Three attackers die in failed attempt to kill Peter Abel

13 Dec Three attackers die in failed attempt to kill Peter Abel

Governor Huud sat in his office staring at the budget breakdown. Since his conversation with Tiko about power, who had it and who didn’t, and about this wife, who now occupied the office adjoining his, Huud felt completely emasculated.  At least the budget was something he had to sign off on, since it was in the constitution and by-laws. But that was what puzzled him. He was looking at expenditures, large ones, which he had most definitely not approved.

His first thought was Rika. His impossible wife had started spending money and had talked or intimidated underlings into going along, assuming Huud would sign after the fact. But these were sums even his most timid assistants would never agree to. Even if Rika seduced them, forced her favours on them and gave them the ride of their lives. No, these were substantial amounts and drawn from a security vote. It was meant to be tapped during emergency situations or civil unrest, when the mechanism of governance was broken or working only sporadically. It was meant to side-step legislative approval. In other words, there was no oversight. Huud, and theoretically only he, could use this money without going through channels.

He was disturbed at the amount that had been taken. Over two hundred thousand dollars. He got up and moved hurriedly to Rika’s office, noting that she was not in today. He felt a wave of relief that she had decided to take the day off. “Take the day off” was a joke. What did she do but spend her time decorating and moving furniture from corner to corner? In any event, Huud gave thanks for the peace and quiet. Had she been there, she would have been badgering him for a better car, a different driver, or some other petty perk.

Huud waddled back to his office, heavy in thought. On returning, he found Issa listening to an iPod. Another curse of Rika’s. In order to placate the staff, curry favour, she had insisted on giving everyone an iPod. And it was costing Huud man-hours as his employees sneaked time away from work to download music.

Issa looked up and took out his earpiece. “Yes, sir?”

“Where’s Mugude? He was to see me.”

Issa checked a scheduling book for the finance commissioner, then looked up at his boss. “He’s in committee. Room Seven.”

Huud exited without waiting to hear that the meeting would be going on through lunch. He didn’t care. Mugude was the only one who could answer his question about how two hundred thousand dollars disappeared without Huud’s signature.

Huud made his way through the older wing of the office building where the air conditioners were less effective and thus the heat more oppressive. He noted that the office staff looked hot. Huud understood the problem and wanted them comfortable. People can’t think straight or work efficiently if they are suffering.

Huud approached Room Seven.  The door was shut. He could hear Mugude’s voice coming from inside, loud and sonorous. Mugude had been a singer in his early life, but he had found it impossible to make a living. He had a head for figures, so he rose very fast in accounting.  Even as commissioner, he still listened to opera on a sound system set up in his office. Huud opened the room door and all eyes turned toward him. Most of the budget committee members were there, as well as certain department heads.

“Good morning, governor,” Mugude greeted him. “We were just about to discuss next year’s increases. Would you like to join us?”

“No. I need to speak with you.” Huud gestured for Mugude to join him in an adjoining meeting room.  Mugude nodded and moved to Huud who closed the door, leaving them alone in the hallway.

“What the hell is this?” Huud asked as he thrust the file into Mugude’s hands and indicated the unauthorized expenditure. “Two hundred thousand dollars? Without my signature? It’s not even legal!”

Mugude became flustered. He wasn’t a brave man or the confrontational sort. He could be pushed around easily, and this quality got him into a lot of trouble. “I can explain that. You see, there is a signature in the file.” Mugude flipped to the back page. He pointed to a signature.

Huud stared at it. “It says Governor Huud, but that’s not my signature. Who forged this? You?”

“No, sir. I would never do that. Chairman Tiko authorized it.”

Huud stared at Mugude, stunned. “He can’t authorize anything. I’m the governor!”

“He showed me a letter on your stationary with your signature giving him authority.”

“What?”  Huud could not believe his ears. Tiko was effectively taking the government away from him piece by piece. And there was precious little he could do about it without exposing himself. He stared at the letter in which “he” had authorized Tiko to steal. He had to play along; so he smiled at the quaking Mugude. “Alright. It’s fine. I forgot about the letter. What with that conference and all the troubles. Sorry.”

“No problem, sir. I’m relieved the letter is legitimate, since I authorized expenditures for Immigration as well.”

