Game of deception, p.17
Game of Deception, page 17
Rita shook her head. ‘Never. He locks it constantly—even to use the bathroom.’
‘Is there a phone in his room?’
‘I don’t know. But there’s a cordless phone in the living room. He prefers using that instead of his mobile.’
Genevieve nodded. ‘Perfect. Place the bug near the base. That will capture everything.’
AT BARRISTER MATTHEWS’S office, Ramsey immediately noticed the size of the heavy wooden desk. Planting the device would be easy.
‘I’m looking to invest in real estate,’ Ramsey said smoothly. ‘Several properties in Lagos. I need a lawyer to handle the legal side.’
Matthews leaned back, pleased. ‘I’ve practiced commercial law for over twenty years. You won’t find anyone more experienced in this city.’
Ramsey smiled. ‘That’s why you came highly recommended. I’ll also need two or three character references.’
‘Of course,’ Matthews said. ‘Give me a moment.’
As the lawyer turned away, Ramsey casually slipped the recorder beneath the desk.
Minutes later, they exchanged handshakes.
‘I’ll be in touch,’ Ramsey said, already on his feet.
He left the office calmly—bug in place, the trap set.
21
IN PLAIN SIGHT
‘Obsession is the wellspring of genius and madness.’
—MICHEL DE MONTAIGNE
Zainab was already running late when she pulled into a fast-food restaurant to grab breakfast. She hadn’t had time to eat before leaving home, so she ordered one of their breakfast packages to go.
As she stepped inside, cold air from the air conditioner brushed her skin. She paid, collected her food, and headed back to her car.
Settling into the driver’s seat, she reached for her phone out of habit.
Missed calls. Godson.
‘I’ll call him when I get to work,’ she muttered. ‘I’m already late.’
That was when she felt it.
Cold metal pressed firmly against the back of her head.
‘Don’t make a sound, darling.’
Her blood froze.
She knew that voice.
Jim.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. Sweat broke across her forehead as her breath caught in her throat.
‘Start the car,’ he said calmly. ‘Drive slowly. I’ll tell you where to go. Don’t ask questions. I’m in charge here. Do you understand?’
She nodded—quickly, desperately—tears already spilling down her cheeks. With trembling hands, she started the engine.
The drive felt endless.
Jim gave directions in clipped commands.
‘Turn here.’
She obeyed.
‘Slow down.’
Her knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. Her arms ached. Her nerves stretched thin, humming with panic.
‘Keep going.’
Time warped. Trees blurred past the windows. Sweat crawled down her back.
After what felt like an hour, he finally said, ‘Stop.’
They were surrounded by bush.
No buildings.
No signs of life.
‘Get out,’ Jim said calmly. ‘Slowly. No funny moves. I still have the gun—and I will use it.’
The barrel pressed into the small of her back.
He guided her along a narrow dirt path. Branches scratched at her skin. In minutes, a lone bungalow emerged from the trees.
‘Knock.’
Her hand trembled as she raised it.
The door opened.
Two large men stepped out.
‘Jimoh,’ Jim said without looking at her. ‘Lock her up.’
One of the men lifted Zainab onto his shoulder like she weighed nothing.
She screamed. Kicked. Pounded uselessly against his back.
‘Jim, I hate you!’ she cried. ‘Help me—somebody, please!’
No one answered.
She was dumped into a chair inside the house. Rope bit into her wrists as her hands were bound tight.
‘I’ll give you anything,’ she sobbed. ‘Please—just let me go.’
The man laughed.
Then walked out.
The lock clicked.
The room was bare. Cold. A single chair. A bed shoved into one corner. Nothing else.
‘What have I gotten myself into?’ Zainab whispered.
Her tears came hard.
She must have passed out.
The door opening snapped her awake.
Jim stepped inside, followed by a thug carrying a tray of food.
‘Put it down and leave.’
The man didn’t hesitate.
Jim smiled.
‘How are you doing, sweetheart? I hope you didn’t exhaust yourself crying.’
‘What have I ever done to you?’ Zainab demanded, shaking.
‘You rejected me,’ Jim said lightly. ‘And you chose the enemy.’ His smile widened. ‘I’m just righting your wrongs. I love you.’
‘What enemy?’ she whispered. ‘Jim, please—don’t do anything stupid.’
‘Worried about your little boyfriend?’ he asked, amused. ‘Relax. I won’t hurt him... yet.’
Fear clawed up her throat.
‘Please don’t touch him. I beg you.’
Jim leaned closer.
‘If I can’t have you, nobody can. Not Godson. Not anyone.’ His eyes burned. ‘You’re everything I want, Zainab.’
He picked up the tray.
‘Eat. You’ll need your strength.’
He scooped rice onto a spoon and lifted it to her mouth, smiling.
‘That’s my girl.’
Zainab spat the food into his face.
‘Go to hell.’
For a split second, the smile vanished—replaced by naked rage.
He dropped the tray, turned sharply, and stormed out.
The door slammed.
The lock slid home.
