STORY: FRANCIS IS ALIVE - EPISODE 15 [BY LORD EBAY]

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There are several night clubs in Lagos but Francis chose Soul Lounge for the controversial celebration of his top goon’s birthday; a birthday fête in the midst of police investigations. What bothered people who heard the news was not even that a whole family was kidnapped; it was that the people living next to them were nonetheless throwing a party, the same people from the same place where the recent gun chase had started.

The police’s effort to contact or hear the demands of the Nwanyanwus’ abductors had proven abortive. A lot knew something was fishy though; Olawunmi and Majeed who were thought to be kidnapped suddenly showed up with the suspected kidnapper and the once wrongly accused American, what’s his name? Michael Livingstone? And he was with them again, throwing a party.

“The birthday party of a friend is going down at Soul Lounge in Lekki Estate, Phase 1 on Friday night. Michael Livingstone, Sonican Dale, Olawunmi Oni, a lot of friends and I am going to be there,” so Francis used Majeed’s Facebook account to say, knowing undoubtedly well that since the street shooting had gone down, Majeed had become a celebrity on Facebook and Twitter. If at all nobody gives a damn about what he posts, their targeted audience definitely would.

And Friday came, noon beat dawn, all into the past the twilight cast and finally, individual stood before different mirrors, dressing up. Sonican protested against taking Majeed and Olawunmi along but Francis insisted that they be brought along.

“What do you say, Anatoly?” he had asked his muscular friend.
And Anatoly had said, “The gentleman posted it on Facebook, tweeted about it too. It only makes sense he leads us there.”

Sonican wouldn’t say more because the two folks being discussed were there. If not, she would’ve reminded Francis that a lot of shooting could be going down and if these young Nigerians were there, they would surely get shot.
“Anatoly said it only makes sense he leads us there, c’mon!” Francis had added, seeing the protesting look on Sonican’s face.

It was Sonican who dressed Olawunmi. She picked which gown she wore; a tube gown, sky blue with a hat of the same colour; a churchy appearance, like a nineteenth century European dame.
All the men including Majeed suited up; Anatoly’s recommendation. The Soul Lounge is located at the Palms Mall, British International School Way in Lekki Estate, Phase 1. That’s the place you would hear people call Etí Òsà.

De Place, Excape Night Club, Club 57, MVP Lounge and Club Quilox in Victoria Island, these were the places recommended to Francis but he chose Soul Lounge, saying he had been there before and he liked it.

So at exactly 10:15pm, after all his guys had already gone there ahead of him, Francis in the same car with Majeed, Olawunmi, Sonican and Anatoly set out for Soul Lounge. It was their club for the night, Francis had paid for all the drinks anyone would take that night and the doors were only to be closed after the largest crowd capacity had been reached. Francis who sat at the front seat beside Majeed who drove came down first, opened the door for Olawunmi and others to come down. Olawunmi’s hand went in his arms, Sonican’s in Anatoly’s, and Majeed led the way alone with his props. The bouncers cleared the way and their car was taken by one of the club’s chauffeurs.

When they entered the club after passing through a vestibule which was the reception where people perhaps were supposed to be cleared for entrance, a lot of eyes went up to them in the disco of dancing lights. Francis glanced up briefly as Olawunmi simultaneously did, observing how tall the ceiling was. The space was large enough to be a cinema and a live band was playing Afro music and gospel songs in club style at the elevation which was the stage. Sweet evening!

The VVIP section was not vacant, everywhere except the table that was supposed to be the celebrant’s was occupied and the newcomers sat there. The adjacent table, Francis noticed, was occupied by a lone man whose appearance begged for caution. Majeed sat beside Francis but Francis told him to go sit beside Sonican and let Anatoly come sit beside him. A man came while they did this, Francis whispered in his ears and then the man nodded and hurried off. Shortly after, just when the bottles started to come to their table, the man who had been whispered to appeared on the stage to address the hall in pidgin English, that cutting of cake was already done at the celebrant’s home and that the party should start right away. It wasn’t a usual birthday party anyway; the cake part was not even remembered until the club employee asked about it.

“It seems a lot of people have come for your birthday, Anatoly. I can smell love in the air,” said Francis to Anatoly.
“Ah, it appears they did,” Anatoly smiled, “I’m an orphan. There’s uh… certain sympathy people feel towards orphans.”

They both laughed.

“And, look around the place. It begs to ask, do white guys usually come here this much?”
“I’m a white guy, it’s my birthday, white guys come, so…”
“White guys who read Majeed’s post. White guys who never came here before. White guys we don’t know.”
“Boss, I don’t know why, their presence incites certain happiness in me. I guess… the more the merrier.”
“The bigger the crowd, the more the bullets.”
“Would we prefer otherwise boss? Shooting is our life, what’s a life without shooting?”
“A meaningless life, Anatoly, a meaningless life for sure.”

Majeed pushed their topped glasses to them and they picked them up, clinked and emptied the cups at one shot.

“Who’s that guy behind me?” Sonican asked then, leaning across the table.
“I haven’t seen his face,” answered Francis, “but don’t poke, he’s here because of us and can’t bear good will. Let him come around if he could, let them all come around if they could.”

They drank on quietly; Olawunmi stealing looks at Francis, haunted by the shame of her intimacy with him, her betrayed hopes. Shouldn’t I have known that not all that glitters is gold? And there we still are, with the devil, looking good. He knew I wasn’t the one chatting with him, he knew it was Majeed, the game is over, our leverage is dissolved, how could I have ever guessed? The world most dangerous criminal!

