Whirlwind of Mercy: The Story of a Country at War with the Truth by Pearl Adams, chapters 13 & 14
Chapter 13, Aso Villa, Nigeria – Sir, Your Roof Leaks!
President Akinluyi stared at his visitor. He had no reason to doubt the integrity of the Crown Prince. What he couldn’t fathom was why Jesus Christ would choose a Muslim leader as His messenger. As if reading his mind, the Crown Prince said, “I tried to convince Him that I wasn’t a suitable receptacle for this message but He said His Father chose me.” The President nodded as if in assent, but in actual fact, his mind was in turmoil. What if the rascals at Oporoma insist on the withdrawal of Government troops from the oil rich enclave as a prelude to taking over oil installations?
The agitation for resource control had in the past pitched different sections of the country against each other. He remembered the rumpus at the International Conference Center when the matter came up for discussion during the last National Political Reform Conference. Can the nation afford to concede the oil rich Niger Delta to some misguided youth who call themselves freedom fighters?
“Your Excellency, I’m glad we have at least seen a flicker of light in the dark tunnel we’ve groped in the past four months. I will certainly act on this message, but I am afraid of the backlash. You are aware that my administration has been having a running battle with some militant groups in that area over the disbursement of revenue accruing from sale of crude oil. I have tried in my own way to ameliorate the sufferings of the masses in the affected communities.
My major headache has been the inclination of community leaders to appropriate money meant for the development of the oil producing enclaves. I tried direct intervention through the provision of amenities but local contractors who were forced on me by community leaders embezzled the funds. I couldn’t prosecute them because they had the support of some people who claimed the thieves were only taking their share of the national cake.”
The Crown Prince smiled. He experienced similar conflict of interest during the Gulf War. His people were sharply divided on his resolve to pitch tent with the United States against Iraq. He tried to explain to his opponents that Iraq’s expansionist tendencies were not targeted at Kuwait but the Kingdom but they scoffed at him, calling him a traitor to Arab cause. Of course, he stood his ground because he knew he was fighting a just cause.
“Your Excellency, I cannot presume to know the problems of your country more than you do. But this I know, God is not asking for your opinion in this matter. I believe you have no choice than to obey Him if this plague must be stayed.
The President looked at the Crown Prince and nodded his head. Yes, he has to send for the rascals in Oporoma. He realized he was in dire straight because his opponents from the Northern part of the country and their collaborators in the South would attempt to remove him either through impeachment or a military coup, if he attempts to accede to the demands of militant youth of the Niger Delta to control their resources. Well, he would discuss with the Vice President and the National Security Adviser, both Northerners, to seek their counsel on how to handle the anticipated backlash from their people.
Nigeria’s number one citizen wiped his brow with his handkerchief. He felt drained of strength. He remembered a book he read in his younger days titled, ‘The Devil’s Alternative’ by Fredrick Forsythe. There was really no middle course in this conflict. God knows he’s tried his best to curb youth restiveness in the Niger Delta. He’d gone as far as granting amnesty to five youth leaders arrested in connection with the abduction of sixteen expatriate staff of Shell Petroleum Development Company (SPDC) in Port Harcourt, Rivers State.
Surprisingly, their peers responded to his kind gesture by carrying out another raid at a Shell flow station in Warri, Delta State. Twenty soldiers lost their lives in the offensive, while fourteen expatriate workers were taken captive. The invaders also blew up several oil pipelines traversing the area with dynamites. The ungrateful bastards!
“Your Excellency, I’m in dire straight. You know what oil revenue means to my country. Everyone knows Nigeria is richly endowed with solid minerals and crude oil. We’ve chosen to make the latter the mainstay of our economy. Will the North accept a compromise conceding control of crude oil and its derivatives to the Niger Delta even under threat of extinction by a higher power? You see, there are cabals in this country that have fed fat on crude oil proceeds. I doubt if they would concede grounds in this area.”
The Crown Prince gritted his teeth. Although he empathized with the Nigerian leader, he felt resentment welling up in him on his fixation with anticipated backlash from oil barons. He knew he had to make him see the folly of engaging God in a battle. “Your Excellency, I don’t believe you have much of a choice in this matter. Why don’t you send for the elders of Oporoma and listen to them? The outcome of the negotiation may not necessarily be offensive to other Nigerians.”
