M.O.T.I.V.E.S – Series Finale

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Like they say, all things come to an end. M.O.T.I.V.E.S by Unen Ameji’s is finally at its end.
We would like to thank our readers, new audience and fans for reaching out, liking our pages and helping out in sharing the story as it unfolded. Thank you.

M.O.T.I.V.E.S, a story set in old and modern day Nigeria, is a riveting, stimulating, suspense-filled tale of a myriad of absorbing characters with Unen Ameji’s fluid style of delivering engaging stories of greed, love, lust and power that leaves her audience on the edge of their seats, guessing and usually clamoring for more.

The story features Nigerian Tycoon and powerhouse Bello Badmus. A man who gave power as he willed, a man who controlled Presidents, a man who put men and monsters in seats of power; Florence Ohiemi aka Naomi Mambutu and her identical evil twin Josephine Ohiemi aka KudiraT Sadika Bello who are ever in battle of wills – good and evil, where evil prevails.

In a thrilling twist, the events likened to a classic game of chess sees each piece on the board take power and lose it and take it all over again. An illusion of power, an illusion of control.

The last episode will be posted next week! until then, enjoy the preview.

Read all Episodes here

*****

30th August, 2011 – Eid el Fitr Day

The man in sparkling black suit from Bello Badmus bomb blast stood anonymously in the large excited crowd. He smiled at the thought of how much his life had changed over the years. From an innocent Almajiri boy begging for his next meal to international eye for the underworld. Of course he was not just an eye to the highest bidder but one did not take pleasure in referring to oneself as a hired killer. No. One left such dark titles to those who thrived on giving unnecessary titles.
He smiled again as a young boy in his white kaftan and brown embroidered cap ran past him, shouting to his friends in a small group to wait for him. Ganbo found the brightly colored women, heavily made-up girls in kohl and animated boys running around the large mosque interesting and for a second remembered what it felt like to be part of the community.
Standing, he watched the scene play out before him. The crowd flooding into the mosque for prayers, the market filled with morning activities as big trucks offloaded clothing and fresh tomatoes to stalls along the street and vehicles entering the petrol station slowly, attendants fighting and shouting at a man who had parked his car strategically to shunt the moment the low metal gate of the petrol station opens. It was a familiar sight, the long queues during scarcity; the day being Sallah regardless.
If anyone was paying attention, they would have noticed the awkwardly tall man with the bad shoulder blade trudge past them. They would have noticed he walked briskly, stopping momentarily to ask for directions before continuing on his way, making haste as he moved from street to street, store to store asking for Gyaran Kashi, the town’s renowned bone setter; his Hausa language since failing him.
He had less than two hours to find the man he knew too well to be resourceful enough to connect him to who he needed to contact.
He had to find his father and time was ticking.
But even Ganbo, a hired eye, did not notice as men and women with extra clothing took positions in various spots, whispering into a local radio.

*****
Mubi – Adamawa State: 30th August 2011 – Eid el Fitr Day

The blazing stores, the burning human flesh, the exploding sounds of gas cylinders and stored petrol and the suffocating smell of burning petrol tanker. The thick black smoke hovering over the community moved heavily and slowly, lazily going up into the clouds, the only place it knew it could find redemption.
The roads and streets around the old large community mosque, new Pentecostal church few meters away, the busy car park adjacent to the church, the old fruit market and petrol station opposite the mosque had a new layer. Littered with dead and burning flesh; human flesh mangled with animal flesh almost in artistic depravity. A headless man had the head of a goat nestled on the severed throat in measured precision as if it were aligned. A disemboweled woman had a tuber of yam for large intestines with mashed red tomatoes for color and an amputated large bird with two right-legged limbs and male organ sprawled across the burning animal in a comical fashion.
Sounds of helicopter could be heard faintly approaching the burning community from the North and the fearless group in black hoods stood over the destruction, chanting loudly as they fired into already dead bodies, waiting for the helicopter with mounted PT-91 Twardy Battle Tank and a RPG-32 anti-tank grenade launcher. It was a fight to the finish and nothing was going to stop them.
The approaching military air vessels met their Waterloo the moment they became visible. Launch after launch, the men and vessels were blown apart. Hot dark flames falling from the skies as roar of jubilation filled the air in flagrant triumph. It was after all the fight for supremacy and the shredded bodies that lay on the streets and hanging on shrubs was evident that the end for the Nigeria State had come. The terrorists jumped into their trucks afterwards and drove away on human flesh flying their flags high while their cameraman filmed on.

*****

It was a black Tuesday as Nigerians sat across the country in front of their Televisions and watched as their country fell under siege. The live feeds coming from Adamawa and Borno states was nothing like they had seen as they saw lifeless bodies of men, women, children and animals littered callously in different communities so much that the citizens lost count of communities that had been captured, frightened and irked at the ruthlessly of the group. The live feeds looked the same in Gombi, Hong, Maiha and Demsa communities in Adamawa state. They watched as the terrorists butchered and beheaded, as the men in hoods summarily executed persons by shooting them straight in the head; they watched as the group destroyed abandoned military stations and took over their weapons and combat tanks, they watched as these men gunned down men who slept on walls, men who vowed to keep Nigeria safe, men in uniforms.
In what was the biggest terrorist attack in history of the country, the Boko Haram had staged series of suicidal bombings in different states in North East while engaging in full combat with foot soldiers and blowing up helicopters in Adamawa, Borno and Yobe States as soon as they were sighted.
It was a show of barbaric dominance and it was clear what needed to be done.
The need to show force, a change in Government.

*****

Jafal swirled the cold drink in his glass, the ice cubes connecting with the glass to give a faint clinking sound. He held the remote control in his hand and raised it to increase the volume the moment the face of his puppet filled his large screen.
“We have taken over your country, your community, your government and your military. Yes, you said we could not, I say to you, you underestimated the power of Allah. Allah gives victory and He has given us victory because we fight, we fight a just cause to free our land from sin, the sin of the West. Today we tell you there is no hiding place for you. We shall fight and we shall win. We have taken over Gwoza, Biu, Chibok….we are winning. It is just the beginning. President Obama, you underestimated us. Come and stop us. We are coming for you. Yes, we shall come for your daughters, your wives and your sons. We are coming to you now. Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!! It was a hooded Yakubu who was known as Abu Bakr al-Shafik to the populace. The country had woken up to celebrate the end of the 30 days fasting but now it lay burning.
Jafal changed the channel and the flood of headlines and calls for resignation of the President took over international and local airways.
Nigeria terror: Boko Haram takes over government – CNN
Over 10,000 persons massacred in Nigeria, Boko Haram is the new government – Al Jazeera
War declared in Nigeria, Nigeria state falls to Boko Haram, casualty rising – BBC
Resignation call: President Jang to resign – NNTA
“I would say this was our biggest victory yet” Jafal said dropping the remote control and smiling wickedly to the man who sat beside him anxiously biting on a cigar.
“I would say” Bello answered, distracted. He knew something was wrong but for the first time, he had no idea what possibly could go wrong. He casually picked up his phone and sent a text. A reply came in almost immediately. Lazily, he nodded to himself and relaxed. He was Bello Badmus after all, nothing could go wrong.
But it was all coming to an end, even for Bello Badmus.

*****
M.O.T.I.V.E.S is written by;
Uneñ Ameji
Author of Memoirs of a Justified Gold Digger on Amazon.com
See new book Love on the 25th on Okadabooks http://goo.gl/hmsKnv
W: http://bit.ly/1Il23U3
T: https://twitter.com/UnenAmeji

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M.O.T.I.V.E.S Episode 7 – @UnenAmeji

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And this week’s episode is here! If you have not been following the story, you should.

M.O.T.I.V.E.S, a story set in old and modern day Nigeria, is a riveting, stimulating, suspense-filled tale of a myriad of absorbing characters with Unen Ameji’s fluid style of delivering engaging stories of greed, love, lust and power that leaves her audience on the edge of their seats, guessing and usually clamoring for more.

The story features Nigerian Tycoon and powerhouse Bello Badmus. A man who gave power as he willed, a man who controlled Presidents, a man who put men and monsters in seats of power; Florence Ohiemi aka Naomi Mambutu and her identical evil twin Josephine Ohiemi aka KudiraT Sadika Bello who are ever in battle of wills – good and evil, where evil prevails.

In a thrilling twist, the events likened to a classic game of chess sees each piece on the board take power and lose it and take it all over again. An illusion of power, an illusion of control.

It’s dark, it’s unpredictable, it’s M.O.T.I.V.E.S

Read all Episodes here

****
Uneñ Ameji’s Note
This is purely a work of fiction. Names, Characters, Places and Incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business and government establishments, events and locales is entirely coincidental. While the State Security Service and Boko Haram insurgency is mentioned, all event are mere imaginations and projections of the author.

Episode 7

Peter Osagie – Acting Director General DDSS, June – 2011
“Please” a silent plea for release, quivering and breathless from an orgasm long overdue. An orgasm that was fast becoming molten heat traveling the length of her body before settling on her swollen sensitive pink nipples, in between her wet pulsating vaginal lips and on the tips of her impeccably painted red toes. Her mouth opened in breathless rapture, her hands firmly gripping the white bedsheets as she rode the storm that was coming.
“Not.. yet, not……yet” it was a slow murmur spoken in between wet gasps of pleasure from the man underneath. Warm, regulated and yet soft, the air around their torso interpreting the fucking motion that was threatening a crescendo, none was ready to experience, but simply could not put off any further. He felt his resolve dissolve at the same time she let out a wail of pleasure, melting into uncontrollable orgasm that left her juddering like a lone leaf in December harmattan. Her explosive cry of release triggered the pent up orgasm in his spine as he wildly let go of the hot molten essence in his sacs into her.

It had always been like this between them from the moment they had set eyes on each other. They had decided it was just physical but after eight months of intense relationship and animalistic coupling in the strangest of places, Peter popped the big question. He had never met a kinkier, flexible, sexier woman and he’d be damned if he didn’t make her his.
Peter Osagie, acting Director General of the DDSS, now cuddling his 6 months pregnant wife of 8 years remembered the first time he had seen her. Bold golden brown eyes, generous heart-shaped lips and impossibly firm tipped breasts in white T-shirt and Khaki shorts that exposed her incredibly long legs.
His blood had grown unbearably hot when he had entered the Assessment room where the new recruits were standing for formal introduction to all the senior officers before their posting to various states. The 12 months intensive training program had come to an end and as the Regional Supervisor in charge of the recruitment of discreet and diligent Nigerian citizens for the DDSS, he had gone to appraise the final 50 who proved themselves diligent and fearless for integration and he had found her, Omoni O.Omoni, the only girl in the group of 50.
When his eyes had found hers, his nose flared at her scent as he came to stand in front of her. She looked back at him passively but without fear or interest; and while her colleagues bowed their heads after few seconds of eye contact with the tall domineering man with grey airs and ungroomed dark beards against what she referred to as Mulatto skin, she boldly stared at him until he was forced to move away from her. A small smile that refused to make it to her lips appeared in her eyes.
He left Kaduna with the lusty thoughts of her set mouth, delicately slim nose and remarkable golden brown piercing eyes kept him up that night and for the first time in over 8 years in the DDSS, he effected her posting to North Central, to the Capital City and to his command without regards to experience. He simply wanted her where he could monitor her, where he was closer to her.
Omoni knew the tall Mulatto carried a touch for her and she found it amusing mostly because of his reputation of being a hard ass and slave driver. She, however wasn’t interested in his subtle advances because she knew exactly what it took for her to get into the DDSS without leg. She simply couldn’t be involved and completely ignored him. This irritated Peter to no end. Her smiles were for everyone except him. Omoni secretly admired the man for getting job done despite the rumor that he was a bastard, ruthless and distrusting. Her last and only relationship had ended when her childhood love had been gunned down in her street in Port Harcourt, caught in between gang war. He was coming straight from the airport to see her after 10 years in the States. Peter turned from subtle to blatant wooing not caring for the smack remarks about him from his subordinates. Notwithstanding she kept a firm stance.
He was everywhere she looked and soon her China walls began to crack. His stares made her hot all over and whenever she caught his eyes wandering down her body – which was often, she felt like he had undressed her and tickled her all over. She would go home to human-operated fingers for good old relief. It soon became a daily occurrence and as sickening as that was, she barely could contain the excitement of going to work – just to be undressed with piercing grey eyes.
The first raid however would seal their fate.

