Yet another car crawled past, searching for a place to park. It was the third since Malik left her alone in his car. The engine was off and the windows up, and he had taken his keys with him. He said he wouldn’t be long but he’d been gone over thirty minutes. The residual coolness from the AC was gone and she was beginning to feel damp under her armpits.
She looked at the three soldiers a few metres away passing a joint among them. What if she tried to open the door and the alarm went off? She was in a pair of bum shorts and a tube top. Better to stay in the car and endure the growing heat.
Malik had only told her he had a quick business thing to attend to. She knew better than to ask him what, but from the large number of cars parked outside what looked like the largest compound in Osborne Estate, it had to be a party. It made sense. Some big shot was having a party and Malik was arranging girls for it. Was he planning to hand her over to someone here? Someone rich and important? Someone important enough not to have the time to make the trip to The Harem? Even though no one had ever suggested it, she was sure The Harem was not the only business he had going. The man dealt in sex, period. She had met him at one such party, and like this one, it was probably being thrown by a member of The Harem and they had contracted the pussy to him.
At first he had simply introduced himself as Malik, then he was interested in her plan to study maritime law. He mentioned the University of Dundee before she said it. He seemed to know what he was talking about. They spent most of the evening together. He seemed to know everyone; the governors, the bodyguards, the businessmen, the young, pretty girls – his staff, maybe. But at the time she had just assumed he was a guest; a rich man like the other men, but a handsome one at that – and one with manners, who actually wanted to talk about other things than what he did, how much he was worth, how he was going to take care of her. He asked for her number, after they’d spoken for hours about things she could not even remember, and she gave it to him. When she had asked for his, he smiled and said he would call her tomorrow. He didn’t try to take her back to his hotel room or his guesthouse or his home. No flirting, no suggestion that he wanted to sleep with her. It was confusing. He was confusing.
He did call her the next day as he promised, and he invited her to lunch at Double Four. After steak and wine, he took her to the Polo Club. It was the first time she ever entered the grounds of the club, and there, over more wine, he told her about this business he ran that could earn her millions in no time.
The soldiers up the road were excited over something. A joke, perhaps. One of them was bent over laughing. Another tried not to get his fingers burnt on the joint. They began moving away, walking towards the party. Naomi watched them disappear round the bend. She waited. She was alone. She looked back; no cars approaching. She looked ahead. Malik had been gone a while. Could he be returning soon? She checked both sides of the road again, her heart rate rising with her plan. She placed her fingers on the glove compartment and looked ahead. She pulled the lever. It was locked. Her hand snapped back to her lap and she checked the road again. Her hands were shaking and her heart was beating fast. It had become too hot in the car. She was looking straight ahead and she saw when he strode out of the gate onto the road. For the first time she realised she was afraid of him. She had always been afraid of him.
Malik opened the door and the inside of the car lit up. He had something in his hand. Naomi had to wait for him to close the door and place the object down between the two seats before she knew what it was: a metal detector – the type used at airports.
‘Where did you get that?’ she asked.
He held up the wand. The interior light had gone off. He switched it back on. Like a child showing off his new toy, he grinned as he said, ‘I bought it. Just now. From a policeman.’ He nodded towards the gate. ‘They had a spare one. Guess how much I paid for it.’
Her mouth was dry. ‘How much?’
‘Guess?’
‘Twenty thousand.’
‘Fifty.’ He was holding the wand up, inspecting it.
She had to appear normal. ‘Do you even know how to use it?’
He looked around. His eyes fell on her bag in the footwell. He swept the wand over it. Beep, beep, beep. He swept it over his watch. He looked at her. Her large earrings looked metallic. She retreated as he raised the wand to her face. Beep.
‘What are you going to do with it?’ she asked. He ran the wand over the steering wheel then across the dashboard. Beep, beep, beep.
The guesthouse was in Ikeja. Outside, it was an unassuming bungalow, albeit one that sat in the middle of a one-acre compound. Inside, however, it was like all the other guesthouses: cold from 24-hour AC, good furniture, 42-inch flat-screen TV, a full bar, and a uniformed maid to welcome guests and stand over them. Naomi sat on an armchair and put her arms around herself. Goosebumps spread over her skin. As usual there were other girls. Two. The women exchanged nods and kept to themselves. Two police officers sat at the dining table eating pounded yam with their bare hands. In front of them, bottles of Guinness dripped condensation onto the table.
Two police officers meant two cars. They were expecting more girls: three would ride in the back of Malik’s Range Rover with tinted windows; an officer would ride in front to make sure the car was not stopped at police checkpoints; in the back, the girls would be blindfolded. The first time, Naomi had been scared. She had trembled throughout the two-hour journey as she tried to build up the courage to snatch the blindfold off, open the door even with the car in motion, and jump out to safety. Fear had kept her glued to the seat till the car stopped moving, and doors opened, and she waited for the juju man who would strike her neck with a shimmering machete and use her head, dripping blood from the neck, in a money ritual. But that hadn’t happened and instead she had been received by Sisi, Malik’s business partner, and shown round the mansion in the middle of a forest. Two years on, and dozens of such late-night rides, Naomi, like other girls, was used to falling asleep till it was time for the blindfold to come off.
The doorbell rang and a maid went to welcome more guests. Dimeji, Malik’s boy who recruited girls for The Harem from Unilag where he was a student, walked in ahead of two girls Naomi did not recognise. The new girls clutched their overnight bags against their bodies and looked about like fowl suspicious of new surroundings. It was their first time.
Dimeji joined Malik on the sofa where Malik was writing a message on his phone. They did a fist bump, then the younger man sat next to his boss and picked up the wand that was on the cushion between them. Malik looked at him and looked back at the text he was composing. Naomi watched. In no time Dimeji had figured out the device and was beeping his watch, his phone, his belt buckle.
It was time to leave. The police officers, fed and watered, reclaimed their rifles from the floor by the dining table, then stood, tummies bloated, behind Malik as he addressed the girls. Dimeji stood to the side with the handle of the wand in one hand, and the tip of the device resting in his other palm.
‘You, you, and you, you’re going with him,’ Malik said. He had pointed at Naomi along with the two regulars. They would ride in Dimeji’s car. ‘You know the drill. Phones.’ He held out his hand.
A girl stood up and handed over her phone. Another finished typing a message and sent it as she rose from the chair. She switched off the device just before she handed it to Malik who handed it to Dimeji. Naomi faked searching her duffel bag for her phone, then the too-tight pockets of her bum shorts.
‘I think I left mine in the flat,’ she said as she got up and continued placing her hands on non-existent pockets on her tube top and looking about on her seat.
Dimeji was sweeping the wand over the two girls who had handed over their phones. Beep. Bangles. Beep. Keys.
Malik looked into Naomi’s eyes. His face showed nothing. She felt she had to say something.
‘Maybe it’s in your car,’ she said.
He brought out his phone, dialled and placed the mobile to his ear, his eyes on Naomi.
Naomi tried to remember if she switched off the phone before putting it inside herself.
‘It’s switched off,’ Malik said. ‘We’ll check in the car.
The other girls had walked out of the building ahead of her while Dimeji waited for her with the wand. She picked up her bag from the chair, and as she walked past Dimeji he held out his hand to stop her. Looking irritated, she raised her hand to deflect his.
‘If you come near me, you pervert…’ she said.
Dimeji looked at Malik. Malik wasn’t watching them. Naomi continued out of the door, her heart pounding.