Ahmed cringed.
“Thank you, Daddy,” he said, his throat thick around the words, his hand shaking.
The pastor unsheathed his smile again.
“Go in peace, my child. We will see you tonight.”
fourteen
Saturday, 5:55 PM
Thursday walked into Ahmed’s house and called out his name. Empty sound echoed back from the white walls. He tapped his fingers against his thigh as he surveyed the parlor, pausing when he saw a phone lying on the floor in a red leather case. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands—it wasn’t one of theirs. As if on cue, his own phone vibrated from his pocket and he put his hand up to the Bluetooth device clipped to his ear.
“Ahmed,” he said.
“Where are you?” His boss’s voice was rough, panic like a deep-set bass thumping through it.
“At the house. I thought you were here. Whose cars are parked outside?”
Ahmed’s laugh was shaky. “I’ll tell you about that later.”
“Looks like they left their phone.”
A sharp breath. “Collect the phone. And get rid of the convertible outside the gate.”
Thursday immediately became curious but didn’t ask any questions. That wasn’t his job. “No wahala. What about the G-Wagon inside?”
“Leave it, that one belongs to Ijendu Okoye.” Ahmed hesitated. “I need you to go and find the girl.”
He already knew who Ahmed was talking about. Since Kalu had left the party, there had been something shaken loose in Ahmed and it was rattling loudly. It was annoying. That’s why Thursday hadn’t allowed Machi to spend the night at the house; he wanted to get her away from Ahmed before he did anything stupid, like fuck her.
“Find her for what?”
There was silence on the other end of the phone for a while. “I cut a deal with Okinosho,” Ahmed finally said.
“Oh, for Kalu?” That was impressive.
Ahmed’s silence suddenly filled with guilt. “No, I couldn’t—I couldn’t sway him on that matter.”
Thursday slid the red phone into his pocket and folded his arms. “What could you have made a deal for that’s more important than Kalu’s life?” he asked, censure thick in his voice.
“Thursday…a lot has happened.”
“It has,” his second agreed. “I spoke to my guys and people are moving on Kalu. I put one of them to watch him, he’s supposed to be texting me updates. But you had a chance to deal with Okinosho and you couldn’t resolve this? What does he want with the girl?”
“He just wants her for a job.” Ahmed sighed on the other end of the line. “If I had tried to push the issue, I might not have made it out of that man’s house alive. You know how he is.”
Thursday exhaled. Ahmed was right; Okinosho had made bigger men than Ahmed disappear and no one in New Lagos had blinked. “What do you want me to do about Kalu?”
“Check on him at his house on your way to collect the girl. I’ve tried to call him but his phone seems to be off. I’m going to stop by the garage and pick up another car.”
“Okay. I’ll get rid of the convertible and the phone, check his house, then find the girl.”
“No, keep the phone.” Ahmed paused on the other end of the line, then seemed to make a decision. “It has content that could compromise me. I need you to get access to the files and wipe everything, including whatever’s on the cloud. If something was sent out, find the people it was sent to.”
Thursday raised an eyebrow. “Something?”
Ahmed barked out a harsh laugh. “Oh, you’ll know it when you see it, Thursday. Try not to enjoy it too much.”
The call ended and Thursday stood quietly for a moment. The red phone was a weight in his pocket, but he would handle it for Ahmed, eat as many secrets as Ahmed needed him to. They had followed each other into unspeakable darkness; they had spilled blood and done cruel, inhumane things for and with each other, and they would do those things again and again if it was necessary. Today felt like one of those days—something really fucked was going on if Okinosho wanted that little girl. Thursday headed back out the door and called Jackson on his way out.
“Bros, how far?”
“I have a job for you.”
“I salute.”
“Alhaji’s house. The red convertible wey park outside. Make am disappear.”
Jackson laughed. “Ọ dị egwu,” he said. “Two hours. Usual price.”
“I’ll transfer it into your account.”
“All right, oga. Take am easy.”
Thursday beeped off his earpiece and headed back to his car.
fifteen
