Hmm

Hmmm

Frank knew enough to put pressure on the bullet holes in his abdomen but that alone could not save him. He was getting weaker by the minute. The setting sun seemed like a cold silver coin hanging in the distance. He could hear nothing, not the approaching vehicle or the running footsteps that followed. He twisted his head and looked at his bloodied abdomen, his hand was letting more blood escape now. It was a matter of minutes and he would be done for. Nobody would find him in these tropical shrubs, by the time they did he would have been dead. His eyelids began to flutter. He should just welcome it than struggle to live, but he must pass on the information he had to someone. He must. His eyes flickered once more and opened to darkness.

***

Detective Adesanjo paced the corridor of Mufi and Tuni Private Hospital. He wished to God that Frank survived. The information he possesses might propel him to the top of his career.

He had been on this case for the past three months, so long there had not been any breakthrough. The rackets were so organised that there was never a lead to tail. They had perfectly insulated themselves in such a way that anyone caught knew nothing even when they were persuaded with sweetened deals. The most they got out of them was Aurora. Aurora was just a french name but the day Adesanjo looked at a bullet using a magnifying glass he knew there was more to it.

On a rainy night, a few weeks later, a caller threw the coppers into an uproar. She reported a group of people were shooting at an SUV on Edem Bridge. By the time the police arrived at Edem Bridge, there was no body except the car and bloodied seats. They sent divers into the river, who recovered four bodies ridden with bullets, on these bullets also were the inscription Aurora. Adesanjo could see dots, but connecting them was the problem. He had found Aurora written on every bag of drugs and business cards found at murder scenes. In his enthusiasm, he had relayed his discovery to O.C NDRD but Ismaila Degana's eyes did not light up.

***

Dr Brent walked through the door labelled theatre. She was surprised to see the tall man with dark rings around his eyes pace the corridor. The swing of the door turned his steps towards her.
"How is he? Will he make it?" He asked, towering almost a couple of feet above her.
"Mr..." She shrugged, "You can't be here. You must go wait at the reception. Then..."
"I am the man who brought the patient and a police officer." He flashed his badge.
"I don't... Hmm!" She didn't think it wise to continue and began turning on her feet.
"Will he make it?" The detective desperately asked.
She thrust her hands into the side pockets of her white overcoat and began walking towards the end of the corridor. He began to dislike the air about her.

For a woman of that petite stature to bear such a force, it was unnerving. He almost felt like picking her up and chewing her alive. She turned at a corner and walked into an office. She took off the overall, hung it on the coat hanger by the door and went behind a table to sit, before pointing him to a seat. The detective's eyes found her very calculatingly insulting, it was obvious she wanted to get a rise out of him. She wasn't the most pretty woman he had seen, her eyes were slightly angled, her nose, small and prominent. He thought she could do without that much flesh on her lips. She had her hair braided from the front to the back. Now, she had removed the overcoat, he saw how beautiful she was, her racks were too heavy a load for her small frame.

He stood and watched her until she focused on him. Seeing she would not give him an answer until he asked again, this time his voice showed as much anger as his impatience.
"Yes, he will..." She smiled like she found an inside joke. "But, he went into shock several times, he has lost about an ounce of blood."
"How soon can I talk with him?"
"He would need some time." He was quite satisfied with the news. He turned to leave.
"Is that it?" She announced after him. He wheeled back and asked, "what?"
"Is that all you would say?"
He poured himself into her face and asked, "Do you need a man in your life?"

***

Na here we gather.

***Grabs popcorn and pap***
Roycemadeit oya ohhhhh

but wait ohhhhh you be nigga ni


#Xavier

Xavier5:
Na here we gather.

***Grabs popcorn and pap***
Roycemadeit oya ohhhhh

but wait ohhhhh you be nigga ni


#Xavier

What do you think?

Roycemadeit:


What do you think?

It's good. The story gats potentials

Or are you referring to my comment about your gender?

