Third World Crime

© 2014 Ekene Ike-Ekwolo. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in

a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means

without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 04/26/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4918-9156-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-9157-5 (e)

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Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

EPILOGUE

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to Ransom Nwoji; who thought me how to love, give and forgive

AUTHOR’S NOTE

This book is a work of fiction; the characters and their names are merely imaginative. Any resemblance to any person, dead or living is earnestly coincidental.

CHAPTER ONE

Lights filtered in through the half-drawn window blinds and settled on the frowned face of the man snoring loudly in room 349 of the prestigious Trinity Hotel.

Dunga opened one eye and then the other, wondering where he was. The night had been long, the booze flowing and the women willing. That was all he could remember. Lagos, Nigeria! He had been away for seven years. How time flew. He came down from the bed and stretched still wondering how he managed to find his way back to his hotel room.

Dunga eventually gave up trying to force himself to do his daily sixty to seventy-five pushups at the ninth push. He sat down on the bed again, found his packet of Benson and Hedges, lit one and carefully replaced his lighter on the coffee table.

As the first maze of smoke flickered into the air, he heard the screech of tires downstairs and then a bang. He rushed to the window and looked down the street. People had gathered around two men who had begun to curse themselves at the top of their voices. Shattered glasses and broken car lights that littered the road told Dunga what the bang and crowd meant. Life in Lagos!

He eyed the lonely stick of cigarette that burnt away between his index and middle fingers. The NO SMOKING sign dangling in front of a gas station across the road seemed to be a warning for everyone else except him.

Two haggard-looking police officers were heading towards the scene of the accident. The resentment on the peoples’ faces as they made their way through the crowd showed how much they had lost confidence in the law enforcement agency.

Bored of looking at the dirty streets, battered vehicles and irregular buildings, he drew the curtains closed and sat on the bed again.

He wondered why he was even bothered. Half the cars in Lagos were battered, so what was the point if one or two more get got bashed? Besides, he was only in Ikoyi. Only the heavens knew how many other cars were getting into one form of accident or the other at various parts of the city.

He stubbed out the cigarette burning idly between his fingers and slowly lit another one, hoping not to hear another bang just yet.

The room looked smaller now and he wondered why he was just noticing if for the first time. Yesterday, when he came in from the airport with Kapus, it had appeared big enough.

Dunga slowly walked round the room taking in every detail of the exaggerated furnishing. It amused him to see what this part of the world referred to as a five-star hotel. It even amused him more when he figured that Trinity, with its entire splendor was not even close to a two-and-a-half star hotel if it were to be compared with Hotel de Kapitol in Ohio. The cell phone Kapus got for him the previous day rang and he reached for it.

Hello, Dunga spoke quietly into the phone.

Hello, Kapus husky voice almost deafened him. I wanted to know if you’re awake yet.

You wouldn’t have heard my voice if I wasn’t, Dunga retorted with a slight American accent.

Hmm… I thought she’d gotten you fatigued after…

Now listen, narrow tongue, cut the jokes or I’ll kill the line Kapus was alarmed, but did not push it further.

Noted. I’m coming over in thirty minutes with the car dealer guy; he said he’d join me in twenty… .

Thanks for your efforts but don’t bother any longer Dunga said.

What are you talking about? I just spotted something you’ll like. I’ve been up all morning looking Kapus said his alarm evident in his voice, worried.

And I said thanks for your pains, but it won’t be necessary any longer Kapus knew Dunga too well than to start pressing him over issues he seemed to have made up his mind about.

So, why did you change your mind all of a sudden? He asked in absence of nothing else to say.

It’s not necessary

Ok… what will today be like? Should I come pick you up?

Don’t, in fact, not yet. Get me a ticket to Abuja. I need to be out of Lagos in two hours’

What did you say? I don’t understand, I thought… .

You don’t have to understand, Kanayo. I have to be in Abuja before 3pm. I would appreciate it if I can get there even earlier. Save the questions and use your legs. The line went dead.

