Chapter Twelve

Donatus walked quietly into his compound without responding to the greeting of Henry who was the one that had opened the gate. His face was expressionless and tired-looking. He stood aside and waited for the young man to finish locking the gate.

"Henry," he called.

"Sir?", Henry answered, running over to meet him.

"Where is Timothy? Go and call him for me."

With that, he walked straight to his front door while Henry ran off on the errand.

Minutes later, Timmy strolled into Donatus' parlour. He found the man seated on a couch and reading a newspaper.

"You called me?", Timothy murmured gruffly.

"Ehen Timothy. Why have you not been picking your mother's call? How many times has your mother called you?"

"I got my reasons," Timmy shrugged carelessly.

Donatus eyed him in silence and shook his head in pity.

"Anyway, your mother wants you to come home. Your father just came back from the hospital."

"What's that got to do with me?", Timmy demanded, looking far from pleased.

"When you see her, hmm? You can ask her. Now, go and start packing your things and be getting ready to leave."

Not caring to see the expression on his apprentice's face, Donatus picked his newspaper and went off to his room.

Timmy rushed into the Boys Quarters and slammed the door after him, startling Henry and Chukwuka who had been playing a game of dice.

"Ah ah, Americana. Wetin happen? You follow person fight?", Henry asked as their grumbling friend marched past them. Timmy did not reply, instead he began throwing his clothes and other personal effects into his boxes.

"Na pack the guy dey pack so o," Henry said as he abandoned the game to watch Timmy.

"Pack go where?", Chukwuka, asked, jumping up to join him.

"Americana, where you dey pack go?", Henry demanded. But Americana said nothing in reply.

After packing up his things, he locked his three boxes and prepared to carry them out one after the other, but his friends quickly jumped in to give him a hand. He picked one box while they picked the other two and all three trooped outside to their boss' building.

Coincidentally, Donatus was also coming out of his parlour, fully dressed and looking like he was on his way out.

"What's the meaning of this? What's going on?", he demanded in surprise, referring to them and the exodus.

"My stuff," Timmy replied, frowning deeply as he dropped his load.

"Are you okay? You want to go to Abuja by this time?"

He hissed and shook his head in exasperation. He looked at his watch and pursed his lips for a while.

"Come, come inside," he called to Timmy, beckoning for him to follow him into the parlour.

"Thanks, guys," Timmy said to Henry and Chukwuka, effectively dismissing them.

"Safe journey o, Americana. No forget us o. Send us something o."

But he was already walking into the sitting room.

"Sit down here," Donatus beckoned, indicating the space beside him on the couch. "Listen to me very carefully. You will leave tomorrow morning, very early. In fact, take this clock and set alarm for 5am."

"5am? Why the he..."

"You will leave this compound before six. Enter bike from here straight to the park. God is Great Motors park. It's not too far. In fact, I think I should carry you by myself. This..."

"Nah. What's the big deal? I can do this."

"Look, this is not Abuja or America, this is Lagos. It is not a place for gentleman. You have to shine your eye otherwise... so you say you can go by yourself without help from anybody, abi?"

"Sure. I'm no baby."

"Okay o. Remember what you have just said o, because I don't want to hear stories. So like I said, you will leave here early and enter okada... motorcycle to the park. God is Great, that is the name. Then you go inside and pay for your ticket. Make sure you sit near your boxes o. Errr... I don't think there's any other thing. I hope you understand everything I said?"

"Sure. Those God is... whatever guys, they'll be going all the way to Abhooja, right?"

"Normally, yes. But anything can happen. But still, these people are very reliable. If you have any question there, ask the staff or your fellow passengers. I think they may charge you more money since you are taking three boxes, so you better take enough money with you. And by the way, be very careful when you enter the bike from here. Tell the bike man to take it easy because of your heavy boxes. That's why I even wanted to carry you m..."

"Nah, it's fine. I can take care of myself," Timmy shrugged dismissively.

"Okay o, oga care-taker. Greet your parents for me when you reach."

"Wildo."

***

At the very first ring of the alarm clock, Timmy's eyelids flew open. He had not really been fully asleep throughout the night, so the alarm had only served to distract him from his thoughts which had been mostly centred on his family.

He could not believe how on earth they could reject him and then want him back again. If he had somewhere else to go, he would have headed there and totally erased Donatus and his own family away from his memory. He hated being a toy that could be turned around whenever the turner wished. Just when he was settling down to prove to them that he was no lazy failure, they suddenly decided to recall him. For what stupid purpose?

He didn't want their apology and he would never be reconciled with them. And what was that about his father just returning from the hospital? He wished the old wizard would stay there for a much longer time or even die and be of more use since they would have his property to share. But being as wicked as he was, who knew what was in his will.

The hisses and grumblings from his friends whose sleep was being disturbed by the still ringing alarm clock jerked Timmy out of his reverie. He jumped off the bed and went over to turn it off. Then off he went to wash and brush.

Standing outside Donatus' compound in the quiet dawn, Timmy felt like he was in a graveyard. Everything was still and calm compared to the bustle and hustle that would by now be on full gear in the major roads. It was still quite a dark grey dawn, but Lagos never closed for business, so there was no question of its opening early or late.

Having been standing here for over five minutes, Timmy wondered whether he would ever find a motorcycle. Perhaps this was not where he ought to wait? He left his boxes and strolled away from the compound towards the main road.

From what he could see, there were no signs of commercial motorcycles on the street, so he might have to get one from the road. But what was that? A small bus was leaving another part of the street not more than a stone-throw from Timmy's position and was heading straight for the road.

