28

The two officers sent to spy on the minister were waiting on a bench outside the station when Ibrahim returned. They marched to his car.

‘Sir, we have double-checked at the Sheraton and they are 100 per cent sure that the minster did not lodge there last night,’ said the officer who had the initiative to return to the hotel to check again. ‘We also enquired with the ministry. They said that for the past week the minister has been on official duty in Norway. He isn’t due back for another week.’

‘You called the ministry?’ Ibrahim said, eyeing him suspiciously.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘What did you tell them?’

‘I asked for his aide-de-camp. They told me he was with the minister and I asked where I could reach him. That’s when they told me they are in Norway, sir.’

‘They didn’t ask why you were looking for the ADC?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Good. And you’re sure they are in Norway?’

The two answered as one: ‘Yes, sir.’

Ibrahim went to his office and shut the door. He searched his desk for the card Amaka had given him and found it under a file. He sat down and held it up, scrutinising it as if somewhere on the printed ink and the scribbled note he would find the answer to this new puzzle.

On the one hand, she wasn’t sleeping with the minister or at least she hadn’t done so last night. On the other, she had tricked him into releasing the British journalist. That was a serious crime. But why had she done it? She didn’t know the man: she had said that, and the man didn’t seem to recognise her. So why did she come looking for him?

Ibrahim had been warned to be careful when dealing with her, but now Amaka had committed an offence and it was she who now had to be careful with him. She had hindered an investigation, aided a suspect in absconding – he was sure he could think of many more laws she had broken. All he had to do was find her, and find the man she took from him, particularly now she didn’t have any Minister of Information to protect her.

He stood up from his desk, pulled out his pen and began to pace his office. He had her. He didn’t know where to find her but he had more than enough resources at his disposal. Before any of that, he had a press briefing to attend to. In a few hours he would parade the captured members of the Iron Benders gang to the media. An opportunity like that, to show the nation that the police were doing their job, was too juicy to miss. He also had to set things in motion to deliver all he had promised to do, or lied that he had done, at the Victoria Island Neighbourhood Association meeting. Then had to revise the plan for Operation Bulldog: the siege on Matori. After that he would hunt Amaka down.

Guy’s phone was still in his pocket. He switched it on and found the address book. There was only one number stored on it. He copied it down onto a notepad. Next he checked the media folder but there were no pictures. There was, however, a voice recording.

As he listened, he realised it was from the night before, outside Ronnie’s bar. The sound was not perfect but he could make out clear voices mixed in with the noise of cars passing or starting, then he recognised his own voice talking to the British journalist. He listened to the entire recording – it was long. He played it again then he sent an officer to find a charger.

He set the phone down on his desk, leaned back in his chair and clasped his fingers behind his head. So, the man had planned to do some reporting, after all.

Ibrahim’s phone rang. It was the police commissioner again. He knew he was also under a lot of pressure. Once news about the body got out, he’d have received a lot of phone calls from residents of Victoria Island, some of them able to terminate his appointment at the slightest irritation. He would have been dealing with their panic and subtle threats. He answered the phone, sitting to attention in his chair.

‘Ibrahim, I just received a call from the British High Commission. Do you have a British citizen in detention?’

Ibrahim bit his lips. ‘No, sir.’

‘Did you have any British citizen in detention?’

‘No, sir.’

‘So, where did they hear that?’

Ibrahim shut his eyes as he prepared to lie to his boss.

‘There were many white men at the scene of the incident last night, sir. We questioned some of them. Someone must have seen us talking to them and assumed we were making arrests.’

‘So, I can tell the High Commissioner that there is no British citizen in detention at your police station?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘OK. Make sure your story doesn’t change. Do you understand?’

He kept the phone to his ear long after the call had ended. Finding Amaka and the Briton had just moved to the top of his priority list.

And then Guy’s phone rang.

‘Can you hear me? It’s Ade. I’m back from Abuja. I am at the hotel. They said you have checked out. Guy? Are you there?’

He pressed the end button, paused to think, then composed a text message. ‘Can’t hear you. Wait for me in the lobby.’