*****

It was like every other raid but this time something went wrong. A mole in their unit leaked the raid to the group of criminals on the Interpol watch who were wanted for war crimes in Sudan. The ambush that awaited them took the lives of eight of his best men and he was shot on his shoulders. Omoni and the group of six assigned outside had an uncanny feeling and had climbed the broken down fence at the back of the house adjacent to the building where the criminals were. The incapacious bungalow in the extremely quiet Government Reserve Area in Benin City was undoubtedly the perfect hideout. After a few yards, at a bend, she saw a truck parked and a suspicious hooded man at the wheels. She plugged her earpiece and started on a careless jog like a resident. She slowed down to tie her boots and started again, taking the turn before removing her shoe and sneaking up on the truck when she heard gone shots and was torn between going to the house as back up or wait to pursue. The man at the same time started the truck engine. She climbed into the back of the truck covered in trampoline and buried herself in the pile of dirty linen stained with human blood and discarded carton of white foam as the driver moved the car. Footsteps alerted her of people approaching and she stilled as persons jumped into the truck and the truck sped off.
“Why did you carry him?” it was one of the persons at the back of the truck struggling to drop a body, breathing hard and fast.
“Because we need him” it was a quiet answer from another.
“I hope they don’t come for him” it was the same voice.
The truck drove for hours before entering untarred road that had them galloping for several meters before stopping at the foot of a blasted rock. They were at a Quarry in Lokoja. She remained in the truck until dead in the night. New persons arrived at the camp and carried four men along, leaving two guards to keep watch of the hostage.
With hands and legs cuffed, Peter looked at the site and noticed a power bike belonging to one the guards.
Later, Peter would remember the faint sounds of foots approaching, a gun exchange and seeing her face in the moonlight. Hurried but swift, she shot the cuffs off his feet and hands before pulling him up to where they mounted the power bike and drove all night to Abaji, stopping at gas station to top the tank until his strength failed him and she had found a roadside motel along the expressway. Both of them had slept off the moment their heads touched the bed. Eight hours later, he woke up just at dusk to see her eyes looking into his. He gave a faint smile and for the first time, she smiled back.
“You had me worried there” she said quietly, watching him. She had redressed the gun wound at his shoulder while she waited for him to wake up. The wound was deep but thankfully the bullet had a clean pass.
“I am sorry” he croaked, returning a smile. He tried to sit up and failed. The kick one of the criminals delivered to his midsection was raw and the pain made him doubled over.
“Where are we?” he asked after he lay down back.
“Some lodge. The receptionist was pretty much helpful” she laughed at his question and he laughed back.
“Female?” he teased and she blessed him with another of her dazzling smiles, standing up.
“Naturally” she answered as she made to get up with her back to him. Without knowing when he moved, his good hand circled her waist and she slapped them away playfully.
“Stay. Stay with me” he asked softly with longing in his eyes and she stayed and fucked him.
The next bust of the same criminals was successful after Peter and his squad met gave wrong information to the footmen and staged pseudo operation that led to identifying the mole – Garba. Garba after he was caught led the team to make an easy arrest of the criminals frolicking with local women in their new hideout in Ajaokuta. It was the perfect mission and they returned to the capital city with criminals to parade before handing them to the police and Interpol as was customary.
That was the beginning of the hot affair that quickly escalated to a relationship that had Peter intimidating other male colleagues that found her attractive. He couldn’t stand the attention, the eyes that settled on her like his did nor did he find it remotely funny that she made him purposely jealous by refusing to be tagged as his woman. She would go out with different men to taunt him and he would fume and parade his house like a caged tiger, throwing things and smashing glass cups on the wall. When he saw her again, he would let loose his anger, jealous and possessiveness on her hot spot but it was not enough. There was only one way to make her his and he had married her after 8 months. For a man who vowed to live a single life, Peter had failed.
That was 8 years ago.
Eight years since she refused a normal life until he finally got her pregnant. He smiled at the thought.
“I love you” he murmured into her neck, sniffing her scent and withdrawing from her. Trailing kisses down her neck to her shoulders, gently biting her neck and spooning her. She was quiet.
“I have to leave for Mubi tomorrow” he said gravely as he held her for several minutes wondering how to explain his promotion all over again.
His boss – Mr. Igwe Mbaka sacked by the President who was erstwhile passive in the bomb blast and security challenges in the North East had appointed him the acting Director General and had requested a private meeting with only him few days later. A meeting that would change the face of the DDSS and their jurisdiction. What the President was asking of the Agency has never been done but as the President has gravely revealed, the country was on the verge of a coup and not even the service chiefs were to be trusted.
“I have heard you have a trusted man in the Boko Haram camp” it was the President, heavy and sad. Peter was momentarily tempted to deny it but simply nodded.
“Good. Our people are in trouble. The unity of Nigeria lies in your hands Mr. Osagie. You must do all you can to get those behind the boys or Nigeria as we all know it is over” the President had told him with a tired look in his chambers.
The next day, in a surprising move the President ordered the relocation of the command center to Gwoza, the hotbed of the terrorists activities but had called him on a secure line to ask for help. He said he was placing all he had in him.
Peter couldn’t refuse a national call. Now more than ever, he had to serve but Omoni was not impressed.
As far as she was concerned, the President was sending her husband into the vipers den. The arguments had turned from hot to tears and back to hot again until both had given up on changing each others mind. If he wanted to go, Omoni decided she’d let him.
“Be careful” was all she said after he got up butt naked and walked over to the bathroom. His decision to go undercover with only three of his trusted men to Gwoza left her feeling afraid. How easy was it for him to go and die in the name of serving his country instead of staying with her and their son? In a desperate attempt to change his mind, she had gotten an ultrasound to derail him but knowing he had a son didn’t stop the plans he made all day and all night. If anything, it fueled his zeal to get his boys underway.
Peter’s thoughts several days up to the moment were solely of one man, Bello Badmus. He knew in his gut that the unrest in the region lay with the man and if ghost could be found, he wanted to.
To Peter, it all didn’t add up.
Dying mysteriously.
Getting blown up.
Disinheriting his family.
It simply was too easy to swallow.
The Presidential order to move the command center that was untimely and with the President calling for help, Peter’s gut itched some more. It reeked of Bello Badmus’s military style of overthrowing men in power but even he knew that dead men have no bite. Voicing the suspicion to his already distressed wife and trusted men would only make him sound desperate and disillusioned.
“Who would want to kill a dead man? Who would want to use a dead man to kill more birds? Who would benefit from a dead man? His new heir?” he asked himself again and again, in writing and when staring at the ceiling in his study. The boy had not even existed until the last couple of weeks and after investigation, he was squeaky clean. If anything, it looked like a perfect stage and a puppet to distract the country from what was really going on behind the curtain.
Peter knew if he sniffed some more or connected the dots properly, he would find the pattern that would reveal who or least a clue to who or what was behind the insurgency in the North East and the call to move the command center. He was absolutely sure it had everything to do with the bombing but for the first time in 15 years in service, he had nothing sitting in his study or office. The answer was in Gwoza and he was going to get it.
When Farah’s note had reached him a day after his secret meeting with the President, it was all he needed to put the team together. The note as usual was sown into wraps of multicolored turbans. It was the only way to communicate and Farah, his mole in the Boko Haram camp hinted how he fared by how squeezed the dirty piece of brown carbon paper was and this time, the piece of note was wrung out.
Farah – Mohammed Abdirahman a freshly recruited DDSS officer had volunteered way early in the start of the uprising to get information about the group but had gotten stuck. The group grew fiercely and when the first proxy of unnamed sponsor had shown up in their camp at night 4 years ago Farah, who by now was a trusted pioneering and senior member knew he had to stay to get the faces of the men behind the group exposed. He could only leave the camp in pretense of scouting for local recruits and gathering intelligence for their next hit. He would then smuggle reports in turbans through his old Uncle to Peter.
Once he was caught with Turbans and when he was questioned rather bloodily, he said it was his ritualistic symbol in recruiting and inviting sympathizers to join the brotherhood. Yakubu – the head of the group was particularly proud of Farah’s innovation because he sent more turbans than other fighters. He was truly a worker of Allah and Farah was once again promoted to be his right hand man. However, things were getting tensed and Farah knew his time was near.
Peter was going to Gwoza to get Farah back. He owed him.

*****

The scalding hot water from the newly installed shower left Peter partly burnt and relaxed but it did nothing to stop the uneasiness and nagging feeling of sabotage.
Kole Bello had since been found dead with his throat slashed open in an apartment in the U.K. That also made headlines but it was one less maze to go through.
The Intel that the youngest of the Bellos recruited fighters from countries in the North especially Libya, Sudan and Egypt to train fighters from Nigeria and neighboring countries was the reason he had requested for Kole’s intial arrest and subsequent tailing at his father’s funeral only to be smuggled out by his mother few hours after the blast.
Farah in the last one year had steadily reported the activity of the young man and the fallout between Kole and Yakubu because Kole had started demanding some form of payment and the head was not going to pay because he was a medium. This Intel coincided with the information that Bello Badmus had tightened funds to his children for over six months. At the time Peter was optimistic that Bello may have found out his son was funding the group and was doing all he could to stop it. In fact Peter praised him quietly but when Kole’s drug smuggling activities reached its zenith with law enforcement agencies releasing Kole and his boys on Bello’s order, Peter took back his goodwill and started on the best way to cut Kole’s funding of the group.
Peter had suspected Kole was responsible for his father’s mysterious death and the bomb blast as soon as the news broke. The autopsy that had been boycotted by the family on religious ground and the eventual blow up was to Peter a perfect cover up of the murder. That had been 4 months ago. Now Peter knew for sure that Kole, like the new puppet at The Castle was a distraction and that the blow up was indeed a way to kill the dignitaries for a specific purpose than just a random terrorist attack.
The Boko boys took responsibility for the bomb blast as was expected but Farah had reported differently. Farah reported that on the day of the attack, they were raiding a community for new girls for breeding of holy warriors to continue in the fight. He reported that Yakubu had received a call and staged a recording to take responsible for the attack before spewing out other rubbish and once again warning other government officials of their continuance to serve a godless country, a country that Allah was going to redeem by spilling their blood.
Now as he dressed in his favorite clean Jeans and black sweater, he watched his wife stare at him the whole time he moved about to get ready.
“I will be back soon” he said when he finally drew her up to hug her and kiss her eyes brimming with unshed tears.
“Make sure you do or I’d be forced to come get you” she teased painfully before succumbing to his kisses once more. The sound of the horn separated them as he picked his bag pack and walked to join his three-man team.
Watching him go was one of the hardest thing she had ever done in her life. But she had to. She knew he was like a dog with a bone and until he got to the end, he would not rest.
The tears finally found their way down in lone streams as she prayed that he come back to her and their baby alive and whole. And when she blinked after the Hilux disappeared from sight, it poured.

*****
7-Man: Meeting at The Elephant, June 2011.

The calm in the room was the best they had since the new faction of seven greedy, powerful and dangerous men decided to take laws into their hands and execute their former members who went out of line. To them, actions to bring the cabal to order was betrayal and former members had paid with their lives. Each man seated in the large airy white room had one agenda and it was on who was going to be the next person to take the seat of government. The head of the faction with the deep voice searched their eager faces and refrained from laughing at their gullibility. It excited him and amused him tirelessly at how they thought they stood a chance against him. He was destined to be the next President of the country. Greedy they were but they all served his purpose – but not for long. He knew first hand what fall-out factions were capable of. They were all seated and relaxed. Some had been served drinks by his aide and the light conversation in the room soon turned serious.
“The new order of the Executive must be watched at every step. We cannot afford the mission to succeed. We have gone too far now to get a simple order forestall our plan to get the President out” it was Jafal Kartar Asiedu to the men and woman who faced him the moment he opened his mouth.
Mostly referred to as J.K Asiedu in the media, Jafal was former general and war veteran. He had served on the Nigerian side in the civil war and later headed the ECOMOG mission in Liberia rumored to have populated the region with over thousands of children from the Nigerian and Ghanian troops and had committed war crimes from summary executions to bribery, extortions and abusing women and children. He had the ambition to govern the country but luck or chance never came to his door. Now he had gone to the door of the Executive Mansion to hijack the seat. His Pastor told him to take it by force because God’s kingdom suffered violent. It was a case of who was strong enough to take it and by God, he was.
He was not a man of the people and the populace knew him for the war crimes also attributed to his Command during the Civil war. J.K was singlehandedly responsible for over 50, 000 Biafrans lives at the Gulf and when he was called to answer for his crimes, he had simply thrown his commanding officers under the ICC bus. They were found guilty and sentenced to life imprisonment until a new Attorney General of the International Criminal Court had been appointed and made a deal with the prisoners. They were to get full immunity in turn for their cooperation to name the men who had massacred and committed war crimes during the civil war.
The warden on duty found them shot in the head the next day in Dutch prison in Scheveningen where they had been temporarily transferred and detained. Where there was no evidence or witness, there was no justice. That was the problem with justice, it almost always never has no witness when it mattered the most.
He had called the emergency meeting after the President ordered the relocation of the command center to Gwoza and receiving a $140 million fund from supporting countries in the fight against terrorism. While the populace celebrated the new show of force by the Aso man – as he called the lizard in the Executive mansion, they had no idea that the directive came from the men that be, the men that owned the country and they were only two of them.
“We have that covered. The Service Chiefs are well aware of what is at stake. They are in line with the plan” it was Benedict Onwuka Njoku, the Vice president who wanted power by all means necessary and had since joined forces with the new faction members to remove the Aso man, the lizard. Jafal nodded at his enthusiasm and took a drink.
“I understand your husband disinherited you?” the question was directed at the only woman in the group of seven. The meeting had also been called in honor of her. She was perceived by the rest of the group as the hero that had made their plans easier to execute but like vipers, they waited patiently for the day they would toss her out like the garbage that she was. It was only a matter of time before it was her turn to be sacrificed.
“I find it rather unworthy of attention. The boy is nothing but an old mistake and I have it under control” the woman who sat in place of Mrs. Kudirat Bello said confidently, answering his question of being disinherited by her late husband, Bello Badmus.
“You mean like you had Bello and his repentant snakes under control” it was the lily-livered member smiling like a stranded kangaroo in Parque Zoológico Caricuao.

The plan to take over the seat of government was simple.
1. Increase the spate of killings by funding the terrorists.
2. Deploy ineffective troops.
3. Embezzlement of the $140million.
4. Stage a war breakout.
5. Overthrow the Government
6. Vanquish Boko Haram.
With the plan, it wouldn’t be long before the people called for the impeachment of the President and when that happened, the Chiefs would declare a state of emergency and take over government while the Senior Adviser to the President, the old goat Nurudeen Soyemi would silently execute the President and his backstabbing Vice. J.K was not sure Nurudeen could carry out a simple drugging of their drinks but sometimes even old goats had their uses.
The simplicity of the plan and foolish ignorant faces of the men sitting before almost caused Jafal to laugh out loud. It was all set and with the recent move of the command center, the stakes were raised higher and the blood bath that was coming was one that was going to leave the country in national mourning for a long time. He wondered who ICC was going to witch-hunt next.