He sure hasn’t changed Kapus muttered to himself as he searched for his car keys.

He had known Dunga for a long time. They met over twenty years ago at Bishop Crowther Memorial Junior Seminary, Port Harcourt and both had just been admitted into their first year in the Junior Secondary. Kapus was barely twelve and it was the first time he was leaving his parents and his four sisters.

Being the only son had some advantages. His mother had wanted him to shuttle from home to school, but his strict father would not entertain such adult breast-feeding, as he referred to it.

A Kapus had no other choice than to resume school exactly on the stipulated date.

He had been stunned by the level of indiscipline showed by the older students. The toads, as Kapus and his mates were called, were forced to give up their provisions and other valuables to the senior students the very night they arrived or face serious punishment.

Seminary schools had this false façade of discipline and self control to outsiders, but Kapus’ experience was different. He made up his mind the very first night that there was nothing either ‘junior’ or ‘seminary’ about the school.

Dunga’s case was different. He started enjoying independence from his folks quite early in life. Although he was from the igbo speaking part of the country and an Igbo by birth, his Niger-Delta background and up-bringing gave him the kind of aggression and boldness they were known with and toughened him up for school.

Dunga had resumed three weeks after Kapus and others did. He was no stranger to Port-Harcourt popularly called Port. His father left Port where he worked as a technician in a refinery for Warri when he was five years old. His father, who was a technician in a refinery, had left for Warri when his income could no longer pay their bills, leaving Obi his younger brother behind.

Dunga had always visited Uncle Obi in Port during long vacations, and had often wondered why parents had to drop off their kids when the school was within walking distance. He walked 6 km to school every morning in Warri and he was considered lucky for having their house close to the school. He had often wondered why these fat, candy eating and ice-cream-licking kids could not do the half-kilometer walk to their fancy school. He was more stunned than fascinated to see these bellies and buttocks-protruding kids lazily pop out of their fathers’ cars and regard other kids as lesser mortals.

He knew they were not smarter than he was; he also knew he could make them cry for a long time. It had always amused him to imagine sticking their round heads between his bony knees and beat their buttocks like drums.

Kapus and others had vowed to recover their beverages from other students that resumed later and so far, it had been successful. They would seize their bags and demand for ransom from their mates resuming for the first time. Oboto, a 14-year-old kid that got the name because of his size would pose as a senior student and the victims would willingly pay the ransom. His size scared them.

That fateful day, a nameless, skinny boy with haste and defiance in his eyes, walked into the school compound, angry at the long search at the gate. After all the checks which he considered unnecessary because he had several things prohibited by the school yet the inspectors did not see them, he was posted to Hostel C.

He walked into the Hostel struggling with his luggage. Kapus and his group had called him and he had obediently walked up to them.

What is your name, toad? Oboto had asked getting up from the double iron bunk bed he had been lying on. Fury raged within Dunga but he held himself. Instead, he looked around, pretending he didn’t know Oboto was referring to him.

Oboto finally sat up. Are you deaf? I said what is your name, toad? He repeated.

I didn’t see the toad you were talking to. Dunga’s response was precise.

Do you know who you are talking to? asked a boy who had a habit of rapidly blinking his eyes when he talked. How will I know if you don’t tell me? Dunga asked, already bored. Please if you don’t have anything else to say to me, I’d like to be excused; I need to unpack.

Not so fast, Oboto retorted, standing up to face Dunga.

"So what do you want to do with me, Senior? Beat me?" The sarcasm in his voice was obvious.

You don’t want that to happen, do you? Kapus had asked, Senior, please don’t be angry with him He turned to Oboto patting his shoulder.

Tell him what to do if he doesn’t want me to be angry Oboto had replied, trying hard to contain the situation.

You see fella… . Kapus had started, I can help you beg Senior Oboto not to punish you, but you have to do something. He was beginning to smell trouble. There was something about the new boy that worried him. They had their way with others so easily; they had relished watching their victims get really scared. But there was something unsettling about this new boy’s eyes, and it bothered him. He wondered if the others saw it.

