Chapter Seven: Enemies in the Shadows
Zarah leaned back in her seat, the rhythmic clatter of the train on the tracks doing little to soothe her nerves. She kept her head low, her eyes darting to the windows at every stop. Her escape had bought her time, but she knew the people hunting her wouldn't give up easily.
As she stared out at the darkened countryside, her phone buzzed with a new notification. It was from Ayodele.
**Ayodele:** "Interpol is interested in the case. They want more evidence before they act. We're also getting help from a journalist in London—he's connected to a major media outlet. Stay safe."
Zarah exhaled slowly. It was a relief to know the information was making waves, but the stakes were higher than ever. She typed a quick reply.
**Zarah:** "I'm staying under the radar. Keep me updated."
---
In Lagos, Ayodele worked late into the night, pouring over the data Zarah had sent. The links between the illegal logging operations, industrial waste, and the malaria resistance patterns were damning, but not yet ironclad.
Dr. Yusuf entered the lab, his face lined with fatigue but his eyes sharp.
"We've got a problem," he said without preamble.
Ayodele looked up. "What kind of problem?"
"Word of our investigation has leaked," Yusuf said, placing a tablet on the desk. The screen displayed a news article with the headline: **"Controversial Research Tied to International Scandal."**
"They're trying to discredit us," Yusuf continued. "The article claims our findings are based on fabricated data and accuses us of working with 'foreign interests' to undermine African industries."
Ayodele clenched his fists. "This is a smear campaign."
"Exactly," Yusuf said. "And it's working. Funding organizations are already calling to 'reassess' their support."
Ayodele stared at the article, fury bubbling beneath his calm exterior. "We can't let this stop us."
"It won't," Yusuf said firmly. "But we need more allies. If we can get a major public figure or organization to back us, it could turn the tide."
Ayodele nodded. "I'll reach out to the journalist Zarah mentioned. If we can get the story out before they bury us, we'll have a fighting chance."
---
Meanwhile, Zarah arrived at a small safe house provided by a local NGO. It was a modest place, but secure. She immediately set up her laptop and began going through the files again, searching for any additional connections that might strengthen their case.
Her phone rang—it was Jamila.
"Zarah!" Jamila's voice was a mixture of relief and worry. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Zarah said, though her voice wavered. "I'm safe for now."
Jamila hesitated. "I need to tell you something. There's been a break-in at the office. They took our hard drives, Zarah. Everything."
Zarah's blood ran cold. "They're trying to erase the evidence."
"Exactly," Jamila said. "But they didn't get everything. I managed to secure our backup drives before they came."
Zarah felt a flicker of hope. "Good. Keep them safe, Jamila. And don't take any risks."
"You too," Jamila said. "Zarah, these people aren't just criminals. They're powerful. Be careful."
---
That night, Ayodele and Zarah spoke again, their voices low and serious.
"They're coming after everyone connected to this," Zarah said. "Jamila told me about the break-in. They're trying to erase all traces of the evidence."
"They've started discrediting us here too," Ayodele replied. "But the journalist in London is ready to go public with the story. Once it's out, they won't be able to silence it."
Zarah nodded, though she felt a pang of guilt. "Ayodele, I hate that you're being dragged into this."
"This isn't just your fight," Ayodele said firmly. "It's ours. And we're going to win it."
For a moment, the silence between them was heavy but comforting, a shared resolve binding them together.
---
The following day, Ayodele received a message from the journalist: **"Meeting secured with Interpol and UN representatives. Can you and your team join via video call?"**
He immediately forwarded the message to Zarah, adding a note: **"This could be it."**
---
Zarah read the message and felt a surge of determination. She quickly packed her belongings, ready to head to a nearby hub where she could securely join the call. But as she stepped outside, she spotted a black SUV parked at the end of the street.
The driver's window rolled down slightly, and a man in sunglasses glanced her way.
Her heart raced. They had found her again.
She turned and walked quickly in the opposite direction, her mind racing. She needed to lose them and get to the meeting—but how?
---