ON THE RUN (EPISODE 30)

Now anyone who ever for once thought danger had no smell haven’t perceived one yet. Most often than not, the malevolent presence of danger awakens our five senses. And then does the brain work in its fullest capacity. Staring lonesomely lost at Ireti, Dede’s white and clear eye-balls altered to a dim ox-blood, bulging out of its socket like an amateur who just took in a puff of Jamaican weed. His heart pounded hard against his rib cages and the spurt of blood that rushed into his arteries could easily be heard. His saliva became more viscous as it dribbled down his esophagus within split seconds.

He quickly moved away from the window and racked his brain for the safest way out, staying back or hiding in the room wasn't an option. Yes! The back window. This window had no window-panes but a wooden door with a bolt constructed to it. The window hadn't been open in years, as it was the medium the pungent smell from the soak-away, situated right behind the boy’s quarter, diffused into the room. At a drag, he hauled away the dirty green curtain that covered the window, then unbolted the window-door and pushed it open. Ammonia smelled like rose compared to the gas that rushed into his sacred nostrils. He could manage this smell, not even when his life was at stake. He shoved the bag through the window, and just after the bag kissed the ground, he perceived a sickening rushing steps towards the door. Without any delay, he heaved up to the window and squeezed himself out.

The door opened!

Ireti’s anxious gaze scattered all over the petite room. She walked in to be sure Dede wasn't hiding in a corner unknown to her. She kicked aside the clothes strewn all over the floor, then bent to her knees and checked under his bed, the very place she hid successfully the other day. She stood to her feet and noticed the opened, back window. That second, she tried to recall if she saw this window the last time she visited this room. No, she didn't. With her palm covering her nose from the overpowering stench, she inched towards the window to observe what lay behind it.

“He must have gone through this window! Definitely.” Ireti saw that the window led out to various routes and wasn't a dead-end. “But I called him...”

She rushed out of the room to the main house. And as common to her, she opened the door without knocking, looked around and couldn't see a trace of Salewa’s presence. No cup of juice on the sitting room center-table, the dining table was void of her morning dirty dishes and the air-conditioner still snoozed on.

“Salewa!” Ireti checked the kitchen. “Salewa.” She toned down her voice and watched her steps, heading towards the bedroom. Ireti solemnly prayed, “let this be Dede,” when she heard a soft moan from behind the door.

The issue holding her patience hostage provided no room for her to consider properly the question of whether to wait in the sitting room, as courtesy demanded, or to barge in and handle it at once. She affirmed the later and stormed in on them.

“Dede!” Ireti yelled in assumption, seeing the two were wholly covered under the big, cream and fleecy blanket.

Who the hell! Sanmi hurled off the blanket.

“Oh my God.” Ireti said under her breath, with her eyebrows raised and her mouth unable to close, staring shell-shocked at the mortified naked couple. Was she surprised to realize it wasn’t Dede? Or she could not have imagined that Sanmi was this endowed?

“Ireti, what’s this? Can’t you knock?” Salewa bawled, groping for Sanmi’s boxers somewhere on the bed.

“I’m sorry... Sanmi, please I’m so sorry.” Ireti and her guilty face, turned around to retreat.

“Wait.” Sanmi said to Ireti, now wearing his lemon boxers. “You called Dede, what’s the matter?” Sanmi’s keen eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Gazes began to clash just as the awkward silence crept amidst them. Salewa’s teary eyes caught on Ireti’s sorry look. Salewa feared, from the rant Ireti released on the phone, that she might be furious to let out her secret. And Sanmi wondering why the lingering silence ruled on, shifted his questioning gaze to his beloved wife. Sanmi killed every nauseating thoughts crawling into his curious mind that his wife cheated on him. He got no response from her, even now that he badly needed one. The impatient man rolled his mean eyes back again to Ireti who now opened her mouth and was ready to talk.

“Dede stole my money.” She said with an obvious evidence of tears tingling in her voice, bowing her head to conceal her teary eyes.

“Money?” Salewa wrapped herself more tightly in her nightie. “God! When?”

Ireti kept mute, still with her head bowed.

Sanmi heaved a sigh of relief. Thank goodness it wasn't what he thought. “Dede? I knew a whole lot must have happened in my absence. How much are we talking about?”

“Twelve million.”

“Twelve million!” The couple synchronized.

“Twelve million naira? That’s a huge sum, but how come? How did he...”

Ireti interrupted, giving him a quick summary to his intending question. “It’s a long story that I wouldn't like to cut short.”

“Sweetie please can you excuse us?” Salewa stood up from the bed. “I need to get every single details on this matter. Please if you don’t mind.”

“Sure.” He shrugged, then stood up from the bed, grabbed the pale pink towel resting on Salewa’s cosmetic table, and inched on to the bathroom.