While still mulling on the turn of events, it suddenly dawned on the President that the Crown Prince could incur the wrath of his people if the purpose of his trip to Nigeria was ever made public. In fact, the Muslim world would disown the Saudi leader if he as much as mentioned that he abandoned an important meeting with Islamic leaders in his Kingdom because someone he claimed to be Jesus appeared to him in a vision.
“Your Excellency, I agree with you that I have no alternative than to obey God. I’m not worried about what this decision would cost me; I only pray that Nigeria would come out of this trial in one piece. Pardon my inquisitiveness. You said Jesus spoke to you about salvation. What will happen after today? I’m not attempting to do what even Christ did not do. Will you embrace Christ?”
The Crown Prince shifted in his chair. He had been expecting the question. Without batting an eye he said, “No. That doesn’t mean I do not believe that Jesus is the Savior of the world. There are too many people depending on me for guidance on religious matters. I could choose today to turn my back on Islam, but that could destroy my Kingdom and plunge the entire Middle East into chaos.
My Visitor did mention that He has given us an opportunity to choose to be sons or servants. For the sake of my people, I choose to be a servant for now. Perhaps one day, God will find a way to lift us from servant hood to the place of sons. I wasn’t groomed to be a reformer. I won’t pretend to be one.”
The President reached out a hand and touched the Prince on his shoulder. He felt sorry for the Saudi leader. Sometimes, leadership meant having to deny yourself the pleasure of rest, even for your soul, for the sake of the people you have sworn to protect.
“I had a Minister in my cabinet who took the same decision. I don’t know who shared Christ with him. One day, he came to my office in tears. He had confessed Jesus as Lord but couldn’t bring himself to give up his family and Muslim friends. His father-in-law threatened to take his wife and children from him, while some of his Muslim friends cut him off as a plague. I advised him to follow his heart. Christ died to give us liberty- the freedom of choice. He eventually returned to Islam.”
The Crown Prince stood up, tears flowing freely from his eyes. He tried to wipe them away but the President held his hands.
“It is not weakness to cry Your Excellency. Even our Lord Jesus wept. By all means, sit down and pour out your heart to God. He alone is sufficient for all things. This room is secured. It’s just the two of us and I do cry sometimes when the pressure is too much for this little head of mine.”
In the communication intercept room, Victoria barely restrained the impulse to shout for joy. She was on her way to becoming a multi-millionaire! The chicken has come home to roost. She would milk the KGB dry before parting with this tape. It was explosive!
She had sent her staff out of the intercept room, pretending to take stock of some gadgets for their weekly returns to the National Headquarters. Of course, nobody would have suspected anything funny because the room used by the President was actually screened and secured. She had gone back there in her capacity as General Supervisor “to tidy up a few things”.
It was then she dropped the miniature bug she had been personally given by the Director-General “for special occasions.” Of course, her overall boss would have no way of knowing that the equipment had been used for another purpose. She didn’t feel she was betraying the Service. The end justifies the means. She needed to get back at the KGB and this was her only opportunity.
She wished she hadn’t promised to inform Sanya if the KGB tried to contact her. She felt a twinge of guilt but quickly dismissed it. This scheme was too big to be abandoned at this point because of a tender conscience. She checked her wristwatch and was surprised that the whole enterprise took more time than she anticipated. She needed to be at the Catholic Church, Wuse Zone 2 to partake of the Holy Communion. She grabbed her bag and walked out of the room with a contented smile on her face. As she stepped out of the cubicle, she checked her wristwatch, a Rolex piece from her husband. It was 1605 hours. That should give her enough time to hide her package at her home before she leaves for the Church.
“Hello Madam”. She whirled around. It was young man from the Surveillance unit of her Service. She had once given him a lift from their Headquarters to Wuse, but didn’t bother to find out his name. She wondered what he was doing at her car park. “Hi, how are you? Are you now at the Villa?” “No Ma.” It was then she noticed his two companions.
“Ma, actually, the two gentlemen and I are here to see you.” She couldn’t hide her exasperation. “Oh, so why wait at the car park for me? Don’t you know my office?” “Sorry Ma, we had our instruction. We were asked to wait for you here.” This must be a nightmare, Vicky thought. What could these goons be after? She remembered the tape in her purse and winced.
One of the two strangers gestured in her direction. She looked him straight in the eyes and he held her gaze. This must be a tough one she concluded. Few men could hold her gaze. “How can I help you guys? I’m in a hurry. I’ve got to be in the Church by 1500 hours. The toughie spoke up. We’re sorry for the inconvenience Madam.