#Xavier

Xavier5:


It's good. The story gats potentials

Or are you referring to my comment about your gender?

#Xavier

It is all good. Gee

***

The blaring sirens that tore through the tropical shrubs flanked Avenue plastered faces at most windows. A minute later, an ambulance and two cop's cars parked at the front of the tallest building. Two cops, paramedics and a plain cloth stout man with greying hairs went into the building leaving another two to keep the area secure as residents of the street had begun to pour out of their buildings and gather as ants. There was a steady rise in side-talks as they doubled. Even with the siren and noise from the crowd at the entrance of the building, most of the occupants of 67, Lascout Avenue, were yet to muster enough courage to unlock their doors, the multiple gunshots had thrown commotion into their lives. The past few minutes were the longest time they ever lived.

A man who frequented the building on weekends was smoking by the window when the sound of a black Japanese car pulled his focus. He watched the occupants exit the vehicle; they looked odd in their suits, they must have forced their muscular bodies into it, it looked like it might be shredded anytime. They straightened their clothes and swept their eyes over the area, before turning to the building, they did this with an urgency that indicated a sinister agenda. Their eyes climbed up the building and seemed to hold at him. He felt his heart bounce. His companion, a naked girl not more than twenty, noticing his countenance, stood up to look through the window, seeing nothing except a black car she had not seen before. She felt he had become tense and inquired what the problem was while putting her palm on him.

He couldn't find his tongue. He knew someday he would be caught. It took a minute before he realised he had no time. And he had no time to answer. He flinched himself from her caressing arm circling his neck. He must leave before they got him. He quickly picked up the jogger pants lying on the floor and pulled them up, wore their top and picked up his running shoes. His bewildered lover caught his eye. She could not understand why he was rushing up like he was running out of time.

"Your husband, his people, They are here!" He screamed and dashed into the sitting room. She failed to comprehend what he said but chased him. But, it was too late, in that moment, he had undone the door-latch, they heard a gunshot. She paused in her strides, watched him flunk himself against the door, and slid down. Thinking he had been shot, she ran back into the bedroom, ducked under the bed and thrust her arm. She found a shoebox and drag it. She removed a 9mm. The Ruger P85 had never been used, her husband, Luqman had never shown her the gun either, but she had found it and played a villain and a hero in her boredom until she met Charles. Now that she bore it and might use it, it felt surreal. She pointed the gun at the door, waiting for those who had shot her lover come in, even if it was her husband. There was nothing for a few minutes. Her lover was coming out of his shock and began pulling himself up just when multiple gunshots rang out. She yelped and fired.

Jacob who had just returned from the graduation party of their last child with his wife could not wait to hit the bed. They had gotten home a few minutes before the gunshot rang out. He jumped out of bed and was fitting himself into the bathroom window. He meant to jump from his fourth-floor apartment. His wife was more pale than frightened; her husband leaving her behind, jumping from that height or squeezing his chubby body through the window fired more neurones in her head than the gunshot she heard. Her husband's manliness was only in the bedroom, she had since manned up. She located the telephone and dialled 211.

The following minutes saw Jacob pull his body up and down, wiggle his legs, try sucking his stomach, pray then the multiple gunshots that followed stopped him. It seemed the gunshots were coming from the top floor. Suddenly, everything went quiet, except that now he is in a jam, he could neither pull himself up nor down.

***

Hmm

Hnmm

I'm loving this lm


#Xavier

Where's the rest of the story OP. Please don't leave this wonderful story unfinished o.

I'll continue within the week

Roycemadeit:
I'll continue within the week

Still here waiting OP.

That evening Leri and Wynne found themselves at the precinct. They were called in one after the other into a windowless fifteen by twenty-foot room, with three chairs and a table in between, on the table were bottles of water, tape recorders, and writing pads.

Tony had been certain Leri knew something, gender says he was the one who killed those men, Ms pretty doesn't cut it for someone who had the gusto although she looked more like a bystander which he suspected was her way of dealing with it.

