The Senator

Copyright 2010 by Tai Emeka Obasi

www.taiobasi.com

info@taiobasi.com

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First Published; 2002

by Timcaltz Literary Concerns

Cover Design By:

Victor O. Nweme (VON)

ISBN: 978-1-4502-5186-0 (pbk)

ISBN: 978-1-4502-5187-7 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

iUniverse rev. date: 8/31/10

Also by same author

THE ULTIMATE PRIZE

President Idrissa Bandada didn’t think much when he cancelled an acclaimed freest and fairest election ever held in black Africa. But the events to follow would soon force the now retired general into a rethink.

A supposed respectable businessman gets killed in a five-star hotel in the eastern city of Enugu. In a politically volatile country, such deaths are no news.

But when such gruesome ends start repeating in quick succession, one name, The Dean; the unseen assassin claiming the murders; sends panic throughout the entire nation.

The new President, Sabo Achaba, isn’t going to fold hands in Aso Rock. He sends the security service, the SSS and soon his special elite guards, the B-Gang to get rid of the supposedly sole gunman.

But The Dean is proving difficult to get that it seems the combined forces of the SSS and B-Gang are not professional enough.

Meanwhile, The Dean, the intractable assassin, glides slowly with his team to the major target – General Achaba in Aso Rock. They call it Operation Octopus …

A racing, hat-topping, suspense filled thriller that mirrors an era steeped in military adventurism in Nigeria’s not-too-distant past. If The Senator was engrossing, The Ultimate Prize will simply keep you on toes.

- Henry Okokuwa (The Sun)

Chief Uwakwe picked up the envelope and opened it with great effort. That his hands did not shake was a huge credit considering what was going on in his mind. He brought out the first print and took in his breath, looked at Larry and slowly went through the other prints. By the time he finished, all his composure had left him.

And then Larry decided it was time to pace around. As you must have seen, Chuks is in California State Prison for drug-related offences. Alias Mike Roberts, he will be put away for five years. I understand he has been sending money for your campaign. Larry watched the chief’s deteriorating face without emotion.

Daphne, alias Franca Stevens, is a prostitute in Italy. I know she sends her contributions as well. I have those in motion pictures too. If it becomes necessary, which I hope for your sake doesn’t, then every television station in this country gets a copy. Larry stopped, looked long at the older man without pity. The man shot him first; he had to take whatever came back.

Chief Uwakwe, who had now understood, too late, who he was grappling with, looked up at Larry the way a convict would look at a jury. What do you want?

Pretty obvious, Larry said and paced back slowly…

Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgement

Appreciation

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

Dedication

To Carl Azubike Nwosu (1965 –2000):

A friend in need, indeed and forever.

Acknowledgement

In the course of this project, I was ejected from my No. 19 Omilani Street, Ijesha residence by my ‘born – again’ landlady. Bless her.

In the process, I lost the original manuscript.

I had to continue from the text in my computer. Thanks to Bill Gates and the IT comfort of the modern world.

Today I have a novel the Nigerian Government will frown at and look the other way. Thanks to democracy.

This book is fiction.

Names like MKO Abiola, Emeka Ojukwu, Yakubu Gowon, Sani Abacha, Kaduna Nzeogwu were necessary because they represented history in their respective capacities.

Any other name semblance to people, living or dead, is regretted.

Appreciation

The first edition of this book was published in 2002. This process was made possible by Jude Igboanugo (Nzeamalu), who provided the funds. I can’t appreciate that rare gesture well enough.

Neither can I quantify the efforts of Peter Ndulue (Anaezeokwu), the father of the launch day, who firmly stood behind me for a very successful launch.

Sir Dan Egwu (Nnanyelugo), the Chairman of the launch, who demonstrated genuine love and enthusiasm towards a very rewarding exercise, rates very high in my scale of people who give me inspiration.

I can’t possibly roll the curtain without revealing the Chief Launcher in person of Dr Obinna Uzor, who despite tight schedules during gubernatorial campaign, found space to perform. As well as Prof Pat Utomi and Dr Sunny Ojeagbase, who both were ably represented as guests of honour.

Prince Ike Onyeka (Ichie Chidel) does not rate any lower in my scale, considering his invaluable contributions towards the launch.

What about Phil Balepo, who despite 100% involvement in the planning, stepped in to replace Rueben Abati, who pulled out of the review less than six hours to event. And what a job Phil made of it!

How can I forget somebody like Engr Raph Uchendu for his surprise package?

The list can’t be complete without Chris McCool Nwosu, who doubling as the MC, worked indefatigably for the success of the exercise, just as important as the tireless contributions of Emeka Nwosu.

