It was a Friday night, it
was even a Friday the 13th and the stars were aligned in my favor. I left the
morgue at "The Nigerian Military Hospital" Awolowo way in my 2008
Toyota Camry. Trust me, I could afford a Mercedes Benz or something
fancier but that would defeat the purpose of my cover. The Camry was almost too
much attention because as it was my boss was using beat-down 2000 Toyota model. My cover was I won a lottery from sports betting shop and I was sticking to that story. It was convenient but kept me under the
microscope which meant I had to leave behind my fancy clothes and accessories
in the car.
I had to get to Water Side along Queens Way Drive
still within Ikoyi to blow off some steam with my high grade weed and collect
my proceeds from my boys. Unlike my day job, pay day is
every Friday with my drug business. It was really lucrative and I supplied the
best merchandise in the whole of Lagos Island which really was where all the
money and fun was. It took me 35 minutes to get to Water Front and to God be
the glory, the boys were waiting. Pleasantries were exchanged, money changed
hands and so did products. I must have spent about an hour there according to my call
log because at 8:03 pm I received a call from Candidate 3 informing me that she
was at our agreed rendezvous. Referring
to my victims as candidates heightened the thrill for me.
Haunted by my impending kill, I sped off to Quilox; the rendezvous, with fantasies
of how the night would possibly end. I was headed to what would be my first
kill in a decade, first kill in Lagos and third kill overall. The adrenaline
rush mixed with the Colorado Marijuana and a pint of greatness of my favorite dark ale Guinness could not have been a better fuel. I was literally about to paint the
town red.
I arrived at Quilox;
the home of luxury, few minutes to 10 pm already changed into my expensive
Italian shirt and wrangler jeans. Adorned on my feet were a pair of comfortable Italian loafers and of course, my vintage Patek Philippe wristwatch to keep me
on time. I left my car at the mercy of Wale, my favorite valet and tucked into
his breast pocket a roll of fivers, inside joke *wink wink*. Like a great man once told me
"TIP" stands for "Towards Improved Performance".
At the door as usual was Big Freddie, a hunk of a man
heavily tattooed and towering 6'5 above the ground, it's not surprise that he earned his nickname. I estimated he would be
around 300 pounds at least. He had quite a female fan base especially among the expensive call girls that solicited his tips on what big boys were around and where they sat. The girls
called him that with a little tease as if they knew some classified secrets but
that's not my business. He informed me that a special package awaited me in the
VIP and couldn't stop himself from giving me a knowing nod. We shook hands and
exchanged a wrap of "angel dust" in the process. In return I got the
widest grin I have ever seen on a grown man. The dude was a curious character.
I waltzed graciously into the dimly lit room,
exchanging pleasantries with familiar faces. I felt like a king on a voyage to
another conquest. This was going to be perfect I thought to myself. This
candidate was carefully chosen, deciding to label my victims as "candidates"
was a good choice. I was gave them an opportunity to audition for an artistic death by a master artist. They should be grateful I granted them that privilege is how I would rationalize it.
The selection process was quite simple and yet very
thorough. I had to create a false identity on twitter which took me about a
year. Stalked my prey from afar like a wolf. Ever so patient and engaging.
Shortlisting everyone delicately, the "candidate" had to be perfect.
The right physique, beautiful and had to be intelligent. The perfect candidate
had to have the right online profile, not too many followers on twitter and not
too many engaging tweets. Someone that would not be missed if absent for a
while. She had to be gorgeous of course, but still manage to keep a low
profile. She had to have a sophisticated sense of humor and must be able to
keep up a conversation with me. In short the candidate had to be a rare breed.
The special one that would bring me into the lime-light. So you see it wasn't easy to get such thorough breed and that's why I couldn't afford to fuck things up.
Fatima was the perfect candidate. Very little online
presence with a few hundred followers and about a thousand tweets. I figured
she would not be missed online. I chatted with her only on BBM where I could
retract all my messages and leave no evidence. I made sure our friendship did
not last more than a week. I was on right on schedule because we started
texting on Monday and only just sent her one of my many disposable numbers on
Friday morning. Everything was going as planned.
She was even more beautiful in person than in the
pictures she sent me. She was what one would call the "slim thick".
Heavily endowed in the pectoral and gluteal regions, adorned with the hips of a proper
African woman. She had full scarlet lips and very lovely eyes covered with
hazel contacts. Her shimmering black hair slightly framed her face and bounced
off her lean shoulders. She was out to kill, how ironic. She had on a very
short bedazzled black dress and red strapped pumps. It's a shame she wouldn't
be needing these high-end fashion in the afterlife I muttered as I approached
her with a charming smile.
Scary
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