Chapter SIX - Complications

18 Apr 2013 - 12:04:17 pm

'Yes, how's it'
'Shit happened,' Dickson lamented from the other end of the call. The pain in his voice was almost visible. 'The girl has been transferred to a specialist clinic.'

The complication, Dickson explained, was that he had no idea which hospital Lola was transferred to. Even if he narrowed his search to only specialized clinics, the city had over 20.

Being visibly disturbed, the nurses requested his identity when he started asking awkward questions, and they offered no leads to Lola's curent location. Annoyed, he cursed at the entrance clerk and left the building.

Unknown to him, however, a call was immediately placed directly to the District Police Station, reporting 'a man in his thrties with an obsessive demand for the current location of the already-transferred molested girl'. The resident nurse gave a description of Dickson and promised to call the police back if he showed up again.

Almost immediately, Moses gave sharp orders to beef up the security at the new clinic Lola was transferred to. She might be their only positive evidence after all.

It was getting serious and complicated.

Visibly frustrated, Mark stood up, paid his bill, and left the Bourdillon's. It was getting risky he concluded. Outside the bar, he placed a quick call to Dickson, informing him of his next location. He needed to get out of the heat area.

He boarded a cab, and left the scene, for a more sleazy red light district.


When Grace opened her office, Lawal was staring at her. She checked her self, to see if something was odd, then, cast a quick glance at Lawal. He did not buldge.

'Hey whats wrong?, Any new development?...Why you staring at me like this?'

'Oh, no problem. I've been here for a while though. Was just contemplating to leave when you showed up'

'You're kinda scared me,' She grinned. 'How are you doing, anyway?'

'Im good...and, oh! I need the card'

Stella was taken aback. But in a split second, she regained her composure. 'Sorry, what card? I don't get you' Her eyeballs were searching, pretending.

'The memory card of course, the card that was in the cellphone.'

'Oh,' she said, 'I thought you were referring to something else'. She gracefully settled her handbag on the desk and ran her fingers inside, probing.

Lawal moved nearer. 'I wonder why you took the card out of the phone.' he said, absentmindedly. 'Its crucial evidence, you know.'

'Come on, take it easy, I only took it home to check it with my computer.' She gave the memory card -cased in a transparent flat plastic- to him, and smiled. 'I have my own personal report im working on. And she drew an imaginary line on his cheek with her ring finger. It sent quelled shivers down Lawal's spine.

'So good' Lawal said, and left the room. His heart was already filled with fluttering pink butterflies.

When Praise did not respond for the second time, the training nurse sensed something was amiss. She retreated, and went straight to the Doctor's office. He wasn't available. Probably attending to some other patient. Instinctively, she rushed back to the sick woman's bed and found her eyes open, swollen and red. And her mouth was ajar.

She turned back to face the resident nurse, looking at her and the already dead girl.

'Whats going on here' the resident nurse asked.
'M'aam...I have no idea. I was just checking rounds and I noticed she wasn't even responding to her name...when I checked the Doc., he wasn't in his office and here I am. I met her in the same situation you are looking at now'

The resident nurse edged nearer, then notice the smell. She dialled the doctor's number immediately.

There had been a gun fight at LaGuardia, and by the time Mark got there, the whores were scampering up and down.  Someone was bleeding like a puckered rat at the far end of the hallway, probably hit by shots, and no one cared. What you're doing up at LaGuardia's is your own personal choice -or wrongdoing.

The owner of LaGuardia, a man only known as Chakup (instead of Jacob) was a well known bootlegger and a personal friend of Mark. And when Mark got to the patio entrance, he showed the guards his VIP ID, which was required before he'd be given access. He met Chakup, already seated with white cocaine lines in front of him a horde of semi naked girls, some high, some already passed out. The alert ones were throwing pillows and bitching at each other.

Chakup was a sight to behold, and a feary one. At 6.1 feet, he was the epitome of a rough rugby lifestyle. With mischieviously deep set eyes and a fat square jaw, you'd think he was german bred. A deep scar ran through his face, starting from just below the left eye and almost artfully cutting his face to two; a harrowing reminder of an arms deal that went wrong.

When Chakup finished his cocaine lines, a burlyish guard came in and informed Mark that Dickson was outside. He should come in, he informed the guard. Dickson was frisked and as he entered the large patio, the cool conditioned air hit him like a train in full speed.

The things we derive from mutual companies, he muttered.

When Lawal inserted the card to the cellphone for the third time, the phone beeped [CARD ERROR]

Either something had gone very very wrong, or he'd been set up....

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