“We don’t mean to pry but we must make sure there are no issues on that front. The contracts awarded to your late husband by the present government will well serve our purposes of recruiting more local and international fighters and need I remind everyone of the black market prices of these weapons? The French are bastards” it was Jafal playing the advocate.
Florence Ohiemi sat in that meeting with so much confidence that she frightened herself at the length she was willing to go to get her revenge. She knew the faces of the men in the room and it pained her dearly that these were the man responsible for senseless blood bath and unrest in the country.
It was the night after she returned from where she held Kudirat. Bello had left her to her devices but he had suggested she find more clues to help with her mission at Kudirat’s private residence. It was more than a welcomed suggestion and Florence had gone to the simple 2 bedroom bungalow surrounded by exotic plants in the heart of town. The Gardener who greeted her profusely said she had a message and she had found a note neatly attached to the letter of consolation from the Major General J.K Asiedu on her sister’s large mahogany desk in her study.
On opening the letter, a note fell out and on it was a call for an emergency meeting stating the time, date and venue on a plain sheet of paper. The address of the venue was clearly stated. That was enough to raise her curiosity and alertness. Florence knew a set up when she saw one. If indeed Josephine was involved with the high and dangerous, the address of what she suspected was a meeting of the infamous cabal would not be clearly stated on a plain sheet of paper. It would be coded.
Florence knew the smell of a fish and the letter was a stinking fish.
Perhaps they knew she had Josephine in hiding? Where her friends in high places monitoring her or Josephine in her usual fashion had more enemies than one could possibly have.
There was only one way to find out.
Arriving at the meeting at the ungodly hour stated was expected but the brief look of triumph across the Major General’s face gave Florence cause for concern. It looked like he was in on something that the rest of the group wasn’t aware and she was set to find out.
The faces of two notorious Ex-governors, Vice president, Deputy Senate president and well-respected Cleric shocked her but she had quickly feigned a cough as they all gathered round to toast to her success. Success in killing people was toasted here and Florence joined in drinking to hundreds of lives blown apart.
She smiled as she thought of Bello and slightly shuddered with pleasure at the thought of going back to his hide out in his estate.
“We will feel better once the boy is taken out of the picture” it was the well-respected Cleric interrupting her thoughts.
“I have it under control” Florence reiterated dangerously – as Josephine would and she saw them smile in satisfaction. She had no idea that she said the same thing Josephine said before Bello had been killed and the bomb had gone off few months after. Of course, she was the only one in the group to know that Bello was alive and well. She smiled at the thought.
“I am sure. This time, we don’t have three months. We need him to go quietly. Perhaps an accident? Random shootings is my favorite. Let us know if there are problems” Jafal said with good humor and they laughed as his treacherous eyes settled on her bosoms.
“If I could take care of Bello, I am utterly upset at doubting my stance on the boy” she hissed playfully after the laugh ended as if she was insulted and they all nodded their agreement.
“You all will have news in the next days about his untimely demise. However, we must contact the sellers immediately to have more guns for the boys. I’d also like to propose negotiating new arrangements. Extortion by way of high price of weaponry is not going to work for me. Should the French bastards refuse our terms, I have contacts in Syria that can get sophisticated guns for the boys. I for one think the tipping point for the new government is just a matter of force and more blood” Florence was getting into character and she found it exhilarating. It was surprising how easily one got into the role but she wasn’t amazed at her performance. She knew to get the information, she have to play the part. Impersonating Kudirat was a walk in the park.
“You will be coming with me to Dubai next week to meet them. We don’t want to stress a newly widowed and disinherited member but what must be done must be done” Jafal stated with dry humor as he declared the meeting closed and the group filed out after small talks in pairs of two while Jafal’s eyes kept resting on hers as the group cleared out of the room.
If Florence wasn’t getting ahead of herself, she noticed he was smiling unnecessarily, readily agreeing to her suggestions and making plans to taking her with him on couple of meetings. Akin Jolojolo, one of the ex-Vice Presidents obviously his right hand stewed on his foot and when he was dismissed for a private meeting with Florence, he all but stormed out as gracefully as he could.
“I should get to work. Some accidents need to happen” she said in a smile, declining his invitation as he raised his hand to her chin.
“It is not appropriate” Florence held his hand and dropped it firmly.
“I would have found you weak if you agreed. We need your new step-boy gone and soon. Daba!” he barked loudly as if he wasn’t ogling her moments prior. Immediately the door opened to reveal the man called Daba and she was ushered out of the hall, leaving a little chip behind.

*****
Bello Badmus: The Elephant, June 2011

He watched as she left his 15 room mansion with enough grounds to develop a couple of structures if he wanted but he didn’t. He liked to walk from his helipad to the house. It was one of such properties one owned just for pleasures like this. He had chaired their meeting from his study. He watched the vultures try to get favors from Jafal and watched Florence impersonate her sister to perfection. How classic. He felt like a god in handling of affairs of the State and as he came downstairs, he saw his best friend, Jafal sitting with a glass of brandy, in deep thoughts.
“Easy on the thoughts” he laughed easily coming to take the seat Florence was sitting just for a feel of her scent and the thought of dominance. The grand master and ace game player, he felt invincible.
“So how did you see her performance?” it was Bello taking a mouthful of his glass of brandy.
“If you had not told me it was your wife’s twin sister, I would have fallen for her acting” it was Jafal in his usual deep voice.
“She is good. Very good” he said almost in admiration.
“Spare me master player. You faked your own death, blew up your old friends and set Kudirat take fall for it. You killed your son to keep him from talking after using his identity to import arms and he found out he was fronting for his own father….and to top it all got this new piece fine woman to go into retirement with” he said in a low laugh generating from his throat wickedly.
“Point of correction, he wasn’t my son. After all the monies him and the others enjoyed, I had to get something from him. I have you to thank for my wife’s brilliant idea to kill me. I must say it was the right kind of creativity we needed to pull it off” he chuckled enjoying the rare praise for his bosom friend.
“And the other two from George?” Jafal asked
“Oh well, remind me to send Daba to trail my new retirement piece. I need get rid of them before they squeal and for some reasons she likes to think she has things under control” he drank heavily and chuckled again. The thought that Florence would think herself smart was admirable and stupid. Of course he knew who Naomi Mambutu was. He wasn’t Bello Badmus for nothing. Investing in his company was so sweet and innocent that he had staged an accident meet in a beach she favored in Seychelles. Oh the poor woman. He really loved her innocence and sighs of pleasure. It was not like the first time but she was the purest he could find. She would do for retirement. She seems to like beaches.
“So what is next?” Jafal asked as Bello got up to refill his glass. Jafal stretched his frame and brought out a cut cigar from his pocket and lighting it expertly before dragging it to his fill.
“Well, making you the President is not as easy as I thought. I had to kill myself” Bello all but grunted.
“You owe me” Jafal smiled referring to saving Bello’s life when he had been hired to assassinate over a decade ago. It had been the first time the two would meet and become good friends.
“I don’t think so. I have paid my dues and you on your own now” Bello smiled as he took his seat, Florence’s seat.
“Not when my boy is still after me” Jafal said almost sadly.
“I can’t help that your illegitimate son has decided to become a torn in your flesh” Bello drank from his glass.
Jafal, a prominent philanderer in his days had fathered his bastard son with an Irish maiden who had taken to a black man as moth to flame. It was invariable she got burnt with black seed. Nathaniel Asiedu now Peter Osagie was indeed a torn and now more than ever, he had everything to lose if his son, now the acting Director General got his nose in the grind.
Peter had taken up the name of his great grandparents and dissociated himself from his father the moment he was old enough to know who his father was. He was everything Peter didn’t want to be and from the moment he left the house at 12 years of age to stay with his maternal grandparent, he began a career that would bring men like his father to justice. Men like his father didn’t deserve to be left to their devices but put behind bars.
Father and son knew there was no lost love but Jafal had a soft spot for his son and he hated being put in the position to eliminate because he would. He made sure his dealings with the underworld were kept away from his son but Peter liked the dark side.
“You do realize if I go down, you go down” Jafal warned as he dragged his cigar and blew the smoke in rings watching his friend.
“You forget that I am already dead. You, my friend must be firm and extremely careful. All fingers point to you now” Bello said
“Not if I pointed them to your new squeeze. Tell me, how do you get these women to trust you implicitly?” Jafal asked brightly after a while, suddenly forgetting his distrust and cautiousness when it came to Bello. They were friends but one could never be sure with Bello Badmus.
“She thinks her sister is the new devil. She has been practically in love with me forever. Not that hard if you are lovable” Bello laughed a boyishly.
“And the boy she is supposed to kill? Is he not your son, her son?” Jafal took a lazy drag.
“Her son. I am still new to the fathering table. I am sure she is going to hide him again but this time, not from me, not for long”
“You intend to kill your son?” Jafal was shocked at the evil look that came over Bello’s clouded eyes and for the first time saw the monster that sat before him.
“How else am I going to get the control of my company back?” Bello emptied his glass.
“But when you get rid of him, Florence takes over” Jafal contended
“No” it was emphatic.
“Who then takes over?”
“You” Bello answered with a sly.
“And what happens to Florence?”
“Every good thing comes to an end, sadly” he added as an afterthought and as soon as he said it, the two men looked at themselves and broke out in loud shattering laughter that rang across the empty mansion obliviously to the chip planted in between the sofa of the chair where Florence had sat down and straight into the ears of the woman who sat in her car few streets away from the house.
The cold pimples that sprouted on her arms as she listened and the wet tears that threatened to drop was stopped just in time as she joined them in the loud shattering belly-filling laughter.
There was no end of betrayal and her suspicious had proved right.
Bello Badmus, how sweet his fall would be.
“Why is the fall of great men orchestrated by women always the sweetest?” she asked herself sweetly still coming down from the laugh as she drove to Kudirat, the recorded discussion in her possession.
After 30 days in Avianwu-replica, Kudirat was ready to play ball.
And somehow, Florence was sure Josephine was really going to enjoy playing this ball.
They say the best revenge was served cold, Florence thought the best revenge was served in painful small chops.

*****
*****

M.O.T.I.V.E.S is written by;
Uneñ Ameji
Author of Memoirs of a Justified Gold Digger on Amazon.com
See new book Love on the 25th on Okadabooks http://goo.gl/hmsKnv
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M.O.T.I.V.E.S Episode 5 – @UnenAmeji

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10 days to public holiday! Swearing in a new government or not, a break is always welcomed.

And yes, we have got Episode 5 of M.O.T.I.V.E.S By @UnenAmeji

Read all Previous Episodes Here

Episode 5
*****

“The new faction, Al Sahaba al-Islami, the terrorist group has taken responsibility for the bomb blast that took the lives of 105 people, leaving 126 people critically injured. It has been confirmed that Mr. Tamiyu Samson, Minister of Information representing the President, ex-leaders and President Abdulrasak Abubakar, Gana Itunu Konamu and Shola Ige Adebowale are among the dead while businessman Wole Jim, Governor Tashimu Kolo and Reuben Yakubu are in critical condition. Minister of Power and Transport, Hauwa Babale and Abdulahi A. Abdulahi are said to be recovering in the National hospital. This tragedy has been firmly condemned by the presidency in the strongest of terms and the President has vowed to bring this deadly group to their knees. The new group said that their action was in line with their earlier message to the Government. In a video released last month, they had demanded that the Government change the constitution of the Federal Republic to recognize the Sharia law which in effect means the country becomes an Islamic State. They had threatened the execution of statesmen in and out of office should the Government pay no heed. The mastermind, Aminu Hussein Waziri is on the run but other members of the deadly gang are now in custody of the state security service. Investigations are ongoing and the special adviser to the President on security, Ramsey Igoh has assured Nigerians of the commitment of the administration to ensure security of lives and properties. ‘These attacks will be stopped and these killers will not escape justice’ he is quoted to have said at the briefing with security chiefs. Meanwhile, the Federal Government has begun compensation of living relatives of the victims. Analysts say this new faction is politically-oriented and controlled by organized body with ties to International terrorist group, ISAS. However, this has not been confirmed by the State Department of Security. My name is Gbenga Ololade, reporting for NNTA” the articulate reporter rounded up his report as Charity who sat at her desk in her lingerie took her remote control to reduce the volume of the television.
It has been three weeks since the incidence and two weeks after the last email from her client Naomi telling her to forestall actions as against earlier instruction. It has also been two weeks of constant chat and teasing. It started as a joke after he called to report that there had been a bomb blast and his intention to forget about getting the inheritance money he humorously referred to as JRS – Jumbo Retirement Savings. The intrusive WhatsApp messages followed after and then it turned erotic until she had stopped it and refused picking Victor’s insistent calls. He had sent couple of messages after to reinforce his decision to forgo the JRS and Charity understood his fear but he was not in the position to determine if he wanted it or not. Naomi had her by the balls and there was no escaping the soft spoken blackmailer. She simply couldn’t afford to lose her grandmother who was in the custody of the woman.
Mama J, as she fondly called her grandmother, had been diagnosed with acute case of renal tubular acidosis. Late detection had caused her kidney to fail and the expensive weekly dialysis took all of Charity’s savings. She began borrowing funds from her friends and almost gave up hope before the call came.
The job was simple – sort out inheritance issues. It was the ideal standard request Charity got every other day but this time, the fee was suspiciously too good to be true but she needed the money and she believed in a miraculous God. The money however wasn’t enough to cover the new cost of keeping her Mama J alive. Naomi offered to take Mama J to India for the surgery, all-expense paid. How Naomi knew about her ailing grandmother did not occur to Charity at the time for Charity would have sold her dignity to see her Mama J smile one more day; and was grateful for yet another wondrous act of God. It wasn’t until Mama J reached India before the job description was given. She was to go against the big icon, Badmus Bello. A firm of one? she had asked herself.
This was a feat that she knew was above her competence and told Naomi there was no way she could deliver. Naomi, after successful transplant, took Mama J from the hospital to a location that was kept away from her. It was old school kidnap, only Mama J didn’t know she was kidnapped or in danger. She was alive but in captivity. Another heartache for Charity.
“This was not the deal” she complained after she was told she could only talk to her grandmother once a day when an unknown number would call her.
“You should focus on getting the job done. Your grandmother is in good hands” the soft spoken blackmailer had stated firmly but calmly.
Mama J, 59, was indeed doing fine. She sounded excited all the time now, recounting stories of places she had been, continuously praising her caretakers and asking for a visit from her dear Charity. At the end of every call, Charity’s heart broke and she cried for the position she found herself. There was only one option, give Naomi what she wanted. So no, it was not in Victor’s place to accept or reject his inheritance. Her grandmother’s life was at stake and nothing was going to stop her from getting her back.
Just then her phone rang.
“Hello” she said into the phone with a small smile. It was her latest admirer, as he called himself.
“It is Victor” he announced almost in a growl.
“I know” she smiled imagining the look on his face, his thick brows in knots, eyes piercing and lips tight in annoyance. She had watched as her gate-man turned him back few days ago but she knew she couldn’t afford to let her feelings get in the way. She was thinking too much about him lately and that was not good for the focus his blackmailing mother asked her to have. Why would she even consider a younger man whose father murdered hers and whose mother was blackmailing her and holding her grandmother hostage? She needed an intervention.
“I suppose you have been busy” he said looking at his reflection in the wooden mirror hanging askew on his wall and rubbing his beard that needed shaving. He wanted to hear her voice, wanted to argue with her, watch her sharp mouth curve in a sardonic smile and her eyes light up with amusement. He was way too interested in her and he wondered why he found her attractive. His dead iconic father had killed hers, there was no way she would be interested in him.
“Yes, I have” she lied, she had been sitting around waiting for an email from his mother.
“I just wanted to let you know that I won’t be pushing for the inheritance” he said for a lack of what to say. He had called but didn’t expect that she’d pick up. He couldn’t tell her the reason he called was because he simply wanted to hear her voice or see her.
“It is not in your hands” she said tersely, hating herself for the position she found herself.
“What do you mean?” he asked, biting his lower lips in annoyance.
“I mean you don’t have a say in it”
“You do realize that Bello was blown up, even in death. Someone hates him more than you do” he tried a dry joke.
“Trust me, that is not the issue” she said, a sad smile playing on her lips.
“I would like to know what the issue is” he pressed imagining her in her bikini. He really should stop.
“I can’t say at the moment. You should stop by the office if you really want to know. We have to go over a new document from your mother” she lied, biting her tongue at the invite. She shouldn’t be inviting him to her house. She knew what was going to happen and she was going to let it.
“I will be there” he said, smiling before ending the call.
He would make her and his mother understand that he was not interested in stolen money. He wanted nothing to do with the man but wanted everything to do with feeling those legs wrapped around him in ecstasy, those eyes drowsy with need. He smiled deeply, scratched his beard and decided against shaving. A hawker didn’t have time for grooming.
Charity stared at her screen after the call and like timed bomb, the email she had been waiting for all week popped at her. She took a deep breath before opening the new mail from Naomi.
Reading of Will at The Castle, Date – 21st March, 2011. Be there with Udale.
Call 08138911937
it said.
She had been looking to find a way to be at the reading of the Will with Victor, as she preferred to call him, and Naomi had graciously provided a number.
She made the call.
It was 8:20pm.

