Chapter 3

 

 Race Against Exposure

     Ada's apartment felt suffocating, despite the warm glow of the morning sun filtering through her curtains. She hadn't slept all night, her body tense with dread. Her phone screen flashed again—more messages from Tunde. His persistence was alarming. He had been demanding the recording for hours, pressuring her to send it as soon as possible.

     But Ada wasn’t the same naive person she had been the day before. Now, she understood the terrible mistake she had made by trusting him. Tunde had been Deji’s closest friend, someone she thought they could rely on. Yet, the eagerness in his voice, the urgency with which he pushed her to hand over the evidence, now rang in her ears as the telltale signs of betrayal.

     She cursed under her breath, realizing the depth of her error. Tunde had been working with Senator Bala all along. Ada had unknowingly put herself in danger by even mentioning the recording. Her mind reeled as she grasped the full scope of the danger she was in. They knew. And they wouldn’t stop until she—and the recording—were silenced.

     Her heart pounded in her chest as the panic set in. Ada felt trapped, each noise outside her door making her jump. They could come for her at any moment. She had to disappear—now.

Frantically, she packed a small bag, stuffing in her laptop and a few essentials. There was no way she could go to work on this Monday morning; her office would be the first place they looked. Instead, she fabricated a family emergency and sent a quick message to her boss, trying to keep her trembling fingers steady. Her mind raced through the possibilities, but only one seemed feasible. She needed to vanish to a place no one would think to search—her Aunt Ify’s house in Ajegunle. The run-down neighborhood on the far side of Lagos was her best shot at disappearing.

     With a deep breath, Ada threw on a jacket, trying to calm the fear pulsing through her. She peered out her window at the bustling street below. The world outside seemed normal—people rushing to work, cars honking in the distance—but Ada felt the eyes of danger on her, watching her every move. She turned off her phone, leaving no trail for them to follow. Then, quietly, she slipped out of her apartment, ensuring that none of her neighbors noticed her departure.

     Meanwhile, across town, Deji stirred on the cold, unforgiving floor of the holding cell. The events of the past night felt like a bad dream, but the dull ache in his limbs and the bars of the cell confirmed it was all too real. The arrest had come swiftly,  leaving him no time to react. His freedom had been snatched away in the blink of an eye, and now, he sat huddled in a cell, replaying the events that had led him here.

     Deji clenched his fists, the frustration boiling inside him. How had it all gone so wrong? The incriminating documents, the meticulous plan—they were supposed to bring Bala down. The raid had been too perfect, too well-timed, and the police had stormed in before he had the chance to signal Tunde. Now, with everything happening so fast, Deji was cut off from the outside world, and the panic was beginning to rise in his chest.

     His mind raced as he recalled their last meeting in the hotel bar. Tunde had assured him that everything was under control, that once Deji gave the word, the documents would be leaked to the press. But now, Deji had no way of reaching Tunde, no way of triggering the plan. His phone had been confiscated by the police, and he was isolated. Still, Deji clung to the hope that the documents were safe in Tunde’s possession. If the files were still out there, there was a chance to salvage the situation. He just had to hold on.

     His thoughts drifted to Ada. She was the last person he had spoken to before everything went south. The fear in her voice during their call haunted him. His thoughts also drifted to his beloved mummy—he had promised to call her, but now there was no way to do so. He knew she must be worried sick.

     Later that afternoon, Tunde was unraveling in his own home. He paced back and forth in his living room, occasionally glancing at his wristwatch. It was almost 1:30 p.m., and his nerves were on edge. Ada's silence was driving him mad. He had been sending her message after message, but she hadn't responded. She had figured him out. She knew. 

     Tunde cursed himself. He had thought he had everything under control, but Ada's lack of response made him start to suspect that she had discovered the truth. He had sent countless messages, but there had been no reply. When he tried calling her, her phone was switched off. The raid had gone smoothly, or so he had believed, but now, with a recording possibly in Ada’s possession, everything was beginning to fall apart.

     He had been trying to reach his contact person—the one who usually liaised between him and Senator Bala—but the man had been unreachable since the previous night. Tunde knew he wasn’t supposed to contact Bala directly, but with the situation spiraling out of control, he had no choice.

