“Now, why don’t you head back home?” the pastor said to her. “The driver will take you and I’ll see you in service tomorrow, yes?”
Ijendu looked like she wanted to argue but then thought better of it. “Okay, Daddy,” she said.
“Go with God.” They hugged again, and she gave Ahmed a complicated glance as she left—curious yet sympathetic.
Once she left, Okinosho walked slowly around his desk and settled into his chair with a sigh, gesturing for Ahmed to sit back down. Ahmed obeyed, his pulse racing. He couldn’t gauge what the pastor was thinking or feeling, and it was strange to look at the man’s fleshy face and think this was the same man who had put out the order for Kalu to be killed. None of that rage was showing—Okinosho looked at ease, relaxed, unhurried. As if lives weren’t orbiting around the snap of his ringed fingers.
The pastor stared at Ahmed across the gleaming stretch of his desk. His face carved itself into a dark smile.
“So, Alhaji,” he said. “My daughter tells me you need my help.”
Ahmed hoped he didn’t look as scattered as he felt. “Yes,” he said. Keep it simple, don’t talk too much, don’t show how weak you are right now. It would be such a mistake in the face of this kind of casual ruthlessness.
“You know, the first time Ijendu came to me asking for a favor like this, I wasn’t sure. She wasn’t even supposed to know that I was capable of helping with these matters.” Okinosho cracked his knuckles and rested his elbows on his desk. “As it turns out, that little girl had been using her ears to hear more than she was supposed to. But I’m not annoyed by it. She has kept her mouth shut for many years, and that kind of discretion is rare. She can be useful to me. I feel as if I can trust her, and in this life, there are not many people you can trust, especially as a man of God. Snakes lie in wait in the grass.”
Ahmed said nothing, just waited, clenching his hands around each other to keep them still.
“But this time, because it’s you, I am particularly interested. You see, you’re an interesting man, Alhaji. You mind your business, you run your parties, you don’t really have an attitude about them. Many men would be power drunk in your position. Feeling as if they’re gatekeepers when the only real gate anyone should be worrying about is that to the Kingdom of Heaven. You have a humility that I like. That’s why I didn’t do anything to you when your friend had the temerity to lay his hands on me even though it happened under your roof.” Here, the pastor’s mouth twisted, his canines showing. “I decided to keep my problem with him separate. God works his grace through me. But in this favor my daughter is asking, I saw an opportunity. You are someone who can do many things for me, both now and in the future. So, yes”—he leaned back in his velvet chair—“I can help you dispose of this, this actor.” Okinosho made a dismissive gesture with his hand at the thought of Seun, as if the boy was smoke already dissipating from the world.
Ahmed’s eyes flickered up, surprised. He’d been expecting—he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting.
Okinosho noted his surprise. “What is it?” He chuckled. “You thought I wouldn’t help you?” A shrug. “Life is a fleeting thing, a brief gift from God. It is far, far more fragile than people are led to believe. Sometimes, it evaporates from right under our hands. Who are we to question the timing of the Almighty when He calls the young ones home?”
That was…one way of describing killing someone, Ahmed thought. He wondered how often the pastor had done it himself. The man’s eyes were shiny and slick as they slid up to look at Ahmed. It was surprising how penetrating they were.
“Or did you think I would judge you?” Okinosho straightened up. “That is not my place in life, my child. Whether it’s for the circumstances in which the incident occurred or the incident itself. We are all just humans, flawed and ugly.”
Ahmed couldn’t stay silent anymore. “Is that why you’re helping me?” he asked, skepticism heavy in his voice. “Because we’re all just humans?”
The pastor tilted his head. “Because we are all here to help one another. There are many things you can help me with later on. But for this, for right now”—he made a moue with his mouth—“I will only ask for one thing.”
Ahmed’s heart thudded. Who knows what this madman will ask for? “And what is it?”
Okinosho regarded him seriously. “I want the girl from that night. From your party.”
It took Ahmed a few minutes to register what he was saying. “Wait…Machi?”
A dismissive wave. “If that’s her name. The young one.”
A chill threaded through Ahmed. “What do you want her for?”
“Oh, don’t worry. It’s not like last night. In fact, I won’t even touch her. I want to hire her for something else—it won’t take long. An hour, maybe two. It depends.” His gaze stroked over Ahmed, assessing. “And since you seem to be the conscientious type, I will be paying her well, so don’t worry about that.”
“And…this is what you want in exchange for helping me?”
“Yes. You bring the girl here. You can even take her back afterward, I don’t care.”
Ahmed felt an odd surge of protection toward Machi. “You don’t want another girl? I’m sure I can get you one.”
Okinosho gave him a small and patient smile. “No, Ahmed. I want that exact girl. You got her before; you can get her again and bring her here. I am a generous man; I will give you some time.”
“Will…will she be hurt?” He felt like an idiot asking, but he had to.
A laugh. “You are so upstanding, Alhaji. It surprises me, in your line of work. But no, nothing will happen to her. This is just another assignment, another job for her, you get?” The pastor folded his arms, the gold fabric stretching across his biceps. “Bring her to me and I can take care of your problem for you.”
Ahmed’s skin felt clammy. “I know I asked before, but what do you want her for?”
The pastor smiled then, and it was like a knife sliding slowly out of its sheath. “Wait and see,” he said. “It’s not something I want you to miss anyway.” He looked down at his watch, thick gold choking his wrist. “Why don’t we say by nine tonight. I have service early in the morning.”
Ahmed tried to think, but his mind was tangled. It would be easy to get Machi; he could just send Thursday. But there was still a hit out on Kalu, and this silken monster of a man sitting across from him was responsible.
“About my friend—” he began, but his voice dried out in his mouth as Okinosho’s eyes snapped up with a look so cold and razored, Ahmed almost felt the skin on his face begin to bleed.
“You dare open your mouth to ask me for something else?” Okinosho’s voice was soft, a wire gently looping around Ahmed’s throat. “Alhaji, don’t try my patience.”
Ahmed swallowed hard. “Please. I don’t want him to die.” Would he beg? Would he tell this man how Kalu held parts of him that Ahmed had never given to anyone else? Would he give Okinosho that much of a weapon over him? Ahmed feared that even this plea had exposed more than he would have ever wanted to show to this man.
The pastor stared at him flatly for several long moments. “You are a fool, Alhaji,” he finally said. “I will forgive the way you are asking me to ignore the attack committed against a man of God, but I warn you, if you bring it up again, I cannot guarantee further mercy. Do you understand?” There was power in the air, a hovering guillotine, and Ahmed could do nothing but nod in agreement. Okinosho let the corner of his mouth rise up.
“Bring me the girl,” he repeated. “And there may yet be salvation in unexpected places.”
Ahmed had no idea what he meant, but there was nothing more he could do at this point. Seun’s folded body in the trunk of his car was becoming more and more of a problem with each hour that passed. “Can I leave my car here?” he asked. “I will bring the girl.”
Okinosho nodded and stood up from his chair, ending the meeting. “We won’t touch your car until you’ve fulfilled your side of this bargain but, yes, you can leave it. I’m sure driving around with it is a little…strenuous on you.”
“Thank you.”
The pastor paused and swung his head slowly toward Ahmed, his eyes glittering. “I beg your pardon?”
