CHAPTER EIGHT
The City Square overflowed with people, not out of loyalty or love for the Governor, but drawn by the promise of palliatives used to lure the masses. Blue and green banners, colours of the ruling party draped the stage, glowing under carefully arranged lights. It was a gathering of all classes: the powerful and the poor, soldiers and civilians, all pressed together in restless anticipation.
Security was airtight.
Armed personnel stood at every critical point, briefed with one instruction, no one gets close to the Governor. The police, led by Commissioner Moses Kolapo, were equally alert, scanning for the slightest anomaly. Beside him stood Detective Ibrahim Hassan, calm on the surface but internally mapping every possible threat.
Daniel had sent a message earlier, he would be late. A lunch date with his new girlfriend, he said.
He had run into her a few weeks earlier in a boutique, one of those chance encounters that linger longer than they should. He had only gone in to browse for new outfits, nothing more. But then she appeared. A brief exchange turned into an effortless conversation, the kind that felt strangely familiar, almost destined.
And yet, in a moment that would haunt him, he walked away without asking for her contact. The realization struck him too late, and the frustration that followed burned deeper than he cared to admit.
Then, as though fate refused to be ignored, their paths crossed again just days later, this time at the bank. He had gone to make a routine deposit, but the ordinary quickly gave way to something far more significant when he saw her. There she was, as unexpected as before, yet impossible to overlook.
Determined not to repeat his mistake, he seized the moment. At the end of their interaction, he asked for her contact. She gave it willingly.
Emboldened, he took it a step further, he asked her out to lunch.
Saturday. 3 p.m, she suggested the time with a calm certainty, and without a second thought, not realizing it clashed with the campaign flag-off event, he agreed.
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Chike, Agent Shadow was dressed in full black regalia, positioned inside a room at Timeless Hotel overlooking the Square. From the window, the stage was perfectly aligned in his sights. His rifle rested steady as he loaded it with chilling precision.
Edwin, Big Sam and Tiger took Don Kingsley alongside with them when they were set to go to the City Square. He was their bargaining chip with KC.
Edwin arrived moments later with Don Kingsley, bound, gagged, and trembling after dropping off Big Sam and Tiger at the City Square, leaving them with the instruction to keep an eye on the police officers and the detective.
The plan had never been simple, it was precise, calculated, and ruthless.
A riot would erupt at the peak of the event, not by chance, but by design. The crowd, already restless, would be pushed into chaos, shouts rising, bodies surging, order dissolving into confusion. In that moment of disorder, when attention fractured and security thinned, Agent Shadow and the Embassey would strike.
From a carefully selected vantage point, one they had studied, measured, and committed to memory long before the first banner was raised, Chike would have a clear line. No hesitation. No second chances.
The governor would fall before anyone could make sense of what was happening.
Every position had already been mapped out. Every movement anticipated. Even before the event began, the stage for destruction had quietly been set.
Chike waited in silence, tucked inside one of the rooms at Timeless Hotel. The City Square lay just beyond his window, the stage perfectly framed in his line of sight, every angle studied, every movement accounted for. From here, nothing would escape him.
On the table before him, the weapon lay in parts. With slow, and deliberate precision, he began assembling it, each click echoing faintly in the stillness of the room. He was halfway through when a knock came at the door.
Right on time.
He moved swiftly, unlocking it to let Edwin in, Don Kingsley close behind.
The moment Don Kingsley stepped inside, his composure cracked. His eyes locked onto Chike, widening in disbelief.
Of all people, but Chike smiled.
Not warmly. Not kindly. But with a quiet assurance that carried something far more dangerous beneath it.
"Relax," he said, his voice calm, almost reassuring. "Your life is safe… as long as KC holds up his end of the bargain."
Don Kingsley's confusion quickly turned to anger.
"Chike… why?" His voice trembled, caught between disbelief and betrayal. "After everything, after what we had, why are you doing this?"
For a brief moment, something unreadable flickered across Chike's face. Then it vanished.
"KC has all the answers you're looking for." he replied coldly.
Before Don Kingsley could say another word, Chike's attention shifted.
"Edwin."
That single call was enough.
Edwin stepped forward immediately. Without hesitation, he restrained Don Kingsley, sealing his mouth before any further protest could escape. The muffled struggle filled the room, but Chike didn't even flinch.
Instead, he walked back toward the window, eyes returning to the stage outside as though nothing else mattered.
"Text KC," he said, his tone sharp and final. "Send him the location. The exact room number, as soon as the riot begins."
The instruction was followed by a brief pause. Outside, the square was still calm but not for long.
Tim Alfred, the head of state security, had already set quiet measures in motion. His men were briefed with clear instructions, keep a close watch on the private detective, and on Edwin as well. Photographs of Edwin had been circulated. If he surfaces, they should capture him either dead or alive.