Salewa moved closer to Ireti, threw her hand around her neck and led her out of the room. Unknown to Sanmi that the two friends had left the room, he glued his ear to the bathroom door, hoping to eavesdrop their conversation. That sudden moment of realization dawned on him like a spark of miracle, now thinking why was his matrimonial bedroom the hiding place Ireti could ever think of finding Dede? His hands rested firmly on his hips as he stood stark-naked, lost in thought, under the rushing shower.

Secrets are like explosives used when all seem difficult, to weaken the strength of the enemy. Much more to push them out of their hiding places and to take back on the prevailing power to control the situation. Only the wise and the courageous could revoke secrets they’d lost to their enemy. Exactly, same was the case of Salewa and Ireti this scorching afternoon. After they entered the room Dede hid and were dumbfounded at the mess he’d made, Salewa narrated all that happened over the night.

“This is still a shock to me... Dede scaled through this window.” She added.

Ireti found it difficult to believe her long-time friend, grilling her even more. “I warned him over the phone not to leave but...” She paused, having noticed Salewa’s sudden pity face that exposed she had more to reveal.

“I was the one. I answered your call.”

“You what?”

“I’m sorry. I didn't want Sanmi to know the phone wasn't mine. He will kill me.”

“Oh my God! You knew about the money all the while?”

“No o! I swear to God.”

Ireti bit the edge of her lower lip. “This is beyond what I can handle on my own.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m involving your husband.” Ireti turned to the door

“Haba Ireti!” Salewa rushed and propped her back against the door. “You can’t do this to me.”

“I can’t do this to myself. I have less than ten hours to get my money back, else... So get out of my way.”

“Please don’t do this. Please.”

Ireti frowned, squeezing her mouth to a zero and forcing out a look of hatred from a corner of her right eye. Salewa stood her ground and wouldn't move away from the door. Then all of a sudden they heard the ignition of a car from outside. The two ladies paced to the window to check whose car it was. Now Salewa let out a sigh of deep relief while Ireti stood with a saggy jaw and a glint of anger in her eyes, as they watched Sanmi drive out of the compound.

“Get my money. My return wouldn't be as friendly as this.” Ireti said, walking to the door.

“What money? You had an affair with my houseboy, he stole your money and now you’re here blabbing about. You can’t dragged me into the pity pit that you are in.”

Ireti paused and turned around with a look that questioned her confident speech.

“Oh, you think I don’t know? My dear, I've known you for donkey years now and I can tell your every move when it comes to male living things.” Salewa inched towards her.

She smirked. “Good. I’ll be glad if you could tell what my next move would be.” Ireti opened the door and slammed it shut behind her.

How humiliated she had become if her husband found out she had an affair with the houseboy? Salewa thought within the minutes, knowing fully well how despicable Ireti could be when it came to issues that keeps her on her toes. There, another thought hit her unsettled mind again that Ireti might just be going after Sanmi.

Unknown to people, things hardly bothered a soldier, not even a soldier who had smelled, felt and seen blood gaping out from the skull of his comrade and had taken the lives of hundreds of enemy forces. Yes, nothing bothered a soldier. But on this day, the strange uninvited feeling that clouded Sanmi’s mind negated this premise. He had no choice than to drive out of the house to grab some fresh air, as he couldn't bear the heat coming from the thoughts that rushed into him. An hour or two was long enough time for his wife to get things in order, he thought to himself, driving at a considerable speed to Ikeja shopping mall, situated about twenty kilometers away from home.

The hustling and bustling in Lagos couldn't be over emphasized. The hordes of people flooding in and out of the mall left Sanmi completely marveled at the unique, unchanging characteristic this city possess. He came to a pause at the toll-gate to the mall, paid a fee in exchange for a parking ticket, then drove in to park his car. He drew in deep into his lungs, the sweet candy smell in the air, as he stepped out of his car and headed inside the mall. At first he had wanted to see a movie, but changed his mind just as his tasty eyes clocked on a watch-shop. He had in his wardrobe a collection of wrist-watches: Armani Exchange, Betsey Johnson, Calvin Klein, Caterpillar Cat, Ed Hardy, Hugo Boss, Michael Kors and Diesel. He loved to add to the number each time he had the opportunity to. This minute he walked into the glowing shop, meandering through the well-polished wooden shelves, checking the price and the brand that pleased him.

After few minutes of perambulating, he came to a conclusion, walked to the counter and placed an order for a Haurex Italia black leather wrist-watch.

“Are you paying cash, sir?” A female cashier, sitting behind the counter, asked with a smile.

“No. I’m using my card.” Sanmi brought out his debit card from his wallet. “Here...” He stretched it to her.

The cashier slot the card into the POS machine and just as she punched in the necessary data, Sanmi saw someone familiar and immediately his patience tipped over the edge.

“That’s Dede.” He sounded unsure, squinting at the guy in bright yellow stripes who walked by the shop, holding two loaded shopping bags.

“What do you mean, sir?” The cashier asked, pushing the POS to him to punch in his password.

“Never mind, not you.” He quickly gave his password, his mind on Dede. “Please kindly make it snappy.”

