“To what end, Gabriel?”
“Hear me out. I believe the same people committing these robberies also killed a woman. A white woman, Idara. If I lead the police to their arrest, I can get a big promotion and better financial security for us.”
“What are you planning?”
He told her what he knew, about the rickety bus and the dodgy-looking occupants. He told her how he had, on his own time, visited the other places that had been hit by the robbers and how he had interviewed some of the victims who’d had face-to-face encounters with them. Those who had been willing to talk had given similar descriptions of the men. He told her that one of the victims had mentioned a scorpion tattoo. He told her he had been given the license plate number and through speaking with some local mechanics had been lucky to come across one who knew that particular bus. What he did not tell Idara was that the mechanic had been very afraid to talk about the men who had recently brought the vehicle in for repairs.
“But these people you are chasing, they sound dangerous,” Idara said.
“I won’t be alone when I go after them,” Gabriel assured her. “I will take my findings to my superiors and request backup.”
“Your superiors — you mean the nice Sergeant Sule?”
“No, I am taking this to the inspector.”
Idara nodded. “Why don’t you sit down and eat, your food will get cold.”
Gabriel did as he was told, happy that he had almost cracked the case, optimistic that with this he could finally get the promotion he merited. As he ate, he stole glances at his wife and thought how proud she would soon be of him. Soon, she would have the husband she deserved and the respectability and perks that come with being married to a senior officer.
Scorpion was a man of very few words. He was a doer and he did. He also considered himself a righteous man. Yes, he killed people, but there was no one he had killed who did not deserve it. He could not be held accountable for killing people who plotted to kill him, or for ending the lives of rich scumbags whose very sense of entitlement ensured that the wealth of the community only circulated among themselves. He fancied himself a modern-day Robin Hood; he took from the rich. That was as much as he knew about Robin Hood, the part about stealing from the rich.
In the far corner of the dimly lit room, his men sat together smoking, drinking, and playing cards. On the floor next to them was a big canvas bag stuffed with guns and machetes. They did not have a mission that night, but Scorpion liked to always be prepared. He was not too concerned about the authorities or the police. He would ensure they were taken care of, and the ones who did not conform were taken care of in a different way. His real worry, if he were to call it that, had more to do with rival gangs, some of whom had tried in the past to encroach on his turf. The entire length and breadth of Lagos Island belonged to him; no one else was allowed to operate there.
He got up from where he was sitting and left the room. Outside it was warm and breezeless. He scratched his right shoulder with his pocketknife, almost drawing blood. It had now become an irritation for him, the constant itching. This one was more persistent than any other itch he had gotten in the past. Something big was going to happen.
Razor soon joined him outside. “Tell the others to get ready for Sunday,” Scorpion said to him. “We got another hit.”
When Razor nodded and returned inside, Scorpion wondered if perhaps his itch was more a warning that someone within his crew was plotting something.
Three weeks elapsed before Corporal Gabriel had enough evidence to approach the inspector. It had not been easy finding any sort of time to pursue his hunches. He worked four nights a week on checkpoint duty and had two free days in between. Well, he liked to believe that he had two off days, though the reality of being an ambitious junior officer seeking a promotion meant reporting to the station every day and being at the beck-and-call of as many senior officers as possible. He was determined to cover all grounds and check some of the information he had been given before presenting his findings to the inspector, and he knew he had to be especially careful with who he trusted at the station. It was common knowledge, after all, that some officers were in bed with criminals. In the island district he covered, there were some corporals who drove nice secondhand cars worth much more than their entire earnings in a year. Idara made it her duty to always remind him about these officers and their wives. The thought of enduring a lifetime of her nagging was enough to make him ignore his off days and check his leads.
After three weeks, he had a name for the gang leader and his possible hideout. He felt like a real detective, the kind he only encountered in movies, and this made him feel good. He had even dreamed of being promoted to the crime-solving division of the force, working in plainclothes and not the ugly black uniform of the regular police. But he saw his dream disintegrate the moment Sergeant Sule asked him about the bus that had been let into Colony Estate.
“Why, sir?” Gabriel asked.
“I hear you have some leads,” the sergeant said.
This surprised Gabriel, as he had told no one in the station about what he had discovered.
“I don’t understand, sir.”
“You don’t have to be afraid of telling me what you know. The SP himself wants us to investigate the case again and focus our energy on the people we saw in that bus.”
“The superintendent?” Gabriel was unable to hide the surprise in his voice.
“Yes, the superintendent of police. He wants you on the case.”
“He knows who I am?”
“Somehow he does. Look, we can stand here all day chitchatting about who knows who, or we can get to work on the case. Now, have you heard of the gangster called Scorpion?”
“Yes, yes, I have,” Gabriel replied, amazed to hear the sergeant mention the name of the man he believed was responsible for the robberies and also the murder of a harmless woman.
“What do you know?”
Gabriel told him everything, everything he had told only to his wife, everything he had intended to tell the inspector, along with everything new he had learned. As he narrated how he had pieced together the evidence, he saw what he thought was a look of admiration in the sergeant’s eyes.
“I think we should storm his hideout today while we have the element of surprise,” Gabriel concluded.
“No, that may not be the best idea,” the sergeant said. “There is a danger that some of our men could be killed. It’s his territory, after all.”
“What do you suggest?”
“We have a tip-off that Scorpion and his gang plan to strike again this Sunday. We even know what estate they are targeting and which house. My suggestion is that we get there before they do and ambush them.”
Gabriel agreed that the plan was a good one. It made sense to avoid the lion’s den and instead pounce on Scorpion and his gang when they least expected it.
Later that evening, Gabriel was summoned once again by the sergeant for a formal briefing with the remaining five members of their squad. Sule laid out the strategy of their raid and warned all of them not to disclose it to anyone. He also took a moment to point out to the squad that Gabriel had been very instrumental in the gathering of intelligence. All this pleased Gabriel. He was certain that once Scorpion and his gang had been captured, he would indeed get the promotion he deserved.
Sunday. It came more quickly than Gabriel had imagined. The hours since he’d spoken to his sergeant seemed to have developed wings. The usually dreadful night patrol didn’t bother him in the few days leading up to Sunday. He tried to contain his excitement that for once he was actually involved in real police work. Remembering the warning from the sergeant that they keep the raid under wraps, he could not tell Idara when she asked him if he had taken his discoveries to the inspector. He coded his answer to her, telling her instead that all was under control.