Chief Ojo stepped out of the presidential suite, closed the door behind him and removed the ‘Do not disturb’ sign from the handle. He stared at the glossy door hanger – he didn’t remember placing it there. Downstairs in the lobby, waiting for the woman at the desk to get off the phone, he continued trying to put together the disjointed pieces of the night before, all of it muddled in the haze of his fantastic headache. Iyabo had been on the bed when Shehu left. He couldn’t remember if he followed his friend to the door, out into the corridor, or to the lift.
‘Good evening, sir. How may I help you?’ the woman said, jarring Ojo out of his thoughts.
Ojo placed his key card on the counter. The suite had been paid for. Originally booked for a visiting diplomat, the man had been unable to use it and Ojo had asked if he could have it. All Ojo had to do was pay for the drinks he and Shehu ordered through room service.
The girl typed on her keyboard, all the while maintaining her smile. A printer began to spool out a sheet of paper onto a table behind her. She fetched the invoice and placed it in front of Ojo.
‘What the hell?’ he shouted, reading the total on the bill.
‘What is the matter, sir?’
‘What is this?’ He waved the bill in front of her face.
‘It is your bill, sir,’ she said, uncertainty in her voice as she inspected it.
‘For a few drinks? How much is Star and Guinness?’
‘It is including the charge for the room, sir.’ Her voice became quieter as she spoke, as if retreating.
‘The room has been paid for by the liaison office. Check your records.’
‘But sir, checkout time is twelve, sir.’
‘Yes. I did not check out before twelve, so that makes two nights. Paid for.’
‘Sir, you checked in the day before.’
‘Yes. Late last night.’ He slammed the invoice on her desk.
The girl leaned in closer to inspect the figures. She struck some keys on her computer and took her time to read what was displayed on the screen, comparing it with the sheet of paper.
‘No, sir. I mean ….’
Ojo snatched the invoice from her and glared at it.
A short man in a black suit, white shirt and a kente tie appeared beside Ojo.
‘Good evening, sir,’ he said. ‘My name is Magnanimous. I am the concierge. What seems to be the problem?’
Ojo looked at his watch. At the date display.
‘Are you OK, sir?’ Magnanimous said.
‘I have been here for two days?’ Ojo said.
‘Yes, sir,’ Magnanimous said.
‘Two days.’
‘Yes.’
‘I have been in the suite for close to forty-eight hours?’
‘That is correct. What is the problem?’
‘I thought…’
‘What, sir?’
‘Nothing. Nothing. Do you accept dollars?’
Ojo paid his bill and hurried out to the car park. As he approached his maroon Mercedes, he strained to see if his driver was inside. He would have been waiting for two whole days.
The driver, a short, thin man in his fifties, ran up to Ojo.
‘Oga,’ he said.
‘Where were you?’ Ojo asked.
‘I was talking to some people there,’ the man said, pointing. ‘We are discussing the plane that crash.’
‘Plane crash? What plane crash?’
‘Oga, you never hear? One plane like that crash into Chief Adio Douglas house today-o,’ the man said. ‘Less than two hours now. They say he was inside it. They say it is opposition.’
‘Douglas? He was in the house?’
‘He was in the plane.’
‘OK. Wait. You are confusing me. Douglas was in the plane that crashed? What does his house have to do with it?’
‘The plane crash into his house.’
Silence.
‘Oga, that is how it happen. He is inside the plane and the plane crash into his house.’
‘Who was flying it?’
‘Oga, how will I know?’
Ojo was silent as he dwelt on the unbelievable information. He grabbed his phone before remembering that the SIM card was broken. The girl. Iyabo. Fuck. What did she do to him? Why?
‘Anyway,’ Ojo said to the driver. ‘Where did you sleep?’
‘Me? Inside the car.’
‘When you didn’t see me, why didn’t you come and look for me?’
‘Oga, me I do not know your room, now.’
‘And you couldn’t call me?’
‘No credit on my phone.’
‘So, if something had happened to me, you would just stay out here forever?’
‘Me I know that you are OK, sir.’
‘You knew I was OK? How?’
‘Madam phone me.’
‘Madam? Matilda called?’
‘Yes.’
‘When?’
‘Yesterday like that kind 5 o’clock.’
‘AM or PM?’
‘Early morning. She say that I shoul’ call her when we leave the hotel.’
‘How did she know we were at the hotel?’
‘Maybe you tell her, sir.’
‘You are mad. Did you tell her?’
‘No o.’
‘So how did she know?’
‘I don’t know o.’
‘She didn’t ask you?’
‘No. She said that when we leave, I shoul’ call her.’
‘What exactly did she say? And what did you say?’
‘Oga, I have told you. She said, ‘Abiodun, when you are leaving the hotel, call me and give the phone to your oga.’’
‘And what did you say?’
‘I told her I don’t have credit.’