Easy Motion Tourist (25 page)

We were never going to get onto the road. Ade revved, shot forward, and applied the brakes before we knocked into the Mazda in front of us. The driver spread his fingers at us. Ade inched even closer. The car behind the Mazda didn’t look like it would stop for us either. The traffic moved the distance of a car and Ade lurched forward again. The man behind the wheel had no choice but to let us through.

The car beside us was being pushed along by a woman and two young boys. Behind them, three men were pushing a pickup van. A bonnet popped on another car.

‘Overheating,’ Ade said.

‘How far is it to his place?’

‘Not far. Once we get out of this.’

But we were never going to get out of ‘this’. Perhaps I was overreacting. Maybe we would get to his house and she would have a go at me for turning up.

Up ahead in our lane, some men climbed out of a four-by-four. Another group got out of the minivan in front of them and they all began arguing. Someone pushed someone and fists formed and flew. The cars ahead of the fracas began to move but the fight had now drawn a crowd and we were stuck.

Cars began to pull out of the lane. Ade pointed the nose of his
car into the traffic coming from behind. I heard the screeching of tyre locked on tar before I saw a body flying across our bonnet: one of the motorcycle taxis had driven into us and the driver was now deposited somewhere on the road ahead.

Tom looked straight ahead. Amaka slipped a knife off the table. He didn’t see her. She tucked it under her lap and looked at him. Amadi appeared in the doorway. When their eyes met, he broke into a smile.

‘You can excuse us now, Tom.’

Tom bowed and left.

He walked up to Amaka, stopped behind her chair and began massaging her shoulders. She stiffened. He placed his hand on her chest and spread his fingers across the base of her neck. She tucked her hand under her thigh and touched the knife with the tips of her fingers. He pushed his palm into the cup of her bra as he shifted the other into a side pocket of his garment. She lifted her leg to grip the knife. He clasped a cloth onto her face and gripped her head against his body. Her hands flew up and grabbed his. She tried to scream but instead inhaled chloroform vapour and then everything went dark.

Ade got out and went to inspect the damage. He didn’t bother to look at the person on the ground. The destroyed motorcycle lay on the road on its side, its tyres still spinning, fuel leaking from its small tank, and debris forming a trail behind it.

Other motorcycles began to park up around us. Someone helped the injured boy to his feet. He held his bleeding elbow. He didn’t have a helmet. I wanted to get out of the car but decided against it when Ade slapped the boy twice in quick succession. He was outnumbered twenty to one; what was he thinking?

The boy said something and Ade slapped him again, grabbed him by his shirt and dragged him to the door.

A huge fellow who had just arrived on his own motorcycle stepped in front of Ade. They started shouting at each other.

The argument grew louder. The mob grew. I got a few menacing glances myself. Ade opened the door and leaned in. He was sweating and he had a spectacularly vicious look on his face.

‘Hand me the bag in the glove compartment,’ he said.

I reached in and found a small leather bag. He opened it, counted out a few naira notes, and returned to the waiting men.

He handed the money to the boy who was still writhing in pain then he slapped him one more time before climbing back into the car, grinning.

By this time the traffic had subsided. He fired the engine and drove at the mob, scattering them and stirring up shouts and obscene gestures in our wake. I expected a stone or some other improvised missile to come crashing through the window.

Amadi held Amaka until her hands fell away from his and dangled by her sides. Tom stood up from the breakfast table as Amadi walked into the kitchen.

‘I want to wash my hands.’

He walked to the tap and Tom squeezed some liquid soap onto his palms and turned on the water.

‘You will go to the house in Ikeja. The driver will take you. I’m expecting guests there later tonight. Take the gateman with you. He will help you dust the house.’

Tom nodded.

Amadi picked a napkin from a stack on the island in the middle of the kitchen.

‘Follow me.’

He led Tom out the front door. The gateman jogged up to them.

‘Go and get Eremobor. You are going with Tom to Ikeja. He’ll tell you what to do when you get there.’

The boy sprinted round the house to fetch the driver.

‘Take the Range,’ he told Tom. He entered the house, walked into the dining room and watched Amaka for a few seconds before going upstairs to his room. He lifted the black bag onto his bed and retrieved his passport from under a vase in a corner.

Amadi pulled off the purple kaftan and opened his closet. He
squeezed into a pair of black jeans and a dark blue polo shirt, fetched a pair of worn trainers hidden away in the corner, then looked at himself in the mirror. He rummaged through a drawer for the spare keys to a Peugeot 504 that Eremobor sometimes used for errands. He had bought the car from an army auction, and he had kept its dark tinted windows and deep green military paint. He had never driven it himself and it had a manual transmission, no power steering, and no air conditioning, but it had a huge boot and its military appearance meant that the police would hesitate to stop it.

He returned to the ground floor, placed his bag by the front door, and went to the dining room. Looking at Amaka, he pulled out his mobile.

‘Hello?’

‘Hello.’

‘It’s time to move to Ghana,’ he said.

The Voice paused for a few moments. ‘OK. Have you taken care of the house?’

‘I’m going there now. The next time we speak I’ll be in Accra.’

‘Good. I’ll be waiting.’

He made another call.

‘Knockout? I have your money. Ask Catch-Fire to tell you where he takes me to in Ajah. Meet me there.’ He switched off the phone.

He was fleeing the country, possibly never to return. People would miss Chief Ebenezer Amadi, but nobody would notice the disappearance of Okafor Bright Chikezie. Knockout didn’t matter anymore, but Catch-Fire still did. If Knockout showed up at the bungalow, it meant Catch-Fire was still alive. If he didn’t show up, Amadi could dream of one day returning to
the country and the city he loved so much; the city that once condemned him to a life of poverty, only to spare his life and open the doors of opulence to him.