Frank Ilaboya, President of Lagos SWAN; Emeka Obiakonwa, Chairman of Lagos SWGN; Zik Zulu Okafor, my senior colleague in the pen business; Ben Alozie, Editor, Sports Champion; Chris Anazodo - all made me proud on the day.

Victor Nwaeme, despite designing the cover, contributed much to buttress the axiom, a friend in need...

Calistus Chukwujekwu, despite CAF and FIFA schedules, found time to participate, as well as his bosom friend, Chris Eseka.

Pat Uchendu, Ugo Nwangoro, my colleagues in the office, won’t be left out.

And neither am I leaving out Dom Maduka (Akunwanne), Mezie Akabudu (Odirachukwumma), Tony Dike (Nwamaludu), Charles Egwu (Amalunwaeze), Val Iwuchukwu (Aghaukwu), Nnabuife Izuegbu (Nwabuluo), Patrick Akabudu (Ifenwanne), Raph Obi (Ifeadukanwanne), Bony Agbala (Nnadulunwa), Amobi Ndulue (Igwe), Emeka Udemba…

Oh, there’s Franca, Nkan, Happiness, Chinelo and, of course, Nkechi.

Believe me, if I name everybody involved, this book would definitely go twice the size but whoever you are, bear in mind that you’re not forgotten. However, there’s still space for Henry Okoduwa, who more than provided the inspiration to see this exercise in print.

That launch event on that wonderful day did give me the inspiration to write more...

CHAPTER ONE

No English dictionary did consider the nine-letter word, blackmail while defining the eight-letter word, business. But Larry Onuigbo believed the Englishman had his beliefs while he had his. To Larry, who was twelve years old, anything that could bring grist to the mill was business.

So, when he put his hands in his trousers pockets and walked, western-style, into the living room where his mother was getting ready for market, he believed he was about to open up just another business discussion.

He took a deep breath and spoke, Mother, can I have the money I told you about?

His mother surveyed him through not-too-friendly eyes, Larry, I have told you time and again that I have no money to give you. Be a good boy and run along.

Larry wondered why she could be this uncooperative. I have already told you that I must have the money. Believe me when I tell you that I need this money and believe me again when I tell you that I wouldn’t leave this house for school if I didn’t get it.

More because of his tone than choice of words, she wondered where her son was going, now, Larry, what has come over you? Where have you learnt to speak like that?

When Larry spoke again, she was baffled even more, I have a mission in life and won’t allow anything to stand in my way. You are standing in my way right now, Mum. Give me this money and I’d be off to school, he glanced at his wristwatch, I’m running late already.

She paced around for a short while, then slowly sat down. Now, you listen, Larry and listen good. I don’t know what happens in schools these days but in case you have cult groups in that school of yours and equally have joined one, I am not giving you the money. I don’t have it and if I did, I wouldn’t be giving it to you now that you’re this naughty about it.

She took a deep breath, got up from the settee, hardened her voice and barked at her son, now, get out from my sight for school this moment and I won’t ever mention this to your father! As Larry seemed unruffled, she stepped up her act. "Look at him, you are standing in my way," the last statement said to mimic her son.

It was Larry’s turn to pace around. With his hands still in his shorts’ pockets, Larry paced and wondered why his mother believed this was a problem she could solve by shouting. Well, reasoned Larry, if somebody taught her that shouting would solve this one, then she had paid the wrong teacher.

He sat down. Well, now that you’ve brought daddy into it, he surveyed her face, I think it’s time he knew...

Something somehow told her that something unpleasant was on the way. At just twelve, Larry was scaring her and making quite a good job of it. Know about what, Larry? she asked because it appeared her son wanted to be asked.

You know what I’m talking about, Mum.

Then spill it or get out this moment!

Larry seemed to hesitate, I never intended to get this far but since you insist… whatever it was obviously was not easy in coming as Larry stopped, twiddled his thumbs, looked his mother in the face and then continued, it’s…it’s high time father knew about Don.

However tough she could be, something freaky crawled up her spine. Her effort to stay controlled was magnificent nonetheless, who’s Don?

Now that it was started, Larry didn’t hesitate again, I think father would be interested in knowing that you visit him every Wednesday. He would also be interested in knowing what you do with him behind closed doors for three hours at each visit.

If Larry had been a burglar with a gun, his mother wouldn’t have been more petrified the way she looked at him now. Her defences falling like a pack of cards, she stammered, Larry, …what … what … has …has …come over you?

It’s you we should be talking about, Mum. What are you doing with that swine?