Across the square, Moses had done his part. Officers were strategically stationed at every critical point, entry routes, blind spots, elevated positions. Each man carried the same order: stay alert, trust nothing, and report anything out of place. Today, even the smallest anomaly could mean everything.
The air felt normal.
Moses moved through the controlled bustle until he reached Ibrahim, who stood unusually still amid the movement. His face was calm, but his eyes betrayed him, distant, calculating, searching for a threat that hadn't yet revealed itself.
"Hello, friend."
"Commissioner, sir."
Moses gave a faint smile, then glanced around before asking, "Where is Daniel?"
Ibrahim exhaled lightly. "He texted me. Said he'll be running late… something about lunch."
Moses raised a brow, a grin forming. "Oh? That's good news. Finally, he won't be single anymore." He nudged Ibrahim playfully. "So, who's the girl?"
A brief pause.
"I haven't met her yet," Ibrahim replied. "But he sent me her photograph."
Moses' interest sharpened immediately. "Really? Let me see."
He stretched out his hand, palm open, waiting for Ibrahim to place his phone in his hand.
For a second, Ibrahim didn't move.
Then slowly, his expression shifted. The faint smile on his face disappeared, replaced by something tighter, more controlled. He shook his head and said no.
Moses blinked, caught off guard. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Ibrahim met his gaze, his voice firmer now. "We have serious work on ground. That should be our focus."
The tone was enough.
Moses studied him for a moment, then slowly withdrew his hand. "Alright… I hear you."
Around them, the event continued to build. Unaware that beneath the surface, everything was already beginning to shift.
At exactly 5:15 p.m., Governor Afolabi stepped onto the stage, greeted by a wave of cheers that rolled across the City Square. The atmosphere was electric, charged with anticipation, yet laced with something unseen, something waiting.
By then, Edwin was already in position. He had slipped into the crowd unnoticed, his purpose singular, burning with quiet intensity, to take down Tim Alfred. Not for politics. Not for power. But for blood. His father's blood.
From a distance, Tiger and Big Sam watched closely, their eyes scanning every movement. They tracked the police formations, noting shifts and patterns, while keeping a careful watch on Detective Hassan. The Embassy left nothing to chance. Not today.
On the stage, the governor spoke with confidence, his voice rising above the crowd, weaving promises and power into every word. Minutes passed.
Thirty minutes into the speech, it began. A disturbance at first. Subtle. Almost dismissible.
Then it spread. Voices rose. Movements turned erratic. What started as confusion quickly ignited into chaos. Panic rippled through the crowd like wildfire, and within seconds, control was lost.
People screamed. Bodies pushed. Order collapsed.
The riot had been triggered.
In the frenzy, survival took over. The crowd surged violently in all directions, trampling over itself in desperate attempts to escape. The air filled with dust, fear, and the deafening sound of disorder, resulting to a stampede.
And in the middle of it all, hidden behind the chaos, the real operation had just begun.
The Governor, unaware of the true cause of the chaos, stepped forward, raising his hands in a desperate attempt to steady the crowd.
"Please, remain calm" but his voice was swallowed by the screams.
The panic only grew louder. What began as scattered fear had now erupted into full-blown hysteria. His words meant nothing. The crowd no longer listened, they reacted and fought to escape.
Police officers surged into the mass, trying to restore order, but the response was immediate and violent. Blows landed. Metallic objects flew through the air, bottles, rods, anything within reach, forcing the officers to stagger back under the sudden resistance.
Above it all, from his vantage point in Timeless Hotel, Chike had already aligned his shot, steady and calculated.
The Governor stood right where he needed him.
One pull and it would all be over.
Then there came a scream, sharp and urgent, cutting through the chaos like a blade.
Chike's finger hesitated on the trigger. His eyes shifted, scanning the square below. At first, the words were lost in the noise. But then he saw it, a hand pointing straight at him.
Zooming in, his pulse tightened, it was the detective.
Amid the spiraling chaos, Ibrahim had been searching, not for safety, but for intent. His instincts refused to settle. Something wasn't right. Not just the riot… something more.
Then he saw it. A figure positioned high above the square, partially concealed behind a window in Timeless Hotel with a rifle aimed directly at the stage.
His heart slammed.
"There is a shooter!" he roared, his voice breaking through the noise as he pointed toward the building. "There! Top floor!"
Chike knew he had been seen.
For a fraction of a second, time slowed, but he didn't retreat. He adjusted his grip, exhaled, and pulled the trigger.
The shot rang out.
But at that exact moment, "Moses!" Hassan's voice tore through the air.
Instinct took over. Moses lunged toward the Governor, shoving him off the stage just as the bullet cut through the space he had occupied a heartbeat before.
