Abuja, Nigeria
At exactly 5:00 a.m., an alarm pierced the silence.
A hand reached from beneath the blanket and silenced it without hesitation.
The room remained quiet as the figure sat upright on the edge of the bed before standing. Years of discipline had turned waking into instinct rather than routine.
Outside, dawn had only begun to brighten the horizon.
Dressed in a plain black tracksuit, he stepped out of his residence and began his morning run through the quiet neighborhood. The rhythmic sound of his footsteps echoed against the empty roads as the cool morning breeze swept past.
Half an hour later, he returned home. A hot shower washed away the sweat before he stood before a neatly pressed Nigerian Army dress uniform. One by one, the medals, insignia and rank were carefully fastened into place.
Behind him, his wife entered the room carrying a steaming mug of coffee. "You'll never learn to slow down, will you?"
A faint smile appeared. "Not yet."
She adjusted his collar before placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Stay safe."
"I always try." Picking up his peaked cap, he walked out of the house.
He got into a car in between a convoy that rolled out.
A black military convoy rolled through the heavily guarded gates of the Defence Intelligence Agency Headquarters.
The sentries immediately stood to attention. "Good morning, sir!"
He returned a brief nod as he stepped from the vehicle. His polished boots echoed through the corridors.
Officers stopped whatever they were doing.
"Morning, General."
"Good morning, sir."
"General."
Salutes followed him with every step.
Without uttering a word, he continued down the hallway, his face still hidden beneath the shadow cast by the brim of his cap.
An aide hurried toward him.
"Sir, everyone's here."
He adjusted the files tucked beneath his arm.
" Good, let's not keep them waiting."
The reinforced conference room doors slowly swung open.
Inside, a room full of senior officers rose to their feet.
The conference room doors closed with a heavy thud.
Every officer inside rose to their feet.
"Good morning, sir."
A single nod acknowledged them before he took his seat at the head of the table.
"At ease."
The room settled.
A young intelligence officer connected a tablet to the projector. The display flickered to life, revealing aerial photographs of a freight train, its roof ripped apart and several carriages heavily damaged.
"The National Security Adviser assigned this investigation to the Defence Intelligence Agency at o' six hundred hours this morning."
The screen changed to photographs taken at the scene.
"Yesterday evening, a federal transport convoy carrying evidence recovered from the Lagos coastline was attacked while en route to a secure facility."
Images of unconscious police officers appeared. "Thirty-seven officers were incapacitated, Zero fatalities. No explosives were recovered. No shell casings matching the reported gunfire."
Another image appeared.
Steel twisted inward as if struck by immense force. One carriage had been torn completely open.
The officer swallowed. "We've... never seen damage consistent with this."
A second analyst stood.
"Satellite imagery confirms two unidentified aircraft entered Nigerian airspace shortly before the incident and departed immediately afterward."
Another slide appeared.
Thermal images, Multiple heat signatures moving across the roof of the train.
One suddenly vanished.
Another appeared several metres away.
The room remained silent.
"We've authenticated CCTV recovered from nearby crossings."
The footage began playing.
A blurred figure surrounded by flashes of blue light. Another landing hard enough to dent the roof. A third... airborne. The analyst paused the video.
"Our cyber division has examined the footage. It shows no evidence of digital manipulation."
Silence settled over the room.
One colonel finally spoke. "Could this be an advanced foreign special operations unit?"
Another shook his head. "No known military possesses capabilities like these."
Someone else muttered, "Experimental technology?"
The General remained motionless. His eyes never left the frozen frame. "Evidence?"
The room fell quiet. "No, sir."
He looked at the first analyst.
"The witnesses."
"We've interviewed twenty-six. They all describe different things. They also agree on one detail."
"What detail?"
The analyst hesitated. "They insist… .. people were fighting on top of the moving train."
Another officer couldn't hide his disbelief.
"That's impossible."
The General finally looked up. "Is it?"
No one answered.
He stood and slowly walked toward the screen. His eyes studied the frame of the glowing figures once more.
"Impossible?" He repeated the word quietly. "That isn't a conclusion."
He turned to face the room. "It's an admission that we don't yet understand what we're looking at."
No one spoke.
"The National Security Adviser requested facts." His voice was calm. "I will not insult his office with speculation."
He pointed toward the screen. "Authenticate every frame. Reconstruct the train attack from every available camera. Expand satellite coverage to a one-hundred-kilometre radius. I want every witness interviewed again—separately. Also find out what that rian was transporting it could be the answer to why they were there."
He paused.
"If these individuals exist...they have operated inside our borders without our knowledge."
His gaze swept across the room.
"I intend to change that."
The room remained silent as the General looked around the table.
He wasn't interested in theories anymore.
It was time to gather facts.His eyes settled on the intelligence officer. "Colonel Hassan."
"Sir."
"I want every CCTV camera within a one-hundred-kilometre radius of the attack recovered. Public, private, traffic, commercial—I don't care who owns them. If they recorded something, I want it."
"Yes, sir."
He turned to another officer. "Lieutenant Colonel Okeke."
"Sir."
"Have Cyber Intelligence authenticate every frame of footage we've received. I want timestamps verified, metadata examined, and any attempt at digital manipulation identified."
"Understood, sir."
His gaze shifted again. "Major Bello."
"Sir."
"Coordinate with the Air Force. I want complete radar logs and satellite imagery from six hours before the attack until six hours after. Cross-reference every unidentified aircraft, drone, or abnormal heat signature."
"Yes, sir."
He picked up one of the photographs from the table. "The cargo."
The room grew quiet.
"Find out exactly what was being transported."
An intelligence officer frowned.
"Sir, the manifest has been classified by the Ministry of Interior."
"Then request authorization."
"If they refuse?"
"Then remind them this investigation was assigned by the National Security Adviser."
The officer nodded. "Yes, sir."
The General continued. "I also want a complete profile on every officer involved in transporting that train."
"If information leaked, it had to leak from somewhere."
The words hung heavily over the room.
He looked toward another analyst.
"The fishermen."
"Sir?"
"The ones who discovered the material. I want every statement, every interview, every photograph they took before authorities secured the site."
"We've already spoken to them once."
"Speak to them again."
The analyst quickly nodded. "Yes, sir."
He turned toward the final group seated near the back. "Forensics."
A senior scientist straightened in his chair.
"I want every sample recovered from the train examined." He held up a photograph showing the strange blue residue.
"I don't care if it's paint, fuel, or an unknown compound." He placed the photograph back on the table. "I want a name."
The scientist hesitated. "And if we can't identify it?"
The General's expression never changed.
"Then find someone who can."
Silence settled over the room once more.
He rested both hands on the conference table.
"Whoever these people are..."
"...they planned this operation with military precision."
His eyes moved from one officer to the next.
"They knew the route, the escort strength, they knew exactly when to strike.....That tells me one thing."
Everyone waited.
"They'll strike again."
The room became deathly quiet.
"And when they do..."
His voice remained calm, but carried an unmistakable weight.
"...we'll be waiting."
No one spoke.
The meeting had begun as an investigation.
It ended as the opening move in a hunt.