*****
He stood, watching the doorway like a wild cat alert for his prey. In his ripped faded blue jeans and navy blue sweat shirt, Victor was tensed as he was calm. The nagging need to see her took him by surprise and at 9:45pm, he was standing in her living room. He knew there was no way he was going to sleep one more night without seeing her. He would have her and get her out of his system for good, he kept telling himself. He was not a teenager for God’s sake.
He waited.
Charity stood staring at herself in her bathroom mirror and shook her head at herself for the umpteenth time. She was hopeless. The moment her gate-man told her a Mr. Victor was here to see her, she sped into her shower and took a cold shower. Still, she felt her heart pound against her rib cage.
“For God’s sake! I am a grown woman” she scolded herself, tying her hair into a disheveled bun and dropping it on top of her head. Taking a deep breath, she walked out to the sitting room upstairs where she had told the gate-man to take him.
She walked out just as he imagined. In a bathrobe, her hair in an untidy bun and her eyes dancing with amusement. He also knew she was not wearing underwear. He knew these things.
“Some of us have curfew” she greeted, stopping to watch him stare at her calmly.
“Some of us don’t” he said, a little smile playing around his lips. Charity watched his pink succulent lips twitch and forced her eyes away from him. He looked terribly sexy standing there, his beards overgrown, teased her; his voice filling the room and she could swear she could feel his body warmth where she was standing.
“We will be traveling for the reading of the Will” she said, going over to the installed wall refrigerator where she stored her wine. Her throat suddenly felt dry.
“I won’t be going with you” he said coming around.
“You will” she smiled as she filled two glasses and handed him one.
“I missed you” he said raising a brow after he took the first sip.
“I know” she watched him over the rim of her glass and smiled. Gosh, she felt so stupid and reckless.
“Did you miss me?” he asked as he stepped into her space, collecting her glass and staring at her pale pink lips with longing.
“Tonight we are going to forget you are a client and we are never going to talk about this” she stated calmly while her heart pounded loudly.
“I want nothing more” he said almost in a whisper. She smelt like rose water, pale scent going up his nose.
“We are going to the Castle” she said softly as his hands wound round her waist.
“What are you wearing underneath your robe, little one” he teased, breathing hot air into her ear.
“Nothing. We are going to the reading of the Will” she caught her breath as he tickled her already poking nubs.
“I am not going to the reading of the Will” he countered, moving her slowly to the wall as she moved out of his reach.
“We are” she maintained as she left his arms and walked to the middle of the room; stood in a pose with her right leg raised slightly and began losing her robe. He swallowed painfully, his eyes following her hands, heart beating out of rhythm and his second half growing painfully hard in his trousers.
She took a deep breath to steady herself, running her hands all over her partially exposed body before dropping her robe, standing there in nothing but a golden body chain demarcating her breasts in an provocative manner and an untidy bun on top of her head. He swallowed loudly as he feasted his eyes on her fresh nakedness, the junction of her thighs beckoning, the lazy lightening above giving her a glow.
“Say yes” she said slowly, staring back at him with unabashed longing. He smiled, walking over to her before dropping his head to her lips.
“No” he said in a warm breath, taking her lips in a sweet kiss.
It would be a night they both would remember for a long time.

*****
21st March, 2011 – The Castle – Reading of the Will
Alhaja Kudirat Bello had done nothing but remained in her quarters all week after she had gone to the hospital to see her daughter-in-law, Martha, who was being prepared to be taken out of the country for a surgical operation and to commiserate with the affected staff and families of those who lost persons in the bomb blast that she facilitated. Kole was in hiding, she made sure the police dogs couldn’t get him. Soon, when she assumed office, she would make sure not one uniform personnel would intimidate her last son. Debola had little stitches across his forehead, his assistant – Pastor Tayo had died in the bomb blast and he was visibly shaken.
Kudirat was disgusted with the show of weakness in her first son and wondered how he got that crowd in London to believe in his God that allowed wickedness to triumph. Laide was another thorn that had been left unharmed. Without been told, Kudirat knew Laide was busy with her manservant, Kasimu when people had gone to her father’s burial. She chuckled at the thought – uncontrollable sexual urge saving her nymph of a daughter’s life. Kasimu must have been tired by now but how else could they keep her on the leash? Such a waste. She cared less for the wench that was now helping herself with her teenage adopted sons. Bello had been right to threaten to disinherit her. The little girl indeed thought her hired gun had been the one that killed her father. Such ignorance made her want to laugh.
Kudirat remained elusive and quiet, as a widow should; waiting for the reading of the Will that would make her the President of Funtua Group of Companies in name but much more in dark circles of power. She planned to eliminate the head of the seven-man committee and soon merge with former members of the cabal who were now without leaders. She, Josephine Ohiemi, would be in charge of ruling the country. The most powerful woman in the country. It was her ultimate mission, her life purpose – to head the cabal, to dictate, to determine the fate of the country. The thrill of power was exhilarating. Such power was the reason she existed.
She had everything she wanted but in few hours she would truly own the world. The empire that she had killed and fought for would be hers. She smiled and took a sip of her herbs, adjusting her veil. If only Florence was alive to see her, gave a little triumphant chuckle. As if that was possible.
She waited for the lawyers.
It was 7am.

*****
Victor Dakar, 21st March, 2011 – The Castle – Reading of the Will

The air was fresh, pure and cool yet it was suffocating him. Sitting behind the Lexus RX Hybrid with Charity beside him in a smart grey trouser suit and impeccable red lips. He closed his eyes as they sped past the Security Guards at the main entrance of the Estate to the venue of the reading of the Will. Charity met a group of lawyers the day before and the lawyers in their flashy cars drove ahead of them to the venue. Victor was uncomfortable with the secrecy seemed to be projecting but said nothing to her.
“You will be fine. I am here” Charity said sweetly as they watched from afar the sectioned grounds where the bomb had gone off.
“I would rather be in bed with you” he said without humor, looking into her eyes. He was serious about being in her bed but more serious about having her as his. The memorable night, if anything had made the attraction worse and all he thought about was when he was going to feel her against him. He hated the fact that he gave in to her demand that he come here. He was afraid of what his reaction would be, the reaction of Bello’s wife who he surprisingly had never seen, the legal battle that will follow, his safety, the press…it would be unending mess.
“We both want that” she said and gave him a peck. He smiled as he remembered their night together.
“Not fair” he groaned, giving a deep-throated chuckle.
“Life is not” she said and he nodded as they stared at themselves.
The large office complex sitting firmly on a large square foot was finished in glass walls and Victor remembered the building. It was the first green building project in the region and as a driver newly employed in Bello’s convoy, he had been privileged to be sent with some contractor to the site for evaluation few days before he had been detained for theft of some materials and anonymously bailed out. It was in the past now but what did they say about life as a circle? he asked himself as he got down from the car.
“Are you ok?” Charity asked, swallowing the tension that was threatening to leave her bowels as she joined him.
“Yes” he smiled confidently. She smiled and walked past him to the team from the firm handling the reading of the Will. How Naomi knew them was none of her business. It made her job easier.
The elderly man with impressive white hair stepped down from his car and walked past the team of his attorney into the building. Charity was tempted to go introduce herself to the legend Jimi Brown but she decided against and together with his team, entered the imposing structure.
She was ready as she could be.

*****
Josephine knew the exact moment the lawyers arrived and had called her driver to come around the entrance. She stood up from the black sofa in her waiting room to go to the office complex where she had fixed as venue for the reading of the Will. It felt right to seat on Bello’s chair as she took power.
“Good morning Ma, the lawyers are here” it was Bello’s personal assistant Sakinat, the little cheater Bello had been running around with. She would deal with her in due course, she thought with light-hearted malice.
“Is Debola there?” she asked, emptying the content of her small mug.
“Yes Ma, everyone is seated and waiting for you” she said simply, not mentioning the new faces that had been admitted into the boardroom.
“I will be there shortly” she said coolly, dismissing the flat-chested girl.
Josephine had since been in touch with Dele Adewole who confirmed that the Will that he was going to read was the one Badmus had made over a decade ago where he named her his sole heir.
Dele who escaped the bomb blast told newsmen who cared to listen that the only thing that saved his life was a phone call, an emergency at work that needed his attention and that staying behind in the executive mansion for few minutes to sort out the issue was the reason he had not been blown into pieces like some of his colleagues that had come to pay their final respect.
That wasn’t the truth. The truth was that Josephine had asked him to wait for her in Bello’s office but she had no intention of meeting him there. She had done that to save his life because she needed him to read the Will. She could only imagine what he thought would happen in Bello’s office. The first and last romp was to make sure he stayed a loyal dog. And so far, he was.

She arrived at the glass house, past the reception and walked majestically into the boardroom, barely glancing at the array of suited men at the table. The atmosphere was charged with expectation and she could feel it. She turned in time to see a man in black suit jacket and blue jeans stare blatantly at her with contempt. He looked like someone she knew from another life. The resemblance had her brain scrambling for recognition. She watched him and he looked like he was about to say something when Jimi Brown, Adewole’s partner came in her line of vision. She would ask the young man of his father when the reading of the Will was over, she thought. He looked vaguely familiar and in her line of business must have met his father.
“Where is Adewole?” she asked as she shook him, taking her seat.
“I am afraid Adewole had to go to London on an indictment charge” Jimi said with a small smile, walking over to the other end of the room to take his seat. Josephine had never really liked Jimi because of his upright stance and white hair that he thought was a mark of excellence and distinction.
The week before, offline and online media had been flooded with the news of bomb blast with various editors and column writers giving their views and analyzing polls supporting the act of terrorism against the executive arm of the Government. Opinions were that the new faction group was doing the country a favor by wiping out corrupt politicians. She couldn’t agree more. This week however, the front page featured the reading of Chief Badmus Bello’s Will. Josephine couldn’t wait to have her pictures splashed across newspapers, magazine and interviews.
Seating at the head of the dark brown mahogany conference table with a seating capacity of thirty people with Debola, Laide, Feyi – Bello’s sister, Sule – Bello’s step brother, the attorneys and two strangers she believed where necessary to capture this historic moment sat, she signaled that Jimi commence the read.
“I will be presiding over the reading of the Will” Jimi said quite loud for the occupants of the cold room to hear as he sat at the other end of the table with a speaker placed in his front.
The room was silent, belying the tension in the room. Sweat was pouring under Debola’s armpits, Laide sat with her legs crossed; the excitement in the building would be transferred to her manservant; Feyi, Badmus’s sister and thorn in Josephine’s side sat expecting a showdown and Sule, Bello’s step-brother sat uninterested. He was here because he wanted to be. He had his own empire to run.
“I would like to tell all in this room that this document is the last will and testament of Chief Badmus Bello. He has chosen us as the executioners. We will proceed if there are no objections” he continued, looking around the faces as the Will, sealed was brought out from a briefcase. He waved the document to show that the sealed was not broken.
“Go ahead” Sule waved quickly.
“Alright” Jimi said
“This is the last dying will of Chief Badmus Bello. I read” the lawyer said and began to read.
LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT
Of
Chief Badmus Bello, FSV, OON