"Hey cabbie," Timmy hailed and realized his mistake immediately, "or little bus or whatever," he added with a shrug.

The conductor, on hearing him, had signaled for the driver to stop the vehicle and it eventually rolled to a stop before it could climb onto the main road. Timmy put both hands in his pockets and watched, expecting them to come over to him. But instead, the conductor was beckoning for him to come and quickly too, judging by the speed of his beckoning hand. Reluctantly, he strolled over to them. One side of the bus had its door pulled open and the conductor jumped down.

"Where, where, where?", he asked hurriedly as Timmy approached.

"Well, I got stuff I need to pick up... just right over there and then we..."

"Wole, wole. Enter, enter."

He was rushed into the bus and the conductor swiftly jumped in after him, pulling the door close.

"Fire down," he said to the driver and the bus fired down onto the road at full speed.

"Hey, hey, that's the wrong way. You gotta..."

But Timmy was not given the chance to complete the statement. Out of the shadows, a sinister-looking young man appeared, armed with an equally sinister-looking knife.

"Shhhh," he shushed with his forefinger to his lips while his other hand brandished the knife menancingly. "Alaye, just behave yourself. Abi you wan die?"

Timmy's eyes were as wide as saucers and his mouth was open. He was staring at a human-like apparition whose face he could hardly see except for the white teeth and red eyes. The creature jerked his chin sharply, clearly a signal meant for someone, but before Timmy could look back to find out who was behind him, the conductor threw a cloth around his mouth and began to gag him tightly. Now, Timmy realized he was in big trouble. He straightened his legs and lifted his hands to pull off the gag, but that shiny demon of a knife was brought close to his face again.

"I say make you respect yourself. You no dey hear English?"

So Timmy had no choice but to relax while he was being gagged. After that, his hands were next. They were grabbed roughly from behind and tightly bound while the knife remained very close to his right eye.

His heart was beating at an abnormal rate and his breathing mirrored his fear. The vehicle maintained its speed with no sign of stopping. What on earth did they want with him and where were they taking him to?

Next, they went through his pockets and confiscated everything they could find, including his phone, transport fare and pocket comb.

"Why we no go back make we just carry the load wey him want us to carry before?", the conductor suggested after he had finished emptying their victim's pockets.

"Which useless load be that? Na load we come carry or na person we come carry?", the driver retorted angrily.

"But expensive things and even money fit dey inside na."

"Expensive things, my boot! Na longa-throat go kill you."

"Abeg stop all this talk. Make we dey go where we dey go," the knife-welding one intervened and the other two went silent.

*****

Chief sighed as his wife helped him take his seat on the couch.

"Sorry. Ndo," Rebecca said as she still held on to his arm. "Are you comfortable?"

With an angry hiss, her husband jerked his arm away from her. She sighed, went over to the adjacent couch and slumped down on it.

"How're you feeling, Papa?", the visiting Dora asked as she strolled into the sitting room from the kitchen.

"How's it your business how I'm feeling?", Chief retorted. "You think I'm easy to kill? Sorry to disappoint all of you, but the God that made me is not a Made in China God."

"You have started again," Rebecca moaned. "For Christ's sake, nobody wanted to kill you! It was just a accident... I mean, a mistake."

"I want to warn all of you," he went ahead, ignoring her. "I will soon get a licensed gun, so if you try to endanger my life in any way, you are on your own. Don't say I did not warn you."

Both women sighed and shook their heads in exasperation. Just then, Tracy walked in. She had come home the previous day to spend the holidays with her family and unlike her sister, was not very much fazed by what had recently happened to her father.

"Papa, you have a call," she said, holding out his phone to him. "I heard it ringing on the dining room table," she added by way of explanation.

He took it from her and stared at the screen.

"Dona," he murmured as he tapped 'Answer' and put the phone to his ear.

"Hello Dona, how are you? How is Lagos?", he said into the phone. (A slight pause as he listened to the reply) "No, he's not here. Why do you ask?" (Another pause as he listened with more seriousness) "Eh?", he exclaimed, sitting up immediately and attracting the attention of the women.

They watched in mild anxiety as he listened to whatever his friend was telling him on the phone.

"N... no... no problem," he said after a little while. "I.. I'll... We'll get him back. Just do what you can do. Th... thank you."

"Chief, what is it?", the now very anxious Rebecca asked, sitting at the edge of her seat as her husband disconnected the call with shaking hands.

"Timothy. They say he's missing."

"Eh? My son! Missing? Ah no o! Call him back, Chief. Te... tell him to find my son! Timothy cannot be missing. My only son? It's impossible."

She had already taken off her headgear and was sitting in a disheveled state on the floor, thrashing and wringing her hands.

"Call him back o, Chief," she cried. "Call him back now. Tell them to find my son! He's my only son. I..."

"Woman, calm down! Stop behaving like a child!", Chief scolded, but it was clear that he himself was far from calm. His voice and his hands were shaking. He held the phone, trying to make a call, but he seemed unable to find the number.

"Call the Lagos Commissioner of Police," he instructed the less concerned Tracy and handed the phone to her.

As she searched for the contact, he sat in silence, tapping his shaking forefinger on his shaking lips. Dora, who herself was not very far from being in tears, was beside her mother, doing her best to console her.

"It's ringing," Tracy said, handing the phone back to her very eager father. Then she sat down and watched them all as if they were actors in a reality TV show. Frankly, she wasn't very sad that the only valuable child of her parents was missing.