This caught Huud off guard. “What expenditures?”

“Diplomatic passports. You should speak to Officer Wulut. He called to get permission to release eight diplomatic blanks to Chairman Tiko. Something about the global warming summit.”

Huud nodded. “Right. We’re sending experts to the UN. My office is handling logistics. Thank you, Mugude.”

Huud turned and walked away before Mugude detected his true state of anxiety. He had never been so flummoxed. What was Tiko up to – taking large sums from an “untouchable” fund, then blank diplomatic passports? For whom? He had to find out, and quickly, because in the pit of his stomach, he feared that Tiko was planning some major action. Against him perhaps, or perhaps against the state. He couldn’t be sure, but there was only one way to handle this. A direct frontal assault.

 

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Tiko and Rika lay back on the couch in his locked office, exhausted. Their clothes dishevelled, their fingers intertwined, Tiko had to admit that she was the most exciting woman he’d ever been with, smart and sexy and ruthless. It was a hard combination to beat. Rika kissed his ear.

“Once more, please.”

Tiko shook his head. “You are amazing, my dear.”

With that, his secretary’s voice came over the intercom. “Chairman Tiko? Governor Huud is here to see you.”

Tiko and Rika exchanged a look, but their expressions registered different emotions. Tiko’s face showed shock and guilt.  He scrambled to put his shirt back in his pants and buckle his belt. Rika displayed only annoyance. She was slow in buttoning up her blouse and pulling her skirt down.

As Tiko reached the door to unlock it, he glanced back. Rika hesitated, her dress still up over her thighs. She pulled it down, but when Tiko turned to open the door, Rika stopped. She timed her move so that Huud was sure to catch the act.

Huud glanced over at her. “Rika. What are you doing here?”

Rika smiled at him. “The chairman and I had business.” She said it in a way that made if clear what that business was. If Huud had missed her pulling down her dress, he couldn’t miss this barb. Huud glanced at Tiko, who looked uncomfortable.

“Rika and I were going over plans for the yam festival. You know, rains or no rains, it has to be celebrated. Something she could put on as First Lady, a celebration of our state.”

Huud didn’t believe him; but it was a nice try. “I have business to discuss with you. Rika, would you excuse us, please?”

Rika glared. “What business, Gorem?”  Huud stared at her, wondering at her recalcitrance.

“Boring financial matters. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

“On the contrary. I think I should know about these things. I’m a business woman, my love.”

“Rika, please…”

Rika stood up and smiled at him. “If this is about the money you two have stolen, there’s no reason I can’t listen in. I started it all, but we have not been splitting the loot into three. You guys don’t have to go behind me to hide anything.”

Huud and Tiko looked at each other, both surprised. “Tiko, you fool. You told her?”

“He didn’t say a word. I found out. Do you think I’m stupid? Why would you keep it from me? I know what you’re doing, Gorem. Salting money away so you can dump me and leave a rich man.”

“Rika, that’s crazy. I did it to protect you. The more you know the more trouble you can get into.”

“I’m here to protect my interests. I want to make certain you two don’t screw this up and we all wind up poor. And in jail.” She sat back down and crossed her legs, staring at the men. “Don’t let me stop you, gentlemen.”

Seeing he had no choice, Huud turned to Tiko and held out the papers he had found. “You forged my signature and took two hundred thousand dollars from the security vote?”

Tiko nodded. “I needed the money for certain expenses.”

“You come to me and ask.”

“You would have said no.”

“What is it for?”

“I’ll tell you what, governor. It’s better you don’t know. Just like you were protecting Rika, let me protect you.”

“Who are you trying to sneak into the country? I know about the diplomatic blanks you got from immigration using my name. If this all blows up, it comes back to me. So don’t pretend you’re protecting me. That’s bullshit. Now, I want an answer.”

“Or what?”

Of course, Tiko was right and Huud knew it. He had no answer for “or what?” because there was nothing he could do unless he was willing to go to prison.

“Just tell me. Please. So I don’t get blind-sided, whatever it is.”

“I brought in people who normally would have been stopped at the border. They are doing special work for the party. Is that enough?”

“Doing what? What kind of people? What kind of work…” Then it hit Huud. He suddenly knew. “My god, these men are assassins. Aren’t they? To kill Camp.”