It’s not what you think, Larry. Don … is...

Save the explanations for dad.

She opened her mouth and shut it like a fish. A lot of things went through her mind. I can’t believe this, she moaned in a voice hardly recognisable, looking at everywhere but Larry.

He got to his feet, paced around as if it required such exercise to drive home. Now, where were we? He looked hard at the mother, we were talking about N1,500.00. He stretched his right hand, suppressing a grin. Can I have it? He looked again at his watch. You have just five minutes or…dad..., he let it hang. From every indication, Larry knew every trick in this kind of trade.

He shifted his gaze to the ceiling for a long time, waiting for his mother’s response. Lizzy was taking a decade, reminding him of the word, uncompromising. He shifted his gaze to his wrist, time up...see you in the evening, and made to leave the room.

Then, like somebody relieved of hypnotic influence, she snapped to attention. Wait! she shouted.

Larry hid the triumphant grin and took two steps back inside.

But his mother hesitated, Larry, do you know what you are doing? You are blackmailing your own mother!

Larry tried to look straight, I’m not quite certain about that. All I want is N1,500.00. I need this money and badly. I’m sorry, Mum but I must have it.

You will but … She went straight to her bedroom, came back to Larry after a few minutes, clutching a wad of twenty naira bills. Here, take! It’s N2, 000.00. Let’s forget this discussion ever took place, looked steadily at her son with pleading eyes, and let’s never mention that name in this house again.

Larry smiled broadly in apparent satisfaction. He had won. He took the money from her. Thanks, Mum, he said and started counting. He counted seventy-five pieces, stuffed them into his pocket and thrust the rest in his mother’s unwittingly outstretched hands. I wanted only N1, 500.00. Not a kobo more. I don’t make use of what I don’t need. He left the house while his mother’s open mouth confirmed her total bewilderment.

As Larry smiled to school, satisfied with himself for effectively bossing her mother, his mother shuddered as she watched him leave.

Something cold crawled right inside her and she knelt. She was a devout Christian, who prayed regularly, and was not one to be found wanting in the right choice of words in the one-way communication with God. But somehow, the effective set of words continued to elude her.

Her eyes remained closed for nearly four minutes, then she muttered, God, please save me from the shackles of my own son. She opened her eyes, did the sign of the cross and went into her bedroom. There was nothing more to add.

* * *

Residents in Isolo part of Lagos believed it was a jolly good place. And for those that also scraped up daily bread within the same environs, like Okota, there was little to worry about traffic.

But if one lived in Isolo while making a living outside Isolo or vice versa, then there could be plenty to worry about. The reality of traffic jam, go slow, was as dreadful as the brisk manoeuvres of motorcycles popularly called okada. Okada took over commercial transport in Lagos to such a degree that cab and commercial bus operators competed to deadly effects. Avoidable accidents did wittingly happen. It was no secret and the okada operators knew as well, making them more alert than birds in springtime. But this transformed into murderously dangerous rides, many times ending the journeys of hapless commuters in orthopaedic hospitals.

Like most high-density areas of Lagos, Isolo had more than its own share of this moving hell but unlike some areas, Isolo had not enough access roads to ease congestion. At peak times, it was really nerve-raking going through Isolo and Okota roads, whatever means of transport.

For just this reason, Larry reached his school, Isolo High School, at a few minutes after 8 O’clock while the teacher who was to conduct the day’s assembly still sweated inside his thoroughly worn-out Volkswagen Beetle, which generated enough heat to have baked bread. Well, at least the teacher, Wilson Alao, was not complaining. In a cold harmattan morning, such dilapidated cars could be luxury.

And just for this reason, Larry avoided the accompanying strokes for lateness and even had time to look for his friend, Mike.

The Isolo High School was four blocks of two-storey buildings, housing well over one thousand students. The compound was large enough to have two playing fields for football and basketball and still comfortable parking spaces for staff and parents on visitation.

The down block as it was nicknamed, was for first year students and Larry did not waste time moving straight to this block when he walked into the school and, to his relief, the assembly was yet to begin.

He sighted his friend immediately he walked into class 1A. Mike Okilo was just a head taller than Larry, about four years older and in the same class with his friend.

Larry looked his friend over, hey Mike, quit looking as if you swallowed a bee. I got the money. Now, where’s Linda?

Mike’s face lit up as he replied, I’ve not seen her. I’ve been checking. She doesn’t usually come this late. I only hope she hasn’t done something funny.

For your sake, I hope she hasn’t, Larry said, fumbled inside his pockets, brought out the bundle of money, thrust into Mike’s hand. Here, take.