My colleague and I are from the NIA. We have the instruction to search your purse Ma. She couldn’t believe her ears. This must be the handiwork of Sanya. She was sure of that. She opened her mouth to say something, but lost her balance and collapsed into a heap, spilling the contents of her purse.
Sanya watched the drama from the back-up car parked about three hundred meters from Vicky’s vehicle. To him, it was the end of a dream for him and the woman he had almost abandoned his entire family for. He felt sorry for her because as far as he was concerned, Vicky was a victim in the unfolding drama.
After he bumped into her and Osuagwu at the hotel, he wasted no time in alerting his boss. He felt it was his duty to pull the rug from under the feet of the Russians because he was sure they would outsmart Vicky. He didn’t bargain on his boss asking him to place a bug in Vicky’s purse. Of course, he couldn’t decline much as he loved her.
His job came first and Vicky wasn’t unaware of that fact. It was with the aid of the bug that he got to know that the Russians were intent on unraveling the mystery behind the visit of the Crown Prince. He wished with all his heart that Vicky had taken him into confidence. Her stubborn streak was the major cause of friction between her and his parents. Now that things have gotten out of hand, he could only hope that Vicky’s indiscretion wouldn’t cost him his job. He was too familiar with the system. No one wants to be identified with a traitor.
As the three operatives bundled Vicky into their vehicle, Sanya beckoned to his driver to start the car. They had to follow them from a safe distance until they delivered their package to the officer in charge of Surveillance at the State Department.
One of the officers from the State Department in the back-up car turned to look at Sanya and was surprised to see tears flowing from his eyes. He couldn’t place it. How can a grown up man burst into tears over the arrest of a suspect? Who knows, maybe she was warming his bed. These NIA guys are known to go for high fliers. He opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it. There was no point adding to the man’s pains. He felt delighted that the operation was hitch-free. He had some misgivings when they were told at the office that the KGB was an interested partner in the case.
Sanya steeled himself to give a fitting response to the question he was expecting from his companion. He was grateful to God that the officer turned away from him to say something to his colleague. Both of them roared with laughter. He felt he was the butt of their joke but didn’t give a hoot.
All he could think about was his wife bundled into a car like a common criminal because of her folly. It was the end of a dream for him, the dream to make a home with Vicky and raise four children with her, two boys and two girls, with the girls growing into beautiful women like their mother. It was indeed a sad end to a most pleasant dream.
Chapter 14, Lagos, Nigeria – Operation Quarantine
“Our man is in town”. The Lagos Commander of the Airborne Brigade of the Nigerian Army sat on the only reclining chair in the ‘Safe House’ provided by the State Department for “Operation Quarantine”. He wasn’t smiling. In fact, Bola Ogunsanya had right from the day he wriggled his way out of his mother’s tight cervix decided that anything that has the semblance of joy wasn’t his cup of tea. His friends and acquaintances knew better than to expect anything contrary from him. His subordinates nicknamed him “the ghoul”.
The thirteen other men in the room shifted their chairs to bring them closer to where Bola sat. This wasn’t the time to raise voices. Walls have ears. A hefty man in black corduroy brought out a piece of paper from his hip pocket and spread it out on the side stool by his side. “Gentlemen, I believe we must get ourselves acquainted with the order of battle. Oh, I beg your pardon. I should have done this at our first meeting yesterday. We need a brief introduction since we’re to work as a team.
I’m Gregory Yusuf. My friends call me Greg. I represent the National Security Adviser to Mr. President. The officer to my right is Brig-Gen Enwa, he’s heading the team. The two guys dressed in coverall are Tony and Adeolu from the State Department. The man to my left is Dauda Solarin from the Defense Intelligence Service; next to him is Pam Daswok from the Navy. Our big man on the reclining chair is Bola from the Army. The foreigners are from the Israeli Embassy. Bola, I think we should have your brief before I read out the order of battle.”
“Okay. This morning, while preparing to leave for our rendezvous, a source working with Nimpak Airlines rushed in with a photocopy of the manifest for the 0800 hours flight from Abuja. He said he became suspicious when he saw that the names of three of the passengers he’s personally acquainted with were not in the manifest. General Okwuechie was one of them. Immediately, I put a call through to Abuja to confirm his location but was told he’d left town along with two of his aides”.