Tiko finally nodded. “Yes. It’s to protect us both, governor.”

“I won’t condone murder. That’s out of the question. Send them back!”

Rika suddenly stood up, angry. “You’re a hypocrite. You won’t condone murder, but you allow people in your state to die of hunger and thirst, stealing their money? How is that different? You’re already a murderer. Of many, many people.”

Huud was struck by her words. She was, of course, right. But he couldn’t stand by and allow Camp to be slaughtered. Somehow it was different. “Alright, look, maybe that’s true. But it’s still not the same as hiring killers and taking part in a political assassination.”

“Well if you can think of some other way of stopping the man, be my guest,” Tiko said.

“I do have a better way. We’ll disgrace him. We know there are missing funds, and at some point people will notice. Let’s lay the theft on Camp. I have all the paperwork; it will be easy to put it all on his doorstep. He’ll have to resign in disgrace. Even if he doesn’t go to prison, he’ll be cut off from access to anything inside the government. He won’t be able to turn on us because he’ll have no credibility. People will say he made up his stories to save himself. Once he’s out, we can control the situation and the investigation.”

Huud was desperate here, scrambling to keep Tiko from carrying out a murder. What he was suggesting wasn’t much better, morally, but at least Camp would have his life.

Tiko looked to Rika who shook her head. “It’s still risky. A snake even under the heel can bite.”

“Listen to me, Rika,” Huud said, almost pleading. “A murder investigation will be totally out of our hands. Who knows what the police might turn up. We can control this other thing.”
“Gorem may be right,” Tiko said. “If we divert all attention away from us onto Camp, maybe we can make this work.”

“Give me one day. I’ll feed a story to the papers and TV, some rumours with a few incriminating facts. By tomorrow, there will be talk of possible irregularities, and by next week the story will explode, and I will ask for his resignation.”

Tiko nodded.

Huud offered Rika his arm. “Can I give you a lift back to the office?”

Rika nodded and went with him, reluctantly. She would have preferred to stay behind and try to talk Tiko out of this crazy scheme. But if that’s what they were going to do, it was best that she oversee the preparations. Her husband was perfectly capable of screwing up a one-car funeral.

Tiko watched them leave.  He had his own doubts about Huud’s plan. It might work, but he wasn’t calling off his dogs just yet. He would merely keep them at bay for a while.

He knew one thing for sure. If Huud was going to use the press to get promulgate his phoney charges, one reporter who wouldn’t accept trumped up version of events, who would dig deeply enough to find the truth, had to be taken out of the picture. He needed to deal with Peter Abel. And quickly.

 

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Abel walked out of the offices of The Zodiac with his new “best friend” in tow. He found Billings to be good company, even though the man never stopped talking or asking questions or making pronouncements on a variety of subjects, from the fluctuation of the crime rate to the latest graphic novel. Abel suspected Billings could barely read or write, but it didn’t dampen his desire to be a reporter. As they left the offices, Billings spotted a newspaper and stopped.

“What are you looking at?”

“Trying to see the soccer scores from last night.”

Billings lifted up the paper and looked through it. Abel could tell by the way he acted that he was checking out the pictures, which would clue him into which section he had in hand. When he got to a picture of some rugby player, he looked inside the paper then studied the columns.

Abel finally pointed to the soccer scores. “There. You having trouble, Billings? Maybe your eyes?”  Abel was fishing. There was nothing wrong with the man’s eyes and he knew it.

“Tell you true, boss. I can’t read too good. Struggle with some of the words they use in here. Guess that makes me bad reporter.”

“Not necessarily. I know a lot of reporters who can barely read and many who can’t write at all,” Abel said. “So don’t let a little thing like illiteracy stop you.”

As they reached Abel’s Jeep, he pulled out the keys. Billings snatched them from his hand. “I drive us, boss. Give your mind time to think up stories.”

They got in and Billings squealed out of the parking lot. “Where to?”

“Take a left here. We’re going to the archive building. First thing a good reporter needs to learn is how to research. We want to find out everything there is to know on Gorem Huud and Timo Tiko. Then we do some spade work on Limi.”

“Hot leads, boss?”