     His hand trembled as he dialed Bala’s number. The senator’s voice was cold and impatient when he finally answered. “What?”

     Tunde swallowed hard. “Sir, it’s me. There’s a problem. Ada... she knows. I think she has a recording of the raid.”

     There was a heavy silence on the other end before Bala’s voice came through, low and menacing. “How did this happen?”

     “I’m not sure,” Tunde stammered, his panic rising. “I’ve been trying to reach my contact, but he’s not picking up. Ada’s gone quiet—I think she knows I am working for you.”

     “Find her,” Bala hissed, his voice dripping with venom. “We can’t afford any loose ends.”

     As the line went dead, Tunde felt the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He had to find Ada before it was too late. His failure would not be forgiven.

     While Tunde scrambled to cover his tracks, Senator Bala sat in his office, his face twisted with anger. This was supposed to have been a clean operation—a final blow to Deji. Instead, everything was unraveling at an alarming rate. Ada's potential recording was a ticking time bomb, threatening to blow up everything he had worked to protect. His blood boiled as he realized the consequences of such a recording surfacing. If that video got out, his entire operation could come crashing down, and with it, years of influence and wealth.

    Bala wasted no time. He grabbed his phone and dialed Chief Superintendent Adebayo, the DPO who had overseen the raid. His hands shook with fury as he waited for the line to connect. When Adebayo finally picked up, his greeting only added to Bala’s frustration.

     “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Bala’s voice was thunderous, shaking with barely contained rage. “There’s a recording of the raid. If it gets out, we’re finished. All of us.”

     Adebayo, caught off guard, stammered out an apology, but Bala was already beyond patience. His voice, cold and dismissive, dripped with frustration. “You think I still believe you can handle this? The police have been useless from the start,” he snarled

     Adebayo stammered, “Sir, please give us time, we will try to fix this.”

     The conversation ended abruptly, leaving Adebayo holding the phone in shock. Anger surged through him as he turned his thoughts toward the officers who had been on the operation. They had been reckless—sloppy, even. How could they not notice the  phone recording? He slammed his fist down on his desk and called the lead officer from the operation, cursing him out for his incompetence. The officer, trying to explain that they had checked for CCTV cameras, was silenced by Adebayo’s rage.

     “You didn’t think to check the damn phone?!” Adebayo roared. “If Bala goes down, we all go down. Get your act together or you’ll be the first to take the fall.”

     As Adebayo dealt with his men, Bala had already moved on to his next move. He couldn’t rely on the police anymore; they were too slow and too incompetent. He needed someone who could work in the shadows, someone who would leave no trace. Picking up his phone again, he dialed a number. The man on the other end, known simply as the Sharp Razor, was in charge of the street urchins—boys who could disappear into the slums of Lagos and find anyone, no matter how well hidden.

     “Put your boys on Ada’s trail,” Bala ordered, his voice steady and cold. “Find her before she can do any damage.”

     The Razor didn’t need much convincing. He knew the stakes. “Consider it done,” he replied.

---

     Later that monday evening, the atmosphere at the Surulere Police Station was tense, a thick fog of anxiety hanging over the officers. The chatter was low, as if everyone knew something but no one was willing to say it out loud. Femi walked into the station and immediately sensed the unease. Officers, who were usually loud and carefree, spoke in hushed tones, glancing nervously at each other. It was clear something big was happening, but no one was talking.

     “Na wetin dey happen?” Femi asked one of the junior officers. The man only shrugged, looking away as if he hadn’t heard the question. Femi’s curiosity was piqued. He could tell there was more to this case than just another drug bust. He pressed further, but the officers clammed up, leaving Femi to his own thoughts.

     Then, as he passed one of the offices, he overheard a conversation between Adebayo and another senior officer. Their voices were low, but the tension in the room was palpable.

     “This thing don pass normal,” Adebayo muttered. “If that recording gets out, we’re in deep trouble. We need to clean this up fast.”

     “What about the boy, Deji?” the other officer asked.

     “He’s being held in isolation,” Adebayo replied. “We can’t risk him talking to anyone. Not yet.”

