A love to remember

CHAPTER ELEVEN - COMING TO LONDON

The second letter from the blackmailers landed on Akaninyene's desk, its arrival casting a shadow over the room. But Akaninyene was not one to be intimidated. Along with his fellow lords, who ruled over the mighty Niger River, he had been secretly gathering intelligence on Charles Tyndale.

Their network of spies and informants had uncovered a shocking truth: Tyndale was one of Marseilles' most feared crime lords, a mastermind with a reputation for ruthlessness and cunning. Akaninyene's eyes narrowed as he read the report, his mind racing with the implications. The young lords had unknowingly tangled with a powerful foe.

Akaninyene's brow furrowed in curiosity as he turned to Ezebunafor. "But Charles Tyndale isn't a French name," he observed.

Ezebunafor's expression turned thoughtful. "He is French, at least to an extent," he explained. "His mother hails from Marseille, which explains his connections to the city."

Akaninyene's eyes narrowed. "And his father is English, I presume?" he asked, his voice laced with intrigue.

Ezebunafor nodded. "That's correct. His mixed heritage allows him to operate freely in France."

Akaninyene's gaze intensified.

"Since he's arriving in England this weekend," Ezebunafor continued, his voice low and deliberate. "He'll want to meet with us as soon as possible, given his... interests."

Akaninyene's smile was subtle, but telling. "You know we can always arrange a small, discreet gathering to welcome him," he suggested, his eyes glinting with a hint of steel. "I'm sure we can... accommodate his needs."

Ezebunafor's expression turned grave as he shook his head. "I strongly advise against that, Akaninyene," he cautioned. "While we have a significant advantage in terms of manpower, you're underestimating the power of Tyndale's connections. This is his homeland and he likely has a network of allies and informants at his disposal."

Akaninyene's eyes narrowed, but Ezebunafor continued, his voice measured and wise. "Let's not rush into anything. A peaceful meeting will give us the opportunity to assess the situation, gauge Tyndale's strength, and plan our next move accordingly. We mustn't forget that Tyndale may not be the only one who's aware of our secret. Prudence is our best ally in this situation."

Akaninyene nodded thoughtfully, acknowledging the wisdom of Ezebunafor's words. "You're right," he agreed. "Rashly killing Tyndale could spark a chain reaction of vengeance, drawing unwanted attention to ourselves. We've already walked that treacherous path once, and we're fortunate to still have our heads on our bodies."

Ezebunafor's expression turned somber, his eyes clouding with concern. "I hope we can negotiate a peaceful resolution with Tyndale," he said. "Further bloodshed would be catastrophic. The authorities are still hunting for the spy who assassinated the Oscar Maximilian, and we can't afford to have them breathing down our necks for much longer. Our very survival depends on our ability to remain one step ahead of the enemies."

Akaninyene's eyes scanned the letter once more, his anger simmering just below the surface. The words danced on the page, taunting him with their arrogant tone.

"To His Royal Highness," the letter began. "I hope I haven't kept you on edge, my lord. You see, I do like to keep people in fear. It's so satisfying."

Akaninyene's jaw clenched as he read on. Tyndale's words were laced with a sinister confidence, a sense of power that made Akaninyene's blood boil.