Whirlwind of Mercy: The Story of a Country at War with the Truth by Pearl Adams, chapters 11 & 12
Chapter 11, Abuja, Nigeria – Hey Mata Hari!
Victoria Temitope leaned back in her chair with a smile of satisfaction. She knew the Russians were bound to contact her sooner or later. She had deliberately ignored her handler this past six months. She was sure they thought she cut them off because her husband’s uncle had been made a Minister. Far from it! She was playing for higher stakes and was confident that an opportunity would crop up for her to exact her revenge. They had taken advantage of her craving for the American Dollars to lure her into working for them for ten years without her knowledge. Now, she would make them pay dearly, not with their lives, but with more American Dollars than they have paid her for the ten years of servitude.
Oh, she had always loved the American Dollars. She may not love Americans as a people, but she adored their currency with the kind of passion she had never felt for a man. She remembered her first encounter with the ‘almighty’ Dollars. She had won a scholarship to study Economics in Russia and was processing her traveling documents at the Russian Embassy in Lagos when she ran into a tall stately looking Nigerian along one of the corridors.
He apologized profusely and offered to buy her lunch. That wasn’t all. After their meal, he said casually, “I know you are processing your travel documents. I want to be part of your success story.” Without any inhibition, he opened her handbag that was on the table and dropped something inside. It looked like money, but she felt it would have been rude to count it right there.
After their meal, he apologized once again for bumping into her and saw her off into a taxi. It was while she was in the taxi that she opened her bag and counted the money. It was five hundred Dollars. She couldn’t believe her good fortune. She kept caressing the notes until the taxi dropped her off at her sister’s place in Ikeja. To her it was love at first touch!
She didn’t hear from the man again before she left for Moscow, since they did not exchange addresses. Three months after she reported at school, she was invited to a gathering of Nigerian students at Zvenigorod. Guess who was the guest speaker from Nigeria? Her “Dollar” man from the Embassy. It was not such a large gathering, so it was easy for everyone to interact. He came over and took her hands. “You look stunning. How are you enjoying Moscow?”
She barely found her voice to give any intelligible reply. She didn’t know what her emotions were towards the man. He danced with her all through but he didn’t make a pass at her. She was surprised. She knew she was a beautiful woman, but was unsure of the effect she had on the man. Just like the first time they met, he left the venue without asking for her address in Moscow. She felt spurned but took courage in the fact that other men showed more than keen interest in her. Immediately her “Dollar man” left, a young man that had been gazing at her all evening walked up to her.
“Hello, I’m Sanya Temitope. I’m at the University of Khimki”
“I’m Victoria. How are you?”
What started as a boring discussion in a supposedly ‘tea’ party, blossomed into a long-term friendship that endured the Russian winter and the African heat when they returned to Nigeria after their five-year programme. She wasn’t particularly thrilled the day he proposed to her, but she agreed to marry him all the same. Her mother had warned her against allowing her emotions to rule her on the issue of marriage. She had said to her, “Nne, love can grow when there is comfort. Choose your husband wisely. Don’t follow your heart. Follow your head. The heart will fall in line later.”
Sanya was from a wealthy family and she enjoyed the attention he lavished on her. Her heart of course was somewhere else. She loved the American Dollar and the man that introduced her to it.
Throughout her stay in Moscow, the “Dollar man made no attempt to contact her. However, after her return to Nigeria, he appeared at her sister’s flat like a phantom. She couldn’t believe her eyes. How did he trace her? They stood at the staircase looking at each other, and then he threw back his head and laughed.
“It’s a small world wouldn’t you say? Won’t you invite me in?”
“Of course, do come in. I was about leaving for the Island. I can give you some minutes.”
“Thanks. I got your address from the Embassy. A friend of mine works there. You know they have addresses of all students that attended school in Russia at the Embassy. This is a nice flat. I hear you’re getting married. Congrats.”
“Thanks. I do hope you’ll leave your address so that I can send you my invitation card”.
“That won’t be necessary. I have brought you my own wedding present in advance.”
“Oh, that’s funny. I’ve never heard of anyone getting a wedding present in advance. Why can’t you attend the occasion by the way?
“I might be out of the country then. Here is your present.”
As she stretched out her hand to take the envelope, she felt her heart thumping wildly. Before she could steady her nerves, he was already walking towards the door.
“Won’t you at least allow me to entertain you?”
He smiled and said, “You don’t need to bother about anything princess. Just enjoy yourself. I will see you when I’m back from my trip”. With that he opened the door and was gone.
Victoria plopped down on the sofa, still clutching the envelope in her hands. When she opened it, the sight of the crispy American Dollars fired her adrenaline. This was the love of her life. She counted the crispy notes. Ten thousand Dollars! She gasped for breath. She had never seen so much money in her life.