Yet, looking at the man sitting at the other side of the table, he could see him trying hard to compose himself. Another officer who had announced Hammado as his name watched Leri with sullen vigilance while his thick stubby finger thumbed on his pen. He kept at it till he felt the time was right, then he pressed the red record button of the silver tape recorder lying on the table and began,

"Start from the beginning." Hammado requested.

Leri's Adam's apple did a handspring. He had played that scene over and over again but stringing it to words and spilling it seemed a little difficult. Tony read him enough and passed one of the four bottles of water to him. He had a gulp and another before he began.

"About an hour after I had come back from my shift. I was watching a television program when I heard a gunshot. I did not know where it had come from so I turned down the volume of the television and listened. I couldn't hear anything. So, I stepped out of my apartment and had a look around, I did not see anything unusual, but as I turned to go inside I heard more shots.
It came from the penthouse. I ran inside, picked up my steel baseball bat, and ran up the stairs. When I got there, I saw the door lying on the floor. Then I saw the bodies..." He faded.

Hamodoo who had been doodling all this time looked up and asked,

"Where was Ms. Wynne and what was she doing?"
"She was behind the couch and holding a gun at me."
Detective Tony shifted in his seat, he could not imagine her wielding a gun, talking more about killing the hefty men.

"Okay, go on!" Hammado said after passing a glance at his co-interrogator.

"She saw it was me and dropped the gun. And I entered. Kerub was on the floor, behind the bar. He was shot and bleeding from his shoulder. We helped him with first aid before you came." He motioned at Tony.

***

Jmm

His white shirt was soaking in sweat and leaving imprints of his white singlet. The ceiling fan wasn't doing a good job, and neither was the air conditioner functioning. He never liked sitting at a spot and giving a command, the field was where he was comfortable, towering before frightened enemies and snuffing life out of them, especially with his bare hands was the sweetest thing in the world. That was his previous life, where he would have risen to the rank of Major if he had not been set up and dismissed for smuggling guns and landed himself in prison for killing a man in a bar fight had Okwe Ocha not stepped in and saved him.

Now, he was gaining fat in places he never believed.

The man as large as three people and as tall as two, sat by a brown mahogany desk in a white-painted room that had colorful portraits and two resin heads affixed to the wall behind him. His forehead, shiny from sweat reached into his breast pocket and fished out a kerchief. This office had neither witnessed his presence nor that of the three men sitting at the twin divans set before a black-varnished table. And like the big man, they looked less gloomy almost like the semi-automatic rifles they laid on the table.

Ogbuefi stared around the office, disgust etched in his eyes, he had taught Nze Ngalagu had better taste until he had to take over the reins of command for Lakeport at this critical time. The office looked superfluous even the resins were fake. He would rather prefer to look at the lawn and flowers lining the frontage of the building than waiting for the call in this crampy but this was not the time to do what you preferred.

Today, they must tie loose ends. The interim Nze who had run the operations of Lakeport shortly after the death of the former governor, Nze Ngalagu, had gone missing for the past six hours, none of his stooges could get hold of him, say where he went or what happened to him. When he eventually turned up they were to eliminate him on sight. Then the case of the overzealous copper and Bola. The city was in a mess. This was what he feared when they began showing their might in the open.

Okwe Ocha coveted secrecy in their dealings but they had started losing their grip on what had kept prying eyes blind no thanks to the public execution of Nze Ngalagu. Ogbuefi was the only one who objected to such a move at the meeting that decided the fate of Nze Ngalagu. He proposed a more shrewd act of injecting him with a dose of epinephrine
but the other Nzes had countered him, they preferred the message to be loud.

After much deliberation, the voice of the Ugo crackled through the telephone. He had bought into their idea but with a twist, a policeman was to take the shot before the public...

The telephone rang and pulled Ogbuefi from his thoughts. In a second, Ogbuefi's ear was pressed into the receiver. He listened for a minute, nodded, and dropped the call. He waved the boys over, said a few words and they dispersed in urgency.