The tallest, biggest, and probably scariest looking man, with a hideous and extremely telling scar that stood smack at the centre of his forehead, was at the old-looking yacht harboured at the abandoned marina to welcome him in on his arrival.
Musa Danjuma, the notorious and feared bodyguard as well as the closest ally and most trusted aid of the dreaded Chief Bolu Timbabu, whom he was there to see, certainly looked the part of the tales being spread about him among the people in the higher echelons of power. He was once sentenced to death for the murder of 37 people which included 11 women and children before he was recruited to serve as Chief Timbabu’s executioner.
Kulala Bodega was first stunned by the contrast between the exterior and the interior of the yacht. On the outside it looked like an abandoned yacht but being inside, he could see the posh and expensive furnishing, likened to that of the Titanic.
He hadn’t yet fully taken in the surprise when an angry voice emanating from a figure sank in a velvet couch, legs crossed on a coffee table clutching a wrap of marijuana and cocaine boomed in a complaint of his late arrival.
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He made his excuses for arriving late and was offered a seat among the other men; The vice president of Lasegeria, the former governor of the state, and a gubernatorial candidate for the upcoming election; who seemed to be there for the same reason as he, the secret meeting with the chief.
All hell would eventually let loose when Chief Timbabu would order for Kulala Bodega to transfer 250 million dollars to him from the coffers of the state and Kulala Bodega would refuse him on the premise that the state could not afford that kind of money to the amazement of the other men in the room, who seemed to agree with the chief that Kulala Bodega must have gone mad.
At a point he promised to get the money to the chief so as to make it out of the yacht alive even though he had no intention of doing so. Kulala Bodega left the yacht in one piece but with his mind made up to fight the battle against the symbol of corruption that was the chief.
He needed allies to succeed and he was now on a mission to find them.
Excerpt:
As Kulala Bodega entered the room, his heart raced inside his chest. No matter how many times he had been around the man he was there to meet, Kulala Bodega was always as nervous as he was now. Knowing exactly about how easy it was for the man in question to kill anyone, Kulala Bodega wanted to keep away from him but sometimes it was unavoidable, just like tonight.
The farthest corner of the old dockyard which was abandoned years back was pitch dark with no form of life in sight. Kulala Bodega drove to the very end and saw an old yacht harboured at the marina. His heart jumped into throat and he tried to compose himself knowing the worst thing of all would be if he looked way too intimidated. He had to look the lion straight into the eye or he will be feasted upon. After parking his car, he practically dragged his feet towards the yacht where he was greeted by the tallest and the biggest guy he had seen in his entire life with a hideous scar right in middle of his forehead. The man was Musa Danjuma, who was sentenced to death for murdering 37 people, including 11 women and children, only that he was taken out of the police custody right before his execution to serve his new master.
“Musa Danjuma” Kulala Bodega greeted him coldly and his greeting was returned with the same amount of coldness and he was led inside of the yacht instantly. The inside of the yacht was the complete opposite to how it looked from the outside.
Furnished by an expensive French interior decorator, it looked like an advanced version of Titanic.
Sank in a velvet couch in his massive and exquisitely furnished yacht, legs crossed on a coffee table, slowly dragging his jumbo wrap of Marijuana heavily mixed with raw Cocaine, was Chief Bolu Timbabu aka Chief, aka Janja. Chieftain of the ruling party, and a political lord controlling virtually all the South-West states including the rich state of aquatic splendor, Janja was the undisputed king of the dirty politics in the entire region as long as Kulala Bodega could remember. Chief Bolu Timbabu had a habit of consuming about $3000 worth of Cocaine daily, which took him to cloud nine, making him feel on top of the world where he thought, he belonged.
“Kulala, you are 3 minutes late.” Chief Bolu Timbabu exhaled a cloud of puff and looked at Bodega with piercing eyes. “Do you even realise how precious those three minutes of mine are?”
“I…I am sorry, Janja. I had a very important meeting. The state is in crisis.” Kulala Bodega stammered. His eyes started watering as he felt like Chief Bolu Timbabu was squeezing his air tract with the sole of his shoe.
“Hmph. When is the state not in crisis? How can it be with such a massive clan of Hyenas ready to masticate on its flesh and bones?” He sniggered. “Next time if you are late, do not bother showing your face to me at all.”
“Yes, Janja.” Kulala Bodega bowed his head.
“Hmm. Sit.” Janja pointed to an empty seat on his left side. Bodega looked around and with slight movement of head greeted the other men present in the yacht.