After loading the boot of the car, he opened the gate and returned to the Peugeot. The old motor responded with a roar and a puff of black smoke. Amadi drove out onto the road, pulled up by the fence and got out to shut the gate.

‘Good afternoon, sir.’

He turned and saw his neighbour’s teenage daughter. Nobody could see him leaving.

‘How are you?’

‘I’m fine, sir.’

‘And your parents?’

‘Fine, sir.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘I’m going to Lekki, sir.’

‘Lekki? Are you walking there?’

‘No, sir. I’m getting a taxi.’

‘I’ll drop you off. A young lady like you shouldn’t be taking public transport.’

‘On no, sir, I don’t want to take you out of your way. I’ll get a taxi on the main road.’

‘Don’t be silly. What will the ambassador say if he hears I let his daughter take public transport?’

He was one of the wealthiest people on the street but her parents had never invited him to their Sunday lunches. He finished locking the gate and walked round to her. He placed an arm on her shoulder to lead her to the door.

‘Thank you, sir, but I’ll be fine.’ She tried to move away and felt his hand firmly gripping her shoulder.

‘Look, you are being very rude now. Why don’t you want me to drop you? Are you going to see your boyfriend? Are you going somewhere your parents shouldn’t know about?’

‘No, sir, I’m just going to see a friend.’

‘OK then, get in.’

She looked up and down the street. She didn’t want anyone to see her getting into his car. He was not like the other neighbours. He brought young girls to his house and none of the friends of her parents visited him at home. She climbed in.

He got into the driver’s seat next to her. ‘Use your seatbelt, darling,’ he said. ‘OK. I am at your service, ma. Where exactly in Lekki do you want me to take you to?

‘Phase One, sir.’

‘All right.’ He engaged the first gear. ‘So, how old are you?’

‘Sixteen, sir.’

‘Sixteen? Whoa. You seem so mature. That boy you are going to see is very lucky.’

She smiled and looked away when she saw the way he was looking at her. She couldn’t wait to tell her friends how an older man had hit on her.

Take away the traffic and you realise that VI is not that big. We were soon driving on quieter roads having left the madness behind. We turned onto a tree-lined street with large compounds and big houses set back far away from the fences. Ade slowed down, pulled to the side, then stopped altogether. I looked at him for an explanation. He was watching something. I followed his gaze. A man had just climbed into an old green car parked in front of a house ahead.

‘What?’

‘Strange.’

‘What?’

‘That was Chief Amadi. There is a girl in the car, but unless I’m mistaken that is an army car.’

‘A girl? Amaka?’

‘I don’t know. She just got into the passenger seat. Didn’t you see?’

I looked. The car was driving away. It had tinted windows so I couldn’t see inside.

‘We have to follow them. Ade, we have to follow that car. Now.’

‘Sure, sure.’

We drove past the house and I caught a glimpse of Amaka’s Jetta through slits in the fence. It was his house. The gate had
a padlock on it. It had been locked from outside. Where were they going?

The car pulled onto a side road. When we turned into the same road it was gone.

‘We’ve lost them,’ I said.

Ade floored the accelerator and I jerked back into my seat. At the end of the road, we screeched onto an adjacent road just in time to see the car turn down another street.

Ade raced forward, only slowing when we came to the turning.

‘Get closer,’ I said.

‘If we get too close they will see us.’

He allowed the car to gain some distance on us. I didn’t like his strategy. I didn’t want to lose them. Next thing I knew he was making a phone call. It was a short conversation in a local language.

‘Who was that?’

‘My next appointment today. I was telling them I’ll be late.’

He had taken his eyes off the road to answer me and missed the car turning again.

‘They went that way,’ I said.

He nodded and accelerated.

Amadi drove fast, taking back roads to avoid traffic. He took the narrow road by the Mobile building to get onto the Lekki expressway. The exit to Lekki Phase One was just ahead.

‘I am off to America tonight,’ he said. ‘My family is there on vacation. They have insisted I should join them. Have you ever been to America?’

‘Yes.’

‘Lovely place, isn’t it? I’m going to the airport after I drop you.
Would you like me to bring you something when I get back? I should be back in about a week.’

‘Thank you, sir, I don’t need anything.’

‘Don’t be silly. What is your dress size?’ She felt uncomfortable.

‘You don’t have to worry, sir, mum buys all my clothes.’

‘At your age? Big girl like you? OK, what about an iPad? Do you have one?’

‘Yes, sir, I do.’

‘The latest one?’

‘No, sir.’

‘OK, I’ll get you the latest iPad. I see your mum often at the neighbourhood meetings. Will you tell her for me that I had to travel so I won’t be attending the next meeting?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t tell her I took you to your boyfriend’s house. It will be our little secret.’

She smiled.

‘Tell her you saw me in front of my house when I was packing my bags to go. When I get back I’ll watch out for you so I can give you your goodies, OK? Remember to tell her I’ve travelled. I’ve never missed any of the meetings without informing the secretary in advance.’

If anyone came looking for him they would ask around and be told he had gone to America. They would either wait for him to return or they would simply forget about him.

Amadi took the second exit at the roundabout and drove onto Admiralty Road. He owned a property there that he had never visited since he bought it. He didn’t even remember the way to it. The girl directed him onto a narrow, cobbled stone road then onto an even smaller one. When he stopped the car she quickly got out.

‘Remember to tell your mum I left for America today. Here, take this for your taxi back home.’

He gave her ten thousand naira in new notes.