“No, just background right now. Hot leads come later.” Abel smiled. He had a hard time imagining this engaging fellow as a ruthless mercenary.

As they drove through town, Billings kept up a constant patter, remarking on the legs of some of the women they passed, the beautiful and the not-so-blessed. On one pitifully thin woman, Billings referred to “them poor sticks.” In regard to another, who was overweight, he referred to “them poor sausages.”

But Abel noticed Billings also kept his eye on the rear view mirror. At one point, his loquacious companion became quiet. Abel looked over, questioning.

“Run out of words?” Billings shook his head.

“No, lots more where those come from. Boss, put on the seatbelt please.”  Abel looked at Billings, confused, then saw that his companion was looking up into the rear view mirror without actually moving his head. Any trailing car would never know Billings was watching them.

“You see something?”

Billings didn’t change his head position or his body language. “Don’t look around, boss. Just put on the seatbelt, let me do the rest.”

Abel’s seat belt, an old fashioned buckle, clicked into place. As soon as he’d finished this task, Billings floored the gas pedal and made a sharp right hand turn across two lanes of traffic, fishtailing around until the Jeep squared itself to the road which lead out of town.

“We gonna let them chase us outta town,” Billings said. “Get them where we can see them better.”

“Then what?”  Abel wasn’t sure he wanted to know, especially when Billings grinned at the question.

“Then we gonna have some fun, boss.”

Billings drove fast, skirting goats and chickens and dogs in the road, but Abel noticed he was careful not to let their pursuers lose them. They reached the outskirts of town as it became more of a village, with shacks lining the road, some up on stilts to escape the floods created by frequent tropical rains storms. Lagos was lucky, Abel thought as they barrelled along. It still has rains storms.

Suddenly, Billings slowed down and let the pursuers catch up, two men in a pickup truck. Billings waited until the shantytown ended and a field opened up on their left. He steered Abel’s Jeep into the field and toward a stand of thick acacia bushes.

“Jesus, Billings, you’ll scratch the hell outta my car!”

“Better your Jeep than your scalp, boss.” He crashed through the bushes and brought the car to a halt in the middle of the brambles. They couldn’t see the field or the road from where they sat, but they could hear the pickup approaching. Abel opened the glove compartment and reached in for his gun. Billings put a hand on his wrist. “Don’t need no gun, boss. Just sit tight.”

Billings took out his iron baton and smiled at Abel. He rolled down his window and easily slid out and up onto the roof of the jeep. Abel heard him take a few steps then felt a jolt as Billings leaped from the rear of the Jeep into underbrush. Abel looked around for Billings, but he had disappeared.

Unwilling to stay out of the action, Abel took his gun and climbed out of the passenger side with great difficulty. He was stuck on the arm by acacia branches, his face stung with the thorns. He made his way carefully back along the path they had entered. At least he could walk there, since the Jeep had created an opening.

Abel came to the field and stopped. Two men had climbed from the pickup, both carrying handguns. Abel thought they looked like Glocks. At least nine shots apiece. And where the hell was Billings?  As the men moved toward the path the Jeep had followed, Abel prepared to defend himself.

The men walked alongside the acacia bushes, sneaking up on the path. Suddenly, one of them was grabbed from behind, his neck snapped in a millisecond. The second one turned and raised his gun, but the baton lashed out and snapped the man’s wrist. He cried out and dropped the weapon. The man stumbled backward, drawing a small revolver from his waist. But Billings was on him. In one leap, he landed two feet from the retreating figure and in almost the same motion, his baton whipped round and slammed into the man’s temple, killing him instantly.

Abel had witnessed this sudden and brutal attack, but it went by so quickly he barely believed what he’d seen. The two killings seemed to happen almost simultaneously. The dead men, clearly trained killers, never had a chance.

Abel emerged from the path where he was hiding and saw Billings taking something from the men. He rushed forward. “What are you doing?”

Billings straightened up and held out a wristwatch. “Nice watch.” Abel grabbed it from his hand.

“You can’t take it. That’s evidence. We need to call the Lagos police.”

Billings shook his head. “No good, boss. Police make it worse.”

But Abel dialled his cell anyway, calling a lieutenant he knew in the department. The man was honest and had fed Abel information on Huud before. He knew there would be no death squads headed their way.