The shot missed, and just like that the plan began to unravel.
Moses quickly ushered the Governor through the backstage, issuing sharp instructions to the security detail to move him to a secure location far from the chaos at City Square.
Up in the hotel, Chike realized his shot had failed. Sirens wailed in the distance, and the pounding footsteps of advancing officers echoed through the building. Without hesitation, he abandoned his position and moved swiftly to escape.
Outside, the situation spiraled. Edwin, reading the chaos perfectly, gave a cold signal and his men opened fire.
Gunshots erupted, tearing through the already panicked crowd as the police returned fire. Amid the confusion, Edwin broke away, his eyes locked on a single target, Tim Alfred.
Back at the Square, Moses wasted no time. After ensuring the Governor was secured, he regrouped with Ibrahim.
Without exchanging words, they both sprinted after the officers heading toward the hotel where the shooter had been sighted.
Elsewhere, KC had already received the location.
Heart pounding, he sped through traffic, desperation fueling every turn of the wheel. He had one objective which was to get to his boss before it was too late.
Inside the hotel, tension thickened. The moment Ibrahim and Moses burst through the entrance, they took control.
"Lock this place down!" Moses barked at the receptionist. "No one goes in and no one comes out."
The order was executed immediately.
KC had slipped in moments earlier and was now navigating his way toward the room where Don Kingsley was kept.
On the staircase, Chike descended rapidly until he froze. A squad of armed officers was advancing straight toward him.
In a split second, instinct took over. He fired and three officers dropped instantly.
The others scrambled for cover, returning fire as the confined space erupted into chaos.
Ibrahim and Moses exchanged a quick glance and split. Ibrahim lunged toward the lift with two other officers while Moses took the stairs.
Tim Alfred and Edwin exchanged relentless gunfire across the chaos of City Square, each determined to outlast the other. The echoes of bullets rang through the air until, suddenly there was silence. Their ammunition was gone.
For a brief moment, they stayed hidden, and when there eyes finally locked, without a word, they charged at each other.
Elsewhere, Big Sam and Tiger had carved a deadly path through the security forces, taking down officers with ruthless efficiency. But victory came at a cost, they both died in the process, their mission completed in blood.
Inside the hotel, KC finally reached Don Kingsley. With trembling hands, he untied him and ripped off the seal covering his mouth.
"Let's go, boss, we don't have time!" he urged urgently, unaware that the building had already been surrounded.They hurried toward the exit.
Outside, the duel between Edwin and Tim intensified. Blow after blow, strike after strike, until Edwin finally overpowered him. Standing over his fallen enemy, bruised and bleeding, Edwin told him this was a payback for the murder of his father.
Barely able to stand, Edwin grabbed a weapon from a fallen officer and staggered toward the hotel, driven by one purpose, to rescue his brother.
Downstairs, KC and Don reached the exit but it was locked, and every door sealed.
Panic set in. They were trapped.
Outside, Edwin slammed against the entrance repeatedly, frustration boiling over. When the doors refused to give way, he fired wildly at the locks, then hurled his weight against them, the door burst open and he stumbled inside.
The sudden crash and gunfire drew attention, making the officers shift their focus. And in that split second, Chike seized the opportunity. He repositioned and fired, three more officers dropped on thr ground.
The balance tilted again. Sensing the shift, Moses made a quick decision. He retreated downstairs, only to come face-to-face with KC, Don Kingsley, and the badly wounded Edwin.
In an instant, his gun was up.
"On your knees!" he commanded, voice sharp and unwavering.
But Edwin, despite his injuries, raised his weapon defiantly.
"Drop yours," he growled, eyes blazing, "or I pull the trigger."
The air thickened.
No one moved. One wrong move and it will be a bullet frenzy.
Ibrahim and two officers emerged from the lift at the top floor. Moving with calculated caution, they began their descent, each step measured, each breath controlled, determined not to reveal their position too soon.
Downstairs, the tension had thickened into something suffocating. Moses and Edwin stood locked in a deadly standoff, guns poised, neither willing to yield. The air trembled with the weight of a single decision.
Then a shot rang out. One of the wounded officers, barely conscious on the floor, had fired in desperation but his aim failed.
The bullet struck Don Kingsley. He collapsed instantly. For a split second, everything froze.
Then chaos surged again.
Chike burst onto the scene, swift and precise. With the butt of his gun, he struck the wounded officer, knocking him out completely.
Without hesitation, he turned his weapon on Moses.
"Drop your gun," he ordered coldly.
Moses hesitated… then slowly began to comply.
"DROP IT!"
The command thundered from behind. Moses turned to look and it was Ibrahim behind Chike.
Chike stiffened.
He turned slightly, just enough to see the reality that he was surrounded.
