Chapter 8: Hostage Games

My mind come back from far place. Inspector Tunde no dey my side again. I dey stare window, dey see my reflection—ghost of myself. Pain dey my chest. Musa Okoye car still dey move, outside don empty. This no be place for suya. I dey look bush, broken fence, abandoned danfo. My spirit dey whisper warning.

Finally, the car stop for abandoned warehouse. Mosquito full the place, darkness dey swallow sound. My heart dey jump. Musa Okoye tell him boys to hold Zainab, then carry me enter inside. Zainab dey cry small, but one woman dey pat her back. I dey watch, dey pray.

"Before suya, small work dey," e talk. "Police catch my second brother. I gree for hostage swap—use you collect am."

The news knock breath commot my body. I dey think—if e plan bad, wetin be my fate?

E on walkie-talkie, order, "Snipers, ready. As soon as swap finish, when police carry Ngozi, open fire. No leave anybody."

My blood run cold. I dey look exit, dey plan escape, but my body weak.

E drag my hair. "Tell me, na Inspector Tunde go come? That same Tunde wey dey your mind?"

I just dey laugh. For my mind, I dey pray say make Tunde no show. If na him, wahala go too much.

I spit blood for ground—make e know say I still get small fire. My smile vex am. E face twist. "You, betrayer!" E spit for ground. But for my mind, I dey repeat my oath.

Strange. How I be traitor? I no betray my oath. I dey serve my country, even if the country forget me. My loyalty strong like iroko root.

Twenty minutes later, walkie-talkie sound: "Oga Musa, dem don reach!" The tension rise, my palm dey sweat. I dey pray, 'God, abeg.' Musa Okoye and e boys ready guns. E arrange them like army, give order. Everybody tense.

Warehouse door open. Three people waka enter. Their step slow, careful. I dey search for Tunde, but I no see am. The one for middle, I sabi am—Musa Okoye second brother, Ibrahim Okoye. E dey limping, face strong. E dey look ground. The other two, I no recognize. But from their body, dem be my old police people. Dem dey wear plain cloth, but e dey show for their movement.

Musa Okoye squint. "Where Inspector Tunde? Why e no come?" E voice dey shake, like person wey dey fight inside.

"Musa Okoye! We bring who you want. Make we swap hostages," the plainclothes officer talk. E try sound calm, but fear dey e voice. I dey pity am.

"I talk say na Inspector Tunde suppose come! Una dey play with me?" Musa Okoye hand dey shake, gun dey wave. The air dey heavy, bullet fit fly any time. Musa Okoye shout, raise pistol, cock am. The sound sharp, echo for warehouse. Everybody freeze. Tension choke. My throat dey dry. I dey beg God for miracle.

"Musa... Musa Okoye." My voice weak, but e cut through the fear. Everybody turn. For the first time in five years, I talk. My lips dey tremble. I never hear my own voice for years. The sound shock me.

"Let... let Ibrahim go. Let those two officers go." I dey beg, my knee dey weak. My eye dey search Musa face for mercy. E look me cold. "Why?" E no dey trust me. For him mind, na trick.

"I no dey go. I go follow you." My voice low, but steady. I ready die, make dem free others. E ignore me. E dey think plan, e eyes dey move quick. I kneel slow, beg, "No let me go. I want you. I want Zainab. Three of us, make we run together, abeg."

I dey use the only weapon wey remain—pity. My voice dey crack, but I no let tears fall. E face small calm. E finally look down, drop gun. For the first time, I see regret for e eyes. E dey shake.

"Let Ibrahim go. Two officers, comot!" E voice echo for warehouse. For once, peace reign for small moment.