“Sorry I yelled, Billings. You saved our lives.”

Billings shrugged, still sullen. “Maybe when the police done, they give me that watch?”

“I’ll buy you a new one of your own, okay?”

“Ain’t be the same, boss.” Billings walked off and leaned against the pickup, holstering his lethal weapon.

 

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That evening, someone called Camp’s home from the local TV station. The caller had in his possession certain papers, which indicated financial irregularities in Camp’s office, to wit, more than a million dollars in missing funds originally allocated for the drilling of deep-water wells. Did Camp have any comment?

Camp had none, and when he slammed down the phone, it rang again. This time one of the local newspapers was on the line.  So it went all evening.

Chief Benson finally called and expressed his concern. His paper had not received the same information, but he was certain it was because it was anti-Huud, and this leak must have come through Huud. It was phoney, and he assured Camp he could fight it.

Camp turned to his wife, who had been sitting on their living room couch all evening trying to come to terms with this onslaught. She couldn’t believe these men would do such a thing to her noble husband. Camp assured her it was all smoke and mirrors. And right now, they were just rumours.

“You know the game, Idi. First the rumours and a few facts, then some file, money shows up in an account under your name. Here I was worried for your life, when it’s your reputation they are out to assassinate.”

She broke down in tears, sobbing in her husband’s arms. He felt helpless to make her feel better because he knew every word she had spoken was absolutely true.

He released a denial through his office, but he knew this was only the beginning.

 

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Tiko played billiards in his private den, complete with flat-screen TV and the most advanced sound system. He had built a wet bar and hot tub at the far end of the room. Jonas watched as Tiko played.

“That is three men dead.”

“Do you know who killed your men?”

“Not yet. But he’s a professional. I’ll deal with him later. Even if we don’t kill Camp, you still owe us the balance.”

“Who said anything about not killing Camp?”

“I was told he was being set up to take the fall for you.”

“That’s the plan of my idealistic governor. The disgrace aspect makes your job easier. You see, now Camp will commit suicide in despair. His death will only help prove his guilt. But we must wait a few days for the scandal to brew. Once it reaches a boil, then you will strike.”

“What of the reporter?”

“We’ll deal with him, too.”

“And I want that bodyguard assassin of his.”

“Don’t worry, Jonas. You’ll have your revenge.”

Tiko went back to his game of billiards and expertly played the balls off one another.

 

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At the Lagos General Hospital morgue, Abel and Billings sat with Chief Benson who had just come from speaking with the Police Commissioner. “I have bad news, Peter.”

Abel looked at Benson. How bad could it get? “What?”

“The men you killed…”

“I killed, boss.” Billings raised his hand like a proud schoolboy.

“Right. The men you killed. They had diplomatic passports. But they’re fake. The commissioner sent their prints to Interpol. They’re mercenaries. Hired assassins.”

“Someone hired assassins to kill me? I’m almost flattered.”

Benson looked at Abel and shook his head. “Not you, Peter. You’re collateral damage here. I believe they were brought here to deal with Doctor Camp.”

Abel was stunned. It had all gotten too big all of a sudden. “My God…”

“This isn’t some small local story, Peter. The men behind this have a great deal to lose. And you and Camp are threatening to take it from them. Listen, two attempts on your life, that’s quite enough. I want you off the story and out of the country.”

Abel stood up, angry. “I’ve never run from a story and I’m not about to start. You’ll have to fire me before I stop working on this.”

“All right, you’re fired,” Benson said.

Abel sat stunned for a moment. Then he recovered.

“Fine. I’ll work on this on my own,” he said.

Benson nodded and smiled. He appeared to have expected that very response.

“I can make sure that you spend several weeks in jail while the two deaths in the Aja area are investigated,” he said.

“But you won’t,” Abel said. “Look, I got Camp into this. I can’t abandon him.”

Benson inhaled, coughed and capitulated. “Okay. But be careful. And tell me every move you’re going to make. I want to know where you are and what you plan to do every second.”

Abel slapped Billings on the back. “Not to worry, boss. I got the best weapon in Nigeria,” he said, aping Billings’ funny cadence, and Billings laughed heartily. Benson’s smile was tight. He was more worried than amused.