The Stolen Manuscript (Episode 4)




Maybe not even the smartest SAN in the country is going to be able to get him out of this. He remembers his friend Ahmed who was arrested for terrorism in South Africa when the country’s president decided to throw his weight and power, the South African government arrested him and charged him for terrorism acts.

He was not going to allow his case to become like that of Ahmed, something must be done before it totally gets out of hand, and there must be a way to get out of this.

"Need a drink?" The police boss asks the suspect who nods.


“Please sit down Mr. Chucks”

He sits on a chair facing the police boss’ and looked around the office in a quick glimpse. The picture of the officer’s family hangs on wall right behind the desk of the commandant, another one was on his desk, there were a few files on his desk and several file cabinets around the large office.

A large flat screen LG TV was on the wall adjacent to the corner where he has his desk placed. The police boss walks to the fridge which was just mid-way entrance of the office.

He takes out a bottle of whiskey and took two glass cups. It wasn’t bad drinking in the office, after all it’s past after closing time.

He places a glass of whiskey on center table that has two chairs on it and invites Chucks who comes over.

“You know, I want to hear your story” the officer says as he sits down.

Chucks sits down and the police officer pours him a drink. He places his hand on a tape recorder on the center table.

“Maybe I am going to be privileged to be the first listener and reviewer of your first ever “real life story” he laughs out loud as he pours out drink in a glass cup for himself and raises it up to Chucks with grin on his face, “This is to the ever bestselling reality life story author”

Chucks tries a smile but couldn’t, he didn’t even raise his glass, he wasn’t sure if the police boss was already drunk or mad. He has never seen any policeman play so much, especially after being involved in such a high profile killing only minutes away.



He was beginning to have some hatred for the officer; not sure anymore if he had been mocking him deliberately or if all the things he had been saying about him are true.

It seems he wasn’t through yet, Chucks waits for him to make his next mistake and move, “Wole Shoyinka will marvel at this book, ah aha ha, ha ha ha ha” he chuckles.

“So Mr. Chucks” he says, now very serious. “What is this talk and write ups about the Red Scorpion?”

Chucks looks up, “I am not sure I should be talking to you, I need to see my lawyer”

“Hmm” he stands up, “Now see who wants to play the tough guy with me. Some years back when I was a junior officer I would have messed you up right now”

“Why do you say that sir” Chucks asks quietly.

“Because I have the right to ask you any question as an ACP in the Nigerian Police Force and you must answer all the questions, or do you want me to call my boys to lock you up in the cell?”

“You know, you can’t go away with this?”

“Oh, Mr. Writer, you threaten me in my own office?” He takes away the glass in front of Chucks; “Because I offered you my drink” he walks quickly to the fridge and replaces the bottle of whiskey.

Chucks knows that the officer wanted to have some vital information first from him; he could be working alone for some syndicates, what could have given him the power to switch off his phones and snob the call of the commissioner of police.

Maybe they are even planning to take him off quietly without a trial; many police officers are also members of different cult groups who furnish their lords with information about other cults and even important people in the society.

Some protect and support some political causes and make affiliates even with terrorist groups using tax payer’s funds and government resources to aid themselves.

“Haba officer” he pleads, “I thought you are a different police officer”

“How do you mean?, what do you mean?, is it because I didn’t allow my boys…”

“Calm down ACP” Chucks says quietly, “I don’t mean any of these things you are saying, I thought you wanted to be my friend, anyway I will tell you everything”

He calms down, “Yes everything” Chucks continues, “Just calm down”

“Ok” he walks back to his desk like a professional this time, allowing Chucks to follow behind him”

He sits down and offer chucks a sit opposite him.

“We don’t have all day, you will be recorded on this tape for my listening alone, I mean for me alone for the purpose of my personal review”

He looks at Chucks to be sure he understands what he was saying, “I mean I am going to listen to it alone, you understand?”

“Yes, I do”

Zaki puts his right thumb on another recorder on his desk; it seems he has them all around the office. For the first time since he came into the office, Chucks looks around to see if the office has a CCTV, to his surprise there was none.

Is this a design of the Nigerian Police not to have CCTV in their offices but to mount them all around the outside of the offices within the premises of their barracks?

He remembers talking about this with his friend sometime back and they concluded that it must be because they take bribe inside the office, they don’t want to expose their activities.

“What is your name?” the police boss asks

“Chuks Rowland”

“What do you do for a living?” he asks frowning

“I am a writer and a businessman”

“Where is your business address?”

“Ackienes Plaza, Awolowo way in Ikeja.”

“Now” the commandant continues, “you will give me your background information, your family, businesses, children and wife”

He stops and looks at Chucks who was now feeling downcast, but with plans for an escape.

“Why did you kill your wife?, what is this whole thing about Red Scorpion or no red scorpion club”

Chucks looks into the roof like the answers were all written there, if he understands what the police boss was talking about he was asking him to narrate his life story on a tape recorder, isn’t that ridiculous.

What kind of training did he have, is that his best way to investigate because he wants to handle an investigation all by himself.

He is going to hear all he has to hear, but what he won’t get to hear is the fact that Chucks was also a rained mercenary for a cult group while he was in the university. He could attack anyone, anywhere using his trainings, especially when the evil spirit that gears him enters into him.

He remembers Florence, even now that she’s dead, she’s still has powerful, she died in the evening of the previous day. Everything happened very fast. She was dead, and gone for good.

He thinks probably if she hadn’t surfaced in his life he would have been living in peace, he was doing well with his writing career, maybe he won’t make so much money, but it wasn’t the occult that gave him his written prowess, it was the evil spirit that usually possessed him.

Death is a funny phenomenon that doesn't announce its coming, and when it comes, it comes in any form; sometimes, deadly, calmly, mysteriously, and in all weird manners. The same manner it can come through sickness, it can also come from accident or by murder.

Florence died from bullets that killed her to free him from her.

He has now been talking for about ten minutes, the police boss seems to be getting tired and bored, and he had not slept for some days. A Friday night like this one would have been a nice outing with Amina if not for this case.

He had to disobey all his bosses to obey just one man, one man powerful enough to stop the investigation of a murderer not because he was interested in the case and crime but because he also needs the information that the writer has.

Everyone knows there was something sinister about the Red Scorpions and if the formula was taken from this writer, then there is a powerful man to look out for, who probably didn’t know that he was being protected by many forces both physical and spiritual.

Now a scene from “The Butchers” a thriller by Chucks plays in his head, he sees a way to escape from his trap. He knew there would be a gun in the office but he wasn’t sure where it could be.

As careful as the police claims to always be, they were this careless with him, apart from giving him an undue privilege of staying alone in the office with the commandant, he also has a very small sachet in an inner pocket of his pants, containing hydrogen which could suffocate anyone within range of it if their nose is not properly covered.

Using the old techniques of taking an excuse to go into the toilet so as to trap an unsuspecting person would not work for someone like Zaki, and if he opens the sachet, he could get in some of the content too.

He needs just about a minute or two to be able to execute his plans, he needs a just a minute or two to act, but if the plan fails, then he might as well have written his own death warrant with his own hand. Perhaps the police boss could allow him use the restroom without suspicion.

He thought to himself. It seems that the police boss would sleep on duty today,

“Sir, I need to take an ease, I am almost wet


Category: Short Stories


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