CRAZY MR. POTTER

It turned out we needed Maria's twenty thousand naira, and it took close to an hour before I could convince her to let it go. I had to swear on my father's grave that I will pay her back with the first ransom we receive. We paid ten thousand naira for a full day's use and made a deposit of another ten. The hiring company took down the details of Maria's international passport since none of us had a driver's license. 

The 2004 Toyota Corolla we got was in good condition—the AC worked. Maria signed to return it by eight that evening, or we will pay extra charges by the hour. We left Lagos some minutes to four that evening, heading for the factory. I drove while Eric sat beside me, and Maria sat at the back, her eyes glued to the phone. 

We got to the junction to the cocoa factory by ten minutes to five. I stopped the car and we waited for the sun to go to sleep, and after an hour it did. I started the car and turned into the road leading to the factory. No other car was in sight, and we reached the gate of the factory. I parked and switched off the car and we waited for some minutes. No light shone in any part of the factory, and no one came to find out who we are and what we were doing there. 

Eric got out of the car and walked to the gate. He opened it and I drove through without the headlights on, using the silhouette of the building as my guide. I parked and came out to join Eric and Maria in the front of the car. 

'Maria, where is the flashlight?' Eric said. 'Check the back seat.'

'Here,' Maria whispered. 

She handed it over to Eric. 

'Okay,' Eric said. 'Let's go. Keep your eyes open and be quiet.' 

We walked quietly through the darkness, trudging to the back until we got to the unlocked door. Eric pushed the door open and went in; I followed him, and Maria closed the rear. Eric turned on the flashlight.

The air was the same, stale and dusty, and the shadows of the abandoned machines formed the same strange structures on the walls. We walked to the offices, went passed them and got to the store. 

The key was in place. Eric turned it twice, unlocking the door and then opened it. He stepped into the room, followed by Maria and I.

Mr. Potter sat on the floor in the middle of the large room, his legs spread out like a woman delivering a baby in a sitting position. His right hand was up, with the palm spread opened to block the rays of the light hitting his face. His bag sat between his legs; the content spread on the floor. He looked like a man searching for a needle in a room filled with sawdust.

'Hello,' he said in the British drawl. 'How do you do?'

'Good evening, Mr. Potter,' Eric replied, taking ginger steps toward him. 'Are you okay?'

'I will be, I suppose,' Mr. Potter said, 'when I take my drugs. I can't find the bloody thing.' He looked between his legs. 'It's somewhere in here—just can't see the bloody thing.' He checked the content like a chicken darting the ground for food. Then he stopped as suddenly as he started and turned in our direction. 'Come closer; I need the light.' 

Eric moved a step closer, and we joined him. We stood over Mr. Potter like cannibals standing over their victim, wondering the best way to tackle him. I could see the middle of his head now; it was dark brownish, smeared with the dirt on the floor. His face had patches of dust.

'Are you sick?' Eric asked.

Mr. Potter turned sharply as if the question stung him.

'Didn't I tell you?' he chuckled. 'I guess you can say I am a little bit sick.' He turned back to the bag and laughed. It was a short, quiet laugh, but it sounded sad, like the laughter of a man who knew the terminal sickness would usher him to the grave. 'Honest, it's just a little sickness.'

'What's wrong with you?' I asked. 

Mr. Potter turned again. He chuckled. 'You are here for the ransom, aren't you?'

Eric and I exchanged a glance. He uttered the sad laugh again, bent his head over the bag and dipped his hand inside. He brought it out; it had a Gillette shaving stick in it. He placed it on the floor and looked up at us. 'You are here for the ransom, aren't you?'

I squatted beside him. 'What's wrong with you, Mr. Potter?'

He did not reply, but raised the index finger on his right until it came to rest on the side of his head. He twisted the finger from side to side, slowly, erringly, as if some diabolical sickness had come over him. 

'Are you saying you are crazy?' Eric asked.

'Am I crazy?' Mr. Potter said, the smile never leaving his face. 'Maybe. Maybe I am crazy. I really don't know. Crazy people don't know they are crazy, do they?' 

'Why do you sleep so much?' Maria asked. 'Is that...is that part of the sickness?'

'The bloody drugs make me sleep,' Mr. Potter replied. 'They take me to wonderland; they make me sleep.' 

'Can I see the drugs?' I asked. 