Samakwe Osibibinjo, the Vice President of Lasegeria was seated on Chief Timbabu’s right, while Olunso Fasheba, the former governor of the state and Whyte Olu, a gubernatorial candidate for the coming election, were seen sitting
adjacent to him. All the other gentlemen, Kulala Bodega wasn’t sure if gentlemen was the right word for them, looked in a good mood while Kulala Bodega was sweating bullets reason being that Chief had refused him bluntly to allow him go for a second term due to the fact that he had not been meeting up with Chief’s incessant demands for money.
“Janja, I can’t thank you enough for your promise of letting me in position another term. You are the messiah we heard about in stories.” Samakwe Osibibinjo grinned showing his golden teeth. Kulala Bodega shifted in his seat uncomfortably.
To many Lasegerians, the aforementioned men were great but to Chief Timbabu, they were both his stooges and political slaves, and must be at his beck and call except they were looking to be disgraced in the country, for all of them, have stolen too much from the public treasury, including Samakwe Osibibinjo, whom many knew as a pastor. None of them all could cross Bolu Timbabu, Bodega knew it well, too. He had to do everything in his power to please Janja who was asking a much higher price than Bodega could afford.
“Kulala” Chief Timbabu’s voice brought Bodega into the present moment.
“Ja, I am listening” Kulala Bodega’s voice shook a little knowing what was coming next.
“Kulala Bodega, Let’s talk about the reason we are here for. No shitting around, I want you to transfer $250 million into my City Top domiciliary account with immediate effect,” Chief Timbabu said in his deep voice, and puffed out as the smoke made a spiral form. Then he turned to Whyte Olu, “O’boy, are you not smoking?”
Whyte Olu smiled happily, the hour he had been longing for had eventually come, ” I wouldn’t mind, Chief.”
“Then come help yourself, my boy.” Chief gestured with his hand.
Hurriedly, Whyte Olu took the hard drugs on the coffee table and made himself a big joint, took a long drag, nodded his small head satisfactorily, and puffed out ever so slowly, saying, “Chief, good stuff as always. I appreciate.”
“I go for the best, and that’s why it costs a fortune. One of the reasons I always need a lot of money to satisfy my cravings.” Timbabu rubbed his nose.
Kulala Bodega, who has been keeping quiet all this while gulped, shook his head and went on, “Chief, I am afraid the state can’t afford that kind of money now…” He was interrupted by the chief instantly.
“Kulala Bodega, are you mad? Or have you been smoking something that we are not aware of? I am not asking you if you can, I am telling you. That means it is an ORDER” Chief narrowed his eyes thundered. Everyone in the room went silent, praying for Bodega in their heads.
The chief stood up and kicked the table in front of him shattering the glasses laid in front of them. Kulala Bodega flinched hearing the crash, the hair on the back of his neck standing.
“Look at this boy! This boy that I rigged election to make a governor, now has the temerity to say no to my demands,” Chief Timbabu thundered again and took a long drag of his weed-infused Cocaine joint.
The rest of the men begin to murmur in Kulala Bodega’s favour but did not say much fearing the chief’s wrath.
“Kulala Bodega, I am sure you wouldn’t like to be in Chief’s bad book, so do as he said,” Samakwe Osibibinjo calmly advised in a small voice. His eyes pleading his friend.
“What Chief asked is not out of place, I had been a two-time governor of the state, and was giving Chief as much as the same amount regularly even at that time,” Olunso Fasheba added.
Kulala Bodega opened and closed his mouth like a fish and shook his head in defeat. He wanted to say something but words failed him. He was frustrated beyond explaining.
After a brief pause, the chief went on, “Kulala Bodega, your presence is no longer needed here till I get an alert confirming payment, or you will be responsible for the results.” Chief said sternly staring at Bodega as he got up quickly, and started leaving.
Kulala Bodega stopped in half way to the door and sighed, “The money would be transferred on Monday morning, today is weekend, there’s nothing I can do. Please understand.”
“That’s my boy!” the Chief cried, suddenly cheerful.
Kulala Bodega murmured, “I only hope the state doesn’t go bankrupt sooner than we expect.” and stormed out angrily. There was so much he wanted to do and say but a lot was at stake. His hands were tied and tongue was, too.
He had to come up with a plan and soon. This needs to be put a stop to or things will get out of his hands completely. The chief was growing more and more greedy each day which was not a great sign.
“Had a great meeting?” Musa Danjuma smirked as Kulala Bodega passed by him. Kulala Bodega gritted his teeth and replied “Screw you!”
As he walked towards his car, his blood was boiling. He wished he could kill the chief.
“Yeah, that would solve many problems.” He said to himself as he climbed into his vehicle. If the chief wanted to treat them like dogs on the leash, they must gather his strength to bite him and find their strength. Politics was a dirty business, and there was no such thing as friends here but he knew he had to find alliances to survive this and he was ready and willing to go for it.
“Let the game begin, Chief Timbabu.” Kulala Bodega reversed the car and the tires screeched.
The war had begun.
