SPLINTERS OF CANDOUR The room was as silent as a grave-yard despite the dozen people hanging around the exquisite apartment. Every attention was lavishly focused on the handsome woman dressed in a large gown embroidered heavily in the front. The few who were seated in the lush leather upholstery chairs could not recline their aching backs into the back-rest while gawking at the bronze-skinned woman in anticipation of the news. The others were either seating on the arm of a couch, standing with their back on the oak-panelled walls or pacing the entire ten feet of the plush rug while staring absently at the chandelier hanging from the centre of the huge sitting room. Finally, the woman exchanged some quick pleasantries over the phone, closed the flip of her cell phone and looked genuinely sober. The whole room drank from the sudden gloom that descended upon her. One of the men pacing the room walked up to the woman and prompted loudly for the benefit of his comrades. “Senator, what is the news?” his deeply baritone voice boomed through the eerie decorum. Without any warning, a coy smile curved the lips of the woman. “I won!” she announced with a loud whisper. Pandemonium suddenly overtook the hitherto melancholic room. The sudden outburst transformed the chamber into a theatre of jubilation. A couple of younger one among the men who dare keep their muscles toned hauled the woman into the air and dance around the room with the women chanting a victory song. The man who enquired about the good news flicked on the television and they all listened to the young news-caster reeled out how Senator Roseline Afagwu won his only opponent, President Audu Shettima in a landslide victory. They listened to the news gleefully while sipping white champagne from tall tumblers amidst hilarious interjections and remarks. By the time the news ended, more well-wishers have trooped into the spacious room and soft high-life music was oozing from the speakers of a home theatre situated strategically within the chamber. The men and women gyrated lightly to the tunes of Olisa Debe while sipping from their tumblers. Some of those who just arrived were gulping cold can-beers. The excitement in the air masked the arrival of a young man who slipped into the chamber about two hours later. His blue fez cap partly hid the huge black sunshade which hugged his face snugly. A thick moustache extended over his upper lips to completely give him the Inspector Gadget appearance. He paused by the bar at the corner of the room and casually scanned the faces in the room. He spotted the President-elect chatting animatedly with a group of fellow senators. As if on cue, he ambled leisurely to the far end of the room where Senator Roseline was the centre of attraction. He strolled past the group towards the home theatre and patiently surveyed the facet of the colossal appliance. He identified the button inscribed with “off” and clicked it. The sudden end of the music changed the cadence in the chamber. All attentions were diverted to the man wearing blue denim jeans beside the machine. The few who were not yet drunk approached him as they posed their ire-laden question. The man carefully removed his fez cap, the sunshade and peeled off the false moustache which disguised his real identity. He took two steps forward and smiled coyly at the President-elect. The men who approached him earlier scrambled for cover. The others in the room screamed while a few bolted for the exit. The ones who were drunk suddenly became sober and all stared at him in utter disbelief. The first person to wake from the trance was a stout, bald man dressed in the same attire as the President-elect. He took a cautious, well-calculated step forward and peered more closely at his brother-in-law. “Charles!” he called “Are you not dead?” He swallowed hard and mused over the barrenness of his question. “I mean… I… I…” he stuttered “I read the post mortem report the doctor issued after transferring you… I mean your body… to the mortuary” the bald man appeared more confused now and stared at his wife for help. Still dazed, Senator Roseline sank heavily into the nearest chair and stared absent-mindedly at the painting on the wall behind Charles. * * * * * * Ten weeks ago, Roseline has sent for his only brother who was a quantity surveyor in Port-Harcourt. She requested that he joined her campaign team for the presidential elections. Charles obliged his sister without hesitations. He understood her need of trust-worthy members in the team lest she lose to the incumbent president who was already playing some political gimmicks. Senator Roseline’s campaign team was scheduled to travel to the North-central for electioneering campaign but they never knew what calamity awaited them at President Shettima’s home state. A flat tire in the outskirt of the state necessitated a stop-over during which Senator Roseline and Charles switched cars so that she may maintain her central position in the intimidating motorcade. As they entered the state capital, they observe the unusual desertion of the major roads with nervous apprehension. As if to confirm their suspicion, a sudden deafening rattle of sub-machine guns was unleashed upon the procession. It was a perfect ambush that got them trapped in the corner of a road where their assailants could attack from three sides. The rolls-royce which was supposed to convey Senator Roseline was shot more than any vehicle in the convoy. The siege lasted long enough until the usually slow intervention of the Police ended it. Charles was one of the five victims who gave up in the hospital bed. Six other victims died at the spot while several other people were severely injured. Miraculously, Senator Roseline only suffered a small bruise on her upper arms. Investigations later revealed that the arms and ammunitions used in the mayhem were registered