Silhouette

XXX

Vincent has prided himself on being able to control his emotions more than a lot of people. He could shut them off and lock them away, only showing them when the situation demanded it.

He’s having trouble controlling them now.

The hearing has gone on for three hours. Vincent has clenched his jaws until his temples hurt, his feet feel rubbery from the continuous tapping.

There are four men seated on a raised dais before him. Behind him is the whole expanse of the legislative assembly. 109 seats in total. The only occupants are the remaining committee members—11 in all—spread across the seats.

Senator Oliver Desinde, the chairman of the committee  — 60, heavy jowled, a bald, glistening pate — converses with the men next to him in low tones. His glasses sit on the bridge of his nose, it gives him the appearance of looking down at everything with disgust. The other men are the Senate Majority Leader, John Amos and the Committee’s Vice-Chairman, Daniel Musa.

Vincent catches Daniel’s eyes, Daniel looks away. Vincent watches the heavy jowled Oliver sort out his notes. He dislikes Oliver intensely. There is a fundamental gluttony about him. He is a manipulator and an instigator, there were so many of them around these days.

They were everywhere in Abuja, piling huge sums of money, forming allies, buying up enemies or in this case: completely destroying them.

Oliver looks up from his notes, Daniel whispers into his ears and he nods twice. He fixes Vincent with a glare, then he smiles. “Following the review of cases of flagrant violations of the law and abuse of section 35 of the 1999 constitution, this committee hereby finds you guilty of misconduct. The State Intelligence Agency has hereby being disbanded. This committee requests the Ministry of Defence to conduct an enquiry into the legality and propriety of particular operational activities of the SIA.”

Vincent stares at the base of his microphone. There are a thousand thoughts in his head. Finding out who is behind the curtains is the first thing he needs to do. He knows it is not from the presidency, if it were the Vice-president would be in attendance.

“This hearing is adjourned,” says Oliver. There is a rush of rising bodies as Oliver stands.

Victor turns his head sideways, watches the senators converse amongst themselves in hushed tones. Nobody looks at him. He sees a flash of blue on the farthest seat, it disappears into a sliding door.

Vincent’s heart gives a sharp jolt as if it was dosed with electricity. He would recognize those colours anywhere.
He snaps away his glasses, he suddenly feels rejuvenated. Maybe all is not lost.

He stands, buttons his suit, makes for the door. The senators let their gaze slide past him, some avert their eyes and stare at the floor. Vincent smiles, he prefers it that way. He detests being the recipient of sympathy.

Vincent spots the black SUV at the end of the parking lot. The glasses are tinted. The driver is in his seat, the engine is idle. He opens the door, slides inside. Matthew is at the other side.

Matthew—55, a solid slab of a man and the SIA’S chief of operations—stares at him, his head is cocked. He sees the look on Vincent’s face. He sighs.

“Why didn’t we know of this sooner?” says Vincent.

“I thought…” Matthew begins. He grunts. “Now that I think of it, it does seem fishy. I got to find out from one of my sources by word-of-mouth. This was very elaborately done, I must say. They wanted to catch us off guard.”

“It worked. Almost.”

The door by Matthew’s side opens. Daniel Musa climbs in. He has a mild, reserved air about him. His mannerisms are almost apologetic.