1. Declaration
I hereby declare that this is my last will and testament and that I hereby revoke, cancel and annul all wills and codicils previously made by me either jointly or severally. I declare that I am of legal age to make this will and of sound mind and that this last will and testament expresses my wishes without undue influence or duress.
2. Family Details
I am married to Alhaja Kudirat Sadika Bello hereinafter referred to as my spouse.
I have the following children from her:
Name: Adebola Olusegun Bello. Date of Birth 17th June, 1983
Name: Laide Yejide Bello. Date of Birth 30th March, 1984
Name: Kolawole Bankole Bello. Date of Birth 2nd June, 1986
However, these people have ceased to be my family as I have since known that my wife of 29 years have been unfaithful and heartlessly imposed her lover’s children on me. Her lover, George Ajero, is their father and I have supporting documents to this claim.
I state here that I have a son with Florence Ohiemi.
Name: Inale Ohiemi-Bello. Date of Birth 1st September, 1982. He is the only son I have.
3. Appointment of Executors
3.1. I hereby nominate, constitute and appoint Adewole & Jimi, Attorneys at Law as Executor or if this Executor is unable or unwilling to serve then I appoint Florence Ohiemi as alternate Executor.
3.2. I hereby give and grant the Executor all powers and authority as are required or allowed in law, and especially that of assumption.
3.3. I hereby direct that my Executors shall not be required to furnish security and shall serve without any bond.
3.4. Pending the distribution of my estate my Executors shall have authority to carry on any business, venture or partnership in which I may have any interest at the time of my death.
3.5. My Executors shall have full and absolute power in his/her discretion to insure, repair, improve or to sell all or any assets of my estate, whether by public auction or private sale and shall be entitled to let any property in my estate on such terms and conditions as will be in the best interest of my beneficiaries.
3.6. My Executors shall have authority to borrow money for any purpose connected with the liquidation and administration of my estate and to that end may encumber any of the assets of my estate.
3.7. My Executors shall have authority to engage the services of attorneys, accountants and other advisors as he/she may deem necessary to assist with the execution of this last will and testament and to pay reasonable compensation for their services from my estate.
4. Beneficiary
I bequeath the whole of my estate, property and effects, whether movable or immovable, wheresoever situated and of whatsoever nature to my son, my blood, Inale Ohiemi-Bello
5. Alternate Beneficiaries
5.1. Should my spouse, Alhaja Kadirat Sadika Bello disagree, I direct that her three children be subjected to paternity test in full glare of the media and results published in the National Daily. I have provided my DNA at The Trinity Hospital, Ikoyi and Dr. John Gagbena is commissioned to carry out the test.
5.3. I direct that the inheritance devolving upon any of her children under my last will and testament as well as the proceeds, the reinvestment of such proceeds and the income thereon be ignored.
5.4. If any of her children are proved to be indebted to me before my death by means of a legal instrument, then his / her debt shall not be paid from my estate.
5.5. I direct that my adopted grandsons be placed on monthly allowance of $1000 until their 25th birthday and actions be taken against their mother should she be unwilling to let them go as I have constantly instructed.
5.6. I direct that the 10 hectares of farmland in Kuje, Abuja be given to my step-sister Feyi Bello.
5.7. If my spouse and her children cannot reach agreement or publish paternity tests within one year of this will coming into effect, the Executor shall transfer the whole of my estate, property and effects, whether movable or immovable, wheresoever situated and of whatsoever nature to my son, Inale Ohiemi-Bello.
6. Special Requests
I direct that on my death my remains shall be buried at my Mausoleum located at my estate, The Castle, Ondo State and all funeral expenses shall be paid out of my estate.
7. General
7.2. Should any provision of this will be judged by an appropriate court of law as invalid it shall be subject to provision of proved paternity of spouse children.
Signed on this 10th day of February, 2011 at headquarters of Adewole & Jimi, Attorneys at Law, Lagos in the presence of the undersigned witnesses.
SIGNED: Chief Badmus Bello, FSV, OON

The quiet room erupted into a high pitched laugh and Victor, who held his breath throughout the reading turned to look at the source of the sound. It was Laide. The man who looked like a known pastor sat with a stunned look and suddenly Charity looked like a car ran over her, her eyes going from the girl laughing and the stunned pastor. The only person in the room who was unaffected was his mother, who sat poised with a small smile on her lips. Was this how she wanted to compensate him? His mother was Bello’s wife? Why did she send him away all those years? To cheat on her husband to have more children? Why would she cast him away and raise another man’s children in his father’s house? Did she have them before him or went back to him after she threw him out? What was the reason for the change in the Will? Didn’t Charity say they were to get $10 million each? And why was his mother not looking at him? Victor wondered, more confused than ever. There were no answers to his questions and he felt like standing up to demand answers. Just then his mother spoke.
“Have you finished?” Josephine Ohiemi asked as she fixed Jimi a cold stare.
“Yes” he said returning the stare squarely. Jimi Brown had never been happier than he was now. Finally, his friend was doing something he approved of and moreso because he had the honor of putting the little tick in her place. How he loathed her.
“There is no truth in this document. I must say that my husband may have lost it these past months. For one, my sister, Florence is dead and she never met my husband because she died over 30 years ago. There is no son anywhere. I believe you have cooked up this Will with an imaginary son perhaps to cause a sensation or perhaps you simply have the wrong Will. Get Dele to clear up the mix. You have wasted a greater part of my day. I expect that this embarrassment should not repeat itself anymore ” she waved nonchalantly as she made to stand up.
“The Will is valid Josephine” it was a voice Josephine Ohiemi taught she had silenced forever, it was the voice of the only one who could take her down.
“I am not dead” the voice was stronger now as the woman who had being waiting all her life for this moment walked across the room to where Josephine was standing, rooted to the spot, speechless.
It was Florence Ohiemi, in flesh and she was ready for her pound of flesh.
And this time, she would get more than a good slice.

*****

Till Next week!

M.O.T.I.V.E.S is written by Uneñ Ameji
Author of Memoirs of a Justified Gold Digger on Amazon.com
See new book Love on the 25th on Okadabooks http://goo.gl/hmsKnv
W: http://bit.ly/1Il23U3
T: https://twitter.com/UnenAmeji

*****

Comment, Share….support!

Thank you to @GEzeogu and @IamTimayin for sending in their corrections of previous episodes.

P.S: Kindly make observations of your typos and structures and send to mailafricanstories@gmail.com.

Have a great week.

M.O.T.I.V.E.S – Episode 4

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We good? And yup! We got you Episode 4 of interesting new online series from @UnenAmeji

Read Previous Episode Here

Thanks for comments outside post and most appreciative of persons dropping comments below. Thank you Mr. Ezeogu for your email on the typos and errors.

Enjoy…..remember to comment!!!

Episode 4

*****
Auchi, Saturday, June 2, 1962

There is something terrifying about the night. The far-reaching darkness. The thickness of nothingness and the pure weight of cold fear. One could touch it if one but stretched out his hands. The unending stretch of blackness, the absolute stillness of silence and unsettling tension in expectation of pure evil.
Then at first ray of light, the hope of life is restored. Hope replaces fear, and man would roam the earth as one who ruled completely, one without fear – for twelve hours. Alas, darkness descends again and if one thought about it deep enough, one might discover that the earth recreated itself in 24hours.
A repeated cycle starts with these altering words – Let there be light.

It was on such a terrifying night that Agnes Ohiemi, wife of dedicated choir master, Kimi Ohiemi, after 19 hours of labor gave birth to two beautiful girls. These identical twins would grow to hate themselves and wish the other was never born. No two human beings could be any more different than these two.
The first, a rather small bundle, with a loud aggressive wail came out the moment the minute hand clocked 3: 00 am. The three women from the church shouted praises as they held the feisty baby and severed the placenta from the mother not paying attention to the weak Agnes who was fast losing strength and blood. The pastor’s wife who doubled as the official midwife of her parish began the bloody task of cleaning the exhausted Agnes when she noticed movement in the bowels of the mother.
“There is another baby coming” the pastor’s wife proclaimed and the old prayer warrior among the women broke into spiritual tongues that sounded like confused clash of vowels and Greek alphabets. The task to birth the second child proved more difficult than any other birthing they had witnessed while the mother slipped in and out of consciousness.
“Let us take her to the hospital” Sister Pamela, the new convert weakly suggested only to be rebuked hotly and told to continue in supplication for the life of their dear sister.

The thing was, the church forbade orthodox medicine and believed strongly in fruits to cure diseases ranging from prostate cancer to HIV/AIDs. As dedicated and core believers, Kimi and his wife decided to follow the church mandate and all through her difficult pregnancy refused to go to the hospital. Instead they believed in the word of God and the holy unfailing words of the prophet while taking fruits, vegetables and the Holy Communion after they broke fast daily. While Agnes had not completed the 40 days of dry fasting and prayer as required, she was severely malnourished and weak.
The battle to give birth to the baby girl turned spiritual as they began praying and singing praises like Paul and Silas, speaking in holy tongues while the old prayer warrior continued to force the baby out.

After another 3 hours, just at the first ray of light, the second baby girl glided out, pale and still. The mother, almost gone now urged the women to make her baby cry. And when she gave her first cry after a weak cough, the beautiful young woman smiled and laid down comfortably, closing her eyes with a smile, welcoming the sweet relief as her ravaged body allowed her breathe escape and her gentle spirit ease out into that place of permanent darkness.
She had finished her purpose, so the pastor said the next day in a powerful sermon in church while the distraught husband led the choir. Weakness was of the enemy and only show of strength could drive the devil far away.
The first girl would later be named Josephine and her quiet and frail sister, Florence.

Kimi didn’t mourn his wife, in fact after eight months, he got married to a dedicated sister in the choir. It was necessary because a man was not meant to be without a wife, temptations abound and this man had new born babies – two beautiful identical girls who up until the shabby wedding were with his mother in the village.
It was this new woman, this desperate repentant prostitute Eunice, that would raise the girls up in a wicked way, fueling the jealousy and hatred in their little hearts. It gave her pleasure when they fought, she always instigated it because it calmed her heart. She could not bear children because she had lost her womb several years ago after an unsuccessful attempt in aborting a child that was as a result of rape she had continuously endured in the hands of her sister’s husband.
It was only human that her sister threw her out into the streets and from where she sold her barren womb for money until she met the lord and accepted Him as her lord and personal Savior. She was a new being and she ate more vegetables and fruits than were necessary. Perhaps, at the scent of rain, her dead womb would sprout forth. It never did.

Kimi fathered a son outside his home 3 years later but it was forgivable in the sight of God and the church. A man needed an heir, and like his father Abraham, he had found himself a Hagar – Eunice’s best friend – and his Ishmael became the responsibility of Eunice.
It was this dysfunctional home that Josephine, Florence and Kenneth (Ishmael) had their childhood. Josephine, born several hours before Florence, was arrogant, selfish, intelligent, covetous and utterly wicked. She wanted everything for herself and couldn’t stand the fact that another being had her exact flawless pretty features. It became too much when Florence, quiet,brilliant, reserved and vengeful grew more beautiful. Her eyes shone bright when she smiled and her breasts stood proudly, framing her hourglass figure that stood on impossibly long straight legs. Florence despised Josephine for one reason only – her ability to take what was rightfully hers and get away with it.

From the first day they could walk and talk, they stayed away from each other like one would avoid a leper. Kenneth got into trouble at school for removing panties of his female classmates and would later lose his life as he tried to escape a robbery where he had gotten carried away and raped his principal’s daughter who teased senior boys in school.
The principal who overpowered the trio, forced their locally made guns from their hands and shot at their heads one by one.
He was a member of the Kimi Ohiemi’s church. That was the last day Kimi went to church.

Florence first memories of Josephine’s covetousness went back to their clothes, plates, school bags and boys. From the moment boys became a steady diet in their days, Josephine was perpetually on the lookout for the latest boy that Florence was dating and within days deceived them into thinking she was Florence. At the beginning, Florence threw a storm and burnt all her clothes but their step-mother had sided with Josephine and asked Josephine to burn hers in return. Kimi was far too gone in liquor to care about the fire in his home. That had been the last time Florence retaliated actively. Instead she poured purgative in Josephine meal, tore her notebooks and misplaced her assignments. Once she poured wata pia-pai inside Josephine’s plate of Ogbono soup but had a change of heart and threw away the food before she got to taste it. Florence figured she had to find a way to get rid of her sister, rat poison would be too easy. In years to come, Florence would greatly regret this.

Josephine couldn’t care less. She enjoyed the thrill of stealing whatever belonged to Florence and most especially the boys. They should be coming for her, she was the oldest and so naturally, she should have the handsome boys, loveliest of clothes and the attention of everyone, including their pastor who had since been ministering to her behind locked doors.
At 18, Florence got admitted into the Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria to study Architecture and was thrilled at finally leaving home to chart a new path away from her twin, however, it was one of those dreams one had before mid-day, short, believable and abrupt. The next year, Josephine transferred herself from Nsukka to Zaria School of Nursing and became a torn in Florence’s flesh once more.
It was at this time that Badmus Bello entered their lives. It was at this time that they became mortal enemies.

*****

Zaria, October, 1981

Badmus Bello, son of Otunba Falaye Bello, exporter of cotton, groundnut and tomatoes was known across Northern part of the country. Otunba Funtua, as fondly called by the locals had considerably amassed a good name, great influence and intimidating net worth. Badmus was funny as he was intelligent and rich on campus. Popular, handsome and domineering, it was inevitable that females flocked around him and him, having more than enough females to go round would share with his friends.
He was a Mechanical Engineering student and was in his 3rd year at the University with a lot of females vying for his attention. Life of the party, one did not host a party and didn’t invite him. His friend Abba, an equally egoistic territorial animal was hosting a party and Godiya, Florence’s new friend was invited to attend the hottest party of the semester. She absolutely had to go and needed a wing. Florence would be that reluctant wing. After several weeks of non-stop pestering, Florence gave up and was forced into a pair of tight flamboyant trousers and blouse that pressed against her breasts like rubber band. She hated herself and Godiya even more.

The teaming house with equally tight clothed females and randy males irritated Florence to no end. It was everything that she knew it would be and more. She finally snuck out of the building the moment Abba had taken Godiya to the dance floor. Practically escaping out of the big house, she stepped out just in time to see a male student hit a female few meters away from the gate of the big house in the Government Residential Area, in glare of loiters who were drunk and fooling around. Angered, Florence watched him slap her again moved swiftly where they stood and removed her high heels in quick succession before slamming him on the back of his head with all the strength in her tiny limbs and heaving chest that was beating furiously. The impact left him in deep pain as he turned to find the source of the attack.

