Now, i will retire

Now, I will retire.

“Once this goes right, I will retire”, the man tells himself as he paces the room. The business had been more lucrative than he had earlier imagined. It was a way of getting back from the society what the society had siphoned from his people for so many years. Each of his accounts in the twenty five banks had a handsome amount. The type he hitherto heard only when Governors were announcing contracts on television. Those contracts that never get executed.  Now he was taking his share. He was getting even with the society. But he thought it was a good time to retire. “I am not a criminal”, he thinks. “I am not like them, those rogues that run around town making plenty noise with their sirens. I am a freedom fighter” He reminds himself. “ I will retire after this deal”

He drops the shiny pistol on the table and picks up the phone. He needed the phone to ring. He dials a number and listens. There was no response at the other end. “wetin they happen now?” he musses and drops the phone again. His eye runs to his wrist. The twelve hours ultimatum would be expiring in two hours. He was eager to get this done. “Was thirty million still too much for them to pay?” he wonders. The negotiation process had been exhausting. He had been on the phone for close to an hour. At the end, he had to slice off twenty million. That was how generous he could get. The commodity was worth much more, but he needed to get this done with. Thirty million was a round enough figure.

There were two other calls he expected. Two other commodities had over stayed in the warehouse. The value of one had gone from twenty million to ten million and even now at two million, the owners didn’t seem in a hurry to come and claim him. This was the problem with dealing in locals. We didn’t have value for our own. He had told his boys the very day they brought in the commodity that he wasn’t worth much. Two weeks now and no deal yet. He was just consuming food for nothing. “May be I should further reduce his amount” the man thinks. “I can take one million. One million is a good price for a councilor”.

The other over stayed commodity in the warehouse was worth twenty million. She had been there for three days. How he hated keeping female commodities. He was a hard man, but not so hard in the face of the tears of a lady. She had been crying and throwing tantrums all day, asking to be released. She is a daughter of one of the traditional rulers. A princess. The intelligence information that she was visiting from England where she was a college student had been very accurate. She had strayed out to a club in Port Harcourt one night and never got back home. When the calls were made, her father, the Royal Highness had promised to deliver on schedule. Twenty million should be a chicken change for him. “Why was he now stalling?”

The man begins to pace the room again. His pistol is in hand. One thing he had learnt in this line of business was patience. Patience was a virtue. Be patient and a bit firm. It always worked. His very first mega deal, his breakthrough in the business had thought him that. Those seven white skins from Shell. It had made the news headlines. All the dailies reported it on the cover. Even CNN mentioned it.  He remembers how he had sat and watched with pride, a bottle of Squadron in hand. He had invested much in that deal. The seven whites had to receive a five star worth treatment in captivity. For a whole week, they made no demand. He was patient. Give time for the anxiety to build. The Government first threatened. Shell ran from pillar to post, evacuating all other offshore white skin staff to Port Harcourt. The home Governments of the seven soon began to mount pressure on Aso Rock. Aso Rock’s tone turned from threats to pleas. Then he rang out their demand. A hundred million for each head.

The state governor led the negotiation. He was a good negotiator. He had negotiated his way to the government house with the barrel of guns. The man had boys that had been stealing oil and selling for him from time immemorial. He was not different from the hostage takers. He had the whole state hostages. He knew that much. So when the bargaining began, he played ball. Forty Million was paid for each head. The Governor pocketed five million on each head, for his services as negotiator. The commander of the Army Task Force got a million on each head. The hostages were released and every body was happy. The governor and the army boasted on how they had secured the release of the hostages. No one mentioned the amount s that was involved. They said they didn’t negotiate.

Another big deal had been the capture of a top politicians aged mother. The man had been running his mouth in Abuja about the situation in the Niger Delta. He said the freedom fighters were mere criminals. When his Mother disappeared, he came crying. Obviously he loved his mother very much.  The ransom was paid in full, right from the Central Bank. A week later, he evacuated both his parents and everyone related to him to the safety of the Federal Capital.

Once, a young man; a university student – a spoilt son of one money bag had contacted them requesting to be kidnapped. His father had been starving him of pocket money for a while now. He had flunked all his exams in the university and his father wanted to show some anger. His monthly two million naira pocket money was withheld. He willingly submitted himself to be kidnapped. That way, he could force out some money from him stingy father. Ten million was demanded. The father bargained. Five million was agreed. The boy got his two million and went away happy.

And how he had been enjoying his proceeds. A Rover-Rover Sportage Jeep just joined his fleet. That fleet had a Hummer 2 and a Nissan Armada. Two new gun boats had only just arrived too. The oil bunkering division of his business had to remain one step ahead of the Army task force. Those liverless agents of tyranny. How he hated them. He enjoyed killing them. Once his boys sank a naval gun boat and killed three ratings on board. They had celebrated it with bottles of Rum. “I am a freedom fighter” he moans under his breath. His index finger caresses the pistol trigger.

Even a freedom fighter had the right to a retirement. His palatial villa in Yanegoa was ready for occupation. The oil bunkering would continue however. Those massive pipes that crisscrossed the creeks would guarantee his pension. After years of hearing from corrupt leaders that the solutions to their problems was in the pipeline, they had decided to break the pipeline and see for themselves what was in there and why it was taking such time to come out. What they saw was black gold. Indeed, the leaders were right after all. The solution to their problems was right there in the pipeline.

He thought briefly of what he would be doing in retirement. He would join a golf club. Yes, that’s what those retired Generals do. There wasn’t much difference between a retired General and a retired Freedom fighter. The similarities were more. They both had the right figures in their bank accounts. “I could even join a political party” he thought aloud. “May be I can contest for a seat in the legislature”. He knew at least three senators who were retired freedom fighters. “No. I will join the opposition. That’s what respectable freedom fighters do”. Being in the opposition as an ex-freedom fighter had it’s advantages. Each time you sneezed, the Government caught cold. There was no better security for your pension. And of course, the boys in the creek will still see you as one of their own.

The phone on the table rings. The man is jolted out of his thoughts. He moves over fast.  The caller number seems to excite him. He smiles. He lets it ring over and over. It was part of the strategy. He finally picks and sounds so impatient and uninterested. The call is short. The discussion is straight to the point. The call ends. A smile is on his face. Thirty million had been delivered. “Now, I will retire” he grins.

Sylva Nze Ifedigbo