to the military post situated right inside the presidential villa. An identity card belonging to one of President Shettima’s security detail was even found at the battle-ground but the security man was later found dead by a road leading out of the federal capital territory. The trail became cold with the only dead suspect found and the case was swept under the carpet. President Shettima was visibly distraught. The saga and the press conference called by Senator Roseline afterward were rapidly turning the scale around. He has a nasty mess to clean. His ruthless reputation under the military administration does not make things easier as the mass media paid particular emphasis on it while recalling the attack on Senator Roseline. The “dream-killers” as he referred to the journalists, even dare reminded the public of how he shot his first son in the right calf for pilfering his gold wrist watch. Three weeks later, Senator Roseline called the president’s cell phone directly on a certain night. She asked him to meet her at the Afagwu’s residence in the Federal Capital Territory. She termed it “a concession meeting”. President Shettima understood the implication of such meeting in the face of the approaching election but cannot decline because he has a mess to clean. No evidence of murder or print could be obtained from the Afagwu’s residence the next morning. The two-storey mansion was burnt from roof to foundation. Thick smoke billowed skywards from the rubbles while the fire-fighters recovered the bodies of Senator Roseline’s mother and younger sister. Senator Roseline left the mansion early that morning to meet with some of the members of her campaign team only to come back and meet the bodies and a burnt home. It was a clean mess. The video tapes recovered from the close-circuit television’ cameras mounted around the house revealed that two black jeeps entered the compound few minutes after the departure of the Senator. Two men descended from the jeep and went inside the mansion. They later emerged from the same door and left the building hurriedly. Two hours later, the house has been completely razed by raw inferno. The two men were confirmed to be on the president’s pay-roll but none of the two men was ever found- dead or alive. Senator Roseline wept continuously for four days and refused to eat until her Doctor scared her to the dining table with some grotesque medical jargons. She declined several interview requested by journalists and told her campaign manager that she was backing out of the election. The so-called stakeholders of her political party summoned her to an inner caucus meeting. They condoled with her and lamented the injustice she suffered as nobody was convicted of the arson that claimed her mother and sister. But, they convinced her that the only way she could avenge them was to go all the way to the polls and claim the victory. A day before the elections, Senator Roseline called a press conference. At the conference, she renewed her determination to serve as the president despite all the ploys of the enemies of the Nation to stop her. It was a speech that swept the electorate off their feet. The whole calamity has not only placed her in the spotlight, it also won the heart of the masses for her. She was confident of her triumph in a free and fair election. * * * * * * Charles meandered past the spell-bound guests and well-wishers, stopped right in front of Senator Roseline and smiled snugly. The Senator looked sick. Her shock gave way to despair and finally, confusion. “Congratulations, President-elect!” Charles said with glaring sarcasm. A little crowd gathered around the siblings with eyes pleading for explanations. “Your little game eventually caught up with you”. It was Charles who owned the only voice in the room now. “It was the day that I died that I knew that you are over-ambitious” He paused to allow the spectator swallow the introduction to his revelation. “You thought that I was still in coma when you made that phone call but I heard everything you told him” he announced. Charles wore a mask of solemn grimness as if his own narration haunts him. “At first, I found it difficult to accept that you master-minded the attack that nearly killed me but killed six other innocent people”. He stressed the “six” to poke the conscience of the Senator who has started fiddling with her immaculately polished finger nails. “When Chidi and Tony confessed to how you also plotted Mama and Obiageli’s death in other to set your opponent up, I knew you have lost your mind”. He glared down at the Senator with a pair of eyes that threatens to devour her alive. She was struggling to stifle a sob. Charles scowled and scoffed loudly while surveying the room again. He caught the figure of his brother-in-law with arms folded across his chest and a disappointing frown. “Oh!” he mumbled, “the post-mortem report you received was forged, the doctor did not know anything about it. I only instructed him not to update you about my recovery so that I can make my own investigations. I hired a private detector and together, we discovered that Chidi and Tony are the criminals your wife have been using for all her little games” As Charles turned around and walked towards the exit, he doled out the last splinters of the incapacitating revelations. “The two of them have been apprehended. They confessed to all the crimes you committed and presented enough evidence that could earn you a life sentence” At the exit, he opened the door, held on to the lever, lingered for a while and turned around. He addressed his sister directly. “I’d suggest you say your farewell now, you won’t want to keep the police waiting” He walked out of the room and left the door opened for the police-men who entered immediately.
Posted on: Fri, 04 Jul 2014 07:06:33 +0000
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