Mr. Potter looked up and chuckled. 'That's what I am looking for, old chap. Soon as I find it, you will see it.' 

He searched the bag again, his face concentrated and serious. He brought out an empty hand, stared at it for a moment and dipped it back into the bag, searching furiously. 

I turned to Eric. He shrugged and turned the flashlight to the right-hand side of the room. I saw the empty bottles we met yesterday, and Eric picked the one closest to him.

He dropped it at once. 

'It's his pee,' Eric said. 'He collected his urine in a bottle!'

Mr. Potter laughed and kept searching his bag. 

Maria squatted beside Mr. Potter. 'What's wrong with you, Mr. Potter?'

Mr. Potter stopped searching the bag. He looked up at Maria and his face stayed on her for a moment. 'The doctors say I have an early stage of schizophrenia. They say I am lucky it's not full blown yet.' He smiled and then turned his face to the bag and started another search. 'They say I have three months before I go completely...'

Maria stood and spread her hands in the air. 'We are lost; how are we going to get him to tell us anything if he is a madman?'

Mr. Potter laughed. 'You are here for the ransom, are you not? What a ransom you will get!' 

'We are lost,' Maria said again, looking at him. 'Our hope is lost.'

'Stop saying that,' Eric said.

He caught my arm and dragged me to the opposite side of the room. He knocked the bottle of pee in the process but gave no thought to even look at it. The sway of the flashlight moved the rays of light up and down the opposite wall like a brush painting a white color over the wall. Maria followed and joined us.

'Leaving so soon?' Mr. Potter asked from where he sat. 'Saying goodbye already? Stay longer and we may take a walk over the London Bridge, or walk to Buckingham Palace to see her Majesty, the Queen.' 

Eric nudged me forward and we walked out of the room. Maria followed us and Eric closed the door.

'I think he is pretending,' Eric said. 'He is pretending so we can let him go. That's what he did to Dracula and his gang. That's what he did.'

'I don't think so,' Maria said before I could respond. 'Only a crazy person can act the way he is acting?'

'Maria is right,' I said. 'He doesn't sound right to me.'

'What are you saying?' Eric asked. 

'I think he is telling the truth,' Maria said. 'He said the doctors say it's a gradual thing, didn't he? That in three months it will be fully blown. This month is probably the third month, who knows?'

Eric whirled around. 'All I want to know is how to get my money out of him, whether he is crazy or not. That's what I am interested in. I don't care if this is the third or the sixth month.'

'Stop shouting at us,' Maria said. 'We are on the same team; stop venting your frustrations on us.'

'She is right,' I said. 'The security guard might hear and come looking.'

Eric raised his hands in a mock surrender and leaned against the door. 

'The guy must be crazy,' I said. 'The drug he takes causes him to sleep; that's why he has been sleeping all the time. Why did you think the gang returned him to us? I am sure they found out he's crazy and they don't know how to get the money from him. That's why they came up with this partnership thing; they don't know how to get the ransom from him because he is crazy.'

'Eric raised his upward and dropped them. 'Okay; what I want to know is how we can get our money out of him. That's all that matters; I don't care if he is a wacko or not.'

Maria and I exchange a glance. 

'We will persuade him,' Eric said. 'We will force him to tell us what we need. We can't go through all this to end up with a mad man in our hands.'

He opened the door, and we walked back into the room. Mr. Potter sat in same position, going through the bag the same way he did before we left the room. We approached him, but his eyes remained on the floor, and I felt he did not know we had returned. 

Eric squatted in front of him, the flashlight in his hand pointing into Mr. Potter's face. 'Mr. Potter. Mr. Potter.'

Mr. Potter blinked. 

'What's your wife's name?'

Mr. Potter blinked several times. He pulled his legs together, kept his palms on the floor, and pushed downward. He stood straight up. Eric took a step backward but kept the flashlight on his face. Eric pulled the toy gun from his trouser and pointed it at Mr. Potter.

'Stay where you are,' Eric shouted. 'Stay where you are.'

I looked at Mr. Potter and in that instant, I knew why Eric asked him to stop moving. There was a smile on the side of the lips and a glint in the eyes that set my heart pounding.

'Eric,' I cried. 'Watch out—'

But Mr. Potter was already in the air, his hands stretched forward, aimed at Eric's neck. I saw his lips drew backward and his teeth gleamed in the light, before he plunged into Eric and drove him backward.

Maria screamed.