packed the photos and hid them in the drawer, pretending to work on my computer.

I did not want her in on my plans. It was the reason I didn't use Zayyad, but an investigator she wouldn't recognize. It was too dangerous, and she was too emotionally wrapped around all actors of the play. I could not assure myself that she wouldn't try to get involve and get herself hurt in the process.

“Assalaam’alaykum, Sir.” She greeted cheerfully as she bounced into the office, waving a brown envelop at me.

“Wa’alaykumussslaam Wa RahmatuLlaahi Wa barakaatuhu.” I replied, meeting her cheerful countenance. "Someone is in a light mood.”

She gave me the envelope, and before I could take it, she jumped on me. “I am off Probation Ahmad!” Her excitement was palpable.

Of course, I knew. I approved the list yesterday and she was at the very top of it.
“BarakAllaahu feeki Sweet.” I told her as she kissed me on the forehead.

“Aameen, Wa feek. Do you know what this means?” She asked.
“Yes. That you are not going to have time for me anymore.”

“Do not be silly! I always have time for you. It just depends on what capacity you need me.” She winked.

“Here, or at home, I will always need you in a wifely capacity, Amma.”
She put her hands around my shoulders and once again beamed. “Then I am sorry dear, I am at work right now. I don’t have time for personal… attach… Ya Salam… Ah..mad!”
I was tickling her before she could complete the sentence.
She pleaded and writhed in my arms for a while before I finally let her go.

When she caught her breath, she scowled. “That isn’t fair.”
“Do I hear someone still complaining?” I asked, creasing a brow.

She placed her hands over her mouth and shook her head in surrender.
I gave her a kiss on the cheek and looked intensely into her eyes. I needed what I was about to tell her to sink with every meaning. “I don’t care if you become a partner or director, Amanah Sa'eed. Let me warn you now that all I want is my wife. If your job interferes with that, you are fired."

She mock gasped and then, slowly she shook her head." I am amazed... At what rights a hundred tubers can confer."

The unexpected turn of the conversation had me laughing out loud. Did she just talk about the hundred tubers of yam I paid as part of her traditionals?

“And pray tell me, Mrs. Amanah, what else you would want. Your wish, Ma'am,  is my command.”

“Well, now that you put it that way...” She lowered her gaze to her stomach, but did not say another word.

My heart stooped for a while. I didn't need her words. She wanted a baby. My baby.

The silence stretched between us with the heavily unspoken words. Just when I made to suggest that we go home now and end the day's job, the door bell rang.

Amanah and I looked at the monitor. Sa'ad stood at the entrance. I saw her frown. She didn't know the young man.

“Well, Mrs. New Off probation. Congratulations. Now, what are you having for lunch?" I had to distract her, before she asked who it was. It worked.

“I am not sure, yet. But I will let you know before time, In Shaa Allah. Now, let me leave you to your guest.” She gave me a quick peck and I saw her to the door.

She gave Sa'ad a smile and tasleem. The man replied and let her move past him.

Sa’ad walked in behind me.

"What have you got?" I asked, taking my seat once again.

"He did not die Boss. He lives very well with his family, here, in Abuja."

I gripped the edge of my seat. Rage surging through me. For seventeen years, guilt of his death haunted the dreams of the woman of my life and all these while... he was... alive?

"There is more."

I did not look up. "Talk to me "

***