Hard Man

32

"You're mine. Say it."
    — General Babalola

"What's the matter?" President Anini hurried into the room, his face pulled down in a snarl. "You cannot call and request an urgent meeting out of the blue. Especially not this early in the morning. I am your President!"

Ali's eyes widened. It was his first time meeting the President, and an underwhelming emotion enveloped him. He had always envisioned the President as a powerful, formidable being, but he was an ordinary man, just like them.

"I am sorry." The boss rose and bowed deeply. "Forgive me, Mr. President. But I'm sure you're desperate to get our whole deal out of the way so we would no longer have to deal with each other."

President Anini frowned, then barked, "Your organization is slowing down the whole agreement. First, I gave Fisher a list of five people to kill, and yet only one is dead. Secondly, Mallam Dauda—"

"Mr. President—" the Boss cackled. "Let the dead rest in pieces, please. Fisher is dead; I run the show now."
"Fisher is dead?" President Anini gawked. "You killed him?"

"Of what use is he to us?"

"Fisher killed Chima Wike!" President Anini growled. "Without my permission. He went after—"

"We both know Fisher did many things without anyone's permission." The boss rolled their eyes. "He was power drunk; my fault."

"So what now?" President Anini asked. "How do we clean up his mess?"

"It's my fault, and I'll take care of it. Leave Benson Wike to me." The boss points to the seat across from her. "You might want to sit down. There's a lot to discuss."

President Anini hesitated for a moment before grudgingly lowering himself to the chair. "This is beyond Wike. Lanre has—"

"Mr. President, you're concerning yourself with minor matters when Mallam Dauda is dying as we speak."
The President clamped his mouth shut.
"This is Ali..."

Ali stood straighter when the boss directed the President's gaze towards him. He remained still as the President looked him over before returning his attention to the boss.

"Who is he?"

"He killed Fisher," the boss answered. "Without hesitation. Without remorse. He's a killer."

The word "killer" reverberated in Ali's head, and he hated the sound of it, yet it warmed him up inside the way the boss said it with pride. "He's better than Fisher."

"What has he got to do with anything?"

"Your list," the boss answered. "He will eliminate the remaining names on it within two weeks."

Ali's stomach crumpled, and he glanced at the boss. The President slid his gaze to Ali again. "Can he do it?"

"Don't underestimate him," the boss laughed. "I have a knack for spotting killers. This one is ruthless. Two weeks, Mr. President."

A thoughtful expression appeared on the President's face for a moment, then he nodded. "Fine. Two weeks."

"That's not all..." the boss continued, and Ali's heart began to beat in his chest. What else was the boss going to make him do? His mind was still stuck on the list.

"Go on..." the President narrowed his eyes.
The boss withdrew a phone and held it up. "This is Fisher's phone. It was retrieved from him after Ali killed him."

Silence descended on them.

"I was going through the phone when I saw that you sent him details of Mallam Dauda's tissue sample and the information on the exact match you needed."