He turned with a stunned look on his face. Speechless as he stared down at the slim pretty girl with flashing eyes and heaving chest. It did no go good that her firm breasts pressing against her blouse revealed her tight nipples.
“How does it feel now? You don’t slap her around like some slave because you can” she said in a hiss and watched him stare at her as she walked past them and found her way out of the compound, eyes of bystanders following her out.
The next morning, he was waiting in front of the hostel for her.
“You think I won’t find you?” he asked as soon as he saw her stop in mid steps, regarding him carefully. Tall, domineering and a little intimidating, Badmus Bello watched her eyes regard him coldly before matching past him in a hurry. Now that she wasn’t angry and irritated, Florence was afraid of the male leaning against his car.
“I don’t know you” she answered as he caught up with her, stopping her from breaking into a run. She was heading to her class to finish an assignment. It was a Saturday.
Florence at this time was in her second year but she was dedicated to graduating with a first class for a scholarship that would take her out of the country and forever away from her evil sister and her fragmented family.
“Sure you do. I have you to thank for this” he said removing his face cap and Florence drew in her breath. His head where she had used her shoe had a blood soaked cotton wool sticking to it.
“I am so sorry. I didn’t know I hit you that hard” she apologized, looking at the red soaked cotton wool and looking away, ashamed of her anger, afraid of what he’d do to her now or if he would ask that she pay for the treatment. She couldn’t afford that.
“I thought you said you didn’t know me?” Bello asked, trying so hard to keep a straight face. He was intrigued by the constant change of her facial expressions and the biting of her lower lips, eyes framed by long natural lashes hiding her beautiful eyeballs. She was a fine thing and he wanted her.
“Look, I am sorry. You had no right to slap her like that and I got carried away” she said as she decided to go back to her room. She didn’t feel safe standing with him while he looked down at her.
At 5ft 5 inches, she was petite as he stood at 6ft 4inches of pure maleness. In the daylight, she noticed his good looks and for a moment looked at him straight in the eyes that registered an awareness that would be the beginning of their relationship.
“I had no right. I was fuming mad at her but I know I crossed the line and I am sorry” he apologized with a half-moon smile dancing on his lips while he peeled off the red cotton wool on his head.
“You tricked me!” was all she said in a laugh as she noticed that there was nothing wrong with his head. He joined in the laugh too.
“You deserved it” was his playful reply. It was a go.

The two were inseparable after then. It would be the first time Florence would give herself to a man completely. Bello, instead of Badmus, as people called him, was her first, and her last.
She had screamed and bitten him the first time he pushed into her wetness on his firm mattress where he had taken other girls but this time, he didn’t understand his need to consume her, remain embedded in her warmness and tightness. He couldn’t even remember his name as he spilled his seed and murmured her name again and again. She was shaking like a lone leaf in harmattan and wanted nothing more than his warmth. Her heart beat so fast she counted numbers to slow down the rate at which her heart pounded against her rib cage.
The next time he saw her, after a week of trying to ignore her on campus, he felt drawn to her, like moth to flame. He couldn’t stay away and ached when she did as much as smile or laugh at something a male friend of hers said. He had taken to randomly visiting her department building in hopes of seeing her but actually telling himself he was checking on his young brother, Sule.
“I thought we were done” she said bravely as she sat in his car as they took an early evening drive outside the school. She knew the moment she left him the day he had taken her virginity that he had gotten what he wanted and was not surprised when he stopped coming by her hostel and class.
Now here he was, looking at her and smiling, occasionally shaking his head.
“I thought so too. Apparently, I can’t get over you as I have with other girls” he said easily with a light laugh. He felt the opposite. He was afraid of his true feelings. He couldn’t come to terms with the fact that he had been caught in the proverbial web of love as his friend Garba had the previous year and had gotten married to Laila, his second cousin who was barely a teenager. He just couldn’t be falling into love with this Eastern girl, he couldn’t. But he was and it terrified him that he knew the end of his free days were here.
“Look, I am not other girls and certainly won’t die for you like they do” she spat almost too forcefully. She lied, she liked him terribly and hurt every day he didn’t come around to see her.
“I don’t want you to die for me. I just want you to be mine only” he said as he parked in a secondary school football field several kilometers away from the University.
“That’s not possible” she said, her heart singing for joy at his demand.
“It is. You just have to make it possible. Right now, I want to see you behind the wheel” he said in a laugh and got down for her to take over the steering wheel.
That was the start of their exclusive relationship.
He couldn’t wait to see her in school, have lunch or cook dinner with her. The moment he wasn’t with her, he wondered what she was doing. Was she with another man? Did she want him as much as he wanted her? Did she love him as he did? Bello had finally bitten the love bug and his friends teased him sore.
Then one Sunday night, he saw her in the arms of another boy at the Nursing department and was so mad that he charged across the hall and hurled the boy away from her.
He demanded an explanation and for a moment, a blank stare replied him before a smile broke out knowingly on the same lips that he had fallen in love with for the last 5 months. Only that, the girl who stood before him was not Florence but her twin sister, Josephine.

The moment Josephine knew that Florence had deceived her into thinking she was going out with Obinna, the boy who had been hurled off her, she dropped the confused boy like hot nail and moved on to Bello in a heartbeat.
“I was just telling him to let me be” Josephine impersonated Florence’s smooth small voice when she wanted to clear up a situation. Nothing gave Josephine satisfaction like seeing Florence heartbroken or sad because one of her handsome boyfriends had fallen into her trap again. This time, it was the big catch. Who didn’t know bad boy Badmus Bello.
Bello stopped at the voice and watched as she came over to take his hand. Florence wasn’t this forward but he let her hold him anyways. He felt the disconnection but it didn’t help that she kept trying to explain what he just saw and was apologizing as he drove her to her hostel.
“Where are we going?” Josephine asked, fearful at the direction they were going. She didn’t want to go to her sister’s hostel.
“To your room” he answered quietly.
“But I don’t want to go to my room now. Let’s go to your place” she cooed.
“You have to study for tomorrow’s paper” he reminded her.
“I am done” Josephine lied.
Bello, eager to show her who she belonged to did not waste time and took her straight to his house. He was on her the moment she had her leg in the door, tearing off her skirt and blouse, ripping her bra and pushing her against the wall.
“I told you, you belong to me. No man else. I want you to know that, do you understand that?” he asked hotly as he pounded away, too hot to bother about the difference in the feeling. She wasn’t snug and tight like Florence, she didn’t hold him and clinch the tip of his maleness with her clitoral muscle as she normally did.
Bello was in bed with the wrong sister and like it would always happen, Florence who was indeed done with her studying decided to go surprise him. It had been a long time without him and she missed having his arms around her when she slept.

Florence opened his front door with her key and walked quietly to his room. What she saw that night broke her spirit. Her twin sister had won again. Lying in each other’s arm, naked and blissfully asleep, she stood and wept noiselessly, sniffing and crying all over again.
She stood there for a couple of hours before Bello felt presence in his room and switched on his light to find Florence standing in front of his bed, tears and catarrh running down her nose.
For a moment, he was confused but skipped out of bed when the hand splayed across his broad chest moved. There was another Florence on his bed.
“What is this? Who are you?” he asked Florence, putting on his discarded boxers hurriedly. Florence watched Josephine wake up and curl comfortably without bothering to cover herself. The rush of pure hatred that filled her that the day was like none she had experienced over the years. She was in love for the first time and Josephine had destroyed it.
“You just had sex with my twin sister Josephine. I am Florence. Goodbye Bello” she said slowly, stemming her rage as she pointed at Josephine with dead eyes before rushing out of the house. A dumbfounded Bello stood looking at the girl on his bed, seeing no difference, he followed his heart out a minute too late. She was gone.
Josephine, shaken by the look Florence had given her knew this was the last straw. She knew it was never going to get any better than this and knew instinctively if she did not act now, Florence was going to get even. How? She didn’t want to find out. She had to get rid of her mirror image. It was settled.

*****

Florence left Zaria to Auchi two days later, after her last paper and avoided Bello like a plague. She had found out she was pregnant the following day after the horrible night at the student clinic and was afraid of what she was going to do about it now that it was over between them. It would be the last time she would see Bello.

Over the holiday in Auchi, an attempt would be made on Florence’s life that left Josephine, family and church members to believe she was dead. The burial had taken place days after finding a faceless body that had been sacrificed to a deity and thrown on the bush path.

What nobody knew was that Josephine had sold her supposedly virgin sister to some group of boys who needed virgins because she was sure Florence was one. What she didn’t know was that Florence was pregnant and the deity rejected her because it could not take a new life, or so the native doctor said when his ige told him the girl was pregnant.
Florence, weak and spaced-out, was left in the thick forest to die. However, a new convert of the terrible gang returned for her at nightfall and rescued her. He told her days after she recovered from her state not to return home because her sister had staged her kidnap and would try to get rid of her by paying his leader who she had been sold to.
Afraid for her life and the Bello’s baby, she fled with the new convert to Osogbo.
The body belonging to an actual virgin that looked like Florence’s was left as arranged. Josephine was ecstatic. Her mirror image was gone forever.

In far north, Josephine took over Florence’s course, friends and forgave Bello, as was intended. No one was any wiser of the switch. Josephine, an intelligent girl, graduated in Florence’s stead and after another three years graduated as Josephine.
Bello, still in love, proposed and took Josephine home to meet his parents.

Later, Josephine would convert to Islam to impress Badmus father who wanted his son to follow his faith. That singular act endeared her to Otunba and not long after their wedding, she became Alhaja Kudirat Bello, wife of Chief Badmus Bello.

If life wasn’t for those who took it by force, who else’s would it be?

But this was not the end, this would only be the beginning.

*****

M.O.T.I.V.E.S is written by;
Uneñ Ameji
Author of Memoirs of a Justified Gold Digger on Amazon.com
See new book Love on the 25th on Okadabooks http://goo.gl/hmsKnv
W: http://bit.ly/1Il23U3
T: https://twitter.com/UnenAmeji

*****

Next week!

Comment, Share….support!
P.S: Kindly make observations of typos and structures. Thanks guys.

M.O.T.I.V.E.S – Episode 2

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Hey guys,
Good week?
Looking forward to 1st May? We are…
Read Episode Two of M.O.T.I.V.E.S by Unen Ameji

Didn’t catch Episode One? Yup, Read Here
COVER-page0001
Episode Two – M.O.T.I.V.E.S

*****
“Gala, Gala, Gala, Gala, Ptttff! La’Casera” it was Victor Dakar shouting like the determined hustler that he was on the Nyanya-Maraba Expressway, hawking. Victor Dakar – a name he had given himself 11 years ago – was a name without roots. He was a man with no identity but a man who instinctively knew his worth, even if it came by hawking to meet his needs. He was a man who would find himself, a man who would be a victor. He knew he had been born in Dakar, Senegal – that much, his mother had told him before tossing him out on that cold rainy night with nothing but his backpack filled with crispy notes amounting to a million Naira. The unwanted was cast out.
A loud blare of car horns brought him back to the present as he narrowly missed been hit by a bus. He couldn’t afford memories now and consciously replaced irking thought with the thought of the car he was going to buy as soon as he made the last deposit. Skillfully, he watched for forlorn faces in cars stuck in the heavy traffic waiting for a facial expression that looked like hunger, boredom or a mixture of both. Most often than not, these expressions made sales and he had packaged his dynamic duo – Gala and La’Casera in light green almost transparent leather bags. It was easier to sell and made profit for two products with just a single sale.
“Gala! Gala” he bellowed as he held the last two leather bags for the day walking in the direction of his shack nested beneath the footpath leading to his Kubgo residence, as he fondly called it.
Just then, a white Lincoln Navigator parked across the road and a lady came out.
“Gala!” it was a single call but a ton of eager young boys flew across the Expressway to answer the call. He looked at the owner of the voice and turned back to continue his search for buyers of his last two leather bags.
He had just sold the last of his bags when he felt a sweaty hand on his bare back.
Na you she dey call” it was a cashew nut seller.
Victor looked across the road to the woman in a body clinging black gown that stopped at her knees, standing in impossibly high pink pumps. She didn’t look like she was interested in gala or his La’casera, moreover he had just sold the last of it. He obliged her all the same and crossed over.
“Good evening Ma” he greeted, holding his empty bag.
“Good evening. I saw you hawking your gala in leather bags and must say I am impressed. You see, I have a new product and I think you will do great with the marketing” she said airily.
“I can give you my number and I come see it tomorrow” he replied watching her face intensely. Something told him she wasn’t about selling anything.
“I would rather you see it now” she insisted.
“Madam, it is late and have to make report at my supplier after selling” he lied. He had no supplier. He bought outright and sold for his pockets.
“Alright Inale, I have a message for you from your mother” she finally volunteered laughing at a private joke.
“My mother is dead” he said painfully, his jaw twitching. This woman knew who he was.
“No, she is not. You know it. Now do we continue this discussion here or are you coming in?” she asked indicating that he enter her car.
“I would rather you tell me who you are and how in heaven’s name did you find me?” he asked getting angry.
“I am Charity, Charity Ajero, your mother’s lawyer. Your mother has, well, I’d say interesting network. I would not say it was an easy find but she did” she said coolly regarding him with sharp eyes.
“What does she want from her dead son?” he spat dispassionately, refusing to acknowledge the fact that the woman who had thrown him out was suddenly looking for him after 11 years.
“Your father is dead” the lawyer said waiting for his reaction.
“I do not have a mother and I most certainly do not have a father ” he declared, turning his back and making to cross the road.
“You will be inheriting roughly about ten million dollars” she said in a raised voice. She caught his attention.
He stopped and turned to look at the woman. Clearly, she was serious and without meaning to, broke into a loud heartfelt laughter that echoed and had passersby look at them.
“What is in it for her?” he finally asked, coughing and rubbing his eyes clean of the tears that had formed as a result of the belly-filling laughter.
“Revenge” she said after a while. She didn’t find his amusement a tad bit funny.
“That sounds like her, a lot like her” he said looking past her and into the green hills, remembering the last time he set eyes on the woman who had bore him.
“You should come in” she made for the car again.
“Look emmm, ….” He called trying to remember her name.
“Charity” she supplied graciously.
“Charity, I don’t want to have anything to do with that woman” he continued stubbornly.
“She wants you to get what is rightly yours” Charity maintained coldly, she needed him to get with the program and not waste her time. Patience was not her virtue and she didn’t care for it.
“Wait, let me get this straight. She disowns me, throws me out and refuses to tell me who my father is for 29 years and then suddenly, she wants to take revenge and give me the right to inherit a million dollars?” he asked as he wiped the last of the tears from his eyes.
“Ten million” she corrected as her phone rang. She ignored it.
“What?”
“You get ten million dollars, not a million dollars” she corrected impatiently as her phone buzzed.
“What is in for you?” he asked noticing as she expertly typed a message.
“Minus my legal fees?” she asked jokingly breaking into a smile. He was coming around.
“I suppose everyone is on board with this”
“Just you” she flashed her best smile.
“Right” he answered watching her.
“Well, here is my card…just in case you change your mind. Come by my office tomorrow”
“Will she be there?” he asked, apprehensive.
“No. she won’t be dealing with you directly” she said sweetly getting into her car.
“Of course” he swallowed bitterly.
“I will be expecting you though” she said as she closed her door and keyed her car.
“Uhmmm” he nodded. She watched emotions play on his face. He would come, she concluded.
“How does one get loathed just because you reminded one of your father? A man you have never met or chose?” he asked, his eyes grave.
“You will have your answers soon enough Inale. I will be waiting for you” she said kindly.
“It’s Victor now” he corrected, feeling a little triumphant at his new alias.
“I know, Victor Dakar” she said in wink before driving away.
“And that my friend is how I got to the hawking profession” he said to no one in particular, walking slowly to his house and tearing open a gala wrap he had reserved for himself.