“Okay sir.” The cashier completed the transaction, tore out the receipt that rolled out of the POS, then gave him both his card and the receipt. “Thank you sir.” She smiled again and handed the pack of wrist-watch to him in a white opaque nylon.

He hurried out of the watch-shop, but the Dede he saw was no more in view. He rushed out of the mall and from a distance, his very sharp eyes caught on the guy in yellow walking out of the toll-gate. Only if Sanmi had known ahead of time that Dede was a twin, he wouldn't have troubled himself this much. The Dede he saw happened to be Dike. Yes, nobody ever thought Dike would survive that gruesome accident, let alone have well enough energy to squeeze himself out of the wrecked vehicle with nothing but minor bruises.

The accident occurred exactly 12:45 P.M on Thursday, along Lagos-Ibadan express way. Few of the many vehicle drivers that witnessed from afar, the horrendous acrobatic display of this fourteen-seater bus, stopped to help get out safe the unlucky passengers. They’d rushed to the scene but couldn't decipher where to begin. The driver’s bleeding head stuck out of the broken windshield while his lifeless body rested on the still steering wheel. The windows were completely shattered and its frames crushed to a close. Seeing the blood that flowed out of an opening beside the exhaust pipe, the rescuers concluded that no soul in this very bus could escape death.

Then, that very minute, Dike stuck his bleeding hand out of the bare rear window, flagging for help. He grabbed an edge and as he struggled to ease out his leg from the very tight corner, the rescuers came along and heaved him out. They got him under a shade and the very experienced ones gave him a first aid to overcome the shock of the incident. And just as the crowd returned to the accident scene, to dig in for another fortunate survivor, a fair middle-aged lady, dressed in a native attire, walked towards Dike.

“How are you feeling?” She said, sounding quite British, then sat beside him.

Dike nodded. He took in a short breath and nodded again, he liked the exotic heady fragrance that emanated from her body.

“Where are you heading to? Lagos, I guess. Where in Lagos?”

“My brother live for city. The address in the phone in the bus. I don’t know.” Dike tailored his English to the best of his ability.

“In the same bus? Oh no, how would we get the phone out? That’s if it ain't damage already.” She stared on at the effort of the Good Samaritans, pulling out the dead bodies from the bus. “You should know your way back to where you coming from, huh?”

Dike kept mute.

“Anyway, I pray your phone is intact.”

Of all the accessories gathered from the bus, Dike’s phone couldn't be found. Then, this lady resolved to take Dike back to his home in Abia the following week. But now she ushered him into her jeep and her driver drove them to her house in Lekki, Lagos.

Lekki was quite a distance Sanmi couldn't believe he’d travel this day. He entered his car and tailed after a white Range Rover jeep, the very one Dike was driven in. Sanmi wouldn't stop asking himself, “why did Dede leave the house?” Finding the answer to this pressing question was a golden challenge for him. He followed every turning as they did, but maintained a reasonable distance to dent every possible suspicion. Finally, the jeep made its last turn, this time around into a very big compound.

The reconnaissance was over.

Sanmi pulled the gear in reverse, his sight still wandering inside the compound as the gate-man pushed the gate close. He stepped on the gas and drove off. If what he thought happened to be true, then he wouldn't hesitate to kill Dede.

Dede rather feared dying poor than he did death itself. And ever since he had conceived this daring notion, the tenacity to enrich himself, by any means possible, went on to a whole new level. Dede thought the risk he took was no risk because he knew what he was doing. After boarding a motorcycle out of the barracks and a cab to the motor park, he decided to travel to Ibadan, a city known for its utmost serenity, to hide himself till the next morning, before journeying to his village.

The inescapable traffic jam along Lagos-Ibadan express-way delayed his arrival. He finally stepped his foot on Ibadan soil around four o’clock in the evening. What next? Where next? The questions that needed quick answers. And there as he stood, clutching more tightly to the handle of his bag, the idea of sleeping in an hotel slunk into his mind. Now, he went in search of a low-priced hotel, not far away from the motor park.

His ears picked the sound of a siren from afar. He paused, straining his ears to be sure where it came from. The sound drew closer accompanied with another threatening sound. Pow! He heard again and took off running into the unknown. The environment suddenly became raucous; fearful folks dashing to safety, doors and windows of roadside shops slammed shut, cars speeding off at a very high speed. Dede got off the perilous road, taking the next turn to his right, then rushed into a shop.

“Kilode? Kilode?” The shop owner asked. “What happen?!” Her classic Yoruba ascent contorted the English she spoke.

“Police. Thief.” Dede said. He wasn't even sure what he was running from.

“Everybody close your shop o!” They heard again from someone running to safety.

The young lady left Dede seated on the bench, ran outside her shop to pack in the goods she sold. Dede later slung his bag around his neck, then joined her in packing. And as they were about shutting the door, another guy rushed in with them. This lady understood the fact that everyone needed to run for their dear lives. But what she didn't understand, immediately she switched on the bulb, was the fact that this guy had in his hand a revolver and a black brief-case.