Zainab was alone again.
22
DESPERATELY SEEKING ZAINAB
‘It’s a great huge game of chess that’s being played—all over the world—if this is the world at all, you know.’ —LEWIS CARROLL
The Adenuga deal with The Good Guys was the company's largest transaction to date, totalling 42.5 million naira. With lots of high margin items and extended warrantees sold, Zubby's commission on the deal came to a cool 5.25 million naira. However, neither he nor anyone else in the store were in the mood to celebrate.
There was no sign of Zainab, and nobody knew what had happened to her. Osufia instinctively knew something was wrong when she didn't call in sick or show up to work for the first time since he had hired her.
He dialled her number several times throughout the day, but her phone was switched off. At 2 PM, he decided to contact her sister Toun and then her parents, but they hadn't seen or heard from her since the day before.
Having been unable to contact their daughter, her parents immediately notified the police when they confirmed that she was missing.
'Calm down, Mr. Balogun. We cannot declare your daughter missing yet, because she hasn’t been missing for more than 24 hours. For all we know, she may have decided to take an impromptu break with a boyfriend.'
'No-no-no. This is just so unlike my daughter, and it has been close to 24 hours. She has never missed a day of work in her life. She would have called the office if she was going to be even a minute late. That’s her nature.
I am most concerned about the fact that her phone has been switched off all day, and no one has been able to reach her.’
‘I do agree with you sir, that is indeed unusual. Could you please come down to the station to file a report? We'll need as much information as possible to gather a full picture of your daughter and her last known whereabouts. All the information you provide will help us in our search, so it is critical to provide detailed and accurate information.'
'Thank you, DPO. I'll be there within an hour,' Mr. Balogun replied.
23
THE SUCKER PUNCH
‘It's so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone.’― JOHN STEINBECK
Having failed to reach Zainab all day, Godson decided to visit her workplace. As he parked his car in front of the store, he said out loud, ‘I hope she didn't lose her phone.’
When he arrived at the store, he promptly approached the front desk and introduced himself, saying, ‘Good afternoon, my name is Godson. I'm here to see the HR manager, Zainab Balogun. Please let her know I'm here. Thank you.’
‘Sir, please take a seat. I will be back shortly,' she replied with a polite smile and went upstairs.
Everyone seems to be acting strangely today, Godson thought to himself. Why is that? First Zainab failed to pick up her calls and now this receptionist. Why not just call Zainab to let her know I’m here.
The receptionist came down the stairs, trailed by Osufia. Zainab was nowhere to be seen, which worried Godson even more.
‘I understand you are here to see Zainab? I am Osufia, the store manager.'
'Nice to meet you, Mr. Osufia. My name is Godson and I am Zainab's boyfriend,'
Godson said as they shook hands.
'Zainab didn't report to the office today. We have been unable to reach her at all. After the receptionist told me someone was asking to see her, I felt it necessary to see who it was.'
Godson instinctively knew something had happened to Zainab, and he was almost certain Jim was involved. He remembered warning Zainab that the guy looked like trouble.
‘I'll go to her apartment now to see if she's there if that's the case. Is there a way I can reach you if anything happens?’
Yes, please. The receptionist will give you my contact details. I hope you are able to get in touch with Zainab, soon. We’re all very worried,' he said.
24
KIDNAPPER’S LAIR
‘Eliminate today's troubles and problems by finding solutions, and then concentrate your energy on implementing those solutions.’ ―CATHERINE PULSIFER
Zainab had stopped counting time.
The room was windowless. Concrete walls. A single bulb humming overhead, its light flickering just enough to make shadows crawl.
Her wrists burned where the plastic ties bit into her skin.
She shifted on the chair, testing them again, even though she already knew they wouldn’t give. The movement sent pain up her arms and into her shoulders. She swallowed a cry.
Her mouth was dry.
Her throat felt coated in dust.
Somewhere beyond the wall, voices drifted in and out—men laughing, chairs scraping, the metallic clink of bottles. Every sound made her flinch.
She focused on breathing.
She tried not to think about Jim.
Tried not to imagine what he might do when he finally came back.
But the silence made it impossible.
Her heart pounded so hard she could hear it in her ears. Every sound beyond the walls—footsteps, muffled laughter, the scrape of metal—made her stomach knot.
She crossed her ankles instinctively, drawing inward, protecting herself in the small ways she still could.
Her thoughts drifted to her sister.
To her parents.
They would be frantic by now. Calling her phone. Driving around. Praying.
The idea broke something inside her.
Tears blurred her vision.
She tried to stay strong. Tried to breathe through it. Tried to remember Godson’s voice, steady and reassuring.
But fear crept higher, filling her chest.
What if Jim hurt her?
What if no one came?
Her shoulders began to shake.
She cried quietly at first, then harder—silent sobs wracking her body, her face wet and burning, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
She bowed her head.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered to no one.
Her strength drained away.
Eventually, exhaustion overtook terror.
Her body went slack against the restraints.
And Zainab slipped into unconsciousness, carried under by fear and heat and the weight of waiting.
