Hard Man

39

"I may not know what's happening, but I know what's going on."
    — General Babalola

"The VP is not a person. It's a title. What matters is who you are behind closed doors when the title is hanging on a peg in your closet."
— MG Damola

Human beings could never be satisfied, Mohammed thought, walking briskly down the hallway toward the General's office. He had wanted a break so bad, and even when he asked for a day off, he had beat himself up about it later, wondering why he hadn't asked for a week.

But he'd slept all night and woke up this morning knowing he could lounge in his room all day doing nothing. He could not spend the day without being at the General's side, where he should be, especially not when the General needed him.

Okay.

That was a delusion of grandeur.

He was being foolishly delusional. The General didn't need him. It was he who needed the General. He didn't know how it was possible to hate and love someone at the same time, but that was what he felt for the man.
He pushed the General's door open, surprised to see the MG seated at the desk, working busily on the computer. It was barely seven a.m.

The man's gaze slid up at the sound of the door, and Mohammed's breath caught when the intense gaze ensnared him.

"Good morning, sir." He saluted.

"You don't have a life?" The MG asked after a long pause.

Mohammed looked down in embarrassment. "I have had enough rest, sir."

"Get out."

It took Mohammed a few seconds to realize the MG was serious. He gaped at the man before turning to leave, but a vibration in his pocket stopped him. It was the General's business phone. He took it out and swiped across the screen to read the text that had just popped in.

He froze. Blinked. Read it again.

"Mohammed?"

He snapped up at the MG's voice. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm leaving. So sorry, sir."

"Mohammed?"

"Sir?" Mohammed paused, turning back to the MG.
"That's Baba's business phone."

Mohammed nodded, although the MG wasn't asking a question.

"Bring it to me."

Without hesitation, Mohammed walked over to the table and handed the phone over, with the text still open on the screen. It was from Inspector Adigun.

"Bello is dead. Shot dead in his house. Please call me, sir. There's something I'd like to discuss. It's very urgent."

The MG frowned and picked up his phone, and while Mohammed waited, he called the General's private phone. The General didn't pick up.

"Where's he?" The MG asked him.

"With Miss Des."

"Go and call him," The MG said, redialing the General.

Mohammed hesitated before sluggishly walking towards the door. Thankfully, the General picked up just as he was leaving the office.

"Damola, what?" The General rasped into the phone.

"Why are you whispering?"

"Damola—"

" Come to the office," the MG said and hung up. He looked up at Mohammed, and their gazes met again. Mohammed didn't know what to think, but it seemed the MG was in a bad mood this morning.