With one arm around the driver, the wind in his face, the passenger on the speeding motorcycle shouted into his phone. ‘Chief, the information is good. We have successfully delivered the message.’ With just one hand he slid open the back of the phone, and removed the battery, letting both components fall into the road. He felt inside for the SIM card and put it in his mouth. He threw the rest of the phone away and spat out the chewed up SIM.
Otunba stood up from the sofa, followed immediately by Ojo.
‘You want to follow me to the toilet?’ Otunba said to his son-in-law. Ojo smiled and remained standing while Otunba walked away with his phone in his hand.
He went into an empty bedroom and closed the door behind him, looked out of the window onto the pool as he waited for someone to answer, then said: ‘Your information was good.’
Malik dropped the towel onto his bed and sat down on the mattress. His body was still wet from his shower. He listened. He waited. Otunba didn’t speak. ‘She showed up?’ Malik said.
‘I believe so,’ Otunba replied.
Malik closed his eyes. A smile spread across his face. He waited for the older man to talk, but again Otunba said nothing.
‘She’s taken care of?’ Malik said.
‘What do you want?’ Otunba asked.
‘Sir, what do I want?’
‘Yes.’
‘Like, how, sir?’
‘What do you want from me?’
‘In return? Nothing, sir. You asked me to tell you what I know about Ojo, that’s all I did, sir.’
Otunba drew his finger across the glass and looked at it.
‘If you don’t want anything,’ he said, ‘that means you think you already have something.’
‘Sir, I don’t…’
‘Shut up and listen to me. Whatever you think you have, whatever you are planning to do with it, you will not live long enough to regret your actions if you go ahead. You will leave Lagos today. You will stay away till after the election. You will not contact me, or my son-in-law, or anybody, till you hear from me. Then, when I say it is OK, you will return to Lagos and you and I will talk.’
Otunba put his phone in his pocket and walked out of the bedroom.
Malik placed his hands on his hips and looked down at the bed. He stood still for a few moments, then he scrolled through his contacts and placed a call.
‘Who is this?’ a woman’s voice said.
Malik ended the call. He gritted his teeth. His hands curled into fists and he hurled the phone at his bed. It bounced once on the mattress and settled onto the wet towel.
Ojo stood as Otunba returned to the parlour and sat on the sofa. Members of the Market Women’s Association who had come to assure the kingmaker of their support for his son-in-law were talking amongst themselves. Otunba looked around. ‘Where is your friend? Where is Shehu?’
Ojo looked around the room as if he expected to find Shehu sitting or standing amongst the women. ‘He said he has some personal things to deal with at home,’ he said.
‘He said so?’ Otunba looked into Ojo’s eyes as if he expected a better answer; as if there was something wrong with the one Ojo had given.