THE DOOR OPENED.
Zainab jerked awake.
Her head lifted slowly, vision swimming as light spilled across the concrete floor. Her mouth tasted of salt and fear. Her wrists screamed as she instinctively pulled against the restraints.
Jim stepped inside.
He closed the door behind him with deliberate care.
The click of the lock landed like a verdict.
He moved unhurriedly, straightening his cuffs, surveying her the way a man inspects property. His cologne reached her before he did—sharp, expensive, out of place in the stale room.
‘So,’ he said quietly. ‘You’re awake.’
Zainab tried to speak. Only a dry sound came out.
Jim dragged a chair forward and sat directly in front of her, knees wide, elbows resting casually on his thighs.
Up close, she could see the flatness in his eyes.
No warmth. No hesitation.
Just ownership.
‘You’ve been crying,’ he observed.
Her throat tightened.
He leaned closer.
‘Let me explain something to you, Zainab.’
Her pulse hammered.
‘We are in the middle of nowhere.’
He gestured vaguely toward the walls.
‘No neighbours. No cameras. No curious passers-by. Just bush, dirt roads, and people who mind their business.’
He smiled faintly.
‘No one can hear you here.’
Zainab’s chest began to rise faster.
‘No one is coming.’
She shook her head.
Jim tilted his own, studying her.
‘You have two choices.’
He held up one finger.
‘You agree to become my wife.’
Her stomach dropped.
‘Or—’ he raised a second finger ‘—you never see daylight again.’
Her breath caught.
‘You think this is a bluff?’ he asked softly. ‘You think I brought you all this way to negotiate?’
He leaned in until his face was inches from hers.
‘I own the men guarding this place. I own the road that brought you here. I own the silence.’
Her vision blurred.
She thought of Godson.
Her sister.
Her parents.
Their faces crashed into her mind like broken glass.
Jim straightened.
‘You will say yes,’ he said calmly. ‘Because fear makes people practical.’
He stood, smoothing his jacket.
‘I’ll give you time to think.’
He turned at the door.
‘And Zainab?’
She looked up, trembling.
‘Hope is dangerous here.’
The door closed.
The lock slid home.
And she was alone again.
DAYS INTO JIM’S CAPTIVITY, Zainab started thinking in terms of survival.
Escape wouldn’t come from force. She knew that much. If she wanted her freedom, she would need help—from inside. Three thugs took turns bringing her food. Two were dead ends: cold eyes, hard hands, no hesitation.
The third was different.
He was younger. Quieter. And when their eyes met, his gaze didn’t linger with cruelty—it flickered with discomfort. With shame.
Zainab noticed.
When he returned with her food that evening, she spoke softly. Carefully.
‘I see the way you look at me,’ she said. ‘You know I don’t deserve this. If there’s any goodness in you—please—help me. I beg you, in the name of God.’
He froze. Fear crossed his face before he could hide it.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said quickly. ‘I can’t. Jim is a very dangerous man. He doesn’t forgive betrayal.’
She studied him for a moment, then changed tactics.
‘What’s your name?’ she asked gently. ‘Why are you doing this? You’re not like the others.’
He hesitated, then exhaled.
‘Desmond. I took this job for my family. My mother suffered to put me through university. I graduated, finished my youth service, and spent two years in Lagos chasing work that never came. Every morning I left the house hopeful. Every evening I came back empty-handed. Nothing.’
His voice dropped.
‘I went back to the village,” he said quietly. “Then last Christmas, Jim showed up—throwing money around, acting like a saviour. He promised me work in Lagos.”
He shook his head.
“So when this opportunity came... I didn’t ask questions.”
A bitter laugh escaped him.
“I didn’t spend four years in university just to become a thug.’
Zainab leaned forward.
‘I can help you, Desmond. I’m an HR manager at a major company in Lagos. If you help me escape, I swear to you—I’ll get you a real job. A clean life. I’ll change your future.’
He stared at her, torn.
‘And if I help you,’ he said quietly, ‘what if you turn around and have me arrested?’
She held his gaze. Didn’t blink.
‘I would never do that. Look at me.’ Her voice was steady. ‘You don’t throw your life away for a man like Jim. You just need one chance—and I’ll give it to you. You have my word.’
Silence stretched between them.
Then something shifted. Desmond saw it in her eyes—truth. Resolve.
‘What do I need to do?’ he asked.
Relief washed over her.
‘Thank you.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Get a paper and pen. Write down this number.’
He did.
‘His name is Godson,’ she said once he finished. ‘He’s my boyfriend. Call him. He’ll know exactly what to do.’
25
THE BLUEPRINT
‘It's discouraging to think how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit.’ ―NOËL COWARD
Armed with a month of acting classes, Omotola believed she was ready to take on Zubby.
She had learned how to summon sadness at will, how to let tears fall on cue, how to fracture her voice just enough to sound broken. With the groundwork complete, she and Michael were finally ready to exploit what they believed were Zubby’s softest weaknesses.