Ten spoons of milk and Bournvita and I will beg him to… he stopped midway as he saw the amusement in the new boy’s face. What is so funny? Kapus had asked, sweat gathering on his forehead.

You, all of you, Dunga began You all bore me. Let me go and arrange my things, I can see you guys don’t have anything for me. He had turned to leave but Oboto stopped him

Didn’t you hear what he said?

Sure, I did. Why?

And what are you going to do about it?

Walk out on you clowns. That was what I intended doing before you stopped me. Now can you give some way?

Just then a bespectacled boy came inside the hostel and announced that the new students were needed at the housemaster’s office. Dunga had followed him without knowing that was part of the game plan. He met a closed door when he eventually found the office.

He walked back to the hostel, furious with himself for falling for such a cheap prank then noticed that one of his luggage had been moved.

He had slowly walked up to them and asked after his bag. All he received was laughter. Dunga could’ve tolerated anything but not being a laughing stock.

I want my bag back Dunga started, but they continued laughing, exchanging glances. You… Dunga pointed at the bespectacled boy that made the announcement, Where is my bag? The boy had disregarded him as if he shouldn’t be there with them but in the zoo or somewhere worse. A loud roar of laughter had ensued.

Dunga had had enough. He charged towards the boy, but Oboto stopped him half way.

You think you can just… Ouch! Oboto had barely finished his ship-load of threats when Dunga kicked him on his shin. The pain came as swift as the attack. The manner with which he released Dunga’s hand was even swifter.

As Oboto regained himself, he rushed Dunga and seized his neck. Dunga managed to speak under Oboto’s firm grip.

I didn’t mean to start trouble on my first day here, all I wanted was to have my bag and… . His voice trailed off as Oboto tightened his grip.

Angry, Oboto had continued to shake Dunga vigorously, threatening to kill him. Everyone had felt sorry for Dunga except Kapus.

There was something about the new boy that fascinated him: he never gave away his feeling. Unlike other kids that shook before Oboto, this one was unruffled. He even appeared to be amused by the spittle that generously flowed from his captor’s mouth as he spoke as Oboto released him.

To everyone’s amazement, Dunga had slowly brought his head closer to Oboto’s chest and cleaned his now wet face on his scruffy shirt. The look on his face read: now do your worst.

The big boy’s attack was a shade late. As he threw his entire weight in a punch meant for Dunga’s bony face, the smaller boy ducked and Oboto landed on one of the iron beds nearby. Dunga followed him, handing out more than half a dozen punches on his surprised face in a matter of seconds.

Dunga’s attack on Oboto had surprised the other kids who tried to separate them but got their own share of his generous punches. Within minutes, Oboto and two other kids were down.

Kapus had made peace with Dunga that same night and they became friends.

Since nobody knew his name before he started handing out blows like doughnuts, the name, Dunga had come from tell-tale kids that described how the punches landed on Oboto’s tummy.

Throughout their stay in Bishop Crowder, Kapus and Dunga had been very good friends. He kept bullies off Kapus and also supplied him with academic assistance.

Kapus was a rich kid.

A tap at his door interrupted his reminiscences.

He answered the door and Musa was smiling from both sides of his mouth.

He felt sorry about the news he was going to give him. It bothered him to think he would be the one to get rid of the abundant smile on his narrow face.

You are ready, I guess. Shall we? Musa began.

I’m sorry Musa, we’ll not be going again, He said, avoiding his eyes.

You mean this morning? Musa looked confused. We’ll not be going again this morning?"

Kapus reached for a bottle of water from the fridge, poured a half glass for himself, and gulped loudly. Musa waited. We’ll not be going, again, he stressed the last word to make an impression, then added, The client changed his mind, I’m sorry. He poured more water into the glass and watched Musa from the corner of his eye.

"Walahi fa, your friend is very stupid… ."

You can do without calling him names. He won’t like it

"Go and