Susan pressed the electric bell at the gate a second time. She looked at the CCTV camera well-hidden from sight above the wicket gate; she was the one that put it there and knew exactly where it was. She stood bare feet outside the wicket gate holding her jogging shoes and waiting for the gateman to arrive. She wore a pink sweat suit and a BEATS BY DRE headset that doesn't quite cover her ears. Her glasses never left her face; not that she needed one but It aided the persona she preferred to sell - the harmless, nerdish personal assistant to Madame Bankole.
It had rained for most of the previous night and its evidence could be seen on the wet ground and filled water-logs on the broken asphalt street behind her. Hemce, it was quite a chilly morning. The sun was still hidden behind the clouds still gathered in the sky. No real surprise there. May-June-July was all about cats-and-dogs. Susan hated rainy weather.
Susan looked at her wristwatch and sighed. She raised her hand to press the bell again when she heard running footsteps approaching. She relaxed and waited. The peep-hole was pushed open and Musa's eyes were on her.
"Ah! Susie!" Susan heard the wicket gate unlock. Musa had an apologetic smile on his face as he held the gate open for her to enter. "Sorry, I been de pray," he said. Susan sighed again, shook her head at him and thumped his chest as she walked past him into the compound. She could perceive the faint scent of incense on him.
"You better not burn down the security lodge with this your prayer...Madam go raise her own fire and brimstone for your body if you do." They both chuckled. They also both knew it wasn't a joke. He'd been warned severely by Madam not to burn anything inside his lodge. Susan wouldn't tell, but Susan won't be of any help to him if Madam found out.
"How far you run today?"
"Three miles..."
"Tree! Walahi Susie! Who for gree make you chase am for tree mile? Bad bad people no de run for leg, dem de carry moto go operashun. If you like run pipti mile, u no go catch any armed robber for leg. If you wan catch confirm bad man, you go meet bad man make e learn you." Musa pulled on the collar of his sky-blue Jelabah. He alone in the household knew her real role in Madam Bankole's organization. The same security organization hired the both of them out. "Oyibo say, 'set a thief, make e catch a thief'."
"Are you telling me that you are a thief, Musa?" Susan asked with a twinge of amusement.
"No!" He exclaimed in horrified realization. "Kai Susie! You de always confuse wetin I talk! No go tell madam say I talk say..."
"Don't worry, Musa. I know you're a bad man. Your secret is safe with me." She slapped the back of his head in a friendly manner and turned to walk towards the house. Musa laughed and scratched his beard leering at her as she walked.
"Ah Susan! You de carry play play de beat your senior o! Na just say you be fine girl... Walahi any bad man wey touch you ehn...just point am give me. I go handle am."
Susan laughed but didn't reply this time. She knew if she turned around, she'll see him staring at her backside. She overcame the impulse to swing for him a bit. She didn't want to encourage his remarks. He was quite alone in this weather She too, and it'd been a long while since she had some. Too bad he was the gateman.
The house was some distance ahead - a one story mansion. The floor of the compound was covered with interlocking stones and had been swept by the gate man. The fountain in the middle of the compound wasn't running any water yet. There were foldable chairs and a table at the front patio. An open garage annexed the main building where a Wrangler was parked next to a vacant parking slot with a Lincoln Aviator on its other side, which was parked next to a KIA Rio and a SIENNA.
Susan stood at five feet, seven inches, was fair complexioned and had a slim figure with all the right curves in all the right places. She had a spring on her feet which gave her a hurried pace when she walked. She had finished from Navy school and had been drafted into the secret service by a god mother who knew her to be smart and quick-witted. She'd been taken to the US with a group of other students from the Secret Service Academy. There, they had been trained to be bodyguards to elitist citizens who could afford such excellent protocol services. She had gone on to get a degree in accounting from the University of Abuja and now worked full time for Alhaja Miriam Bankole. Her hobbies included shooting guns and running. She was at the local police gun-range almost every Sunday by four AM and shot till daybreak. She had even taught her boss to load and shoot a hand gun. Madam Bankole owned a small revolver now, but she doubted either her boss' children knew.
Susan walked around the building and got in through one of the back entrances into the kitchen. The swimming pool needed cleaning and the pool house was locked. Peter must have forgotten to call the pool boy, she thought to herself as she got in. The warm air in the kitchen was a sharp contrast to the now biting cold outside. She shivered as she closed the door behind her and turned to see Mrs. Bankole and her daughter Vanessa laughing at a joke. Mrs. Bankole was adding a few ingredients to the breakfast cooking on the electric cooker. Vanessa was perched on one of the long kitchen stools and watched her mother as she cooked. They turned their attention to Susan.
"There she is," Mrs. Bankole said.
"Good morning madam!" She curtsied as she greeted.
"Good morning Susie, hope you had a nice run..." Vanessa greeted.
"I did, only the impending rain made me cut it out early. Good morning." Susan replied.
"It must really be cold outside. You're shivering." Mrs. Bankole observed.
"Nothing a hundred push-ups and a hot bath can't take care of," Susan replied dismissively.