Greg grinned. Talk of a prey seeking out the hunter. “Operation Quarantine” was conceived with Abuja in mind. From the intelligence they got on Okwuechie and his boys, there was no room for a Lagos rendezvous involving the General. What could he be doing in Lagos? Bola turned to the two men from the State Department.
It was obvious that a storm was brewing. “I thought you guys told us yesterday that the General and his men were on 24-hour surveillance? The two operatives squirmed in their seats. Although they had nothing to do with the mess, they knew that once heads start rolling in their organization, some innocent persons would get caught in the cross-fire.
Tony Ugwuja the leader of the team from the State Department mumbled something, but Greg didn’t give Bola another opportunity to react. He pulled the center table to his side and spread out the piece of paper containing the order of battle. “I can’t hazard a guess on what is going on in Okwuechie’s camp. I think we’d better get in touch with the NSA and take it from there”. Every head in the room bobbed in assent. This wasn’t the time to second-guess. It could cost them their lives or their jobs.
While Greg put a call through to Abuja, Enwa reflected on the events of the past three days. His escape from Okwuechie’s goons was a miracle. He hadn’t expected the old goat to act so fast. He thought of Gladys and the children. He felt sad that he couldn’t return to the house to explain things to her. He could only call her on phone to ask her to return to the village immediately.
His reverie was broken by the raspy voice of Greg. He sounded excited. “Gentlemen, the NSA says we should see Okwuechie’s arrival in Lagos as act of providence. He says we should execute the project without further delay. The only snag is that we don’t know where our targets are right now”.
One of the Israelis, a man in his early 30s smiled. The orchestra was playing his kind of music at last. He was eager to be done with the operation and return to his kibbutz in Haifa. He wasn’t cut out for a life in a strange land.
Greg straightened out the piece of paper on the table. “Gentlemen, the order of battle hasn’t changed….” Just then, the landline in the sitting room rang. Adeolu Egbade, the other operative from the State Department picked it on the second ring. “Egbade with you, Sir. Okay Sir. We’ll send people there right away Sir.
Bola couldn’t hide his irritation. “Have your people located our targets? We don’t have much time to spend on niceties”. Adeolu barely restrained himself. He felt like telling Bola to go to hell but was conscious of the enormity of their assignment. From the briefing they had at their Headquarters on this project, taking care of Okwuechie would be a Herculean task. Their prey wasn’t just the Chief of Army Staff, but a highly decorated soldier who has seen action in many theaters, including Liberia and Sierra Leone. They were up against a very wily and well-connected foe.
“That was my Director of Operations. He said Okwuechie and his people are meeting at a Guest House belonging to one Brigadier General David Odiong at No. 16 Toyin Street, Ikeja, about 2300 hours today”. He suggested that we send two or three people to join our staff on static surveillance there until we decide on what to do”.
“This is more than a coincidence”. Thirteen pairs of eyes turned to face the owner of the voice. It was the officer from Defense Intelligence. He was smiling in a queer manner. Bola gave him a cold stare. The man didn’t flinch. He kept smiling.
“Somebody mentioned providence a while ago. You guys can’t believe this. No. 14, the adjacent building belongs to my uncle. He’s presently out of the country on holiday, but I have the keys. Isn’t this more than mere coincidence?” Greg jumped up from his seat, his face radiant. “What are we waiting for guys? We have to strike immediately. Does anyone hold a contrary view? We don’t have much time.
The riots have spread to thirty-three States and some desperate Nigerians are now clamouring for military intervention. It’s sad isn’t it? I would personally mobilize support for Okwuechie and his gang if I were convinced about their sincerity. I know the problem on ground transcends the person of Mr. President. In the first place, no one knows what the plague is all about or what Nigerians can do to stay the hands of whoever is the mastermind. Fifty-five thousand souls have so far perished without any sign of a reprieve. So, do we strike tonight or wait for……”
Bola cuts in. “I don’t see what we’ll achieve by postponing the inevitable. Let’s be done with it”. Greg nodded. He looked at the thirteen men in the room, half expecting to hear the voice of dissension. No one spoke. All right then. Solarin and I will check out his uncle’s apartment. Once we’re satisfied, we’ll agree on the appropriate cover that will not attract unnecessary attention from neighbors. We’ll meet here again by 1800 hours for the final briefing. Any question? Good. Let’s go Solarin. You guys can let yourself out. Leave the keys with the guards at the gate”.