THE KING'S PEN

Ireti’s smiling face froze into a frown that very second. The novel was found, but the very important disc that contained Alhaji Idrisu’s sexual escapade was still missing. Ireti threw her anxious gaze at Dede who inched towards her looking concerned. And it suddenly hit her troubled mind that Desmond, the man who gave her the money in her wardrobe, might be the brain behind this missing disc.

“Aunty wetin happen? What are you looking for?” Dede squatted next to her, picking a novel from the heap.

Ireti gave her silence. Nothing bothered her more than the video clip that mustn't get out on the internet before her full balance of the money would be paid. Desmond, the young multimillionaire who enriched himself blackmailing men of higher status in the country, had only given Ireti half of the money he promised if she got the job done. Now, it occurred to Ireti vividly that Desmond definitely knew about the missing disc. Because the very day he handed the bag of money to her, she witnessed a lady struggling with the fierce-looking guards at Desmond’s gate. They wouldn't let her in to see him.

“I need my money! I gave him what he needed...so I need my money now!” The lady snarled at the hefty men. “Get your hands off me!”

This very scene crept into Ireti’s random thoughts, so she decided to call Desmond. While Dede perched before the heaps of novel thinking about what exactly Ireti was thinking about, Ireti rushed out of the house to her car to get her phone.

His ears picked the ticking of the clock and his eyes brightened in fear as he realized that Salewa would have arrived home. Well, that wouldn't stop him from fulfilling his greedy intention. Dede had analyzed how luxurious he would live if he laid his hands on the money: travel to the village and erect a massive building, buy his mother a new, bigger fishing boat and net, send Dike to school and invest the rest for the later. It was well planned out in his head. This wouldn't just be a fantasy, he assured himself again as Ireti walked in, talking on the phone.

“Don’t joke with me Desmond! If you try this nonsense with other folks, don’t dare put me on the list.” Ireti squeezed her other hand to a fist, even more tightly. “You can’t play smart with me...me Iretiola Sobowale of all people.”

She got completely furious, kicking the smashed pieces of the aquarium in the air, when she heard Desmond say, “Ireti or whatever your name is if you really enjoy the smell of the air you breathe, you had better return my money.”

“I have no time battering words with you on phone. Piss off!” Ireti hung up.

She slouched onto the sofa, perplexed, wiped the beads of sweat that formed on her forehead, and pondered on her next line of action. Dede read the anger on Ireti’s scruffy face, so he chose to be a little nicer. He hurried to the refrigerator and got her a glass of water.

Ireti let out a deep breath of relief after the chilled, satisfying drink. A smiled tugged at his lips as he realized she felt a little refreshed.

“Thank you. I feel better now.” Ireti handed back an empty glass to Dede.

He dropped the cup on the table, still mute, scared to say anything that would aggravate her.

After few seconds pondering over the issue that clogged her throat, she stood to her feet and walked towards the exit. “I’m leaving...”

That caught Dede unaware, rendering him further speechless to the soft audible words Ireti spoke. He fixed his look on her, waiting to hear a clearer explanation. Ireti got to the door, only to find the lock broken and out of shape.

“...they broke in.” She mumbled, then looked at Dede.

He hesitated, then approached her. Ireti was troubled and appeared to be going through a lot, too much for her to bear, just in the space of some hours. It would be absolutely humane to give up the money and not compound more load to her problems, Dede considered as he inched to her. She sniffled and her eyes were saturated with tears.

“Aunty, what is the problem? Tell me anything, I fit help you.” Dede said, then examined the door-lock.

“Thank you. You can’t be of help here.” She bowed her head out of the house, headed towards her car.

Just as Ireti entered into her car and ignited the engine, Dede rushed to her. “Aunty abeg the oga madam cloth wey I forget.”

She stretched her hand to the back seat for the black nylon and gave it to him through the car-window. “Please jam my door before leaving.” She said, with tears tingling in her voice.

Dede nodded, then watched Ireti reverse and drove off. At this moment, he came to a crunch, one he had no time to deliberate much about. Because Desmond who seemed to realize that Ireti may decide to play a fast one on him had sent his gang to fetch her at once, dead or alive, from her house.

Dede’s scruples held tight to him like a tribal-mark, as he marched inside the house, to the bedroom. He wanted the money, but Ireti didn't deserve to be paid in this coin. The continuous zoom of various passing vehicles got him on the lookout, making use of the bedroom window at intervals.