Vanessa chuckled. "Or you can take tea before your bath." Susan was too hardcore for a nerd. Vanessa's simple mind couldn't reconcile her contradictory characters. It was just the way Susan was, Vanessa had summarized. When her mother had announced that she was going to employ a full time personal assistant, Vanessa had thought she would be getting a sister to play with, talk female stuff and go shopping with. Susan hadn't filled any of those expected roles. She would have probably laughed if told that her mother's employee had trained with the marines for eighteen months. "There is fresh hot tea in the flask and I just finished making sandwiches." Vanessa pointed to the flask and the tray containing bread rolls.
Susan's face brightened and her lips twitched. "Sister V's sandwiches and tea...not a bad idea you know," she said smiling at her boss whose attention was on her cooking. Vanessa was close to the plate racks. She gave Susan a flat plate and a tea cup. Susan took a sandwich and poured herself steaming tea from the flask. She climbed on a vacant stool next to Vanessa and settled to eat.
"Breakfast is ready, and because of this weather I'd suggest we take it hot." Mrs. Bankole said.
"I'm good. Tea and sandwiches are enough for me... I didn't hear Peter come in last night, and his car isn't in the garage." Susan said.
"He's in his room. I wonder why he isn't up yet. Are we having breakfast without him, mom?" Vanessa replied.
"No way! I've missed having breakfast with my family. I wonder how soon Susie and I will have time for another. This month's schedule is really packed with activity. Am I right?"
"Yes madam. A lot of necessary trips," Susan said.
"Don't worry, I'll go wake him," Mrs. Bankole said. "Vanessa pour me a cup and put in three cubes of sugar in it."
"My little brother with the diabetic tooth..." Vanessa joked.
"Don't even joke about such things, Vanessa." Mrs. Bankole replied with a light scowl. Vanessa filled a tea cup and handed it to her mother. "Set the table for four before I get back." Mrs. Bankole instructed next and exited the kitchen for the main house.
***
The sound of knocking on Lade's bedroom door slowly diffused through the dense quiet in her head. It took her a few seconds to float back to consciousness from cloud nine. Lade lifted her head up a bit to view the blurry room with unfocused eyes. Her skin felt bloated and her fingertips tingled. The room slowly took its familiar shape in her mind and she found herself lying on the linoleum-covered floor with wool and plaster on her left cheek where Sting had hit her. she hadn't made it to the bed last night. A tourniquet was still tied loose around her left arm and the empty syringe was on the floor discarded beside her. She heard Sia playing over the CD speakers. '...for those in need... for those who speed... for those who try to slow their minds with weed... Sunday..." Whatever it meant, but she loved the rhythm.
She heard the knock a bit clearer when it sounded again. She lifted herself to sit up. "Who is it?" She didn't even recognize her own voice. It was as hoarse as an old woman's. She cleared her throat.
"It's me Cindy? Are you Okay? You don't sound okay!"
Lade's right eye was swollen while the other was puffed from sleep. She removed the tourniquet from her arm and got to her feet letting the rope fall to the floor. Her feet were wobbly. She stumbled and bent to grab at the bed sheets for support. The room swam in her eyes and she sat her butt down on the bed until she got her bearing back.
"Nicky, what's taking so long? Come and open this door!" Cindy said from the other side of the door. "Are you sure you are okay?
Lade checked the time on the wall clock. EIGHT A.M. She must've woken up earlier that morning to get a fix. Her head hurt still.
She picked up the syringe and the tourniquet and went to put both in the last drawer of her wooden dressing table which was at a corner next to her wardrobe. She arrived at the door just as Cindy knocked the third time.
"Relax, I'm fine!" Lade slurred as she unlocked the door. Cindy opened the door from outside and saw Lade standing at the door way. She gasped when she saw the bandage on Lade's face.
"Relatively," Lade added and winced when she tried to smile.
"Shit, Nicky! Wetin be dis one now?" Cindy asked with some concern on her face.
***
Banks lay on his back under the sheets of his bed and stared at the ceiling above him. For the first time since it happened, he'd re-lived his father's murder in a dream. He'd woken up with a curdling scream in his throat after relieving that terrifying moment he watched his father's eyes had glaze over. He'd lain on the bed since then thinking of how far he'd come since then.
Yet grass-to-grace wasn't what he felt in the pit of his stomach. It was the fear that brought it all back. Fear of being helpless to save his loved ones from vices while he watched them agonize. The kind of fear you feel when attacked by criminal elements when you least expect them. You are caught with your guard down. It was the same fear he'd felt last night for Lade.
A familiar knock interrupted his musing. He rubbed his eyes. "The door is open, mom!" He propped himself up with his elbow as the bedroom door opened. Mrs. Bankole entered carrying a steaming cup of tea on a saucer.
Mrs. Bankole was proud of her son. He had seen his opportunity to prove to everyone that there was still a man in the house and had taken it. Too many other boys wouldn't have acted as mature as he did. And so she made sure he never lacked anything without spoiling him. Bankole Incorporated will handle all publicity and public relations for Bankole Arts. Most of his clients were roped in by her anyway.
"I thought you were still sleeping," She said shutting the door behind her.
