Tom, don't underestimate Jerry.
O'Brien's phone was ringing from his jeans pocket. He didn't want to reach for it at first but he decided to get it.
"O'Brien." He announced as he kept his eyes on the road and almost ran into a DHL courier officer on his bike.
"Can you tell me what in God's name is going on?"
O'Brien didn't need to be introduced to the person on the other line as he identified the voice and the man behind the voice.
"Sir, he is heading towards Ikot Ekpene road and I am cutting him off through Aba road." He drop the phone between his legs as he used both his hand s to swerve the car from almost colliding with a pick-up van that popped out of the corner of the road.
"Sam watch your side fool!" Sam screamed at the driver as they sped pass the pick-up, narrowly missing the right headlamp.
"What the hell is going on there? You want to tell me that you don't have the criminal on your visual?" O'Brien had his boss saying as he replaced the phone to his ear.
"I placed Obinna and Luke on his tail, Sir." O'Brien.
"Are you drunk and where did you place Cindy and Gabriel?" He didn't wait for an answer to that. "They are better experienced than Obinna and Luke."
"I asked them to make sure that survivors of the explosion where taking care of, Sir?" He already knew he made a wrong decision but he had to stay afloat and not go under.
"Cindy and Gabriel search and rescue?" Ray asked with both his eyes opened like that of an angry Yoruba man.
"Hey, OB! What's your plan? You are going to kill us!" Sam screamed as he stretched his hand to the dash board to act as a wedge.
"Sir, I got to go now. We have a criminal to bring in." He cut and stepped on the brakes as he dashed to the left avoiding a collision with another car.
******************
The driver and Mobile Police guard were listening to the program 'Tata Fo' on Naija Fm 102.7 over the car radio. They had packed in front of the eatery and the sun was still at its peak. The eatery's door kept opening to allow customers go in or out of it, which seem to be a routine as people come to quench their taste, hunger or meat with associates. Zina's security officer kept his eye at the entrance, he watched people go in and out of the eatery; he noted the faces going in and out even though he was engulfed with the funny comments of the famous Tatafo over the car radio.
"If you have a wife and you don't love her am sorry for you, someone will love her better for you behind your back…" Tatafo the famous comedian was saying as the listeners laughed uncontrollably.
A tap came from the window of the passenger's side where the MOPOL (Mobile Police, usually armed with assault riffle) was siting, and he pressed down the button on the side of the door to let down the glass to know what the gentle man tapping at the window wanted.
"Yes what can I do for you?" The MOPOL asked.
"I think your tyre is losing air, Sir." The well dressed gentle man told the MOPOL as he pointed at the back tyre for emphasis.
"What!" the MOPOL muttered to no one in particular as he opened the car door and stepped out. "Oh! Not now." He looked at the tyre still confused about the deflection. "Segun, see wetin you cause?" The MOPOL accused the driver in Nigerian pigeon English.
"Wetin I cause?" the driver enquired half listening to the MOPOL as he concentrated on the argument over the radio.
"Tyre don less na!" the MOPOL exclaimed.
"Chio! You serious?" Segun asked in pigeon English.
"No, I no serious." The MOPOL responded in the usual pigeon English. "Come make you check am, you fit don climb something." The MOPOL went closer to the flattened tyre to see if they had climbed a sharp object on their way from the Hotel. The driver appeared from the other side of the car and they both bent down to search for the point of possible puncture when they heard the voice from behind them.
"Don't even breathe or you are dead!" The voice commanded them. The MOPOL felt the barrel of a gun on his head and an unmistakable accent which said.
"Let go of the gun gently MOPOL!" The MOPOL wanted to act but he didn't know how many men where behind him. The gun was pointed at his head but the voice that spoke was from a different angle, he needed to know how many guns were pointed at him before he would swing into physical combat mode but before the thought could digest another hand took his Ak47 and the military knife stocked in the shield hanging over his waist the voice came again.
"I know what you must be thinking, Richard" The MOPOL froze for a moment as he heard the man call him by his name with the accent distorting the pronunciation. "It would be to your best interest if you don't think of being a hero, am a good shot." He is armed Richard thought as he wondered what these Hausa fellows want from them.
********************
Zee 202 had kept their eyes glued on the Camry a few yards away from them as it rolled towards BCA junction by Ikot Ekpene road. Obinna had tried to shove his fears aside but it kept coming back, something was putting him on the red light.
"Luke, don't get too close to him, these guys have a long record of detonating bombs in situations like this." Obinna said as he kept his eye on the Camry ahead of them.
"Detonate bombs? No, this is different, my brother. Think of this as the game of chess where you can sacrifice a pawn to be eliminated so that a big fish can be caught." He let that little information to marinate before he continued. "But in this case dude, this guy is a Queen and queens are not sacrificial lambs in the game of chess you don't sacrifice your queen that's totally not military-like."
"Spare me the lectures and stay away from the man as far as possible. What if he doesn't want to be caught he would rather die than be caught. I know this type." Obinna added.
"You don't understand me, do you? The man behind that wheel is the player not the played. He can sacrifice his executives; The Rook, Bishop, Knight, but not himself. He is not a pawn he won't blow up trust me and stop acting like a woman."
*****************************
Razak caught up with the police vehicle following Colonel Farouk. Obviously the cops did not know what is about to befall them, he thought. This was the grand moment for the execution of the distraction and it must move as scheduled at all cost. Razak dialed a number on his phone and watched it ring as it was not received then he punched in another number and watched it ring and like the first cal it was not picked either. The message was passed.
"Alright." He said, to no one in particular; let us do this to the glory of Allah." He accelerated the Camry as he switched on the trafficator to overtake the cops.
Ahmed rode in the last convoy all alone. He was proud of his little input so far, mostly he was proud to be the special one. His phone rang from the sit beside him and he reached for it but he didn't pick it as he recognized the number and what it meant. He braced himself for the triumphant exit as he placed the middle finger of his right hand on the detonator right beside the steering.
"Allah Akbar." He muttered under his breath.
Farouk's phone rang from the dash board where he had kept it. He already knew who was calling and what the call meant but he still raised the phone to be sure it was the signal from his little cousin. Razak is not ripe for this sort of assignment he told himself and to buttress his point he noted that this call would have come a few minutes before now, say about 3 minutes ago give or take. He has often told his fellow brothers in the pre-mission meetings that delay and negligence is not the way of a soldier. He dropped the phone back on the dash board and exhaled deeply in acknowledgement of the belated signal. He braced himself for the fireworks that would soon rock the not so intelligent CID vehicle on his tale as he watched the play begin from his rare mirror.