For a fleeting moment, he inhaled deeply, weighing his options to surrender or bloodshed.
He began to lower his weapon.
"Don't!" Edwin barked, his voice raw with desperation. "Shoot him!"
Ibrahim's voice came again, firmer this time.
"Drop the weapon. Now."
Edwin made his move, his finger tightening on the trigger.
A shot cracked through the silence. Edwin jerked violently… then dropped dead, shot by one of the back up officer behind Ibrahim in his attempt to shoot the Police Commissioner.
The echo of the gunshot lingered like a final verdict.
Chike stared. His brother… gone. The fire in his eyes flickered… then died.
Slowly, he let the gun slip from his hands.
It hit the floor with a hollow clang. Moses stepped forward cautiously, then motioned to KC.
"On your knees. Both of you."
They obeyed.
"Remove the mask," Moses commanded, voice steady but edged with tension.
Slowly… deliberately… Chike reached up and peeled it off.
Silence fell.
Heavy.
Unbelievable.
Recognition crashed in.
"Chike!" KC screamed in shock.
But Moses and Ibrahim stood frozen, their minds struggling to reconcile what they were seeing.
"Daniel…?" Moses whispered.
Ibrahim's grip tightened on his weapon, disbelief written across his face.
The man they had trusted… The man who had stood beside them…Was the one behind it all.
Time seemed to fracture.
Chike lifted his eyes to meet theirs.
"I'm… sorry," he said quietly.
No excuses. No defense. Just guilt.
Moses exhaled slowly, regaining control.
"Call it in," he ordered.
Within minutes, backup units flooded the building.
The chaos was contained.
KC and Daniel were taken into custody. And just like that, the truth, buried beneath layers of trust and deception, finally surfaced… at a devastating cost.
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The media space was on fire as news outlets carried the reports of the Campaign flag-off riots and killings. What was meant to be a peaceful event had erupted into a massacre, chaos echoing, lives lost, and a city left trembling in disbelief.
Ibrahim and Moses made their way to see Chike in custody. The air between them was heavy, thick with unspoken questions and unresolved pain.
Chike, his voice low and burdened, apologized to Hassan and Moses for the death of their family. It wasn't supposed to happen but it did nevertheless. His motive had only been to avenge his father's death.
Yet, his friends stood in silence, feeling the sting of betrayal after giving him their trust, unknown to them that he had been the enemy within all along.
"What happens now?" Chike asked.
Ibrahim and Moses exchanged glances before Moses finally spoke, his tone firm, carrying the weight of truth.
"The Governor has fled the state. Everything you said has been verified to be true. However, you will still pay for the consequences of your actions for taking the law into your hands and killing innocent people in the process."
Chike let out a slow breath, his shoulders sinking. "I understand… and I am already guilty even without facing the court."
Ibrahim sighed, the sound filled with regret and finality. Moses leaned forward slightly, his words measured, almost heavy with inevitability. This was a matter he could not change, Chike would face the gallows after the court's pronouncement.
A silence fell deep, suffocating, and uneasy. Chike bowed his head. The room lingered in that stillness until Hassan finally broke the silence. His voice was calm, but laced with finality.
"Every crime committed has a punishment to be meted out. The Governor may have fled the state, but he cannot run far." His eyes locked onto Chike, disappointment burning beneath them. "And as for you… I am quite disappointed. Knowing what we have all passed through because of these murders, I can't sympathize with you."
The weight of his words lingered in the air like a verdict already passed.
He hissed sharply, turned, and walked out leaving behind a silence that felt heavier than any sentence yet to be spoken.
Moses took a deep sigh. The weight of everything hung between them like an unspoken verdict.
Chike exhaled slowly and said, "I know my actions and I am ready to face the consequences. I don't need you guys to patronize me with your sympathy. You don't know what it feels like to be helpless, knowing that the law can't help bring you justice…"
Moses cut in sharply, his voice rising with urgency, "This isn't just about the law but also about your person, your value, and doing what is right nevertheless. This isn't the way to seek justice. We understand that the system has failed us, but it isn't just about the system, it is about the people in the system. And you… you could have made a difference, but you walked the wrong path."
Chike fell unusually silent.
For a moment, the room seemed to close in on him, the truth sinking deeper than any accusation ever could. He knew deep within that what Moses said was true. The words pierced through his defenses, striking at the very core of his soul.
Slowly, tears began to fall from his eyes, like a river breaking through its banks, unstoppable and heavy with regret.
"You still don't get it? Do you?" Moses continued, his voice now colder, edged with finality. "Your actions were a sign of you asking for a death wish. Now you've met your waterloo."
Without another word, Moses turned and walked out of the room. And in that moment, Chike was left alone drowned in silence, consumed by his own tears, and face to face with the full weight of his choices.
The End.