That was how her romance with the Dollars led her into the grip of the KGB. Her handler whom she came to know as Dr. Boniface Osuagwu got so much into her skin through the power of the Dollars that she didn’t even realize that he was getting information from her until the day Sanya bumped into the two of them at Opel Restaurant in Maitama District of Abuja.
She had left her home at Hospital Avenue, Asokoro with an excuse that she was visiting a friend at Wuse District. That wasn’t the first time she was meeting Osuagwu at the Restaurant. They had barely finished the first of their four-course meal when Sanya walked in with some friends. She froze when he moved towards their table, a thin smile on his face.
“Hello Doctor, I didn’t know you patronize such bourgeois joints. How are you Vicky?”
Without waiting for her reply, he strolled into a different compartment of the Restaurant. She looked at Osuagwu. For the first time since she knew him, he lost his cool and was fidgeting with his cutlery. He lowered his voice and whispered; “I guess I’d better take you home before your husband turns nasty.” As they walked out of the Restaurant, her mind was in turmoil. Would Sanya believe that she wasn’t having an affair with Osuagwu? She could only say a silent prayer to God to help her out of her predicament. There was nobody else to turn to.
Waiting at home for Sanya to return was even more stressful. She paced their sitting room like a caged bird, pleading for God’s intervention. Sanya walked in three hours later with a soberness that frightened her. She expected him to scream at her, but he looked at her with something close to pity.
“How long have you known Dr. Osuagwu?”
That question unlocked her prison and set her free. It was after she narrated the circumstances of her meeting with Osuagwu at the Russian Embassy and his subsequent interest in her that Sanya said; “He has been using you to steal information from the Nigerian Government for the KGB all these years. You should be grateful to God that the goons at your office did not stumble on you. You would have been out of job and in prison by now.
That man is the major point man for KGB operations in this country. He not only talent spots potential agents; he also runs a network in the business and academic sectors. He approached some of us at Khimki but we weren’t desperate for KGB money. Vicky, how come I wasn’t informed of the relationship with Osuagwu when we got married?”
“Sweetheart I swear I had no idea he was a KGB agent. I thought he just showed interest in my welfare. I saw him as a gentleman. In fact, he had never made a pass at me.”
“He couldn’t have. He’s a professional to the core. We have a dossier on him in our agency. Last year, we sent a request to your boss to have him placed on surveillance but we were told that he was involved in legitimate business. There was nothing our people could do since we are not allowed to operate within the country. I do hope you have learnt your lesson. You must severe the relationship. I know the Russians will lie low for sometime, but they will certainly contact you again, especially now that you are working at the Villa. You must let me know whenever Osuagwu tries to contact you again”
It was then anger took over her heart. She would make the KGB pay for the ten years of deception. No wonder Osuagwu teleguided her every move since she returned from Moscow! He even facilitated her enlistment in the State Department through a retired General from his State. It was during her training she learnt that her then fiancé, Sanya had enlisted in the National Intelligence Agency. He hadn’t discussed his career plans with her despite the fact that they saw each other every week.
Much later, Sanya was moved from Lagos to Abuja and Osuagwu ostensibly out of concern for her, suggested that she should join him there. He said offhandedly that he would try his best to influence the posting. Two weeks later, she was asked to report at the National Headquarters of her Service. She didn’t care to know which buttons Osuagwu pressed, but was delighted when she was eventually deployed to take charge of security at the Villa. How could she have known that the posting served the interest of the KGB?
Of course, Osuagwu met her virtually every week “to find out how you are coping with that stressful work”. She always briefed him extensively, believing that he was a friend and a guardian. In spite of the fact that she was well paid in addition to the perks of office, he still gave her wads of Dollars each time they met. It never occurred to her to question the source of his money because she was convinced that he was an international business tycoon.
After the incident at the restaurant, she didn’t hear from him for more than six months. A part of her was glad, but she also desired an opportunity to take her pound of flesh. When a message arrived on her table that the Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia was visiting the President on a secret mission, she knew she had the bait. She had a hunch that the KGB would contact her soon. She was ready for Osuagwu.
Chapter 12, Port Harcourt, Nigeria – The Cap Fits Sir
Enwa grinned from ear to ear. It isn’t everyday a person in his position receives a telephone call from the Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces of Nigeria. Although he felt honored, he cringed at the idea of an open confrontation with the Chief of Army Staff. The President’s order was explicit. “Take out Okwuechie without endangering the lives of other officers. He is the mastermind of the plot. I don’t want unnecessary blood shed.” He was also uncomfortable with the President’s charge that he should contact the Israeli Consular Officer in Lagos.