*****

Her office, located in a Residential Estate in Maitama extension, was not an ‘office’. It was a modern terrace duplex, completely detached and heavily guarded. He wanted to turn back but his curiosity at finally meeting a dead father had him knocking on the intimidating steel gate with a security camera.
“Do you have an appointment?” it was the security guard in yellow and red uniform. His green wool cap made Victor cringe visibly at the ridiculous outfit. The getup looked like a deliberate attempt at belittling the guard and everything he stood for, and it was working. This was the reason why he stuck to hawking. He decided what to wear, sell and what time to close.
“Yes” he answered after a moment, handing over the nicely crested business card.
“Please fill this form” the guard handed over a form and collected it once Victor had filled it satisfactorily.
“Please wait here” he instructed with authority.
“Will do” he mouthed.
Few minutes later, he was ushered into the house and left in an empty room with white walls and huge Plasma TV on the wall. The empty room which looked like a reception, had no chairs. He stood waiting for the next instruction. He smiled at the thought.
“I see you decided to show up” he turned at her voice to see a scantily-clad woman in black bikini, furiously rubbing her wet hair with a white towel. She had curves that threatened to spill from her bra and firm rounded hips that could make a man want to be a dog for a long time.
“Yes” he answered thickly, his eyes stopping at her tight nipples. Her navel captured his attention as he traced the tattoo carefully with the writings leading directly to her crotch.
“Like it?” she asked as she watched him force his eyes back to her face.
“It is an interesting tattoo. I should study it sometime” he flirted with a serious face.
“I would like that. Thank you” she flirted back.
“So here I am” he said lightly, looking at her with desire curling in places he didn’t want noticing her.
“I can see that. Please follow me to my office” she said taking the lead as she wrapped the towel around her waist.
Her office was surprisingly professional, furnished with an impressive library and dark brown mahogany shelves carrying law books and extremely large blue bonded book collections. The cold office had a Yanni’s First Touch playing softly in the background and News on Al Jazeera on her TV playing noiselessly. It was the news on the late tycoon’s death on repeat.
She walked over to the wardrobe and eased a wrap gown from the hanger over her shoulders, letting the towel fall and walking over to her desk. He was tempted to ask her to pick up the towel, he hated littered room.
“You can pick it up if it bothers you” she said simply, catching the disapproval in his eyes.
“So, who is my father?” he asked as he took a seat across from her.
“Was, he is dead”
“Right. Who was my father?” he asked watching her power her laptop and reach for a file simultaneously.
“You may know him, you may not” she said handing him the heavy file.
“This is one hell of a file” he commented dryly but felt a little heart kick.
“I decided not to print all of it. Enjoy. What do you want for lunch?” she asked picking up her intercom.
“Pounded yam, Vegetable soup and assorted meat. Pineapple juice, freshly squeezed would do. Thanks” he smiled.
“You know, for one who hawks for a living, I am surprised you know what pounded yam and assorted meat is” she said sarcastically dialing her kitchen.
“I am going to be roughly ten million dollars richer, I think it is about time I started ordering like a millionaire” he threw her words at her with a piercing look and a twitch in his lips, stopping a grin from coming out.
“I see” she smiled repeating his order and asking for spinach sauce and samosa for herself. Victor made a face before standing up with the file and going over to the comfortable sofas across the office. He sat down and took a deep breath and then he opened the file.
The moment Victor opened the file, his eyes popped at the identity of the man who was said to be his father. Chief Badmus Bello, the dead Tycoon and political Godfather. The one man who he had tried to meet severally and had had the honor of driving in his convoy for a day before he was accused of stealing and picked up by the police only to be warned off after an anonymous bail was posted.
He could not believe and closed it to look at Charity. She nodded, the seriousness and intensity told him this was not made up. He took a deep breath before opening it again. And he read. The exact dates, early pictures, his present net worth, investments, his family, rumors and alliances, the double-shady dealings and the women – it was a complete biography, only that he probably had the only copy. All doubts on the genuineness of the file and motive behind his mother finally revealing his father dawned upon him. There was not enough truck to take the filth and atrocities.
It took 3 hours of carefully studying the file to finally reach the last photograph.
“He was on the news yesterday” he croaked, stunned and disbelieving. Chief Bello could not be his father.
“He died yesterday” she supplied watching him.
“He has been buried?” he asked. He was clueless as to the emotion that was appropriate. Anger? Joy? Gratitude? Pain?
He had all of those and more.
“Not yet. I suppose today? Informants tell me his son, the Pastor your brother that is, is making the arrangements and won’t allow him be buried immediately”
“Is he requesting for autopsy?” he asked, his throat filling up.
Victor was overwhelmed with the revelation and the last piece of information in the file had been a young picture of Chief Badmus. Victor was a perfect copy of his father at that age.
“That’s the premise” she supplied pitying his predicament.
“Why now?” he asked her after five minutes of reflection and squeezing his eyes shut.
“You would have to ask your mother that”
“You should ask her on my behalf. That’s part of your job, is it not?” he spat hotly.
He couldn’t believe it. Victor Dakar, son of Chief Badmus Bello, late Chief Badmus Bello, he corrected himself as he stood up and walked around her office. He pressed his eyes with his hand to stop the tears coming to his eyes and the anger at his mother. He didn’t deserve any of it, all of this.
“Where is their history?” he asked, hands in pocket, turning to face her.
“What?” Charity was a little confused at the question.
“How did the two meet? How did I get here?” he asked, his eyes blood shot.
“Again, you would have to ask her” she stated calmly.
“Hmmm, I wondered what she is paying you for. One would think she was paying you to tell me all I need to know” he said with a tight smile.
“She is paying me to represent you. I am going to get you your inheritance” she retorted, confident of her abilities.
“It is all about the ten million dollars” he said darkly.
“What if I don’t want any of it?” he continued walking over to painting at the end of her office. He wanted to cry but he couldn’t show his weakness.
“I am assuming you are still shocked. I suppose there may be more of you”
“And how many of us will be coming out of the hiding to claim our settlement package?” he asked disgustingly.
“As many as he fathered but none who has me as their legal representative” she smiled smugly at his look of disgust.
“I sense you have an axe to grind too. What did he do to you?” he asked staring at her. She looked at him back from her seat, a minute later, she stood up and went to him.
“This is my father. George Ajero” she said simply as they looked at the painting on the wall in front of them.
“A SAN too” he noticed.
“Yes” she said simply with a pained smile.
“Where is he?” he asked.
“He is dead. Your father killed him”

*****

“These were your father’s wishes. He said categorically that on his death, he was to be buried without any autopsy carried out” it was SAN Dele Adewole, Chief Badmus Bello best friend and lawyer in an emergency meeting called by the late Chief’s brother, Abdullahi because Debola wouldn’t bulge on committing his father to earth without an autopsy and basically delaying the rites to be performed according to the Islamic faith.
“What else were his wishes? Did the wish include not finding out if he was killed?” Debola barked at the old dignified man in black suit and grey shirt.
“My son, I am telling you what the provisions are for his burial. If it pleases you, the documents can be presented. Your mother is aware of this” he said steadily, not flinching as he watched Alhaja with clouded desire. He wanted her so much it hurt but he had kept his feelings away all these years, now that the Chief was dead, he wanted nothing more than to hold her and tell her everything would be alright. He had never seen a more devoted mother and supporting wife. He would convince her to marry him, he thought unashamed that his coveted his best friend’s wife.
“Mom, is that true?” Debola asked watching helplessly as his mother blew her nose into her handkerchief.
“Yes” she whispered and blew her nose again, nodding and drying her red eyes.
Laide was seated beside her beautiful mother because she felt obligated. She had shed tears the moment she had arrived but had since stopped, trying to keep a strong face as she had been told by many to. The truth was that she couldn’t wait to have the old man committed to earth. She wanted to get out of here. She looked around for Kasimu, their eyes met and she lowered her eyes to his crotch. He froze and moved away from her view. She hid a smile.
Kole had been bailed out but the presence of policemen on the premises reinforced the fact that they were not going to let him walk away just yet. He wore dark shades and no one knew whether he was high or crying. He simply sat, watching as the conversation flew over his head and waiting for the ceremony to start before slipping away.
“I am not convinced but if that was his wish…, I have to respect it” Debola said finally defeated.
“Thank you” his mother whispered as he came close and held her.
“All will be fine. You will be fine” he hugged her and watched as his Uncle Abdullahi, the family Alfa began coordinating the burial arrangements. He had tried his best but if the old man wanted to be buried immediately, who was he to stop it. He didn’t have the spiritual capacity or faith to raise him from the dead and even if he did, he would rather let sleeping dogs lie.
The truth was that Debola was relieved and had staged the delay just to make a show. The autopsy episode was sown out of the need to object to something to prove that he, Debola Bello was in charge and wanted to be sure there was no foul play. At his arrival at the airport, they were so many reporters; his team had had to block the myriad of microphones that were pushed into his face. Now, he was sure the man was really dead. He could use the money to settle a lot of things, like his new family and the new baby he had just fathered with his former choir mistress. He saw Martha approach and the thought died a natural death.
It was going to be harder than he thought. He was a desperate sinking man who couldn’t divorce his wife because he was a pastor to one of the biggest new generation churches. He had a responsibility to his members all over the world but could ten million dollars liberate him? The answer was not comforting

*****
The man watched from a distance as they came. Each in a convoy, each one of them a rogue, cheat and killer. He watched them come out of their exotic cars and watched others drop from their private chopper. It was the perfect setting.

*****
The dark grey skies thickened furiously as family and friends of the Late Chief arrived at The Castle in convoys that flooded the grounds. Former Heads of State, past and present Governors, Ministers, Spiritual heads and Executive Officers of international and indigenous companies came in troves to pay their final respect to the icon, the big heart who was now lying in state. The condolence register had since been opened and the dignitaries flooding the exquisite large room already prepared for guests overwhelmed Sekinat. Thankfully, his body would finally be buried and everyone could leave. The sooner the ceremony was over, the sooner she could leave The Castle with the baby growing inside her. She watched Alhaja Kadirat cry from afar and took a deep breath. What did they say about widows who grieve the most?
The mausoleum stood poignant and imposing like the man who was going to be lying it. Painted in crisp white with tall Victorian columns located on manicured lawn few meters away from his favorite wild mahogany tree, the Alfa, Badmus’s step-brother, read out words from the Quran and delivered a message with Debola itching to say few words. This was his father’s funeral and here he was standing on the sidelines. He felt like shit. He smiled at the profanity and looked at his wife who looked like she would laugh out any minute now.
The official pressmen had set up cameras from the moment Chief Badmus’s body had arrived at The Castle on his private plane and the live streaming as event unfolded had taken over several stations across the country. Martha had been impressed with the turnout and with the level of dedication the political vultures came to pay their last respect. Of course he was one of them and it was only normal that they would troop out enmasse to be at his burial. She imagined his Will and smiled. She knew just what Debola had planned and she would simply ask for more than half of whatever he gets. What would one do with $5 million dollars? She fantasied. Just then, Martha noticed movement behind her and felt a piece of paper being pressed into her hand.
She turned around quickly to catch a man in black suit leave and disappear into the crowd. Looking around, she noticed the rapt attention of everyone, staring at the Alfa and reciting the last recital before they committed the body to the mausoleum.
Secretly opening the piece of paper underneath her phone, it simply read – Leave Now.
Her head jerked up and looked around again for a clue. There was no one looking at her or acting suspicious. She stood for few minutes, her heart racing when her phone vibrated. It was a text message – Leave Now!. There was no sender number.
She watched Debola focus on his Uncle. Should she take him along? Perhaps she should, just in case it was a kidnap attempt, she thought looking around again.
She found his hand and pulled at it. He looked at her with impatience.
“What is it?” he muttered under his breath.
“Come with me now” she replied in a mutter before dragging him along, eyes following them. Debola nodded courteously at the onlookers and followed Martha who was obviously in a hurry to reach the main house 500 meters. She was standing by their car when he reached her.
“What is it now Nomso? You do realize that my father will be laid to rest any minute and as the first son, I must be there” he said, heaving.
“Get in” she ordered.
“Bola, get in” she said entrusting the piece of paper in his hand. He entered the car reluctantly.
“What is this?” he asked throwing the piece of paper on her.
Just then, the loud thundering sound of an explosion filled the car that reverberated and shook so hard, the glasses shattered. The heart wrenching sound traveled the distance and they felt the impact as it flung their car against other parked cars.
He fell sideways, pushing his wife to the ground as he opened the car door, feeling pieces of glass on his body. He felt her move and then watched in horror as blood flowed from the back of her neck. The windscreen had shattered and large chunk of sharp glass was lodged at the nape of her neck.
“Nomso, Nomso” he called weakly, the ringing bell in his ears was beginning to clear as he looked around littered bodies everywhere. Shouts emanating from persons he could not see filled air but a look at the direction of the mausoleum confirmed what he thought it was.
A bomb blast at the mausoleum.

*****
M.O.T.I.V.E.S is written by;
Uneñ Ameji
Author of Memoirs of a Justified Gold Digger on Amazon.com
See new book Love on the 25th on Okadabooks http://goo.gl/hmsKnv
W: http://bit.ly/1Il23U3
T: https://twitter.com/UnenAmeji

*****

Next week!