     Femi paused, pretending to read a document on the wall as he strained to hear more. A recording? Isolation? His instincts kicked in. Something about this case wasn’t right, and whatever it was, it had the top brass shaken. That was enough for him to start digging.

     When he returned to his desk, Femi wasted no time. He accessed the case file, his heart pounding as he went through the details. It didn’t take long for him to notice the inconsistencies. The evidence didn’t add up, and the charges against Deji seemed too convenient. The more he dug, the more convinced he became that Deji was being framed. And if he was right, Deji was sitting on a time bomb that could take down more than just a senator.

    He decided he needed to speak to Deji. First thing on Tuesday morning, when the coast was clear, he would find out the truth.

---

     Deji sat in a dimly lit holding cell, isolated from the other detainees and oblivious to the chaos his arrest had caused. The isolation was deliberate; they didn’t want him talking to anyone. Left alone with his thoughts, his mind raced as he tried to piece together what had happened. The raid had been too calculated, the evidence too perfectly placed. He knew someone had tipped them off—how else would they have known he was staying at that hotel? Bala was clearly the mastermind, but the lingering question was whether others were involved as well.

     The silence of the cell was suffocating. His only hope was that Ada had received his message and secured the cloud storage and Tunde still had the documents. If those two things are in place there is still a chance to bring everything to light. With that thought in his mind he drifted away into a deep sleep.

---

     That evening, Bala joined a Zoom call with the political and business figures involved in the scheme. The atmosphere was thick with tension as their faces appeared one by one. These were men of immense power, figures who operated discreetly, running their deals under the radar and avoiding any form of negative publicity. They rarely came together, especially in a visible way, and their presence on this call could mean only one thing—they were livid.

     "Bala," one of them began, his voice cold and controlled, "we trusted you to manage this situation. But now, we’re staring down the barrel of exposure. How could you let this happen?"

     Bala shifted in his seat, the pressure mounting as he tried to find the right words. "It wasn’t intentional. Deji was—"

     Another voice, harsher and angrier, cut him off. "We know what you did, Bala. You got greedy. You inflated the contracts far beyond what we all agreed, pocketing more than your fair share. We had an understanding—small increments, nothing noticeable.     But you got bold. Now, instead of a clean operation, we’re left with a potential scandal that could ruin all of us."

     Bala felt the weight of their words pressing down on him. His greed had indeed led him to inflate the contracts, thinking no one would notice. But Deji had noticed. And now, the political figures he had once considered allies were turning on him.

     In a desperate attempt to calm the situation, Bala sent them the documents he had secured through Tunde, the ones Deji had been planning to use as leverage. "These documents don’t lead back to any of you," Bala assured them, his voice pleading. "I’ve gone through everything. There's no way it can be traced back to your involvement. We can still handle this. All I need is a little help from your side."

     The faces on the screen remained cold, unimpressed. One of the men leaned forward, his voice dripping with disdain. "Deji is not a threat to us, Bala. We have no business with him. Our issue is with you. Your greed is what brought this whole mess to the surface."

     The first man added, "Don’t even think you can blackmail us. You’re the one who created this disaster. And if you even think of trying to drag us down with you, you know the consequences. You won’t survive it."

     The words hit Bala like a punch to the gut. They were washing their hands of him, leaving him to fend for himself. The realization was brutal—he was on his own. The threat was clear: fix the mess, or face the fatal consequences. 

     "You better focus on cleaning up the mess you made," the first man warned coldly. "Because if our names get tangled in this, you won’t live to regret it."

     The call ended, leaving Bala alone in the heavy silence of his office. His hands trembled as he realized just how precarious his position was. He had to find Ada, destroy the recording, and silence anyone who stood in his way. If he failed, the consequences would be devastating—not just for him, but for everyone involved.

---

     Meanwhile, Ada navigated through the bustling streets of Lagos, her heart pounding with fear. She had to stay on the move. The police were one thing, but she knew Bala’s reach extended far beyond them. The streets were filled with eyes, and she could feel them on her.

Please Drop Comments Below👇

Click here to go to chapter 4 The Meeting