SOLOMON'S BRIDGE {Part II/WORK IN PROGRESS}

THE SECRET THINGS *7 *

COLLINS

The governor cracks his knuckles.

Collins tilts his handsome black face to the side, his demeanor outwardly calm and peaceful. But he is tired. They almost lost Jessica again a few days ago. He is still sorting out his feelings about that. Angry? Very. Tense? Its part of the job. But until the advent of Dr. Jay, he and his colleagues haven't seen this much action since their training days. Wale Adekunle had been quiet, unobtrusive, almost boring. Dr. Jay is all deeds .He's British. He's a tall white.

While he is grateful to the powers that be for getting rid of the gbatin gbatin oga emilokun he isn't prepared for this new boss. In all fairness, Dr. Jay is nice; but he calls them colours like green and brown is better than using their God given names. It feels like the guy does not want to acquaint himself with black Africans, he doesn't want to see them as actual people he can learn to respect, but then, he calls it a security nomenclature... A name has a peace of soul in it. Collins is beginning to feel disconnected from his own individuality. He (Red!) has not slept for 36 hours. He wants to go home, eat a big dinner and sleep for two days. Preferably somewhere near Jessica...

Come on, think harder Blue! You must've seen the killer's face, or his accomplice, anything that can expose or indict! Why else does he try so hard to kill you again?

I'm thinking, I'm telling you Red! I didn't see anything! Not on that highway and not in that hospital room! Just the eyes, big candy brown. And the hoodie. That's all I can remember.

They changed her room and posted White inside on a twenty-four hour guard duty. Still, Collins can't relax. His mind is besieged with images of Jessica with her head in a bleeding bandage. He does not even try to analyse his feelings. Once upon a time, he'd see her and be amused. Women in arms. A mystery. But now, he hears her cry in pain and his jaw clenches. He is not the falling in love type of guy. When he likes a woman, it's physical. Maybe Jessica is the sister he never had? Thinking of her in any sexual way is just .. sacrilege. But he gets jealous real fast. Like when Dr. Nurudeen tries to get all chatty with his pretty patient. That man is there everyday at least thirty minutes a day. Collins knows this because he himself is there at least three hours a day, everyday. He is also on three different stakeouts every night. He is on the job even now, exactly twelve noon GMT, on this cool and windy Monday afternoon, with his excellency, governor Hiram Duke.

His excellency is a bulky man with a face like a wild bulldog, his shoulders are bunched up like a wrestler. He isn't tall either. But he has a distinct charisma, a certain way of talking real queens' English that makes you want to polish your ears and keep listening. He's already talked football, climate change, his personal opinion of the semi defunct, beleaguered African Union and the ugly Nigerian situation. He likened Nigeria to a stupid girl who spent all her attention on mavericks while other, more suitable gentlemen stood by with mounting anger, in boiling bitterness and simmering pain of heartbreak, watching her fritter away her youth, her beauty, her treasures on fanatics, vampires and evil desert spirits.

His excellency also talked of tourism, employment policy and his grandmother Uduak. Now, he wanted to talk about his cousin, old man Moses of the Biafran war, "My uncle's bastard son," he began, "old man Moses, we called him," he plopped a Cuban cigar into his mouth, chewing on it, "During the Biafran war, he escaped to Benin City on foot!"

Collins yawns.

That 'Old man Moses' is in every gubernatorial speech, every cabinet address, every press briefing... the governor catches his bored expression and raises a hand, "Wait, you've not heard this part before, so just listen!" Seeing as he has no choice, Collins stands up to make espresso at the coffee bar behind his brown leather chair. His office is a study in somber tones. Brown walls, black chairs, black tables, gray curtains, closed windows behind teal drapes. The coffee bar, with its dummy AK-47 hoisted high on the wall above the drink cabinet, just makes it all seem like a page from the Godfather.