Kelvin Alaneme's Blog.: TRAPPED...Part 23.

"Ten million naira! Where on earth will I get that amount of money?" Old Major said, hands on his head. "Chai! I am finished."

For one moment, I wished it were one huge prank. That Dan was alive and well, safe, and acting his own part of a script. But Dan does not play pranks. And the cold, deep baritone on the other end of the line, certainly was not joking. He sounded very polished, but his meanness can be felt miles away amidst his good English. This was really happening.

He had given three clear, concise instructions. Get ten million naira before forty-eight hours. Send Bola to bring it to a later-to-be-disclosed location. Never involve the Police. We had looked on dazed. At the background, we could hear Dan screaming.

"What are you doing to my son?" Old Major had asked.

"Nothing serious. Just some morning exercise."

What we heard sounded like someone was punching Dan. There was intermittent laughter. He repeated his instructions and the line went dead.

"I have only two shops in Alaba. Even if I sell the shops with their contents and this house, I am not even sure of raising five million naira. And that will take at least a week!" Old Major said, shaking his head.

"Papa, we will find a way," I said, holding his shoulders.

Bola sat quietly in a corner, brooding. Chiemeka and Añuli were seated on the sofa, staring into space.

"Let's call the Police...that detective," Bola said.

I shot her a glance, then looked at Old Major.

"What other options do we have? Eh?"she continued, looking around the room."How can we raise ten million in forty-eight hours?"

The room was silent. After a while, I spoke up.

"But you heard the man clearly. Never involve the Police..."

"He was just bluffing. Which kidnapper will tell you to involve the police? Eh? Don't the Police catch some of them and rescue their victims?"

I looked at Old Major again, wanting him to say something.

"I will call Sergeant Okoli," he said, picking up his phone from the centre table. I gave an exasperated sigh.

"Hello, Officer...Good morning. It was a kidnap...No, they contacted us...ten million in forty-eight hours...Ok. Come quick, quick."

The Sergeant listened with rapt attention as Old Major narrated what transpired, stopping occasionally to make some notes in a small, black notebook.

"What are we going to do?"Old Major asked him.

"We are going to play along," he said, looking around the room. "It is important we realize how crucial this is. If they get any whiff that you have involved the Police, then I am afraid for your son. There has been some recent kidnap cases and they sound like the same group."

"What about the money?" Old Major asked.

"Don't worry. I will take care of everything from here," Sergeant Okoli said. He turned to Bola. "I will be back with a team of officers in the evening to prepare you...walk you through the entire process."

Bola nodded, visibly terrified.

"We have barely twenty-four hours left. You have to try your best to stay calm," Sergeant Okoli said to Bola, as I entered the living room. I had gone home the previous evening to freshen up and drop instructions with my student tailors. I had not been to my shop in over a week. The living room was filled with persons, some plain-clothed policemen, Chiemeka, Añuli, Mike and Old Major.

"I can't do this," Bola blurted out, sobbing.

"You can," Sergeant Okoli said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Don't you want to see your hubby again? Uh?"

She nodded, amidst sobs.

"Good. Let's go over the routine again." He motioned to another officer who adjusted some wires on Bola's body.

"Remember, we will be hearing everything. And we will sweep in and remove you from the place at the slightest signal of danger. But you have to remain calm, ok?"

Bola nodded, still shaking like a leaf.

They spent the whole evening rehearsing the routine till Bola mastered it.

"I think we are done for the day," the Sergeant said, glancing at the clock. It was 9.45pm. "We will be back very early in the morning."

"Thanks very much, Officer," Old Major said, escorting them to the door.

I turned to Mike. "Pastor, is it morally right to pay ransom to kidnappers?" He looked up, scratched his head and closed the bible he was reading.

"Well, let's see. In the scripture, Christ was given as a ransom...for all of us..."

"You are missing the point," Bola interjected.

"No, wait. Remember where the scripture said to give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God? If the kidnappers are demanding a ransom..."

"Stella, if anyone is holding your loved one, you should give anything to have them back," Chiemeka said, stamping her foot. I nodded in agreement.

By 8.00am, the Sergeant and his team arrived, armed to the teeth. Bola was dressed up, the wires strategically placed, hidden from plain sight. They went through the routine again.

"I am not entering there empty-handed, am I? These guys are expecting money," Bola said. There was panic in her voice.

"Don't worry," Sergeant Okoli said. "We have two bags in the van, containing some counterfeit money to the tune of that amount. There is no way they would know the difference at sight."

Bola nodded and they went over the routine again.

At exactly 9.00am, Old Major's phone rang. The Sergeant motioned him to pick it and put it on loud speaker.

"Hello, Sir...Good morning, Sir...I have your money..."Old Major began, his voice shaking.

The voice we heard next was stern. "Mr. Fabian Olisa, what was the third instruction I gave you?"

A gasp escaped Old Major's lips. "You said...never to involve the Police...Sir."

"And what have you done?" He gave a mirthless laugh. "Major, I have my eyes on you. An hour ago, three police vans entered your compound. You just killed your son. His blood is on your hands."

"No, please Sir, let me explain..."

The line went dead.

Old Major sank into a sofa, shaking in grief. Bola tore out all the wires and gave a large howl. Sergeant Okoli stood transfixed. I had my hands on my head, totally confused.

"I knew this was a bad idea," Bola said, sobbing.

"Sharrap!" I bellowed, fuming. "You were the one that suggested we involve the police. Now, see."

The Sergeant glared at me and went outside to discuss with the other policemen.

"Daniel nwanne m o!" Añuli screamed, amidst tears. I moved over to console her.

"We are going back to re-strategize," Sergeant Okoli said, as he returned. "I believe we will come up with a way to rescue your son."

An hour after the policemen left, Abdul entered the living room, carrying a small box wrapped in brown paper.

"Oga, someone leave this for gate. The pesin knock, as I come outside, I no see anybody. Na only this thing I see. And e carry your name."

Old Major collected the box from him and set it on the centre table. The surface had 'To Mr. Fabian Olisa' handwritten on it. He looked around, our faces betraying our curiosity. He proceeded to tear off the brown paper covering.

Underneath was a small box, the kind that contain wrist watches. He opened it.

"Jesus Christ!" he shouted, squirming in disgust. We all drew back, our emotions caving in at once. Lying at the centre of the box was a human finger, the bloodied end representing where it was severed from the hand.

"Dan's ring finger!" Bola screamed, slumping to the ground. "They've cut Dan's ring finger!"

I took one last look at the bloody, severed digit and felt hot tears coursing down my cheeks. Evil has climbed new heights.