Delighted but surprised all the same, Mike asked, how did you get this, Larry?

You won’t like to know. Just take it and Linda straight to the doctor, get rid of that pregnancy immediately. That is if you like your future.

Larry, how can I ever thank you?

"Save that for now. Go, get rid of that belle first."

Thanks, Mike offered, turned to go back into the class.

And Mike? interrupted Larry.

Mike stopped in his strides, turned to face Larry again, yes?

I had to use the most unorthodox method to get that money. Make sure it wasn’t in vain, Larry said and hardened his face, you won’t like me if you mess things up. And it’s high time you kept your fly buttoned up. Leave girls alone if you want to continue being my friend. I have the future of both of us sewn up. Don’t mess it up, yours I mean.

Mike had admired and somehow feared Larry even when he wouldn’t admit the latter. At that moment, Larry struck real turmoil inside him. He had never seen Larry’s eyes look so mean and he felt something inside him yield to the threat of his younger friend. And from that moment, Larry completely dominated him.

As Mike opened his mouth to utter something, the school bell rang for the assembly. Mr Alao had finally landed.

* * *

Doctors say 3 a.m. is the lowest ebb for human mechanism. If this meant being awake and tossing around in bed, then the lifesavers were dead right for Lizzy Onuigbo. She turned, worried in bed while her husband snored to her chagrin.

Finally, when her head subdued her heart, she woke her husband up. Justin, who slept with the same passion a monkey has for banana, stirred and angrily demanded to know why whatever his wife wanted couldn’t wait till morning.

It’s Larry, she said in a worried tone.

Justin rose to a sitting position. Because of what Larry was to both of them, any discussion bordering on the subject was given apt attention. This night was not different.

Yes? What about him? You had a dream?

I wish it was a dream but this is real. Darling, something is wrong with Larry.

Justin’s face showed his disgust when he asked, something wrong with Larry? How do you mean?

My God, thought Lizzy, how do I handle this? A hesitation, then gesticulation as she said, Darling, I don’t really know but there is something wrong with that boy. I’m sure.

I have never noticed anything abnormal about Larry. I would even say that he has grown so smart and ambitious.

That’s the point. Ambitious. That word is driving him exceptionally far.

Will you stop speaking in tongues? What do you know that I don’t? His impatience was clear.

Like I said, I can’t really be specific but … it’s just this feeling.

I see. When did this feeling start?

Just yesterday.

Justin surveyed his wife. He knew that she never strayed for the fun of it. He moved closer, tell me, what happened?

She shifted her eyes. How do I tell you? She fought inside. Nothing really. It’s this feeling.

A feeling of what?

She cringed inside. She knew it was going to be difficult telling but it seemed she was making quite a bad job of it. I think he is keeping a bad company, she hesitated, looked into his eyes and continued, I think he is keeping a criminally minded company. He is behaving quite funny.

You haven’t said anything, said Justin who by now was certain she was not going to come out with what was really bothering her.

That boy needs watching. I will keep an eye on him and I want you to keep yours open too.

And just what would I be looking out for?

Something bad, even sinister.

He looked steadily at her, well, since you are not really prepared to tell me what the fuss is all about, I guess we should go back to bed. I have an early date tomorrow.

* * *

It was break time at Isolo High School and the students milled around in their characteristic pattern: some playing football, some basketball, others playing around with just any thing that could occupy them while others merely wandered around.

Linda Brown excused herself from her friends and went in search of Mike. When she found him, he was in company of Larry.

Larry never got involved in a game if it wasn’t indoors. Whenever it was chess, scrabble and monopoly, Larry, in just his first year, was the school champion. When she found them, they were not playing any of the games any way.

Larry saw her first as she smiled towards them. At fourteen, Linda had that feminine maturity that far engulfed her age. She was both beautiful and pretty. Her aquiline nose, extremely captivating eyes and sensuous lips that parted regularly to reveal a well-structured gap between her upper teeth made her one to always remember about. She was five feet, five inches tall, well-rounded hips that, though not overblown, could make any man looking from behind remember his bed. At least, Mike looked once and landed himself in trouble.

Now, Linda, I hope everything is okay, said Larry.

Of course, every …, Linda began but cut herself short. She suddenly understood what Larry meant. She looked ashamedly at Mike, then nodded timidly. Yes. He made me do it and I swear I will never do it again.

As Mike opened his mouth to interject, Larry beat him to it. "Better be serious about that. You see, anything could have happened. You could have died, Linda…and Mike, you could have been put away. That or the school authorities could have expelled both of you if you had left it late enough.