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M.O.T.I.V.E.S Episode 1

Featured

New Series by Uneñ Ameji is finally here. To be posted every Tuesday, Motives is an intense story of hurt, revenge, lust and lucre. A story where Uneñ Ameji, in her usual fluid style takes her readers on a dark journey into what goes on in the life of the rich and famous.

African Stories is most delighted to publish her series and hopes you all enjoy her *love stories.

Episode 1.

Somewhere in Maitama, Abuja – Nigeria
20th February, 2011

****
The sound of clinking wine glasses, bright lights from the outrageously expensive Arabian chandelier reflecting on gold-plated surfaces and deep-throated patronizing laughter coming from stylishly dressed gentlemen and breathtakingly beautiful women in exquisite flowing gowns and blinding jewelry…..ah yes, this was the kind of life Laide Bello was born to live. Ace socialite and fashion designer, Laide knew she was at her zenith and nothing could stop her now. At 27, unmarried and a foster mother to two teenage boys, she wondered when her secret would be found out.
She blinked momentarily as the dark thought snuck up on her. Clearing her throat loudly and looking around for her teenage boys, she smiled as she saw them across the room, her heart swelling with passion and love. What would life be without them at her side? she thought, admiring the men they had become.
“Excuse me Ma” it was the shrill reproaching voice of Kasimu, her frog-eyed butler.
“Yes Kasimu” she answered over her shoulders, watching her guests mingle and wondering for the umpteenth time why in God’s name she always ended up sleeping with him after swearing she wouldn’t spread her legs for his thick piece of equipment.
“There are two police officers here to see you Ma” he said in low voice, coming closer to her than necessary. She stepped away from his hot breath.
“Why are police officers here? Step back” she ordered sharply as he pressed on, not masking her irritation at his boldness. This was the problem with rolling in the sheets with subordinates….they lose sight of drawn lines.
“I don’t know Ma. They said that they had news about your father” Kasimu said, his jaw twitching. He wanted to stab the haughty pig to death, shameless thing. The “shameless thing” was Laide’s alias in the servant’s quarters. The only thing that stopped Kasimu Adesina Adesida was her old man, and until the man took his last breath, Kasimu would continue to be sexually exploited by his disgraceful nymph of a daughter.
“Oooooh God! That man won’t let me be! The old delusional man” she hissed, throwing the content of her glass to the back of her throat and carelessly dropping the empty glass in his hand before walking to her visitor’s quarters at the other end of her impressive 6 bedroom duplex in an large manicured compound. He struggled to catch the glass and took a deep breath to calm down his nerves.
“Good evening officers” she said pleasantly, smiling brightly as she entered the room. Opulent and cold, the room painted in brilliant white with black cushions and steel furniture felt anything but welcoming.
“Madam Laide” it was Inspector Daniel Abati, wearing a summer shirt with two missing front buttons, black and white striped short knee-length trousers that needed a quick press and flamboyant brown hat that had seen better days. Team-Naturals would envy his thick black beards that looked like lush fern in the Amazon. Known for his brilliance and unconventional dressing habit, Laide thought him a complete joker but a friend of the family in his rights.
“Laide would do, Dan. I hear you have a message from my father” she said, correcting the badly dressed inspector and taking a seat while signaling Inspector Dan and his unusually tall colleague to do the same. Her eyes straying to the midsection of the tall police officer and wondering if the bulge in front of his trousers housed a good plowing equipment or simply a pseudo boxer-effect. She smiled at her thoughts. Insatiable.
“I am afraid there is bad news” Inspector Dan said coldly.
“I suppose I have lost another illegitimate sibling” it was a sarcastic question, signaling Kasimu to get her a glass of wine.
“Not exactly. It is your father. He died this morning. His body is being taken to the Castle” he informed her, his eyes watching her closely for her reaction.
The Castle – the enormous 40 hectares estate of business tycoon and political godfather, Chief Badmus Bello, was located atop Idanre hills in Ondo State, Nigeria and known across Africa as the largest luxurious estate held by a single man for personal residence. It was here that Chief Badmus Bello had built his massive mausoleum valued at $2 million dollars. It was rumored that he buried gold and money in his money bank underground and has a refinery somewhere on the premises where he refines oil and sell to marketers across the country and smaller African countries. Although none of these rumors had been proven, Chief Badmus was certainly a force to be reckoned with, larger than life some people say but certainly he was not larger than death.
This place would be his final resting place amidst his mini golf course and farm.
“That man is incapable of dying. I suppose you are joking Inspector. Why really are you here?” she asked as she took a sip of the warm diluted glass of Chapman. She shot Kasimu a look as her tongue tasted the watered liquid in a glass. He had the decency to step out immediately. She hated Chapman, and to be served with the warm and diluted abomination, he knew what was coming to him.
“I am afraid that’s the truth. Your father fell from his balcony today. He is to be buried before night fall according to the rites” it was Yusuf. Yusuf J. Sani, Inspector Dan’s newly assigned partner was a fine officer but was particularly displeased at being assigned with Dan. He hated the Chief and wondered why he had been assigned to the case.
“Fell or pushed?” Laide asked, standing up and turning away from the officers, her mind racing.
‘Could this be true? He finally did it?’, she thought furiously as the two inspectors watched her closely.
“Your presence will be required” Yusuf continued, not answering her question
“Of course. Of course” she answered solemnly, keeping the grin that was about splitting her lips and putting on a pained expression.
“I will be going to the Castle right away Officers, if that’s all. My mother needs me at this dark hour. I suppose there is to be an investigation” she had the graciousness to look forlorn, tears pooling in her round beautiful eyes.
“Yes, we take our leave” it was Inspector Dan. She nodded at their exit before breaking into a grin as she walked back to her party. She felt hot and looked around for Kasimu.
The old bastard was dead. Finally.
“Do you think she is sad that the old devil is gone?” Officer Yusuf wondered out loud as they walked out of her house.
“I don’t think I will be sad if I am to inherit $10m from a scumbag. Would you?” Inspector Dan answered, picking his nose.
Someone had murdered Chief Badmus Bello and Dan had a feeling this was going to be a little too much to sweep under the proverbial carpet.

*****

Mandola Hotels & Towers, Somewhere in Lekki, Lagos – Nigeria
20th February, 2011

Kole sat still, watching the smoke from his cigarette float lazily into thin air. He was high and as he watched the black whore before strip naked, he wondered briefly if her opening was wide enough to take his legs. He laughed at the thought and sniffed his white “dew” some more. She didn’t know what he had in mind when he had picked her from the club hours earlier. She looked wild and greedy too, her eyes sparkling with pure greed the moment he started throwing money around.
He didn’t feel like selling this one to Alhaji for his rituals, she didn’t look pure enough for the rituals either ways. Perhaps he could watch Billy tear her apart or simply plug her to the pleasure machine and film her for his collections. He laughed again.
“You like my boobies” she said coyly, shaking her large mammary glands in his face.
“They are exceptionally beautiful” he all but groaned, taking a drag of the marijuana wrap in between his filthy fingers.
“Mommy is going to make you feel so good” she continued, fingering herself as she climbed the bed and moving her hips in rhythm to the slow R&B music playing at the background.
“And Papa is going to make sure you do” he answered, dialing his phone and dropping it. In few seconds, two hefty men entered his suite and the next hours would be the worst for the girl with the mammary glands.
“Please, don’t do this. Don’t kill me” she begged, crying and shouting as a result of the pain inflicted on her by the hideous men. Her hands had been secured to the bedpost and her legs tied firmly to the foot of the bed.
“Baby, I won’t” he laughed, coughing and sniffing some more.
“Please, Please” she wept as another of the big brute climbed over her.
“You will enjoy this one. I promise” he laughed again as the brute drove home and the scream filled the room, his camera recording the rape scene.
“Hey Boss” it was Zino, his body guard entering the inner room.
“Yes Zino” he looked up as his bodyguard stood before him.
“You have been called home” his bodyguard said.
“Why? What now? Can’t they see I am busy?” he cursed, throwing the remaining marijuana joint on the floor.
“Your father is dead. They will be burying him within the hour”
“How sure are you?” he asked, his eyes turning bright, a smile breaking out on his face.
“It is the breaking news” he answered as he briefly watched the two figures on the bed and turned on the large Plasma TV. It was indeed the breaking news.
“You are right Zino! That son of a bitch is dead!” he shouted, going to pour scotch into his glass and adding iced cubes.
“Cheers” he saluted to no one in particular.
“Hey! Hey you! Stop fucking that loof and go get my car ready” he spat crudely to the man who was almost climaxing. He kept thrusting, not stopping for he was far too gone.
“Zino?” he called his bodyguard angrily.
“Hell” Zino cursed before pulling out his silencer and putting bullet into the large man’s hanging balls as soon as he removed his obscene organ from the girl. A loud scream filled the room before the bulky frame collapsed on the abused girl beneath him. The room quieted except the whimpering sound of a female.
“You would think these men had enough holes” Kole said nonchalantly. Zino shrugged.
“Now you have to take me” he informed Zino carelessly as he walked out of the room.
“Today is your lucky day sherry….., my father is dead. See you soon” he called loudly to the girl on his bed before leaving his penthouse suite.
“Tell Tank to clean up the mess and let her go. I am in a good mood. So he is dead! I can’t believe it” he laughed, pointing at Zino and entering the elevator opened to him.
“He is your father” Zino reminded him as he also stepped into the elevator.
“Who cares? He had it coming. Now I can have my $10m. Whooop!” he danced unsteadily as they reached the underground car park.
“Mr. Kole Bello?” it was a clear police voice.
“Who wants to know? My father is dead” he said shouted, excited; not noticing Zino had taken steps back into the elevator.
“You are under arrest for the murder of Mr. Philip Aguda and Miss. Josephine Uton”
“Are you seriously arresting me right now?” he laughed as they cuffed him.
“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to your lawyer and if you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you. Take him to the station” a dark lanky officer read him his rights.
“I am $10m richer you fools! I can afford the judge” he shouted on top of his lungs as he resisted arrest.
“Take him away” the officer signaled and they pushed him into the police sedan.
“My father is dead assholes” he shouted and broke into laughter.

*****

TrueWord Evangelical Church of All Missions, London – United Kingdom
20th February, 2011

The electrifying evening sermon, the shouts of praise, the expectant faces. Martha Chimnomso Bello pitied the congregation as they bellowed on top of their lungs. Pathetic really. If only they knew. She smiled as her face lit up the biggest screen in the auditorium. She really had to talk to the media unit. She hated when they picked her face when she was not ready.
“This week is your week!” it was the man of God shouting at the end of the service.
“Amen!!!!!!”
“This week, your enemies will wash your feet!!!!” he thundered
“Amen!!!!!!” thousands shouted.
“This week, as you go, the devil will not and cannot stop you” he continued strongly
“Amen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” they roared.
“My God will surprise you this week!!” he shouted fervently.
“Amen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” a louder roar.
“As you go, may the favor and grace go with you. The Grace” he said at last, watching the impatient look on his wife’s face.
“May the grace of our Lord Jesus, the son of God and the sweet fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with me, now and forever, Amen” Martha recited the grace as she followed the man of God, her darling husband of 8 years with the security personnel paving way to their office.
“Finally! One can throw away this God forsaken hat” Martha said as soon as they were left alone in her husband’s office.
“Please don’t start. I am tired” Debola said, removing his outer jacket.
“If you were called like you claim, you won’t be tired” she threw hotly at him.
“If the devil is using you, I bind his hold over your life. The God I serve, the same God who has called me will….”
“Oh please, will do what? Raise our children from the dead? All four of them? When He does, I will repent of my unbelief, until then, I believe Lord, help my unbelief” she said sarcastically, standing up and going to the fridge.
“Nomso, you have to let it go. God knows why and it has been 3 years”
“So?”
“So we should try getting pregnant again” he said sadly.
“We? So that your God can kill them again. No thanks” she said, taking the cold water bottle in her mouth and sucking it until it cracked under the pressure. Debola Bello was tired of his wife and honestly had no idea how to continue living with her as man and wife but divorcing her was not an option he was willing to consider.
First son of Chief Badmus Bello and General Overseer of The TrueWord Evangelical Church of all Missions aka TEC, Debola was absolutely tired and heartbroken. He had lost his faith but the last thing he would do was admit his unbelief and disappointment in God to his wife. The death of their four children, two set of twins in a fire accident that left them alive but scared was the beginning of his problems. Nomso had lost her faith and her ability to support him spiritually.
Just then, his phone rang.
“Hello Mami” he greeted fondly. Martha scoffed. It was his mother. She sounded tearful and as soon as she sneezed, Debola knew something was wrong.
“What is wrong Mami” he coerced gently as she cried some more.
“Your father, Baba rẹ kú yi owurọ” she cried informing him that his father had passed away that morning.
“What? Kini” he screamed into the phone, standing up. Martha came close.
“When, how did this happen?” he continued, getting rid of his necktie. Mami cried some more with hiccups as she tried to explain that he fell off the balcony but the police were insinuating he was pushed.
“Why didn’t you call me since?” he said already dialing his personal assistant, Pastor Tayo from his intercom
“You were in service” she cried.
“So what?! I am on my way. No one should touch my father’s body. I said no one” he dropped the call and looked at his wife.
“Your father is dead. Are you going to raise him up?” she taunted wickedly.
“He was pushed or fell from his penthouse this morning” he said gravely.
“That is not good” she replied with a little frown.
“I have to get to the Castle. My uncles are hurrying to bury him according to their rites”
“I will come with you” she said knowing she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see the beast finally lowered into red earth.
“Thank you” he said as Pastor Tayo came in.
“I have just lost my father. Assemble the team, we will be going to the Castle immediately”
“I am sorry sir” Pastor Tayo gasped.
“God is in control” he nodded, his eyes glazed and unfocused.
In their minds, the trio laughed triumphantly.

******
Uneñ Ameji
Author of Memoirs of a Justified Gold Digger on Amazon.com
See new book Love on the 25th on Okadabooks http://goo.gl/hmsKnv
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T: https://twitter.com/UnenAmeji

******

See you next week.