He opened the wardrobe.

Quite hesitant, he brought out the black bag, dropped it on the bed and unzipped it to be ascertain that he wasn't mistaken. Resolved, Dede squeezed the nylon into the bag and zipped it. He silenced the still dissenting voice that spoke to him from within, then grabbed the bag and forged on to the exit. He paused and looked around carefully, not to leave any implicating traces behind. None. He opened the door and obeyed Ireti’s command, he jammed the door and left.

This day was really Dede’s day. Every iota of doubt against that was quenched by the baffling coincidences that ran his way. He never could believe that the gang Desmond sent to fetch Ireti just whizzed pass him in their black Range Rover. He never could believe, he just escaped death. Dede hollowed his mouth, whistling and bouncing down the busy street, freely swinging the bag, dousing every sneaking suspicion. And just as his day got better and better, Ireti’s day grew even worse.

Her heels kissed the culvert in slow succession. Having driven kilometers away from her comfort, she was ready to confront Desmond in person. Ireti met the wicket agape, so she wiggled in without any sort of authentication. There had always been a guard by the gate, but it was different this day.

“Let me go! Leave me alone...please!” A female scream pierced into her ears, and immediately a cold sensation ran through her spine.

She stopped and hid beside one of the cars by the loggia.

Ireti considered how safe was her life if she dared this blood-curdling feat, owing to the fact that Desmond generally seemed dangerous, both in act and appearance. After deep deliberation for some seconds, she finally decided to go in.

She walked inside the building.

She tried controlling her breath, at first without success. Then slowly, finally, it began to ease. Even as she attempted to be a little confident, her legs still wobbled. Her eyes couldn't escape seeing the well-drawn African arts framed along the white wall in the corridor. This very minute, she slipped and fell, then noticed blood speckles on the marbled floor. Was it a coincidence or a back off signal? These were the questions on Ireti’s mind as she scrambled to her feet.

An hefty guy came out of a room. “Hey! What are you doing in here? Who are you?” He advanced towards her.

“Um...I’m here to see Desmond.” Ireti straightened her carmine blouse, then cleared her throat.

“Desmond...Does he have an appointment with you?” He got closer, looking more fierce.

“Yes...” She sounded not sure. “I called him some hours ago and he...”

Ireti stopped talking, seeing Desmond locking the door of the same room the hefty guy came out from.

The hefty guy turned around. “Boss, someone is here waiting for you.”

“Yeah I know.” He cleaned his hands with a black towel, walking towards the two. “Ireti Ireti, how come you got here before my boys? Or didn't you see them?” Desmond said, smiling, scratching his bushy mustache.

“What boys?” Ireti rolled her eyes at him.

Desmond threw the towel to the hefty guy. “Dogo, you may go now. And note, I’m not expecting any visitor.”

“Okay sir.” The hefty guy walked away.

The blood stain on the floor still lingered on Ireti’s mind. She wondered what they’d done to the lady that screamed. Preempting her mooching thoughts, Desmond led Ireti to his living room. The cold air from the air conditioner welcomed her supple skin, and the very big picture frames of Desmond that hung on the wall caught her wary eyes. Come on, this man must be single for him to have only his picture in all the frames, Ireti assumed as she took a seat on the brown couch. It was her first time entering his private living room.

“Do you come with my money?” Desmond said, walking to the bar, at a corner of the room.

“What money? See, you ain't a pinch close to how smart I am.” Ireti stood to her feet, with a mean look on her face. “We have a deal and you cut corners around it.”

He smirked, filled his cup with champagne, then inched on to her.

“Go check out my house now. Go check how messy it is. They broke my door, scattered everywhere, destroyed my TV... My whole house is in a mess!” Ireti closed the gap between them. She stood firmly before him, looking straight into his eyes. “You shouldn't have done that. We had a deal!”

“Ireti? Where is my money?” Desmond said in a lower tone.

“Where is my disc?” She flicked her swaying hair backwards, then pushed her chest against his in a jarring hostility.

Squint-eyed, he said even in a more lower tone, “you really don’t know me, do you?”

“You don’t know me too, ah!” Ireti said this in her typical Yoruba ascent, pushing him a little with her vibrating bosoms.

Like flash, Desmond slapped her with the back of his palm and she knocked out on the floor. He emptied the drink in his cup on her insentient body, then sent the cup crashing on the far wall.

He scurried out.