He thought of Gladys and his three children. He had a full grasp of the danger involved in tackling the menace posed by Okwuechie and his gang, but then he couldn’t voice his concern to the President. Every soldier knows that death isn’t a negotiable commodity. He remembered a discussion he had with Kelechi Mbaka, a staff of the Internal Affairs Ministry at Sheraton Hotels and Towers, Lagos, venue of a seminar on security management in coastal States. Kelechi jokingly said, “You guys are too fatalistic for my liking.
Your attitude towards death gives an impression that you don’t care about life.” He couldn’t help but chuckle at the comment, remembering his cadet days and the frightened looks on the faces of his course mates during their combat drills. Of course, over the years everyone learnt to mask their fears.
“Kelechi, I can assure you that no soldier courts death. It is the training that makes the difference. How can I explain it to you? Look at it this way. A man who has been diagnosed of cancer or full blown AIDS ultimately resigns himself to fate. He may still hope for divine intervention, but death no longer terrorizes him. The moment you have been exposed to our kind of training, you start living day by day. That may sound fatalistic, but that’s the only way to maintain your sanity.” He couldn’t recall Kelechi’s response and they didn’t bring up the issue again until they parted ways at the end of the seminar.
Enwa stood up from his sofa stretching his back and neck. He checked his wall clock. It was 1500 hours. His stomach rumbled from hunger. He had missed the Holy Communion at his Church yesterday due to his carelessness. Since then he hadn’t had a bite. He wished whatever was tormenting Nigerians would pick its targets from the cabal that had milked the country dry.
He felt lonely. He recalled the argument he had with Gladys over the location of their house. She had insisted on their maintaining their official quarters at the estate allocated to the Ministry of Defence by the State Government but he stood his ground because he needed the peace and serenity the new layout opened by the State Government close to the Eastern By-pass afforded.
She eventually acquiesced but not before pointing out the dangers inherent in residing in such an isolated neighborhood. He merely laughed at her for being so paranoid. Since they moved into the house, there had been no occasion to justify her fears. While all their neighbors kept to themselves, they occasionally exchanged pleasantries whenever they bumped into each other.
Suddenly, he felt uneasy. He couldn’t place the feelings. It was then he heard the soft footsteps. They were moving towards his sitting room. They certainly weren’t those of his driver and Orderly. He was sure Gladys and the children couldn’t have returned from their trip to the village so soon. He checked his wristwatch this time. It was now 1515 hours. Knowing the poor state of Ugep-Calabar-Port Harcourt Road, he wasn’t expecting his family until 1800 hours.
Peeping through the sitting room curtains, he saw two men walking on tip-toe towards the room. Both were armed with what looked like pistols. He knew he had to move fast if he must live to tell the story. Luckily, he had his pistol close by with seven rounds of live ammunition. As the two men moved within reach, Enwa aimed and fired in quick salvo. He saw the surprise look on their faces before they slumped. He quickly opened the door leading to the kitchen from where he made his escape.
On hearing the shots, the four soldiers in the back-up car and three in the vehicle used by the combatants neutralized by Enwa panicked. The sound of the gun told a story that was not sweet to their ears. Their men were armed with Jericho pistols fitted with silencers. What was fired at Enwa’s house was definitely a Berretta pistol. Apparently, they had underestimated their prey.
The leader of the back up team, Major Solomon Ekela cursed under his breath. He wished with all his heart that Col Sam Odunye was the victim of this blunder. The Colonel had ignored his counsel that Enwa should be taken care of in the early hours of the morning rather than in broad daylight with all the risk involved. There was nothing to be done now other than see the operation to its end. “Ben, keep the engine running, Daniel, stay in the car and keep your eyes open. Yakubu and I will tidy up things inside. Oh, Daniel, tell the guys in the other vehicle to be at alert.
Lt Col Yakubu Mahmoud chuckled. From what he’d heard about Enwa, their two companions, Captain Martin Yusuf and Lt Col Tolu Adefarasin should be history by now. Of course, he couldn’t imagine himself arguing with Ekela on the propriety or otherwise of their attempting to salvage the situation. Ekela was noted for his violent temper. This wasn’t the right time to push his luck with the Colonel.
As they turned the corner leading to the front door, Ekela spotted two pairs of legs sprawled out by the door. He broke into a trot, his eyes darting in all direction. There was no sound from the house. With trepidation, he moved towards the two men sprawled on the floor. He felt their pulses but there was no life. “Yakubu, we’ll have to move fast. I don’t believe Enwa will stay around after his encounter with these guys. We’ll still check the house to be sure. We’ll evacuate the corpses later.”
Both men moved gingerly into the house, walking on tip-toe. Yakubu was tempted to question the rationale behind spending valuable time searching the four-bedroom apartment instead of beating a retreat. He cleared his throat to say something but thought the better of it.