Mike, there are ways to express love. At this age, I honestly do not think we are ripe to do those things our parents do behind our backs. The consequences are too grave. Now, let’s keep it to ourselves and make sure it does not happen again.

As Larry spoke, Linda admired him. It was a month now after her successful abortion. She was so impressed when Mike told her the money came from Larry. Now, Larry was advising them, as truly a real friend would. Yet, he was far younger than both Mike and her.

Thank you so much, Larry, she said. Mike, you heard what Larry said? No more of those painful acts!

Come on, who says it’s painful? Mike began.

Mike! Larry cut in as the three started laughing. On a call from a friend, Linda excused herself and walked towards her.

Mike watched her leave. He looked steadily at the stunning figure, the sensational roll of the hips and memories flew back. It was one Friday evening that he had consciously noticed it. They had finished that juvenile cuddling. They had always stayed back after classes every evening behind block C, which had an unobtrusive perimeter of space. Not only Mike and Linda, other juvenile couples used it also. They had continuously wondered if the designers of the school structures actually had the idea in mind when they carved out an area of about twelve square metres to secrecy. If the school authority were aware, they never bothered, for no member of staff ever went near the secluded area nicknamed Venice by the secluded group of students who patronised the love cubicle.

That particular Friday, Mike had watched Linda go. She usually went first. He always admired her from behind. That day, he once concentrated on the lower region of that back and then noticed, for the first time, the controlled but provocative roll of her waists. Mike was no eunuch neither a virgin. He knew what hips enclosed and in one flash, wanted to explore Linda’s. He called softly after her. She turned slowly, looked into his eyes and caught the message - seismic, mutual. They were the only people in Venice at the time. Linda went back, her chest hammering.

In that moment of uncontrolled frenzy, Mike tore into her. Surprise greeted him. He truly expected a virgin. She wasn’t. That, truly, had shocked him. But then, the magnificent love techniques displayed by Linda even from odd positions was like a bolt from the blue.

When Mike reached home that night, he didn’t sleep. He rolled and rolled in bed, relishing the experience.

Henceforth, their lovemaking became a weekly affair. To both, every other Friday was Christmas of some sort. It was like playing in Paradise. But everything has its prize.

Linda was no virgin but the experience of pregnancy was truly a new one on her. So when she missed her monthly period she did not immediately know the danger she was in. The accompanying nausea and frequent vomit was attributed to one severe malaria. When it eventually became clear it was one malaria too many, it was two months gone.

And for once, Mike realised that the Friday orgies were not just paradise after all. He knew trouble when he saw one and immediately realised he was in something more than trouble. But he had Larry.

He ran to Larry, explained. And typical of Larry, he went for solution first. Now, it was over. Everything was over. The problem. The orgies. But could the orgies truly be over?

Mike watched the departing hips and wondered if ever he would heed to his friend’s warning. There were always ways.

He turned to his friend, now, Larry …

Larry held up his hand, cutting Mike short, Senator.

Senator? quipped Mike.

Larry put his hands into his shorts’ pockets in his adopted fashion, paced around and then looked directly at Mike, yes, Mike. From today, you call me The Senator.

Still surprised, Mike asked, why Senator?

Then Larry told him without hesitation, because I am going to become one.

* * *

Tried as she did, including searching his school bag regularly behind his back, Lizzy could not find anything that could lead to Larry’s sinister request from her. Instead Larry had behaved absolutely normal, his intelligence increasing. At a point, her husband called her and told her that she blew a false alarm. He explained further that their son was not only normal but would end up making them proud also.

She had looked at her husband and just nodded, praying he would be proved right.

Today, she was not at the market. She had slight malaria attack the previous night and was obeying the doctor’s orders. She was happy all the same. Larry’s second term result had come and Larry did not only come first in his class but the comments were also pointing that her husband’s assessment would come to pass.

But when she answered the door and two teenagers confronted her, what ensued forced her into a rethink.

We are looking for the Senator, one of the teenagers said.

Lizzy surveyed him and the accompanying girl. They looked like secondary school chaps but then what was happening in schools these days: to speak to her without the appropriate greetings!

Since you left your manners at home, this is not a senator’s house, Lizzy returned angrily.

Oh, forgive us, madam. Good afternoon, ma, the girl said which seemed to soften Lizzy a little.

I think it must be. Actually, the Senator we are talking about is Larry. Larry Onuigbo, continued the boy as if civility was not something to be found in his dictionary.

As Lizzy was about to shout the boy down, Larry appeared and exclaimed, Mike O! Oh, you are here! He turned to the girl, Linda too! What a surprise!

The Senator! returned Mike while