“Think about something else sweetheart,” so Sonican whispered in her ear, “I can literally hear you thinking about him.”
“Wh—” Olawunmi’s eyes widened. “I’m not thinking about Michael.”
“I didn’t mention a name, did I?” she giggled briefly, sipped from her glass and looked away.
“Here’s the thing,” said a man suddenly looking over them. It was the lone man at the lone table and he had left his table to talk to them. He looked squarely at Anatoly. “I reckon you’re Anatoly, is that right?”
Anatoly shrugged. “I am.”

He extended his hand and reluctantly, Anatoly shook it.

“Happy birthday,” he said. “I was saying, uh, my… yes, the thing is… I don’t really like sitting alone but… I’m a very shy person. When I mingle with people like… people I don’t know, I end up hurting them. That’s why I’ve been sitting alone there. Now, what shall we do to correct that? This is my conclusion, it’s either I join you or someone joins me, what do you say?”
“Nobody is joining you from our table,” said Francis hostilely, “and there are many tables in this…” he looked at Anatoly for response.
“Little lounge,” Anatoly completed.
“Yes, in this little lounge. So, if you don’t mind…”
“Oh you misunderstood me, I’m not being… okay, lady, would you dance with me please?” asking Olawunmi.
“No,” snapped Francis. “Who do you think you are?”
“Francis!” shrieked Sonican softly. “He probably came for our party, let him have his dance!”

Silence…

“I promise I won’t bite,” the man chuckled.
Francis nodded eventually and so, on Sonican’s gesture, Olawunmi took the white guy’s hand and followed the stranger down the steps onto the dancing ground, hand in hand.

“Do you know who that is?” Francis leaned across the table and snarled at Sonican.
“Calm down. I don’t give a damn who he is, I’m gonna shoot him if he tries something out of the acceptable.”
“Anatoly, tell her who that man is.”
“But I don’t know who he is, boss.”
“You gotta be kidding me, Anatoly, you don’t know that man?”
“Who’s he?”
“That’s James fucking Bond, silly, the masked guy on YouTube.”

They all looked at him at once, dancing with Olawunmi in a rather devilish smiling face.

“He is?” grunted Sonican agitatedly.
“He’s fucking playing with us,” growled Anatoly.
“Keep your fucking eyes on that guy. You don’t know him like I do.” Francis stood.
“Francis?” muttered Sonican enquiringly.
“What?” he almost barked back.
“Should we be scared of this guy? You’re overreacting and you’re freaking me out. He’s not the only dangerous person in here. Look around! We’re surrounded by them and you’re afraid of only him.”
“I’m not afraid of nobody!”
“Then sit the fuck down. If you don’t, I’ll get the hell out of here, I’m not joking.”

Francis sat tamely.

“Was he on the ship?” Sonican asked sternly now.

Francis nodded.

They all looked at the man again.

“He’s gonna get it today, Francis, I promise you,” said Sonican.

They all sat back, Majeed’s heart beating abnormally fast.

* * *

“That one doesn’t seem to be one of them,” observed Ivan.

They nodded assentingly.

“And he’s playing with them,” added Xia.
“I can imagine so,” surmised Boris.
“Xia,” whispered Ivan, although not really a whisper for it would’ve been very loud if no music was being played. “How sure are we that Michael Livingstone is Francis Whyte?”
“What does your instinct tell you?”
“It tells me he is, and that that guy dancing with the girl is James Bond.”
“He is James Bond,” said Boris. “He used to be my friend, right now I just feel like blowing his head off.”
“You’re not gonna blow his head off,” said Xia. “We aren’t here for him, so we face our business. Get Francis, get out of here, that’s our objective. Do not be compromised now.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I am a believer, and I believe you know what I mean.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck me? Fuck you! Fuck you Boris! I’m not here for that guy. The last time the League called, I didn’t hear bring Daniel Craig or Pierce Brosnan, bring Francis Whyte, that’s what we were told, so, what the hell is my business with James Bond?”
“Then you’re a fool, and why do you think James Bond is here, to have champagne and leave? So, let’s say we’ve got Francis now, you think James Bond is just gonna smile at us and wish us safe trip back home? Look around you, nobody is here for the party, they’re here for Francis. We can’t get Francis if we won’t deal with them.”
“He has a point, Xia,” said Ivan. “If James Bond stands in our way, we kill him, simple.”
“It’s not gonna be easy killing someone who can dodge directly fired bullets but I’m in, we’ll find a way around him… around them all.”
“I wish Abram was here. He’s gonna kill us when we get Francis without him.”
“I don’t regret locking him up,” said Xia. “He’s compromised.”
“Miss Compromise, I’ll tell him it’s your decision, not ours, when we return.”
“Fuck you.”
“Go fuck yourself, bitch.”
“Shut your reeking mouth or I put a bullet in it right now.”
“You’ve watched too much of Agent Jack Bauer’s, haven’t you?”
“What did you say, uh?” She was reaching for her derringer.
“Really?” growled Boris. “Are you gonna start this here now? Here, in this place? Are you simply stupid or just momentarily mentally fucked up?”
“Fuck you asshole!” responded Xia and she mellowed out.

Holsters unbuckled, fingers on triggers, a giant tinderbox, beaming matches, all hidden beneath grossly smiling faces and bottles of champagne. It was going to be a long night.

...to be continued!

Written by: Lord eBay (and his action series, 2017)

Twitter & Instagram: @lordebay

Email: dearlordebay@gmail.com

ABOUT AUTHOR:

Lord eBay is an Author with a taste for Romantic, Political and Paranormal Fictions. His goal is to join other writers in resurrecting Reading/Writing culture in Nigeria. 

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