“Hi baby," Emilia called as she breezed into the house. "Gosh!” she blew out her cheeks. “It's good to be home."  He looked up from the newspaper. “Hi baby, how was it?” She was ecstatic, happy and in a festive mood. They relocated to their new house at a highbrow part of the town a few days ago, and she had insisted on having it ‘washed' against his wish because he knew what the washing means - more money to be wasted. But she had insisted, promising to make it low key, so he had given in. "Hectic. God! I'm famished," she slumped into the sofa. "Imagine what it is like shopping under the blistering sun." "One of the consequences of ozone depletion." "I wonder how it would be in a few decades from now." "Yet many are not aware of it." "Can you fix me a drink? I'm so tired." He poured two glasses of brandy and handed her one. "Thanks. That reminds me, I ran into the Nelsons." "Really? How are they doing? It's been a while since I saw them last." "They are fine. They extend their regards," she paused. "I asked them over too, do you mind?" she asked hesitantly. "No, I don't. It's just that I thought that you had a particular number of people in mind. I mean, you said it was going to be low-key?" "Yes, I do, but we can manage an extra two." "Well, I guess so." As was expected, the washing, which was originally intended to be low-key, turned out to be a free for all affairs. Emilia loves parting and couldn't wait for an opportunity to show off. And when it was all over, they all bundled into Nelson's Toyota jeep and zoomed over to Kingskarl. Kingskarl stood on an acre of 400 miles, off Kirikiri beach and runs alongside the waterfront. As they drove along the palm-lined avenue under the fading moon, the cool sea breeze caressed their faces and arms. Lucas’s adrenalin went a shade higher and his excitement took a leap. It seems all the glamour of the starlit night hung suspended over DC that night. He swallowed the beauty of the night. Further down, lights from passing fisher men's boats flooded the skyline with a kaleidoscope of colors. On either side of the road, hundreds of night crawlers bustled up and down the busy waterfront. In this part of the city, the lights never go off. He appreciated the nightlife. He squinted. He found it hard to believe that his plans were finally falling into place and could hardly wait to see how the inside of the club looks like and the mad obsession for it. At last, they left the waterside and after a couple of minutes drive, came to a heavily guarded wrought iron gate where a uniformed security man approached them. Nelson flashed his card. The gateman peered in, and recognizing Nelson and Ronke, waved them through. "Go right ahead." Illuminants and decorative lights lit up the entire place and every car that came in or went out of the club was the usual sleek, high tech machine which displayed the affluence and status of their owners. The car park too was like a parade ground of some rich car shop and everyone that came out of the cars was equally elegant, well-fed, and rich and exuded an air of importance. Diamonds glittered like fireflies on their necks and fingers. A terrazzo carpet ran the whole length from the car park to the entrance, which was made of mahogany wood. “You are welcome, sir,” a young girl with a stale smile greeted him at the reception. “Thank you,” he returned and made for the lobby. But someone barred his way. The man was about 5ft2 with broad shoulders and the red, suspicious eyes of an Indian hemp smoker. He almost wet his pants as his steel like expressionless eyes ran through him like a powerful searchlight.  “Your card,” the man said in a hoarse voice. He looked around helplessly. "He is with me, Uche." Nelson came to his rescue. Reluctantly, he gave way, and beaming, maneuvered him to the receptionist where he paid a little fortune for his temporary membership card. Everything about Kingskarl was elegantly and tastefully furnished. The bar, which was the longest bar he has ever seen, looked more like a conference hall than a bar. It was elegantly furnished with oil and canvass paintings hanging on the walls. The entire floor, too, was covered with marble and the ceiling with carved wood. "Who was that arrogant horror?" he asked, immediately they were out of earshot. He could hardly contain his inquisitiveness. "Oh, he's alright," Nelson said. "He is the boss's bodyguard and generally makes sure no one gate-crashes." A live band was on and after a couple of drinks, Ronke said, "I feel like dancing, Lucas, how about a dance?" "Me too," Emilia said.  But just as they were about to hit the floor, Captain came in with the deposed Chief of Morako, Alhaji Shehu Dauda and all eyes were fastened on them. Everyone stopped talking the moment they set eyes on them and a sterilized silence descended and hung on the room like a thick blanket. You could even hear a pin drop. Captain spotted Emilia, and his face lit up.  He gave Emilia a peck. "Hi, angel, I didn't know you would be here tonight." he said as he ran his eyes over her seductively. Lucas hated the way he looked at her and the hungry look in his eyes. Emilia giggled. "I wanted to surprise you." “You know I love surprises,” he laughed and turned his gaze to Lucas. He seemed to notice him for the first time.  "Good evening, Captain," Lucas said. "Good evening, young man," he returned. "How are you doing?" "I'm good." "I can see. Have you made up your mind?" "Made up my mind?" he repeated, "I don't think there is anything to make up." "I hope you guys haven't come here to discuss business?" Emilia laughed. "Oh no, not at all,” Captain said and looked at his watch. “I think I have to run along." Ronke jumped to her feet. “Let’s dance, Lucas. This music is too good to be wasted,” she said, and dragged him to the dance floor. Ronke is a good dancer, and so is Lucas. For minutes, they thrilled each other to electrifying dance styles to the admiration of all. Soon, the music changed from hip-hop to a slow R&B and he slid his arms around her waist and drew her closer. He felt her sharp pointed, nipples press hard against his chest and he giggled to himself. Since he was here, he thought, he would make good use of the opportunity. While he danced with Ronke, his body moving rhythmically with the beat of the music, his mind was in a whirlwind. Could it really be true that Captain is a distant uncle, if so, why hasn't he met him before? And could Emilia have spent the night here with him? He was still pondering over these things when the music came to a slow end. "I want to powder my face," she excused herself and disappeared into the ladies' room. Lucas looked around the crowded bar. He could not find Nelson or Emilia; he suspected Nelson must have gone to the games room and Emilia to the poolside or to see Captain or something, but he did not care. A girl sitting alone with loneliness and boredom written all over her face caught his attention. He stood up and walked over to her. On a closer look, he felt her stiffness even stiffer and starchier. She seemed to have a callous disposition, but that wasn't the time to pick bones with anybody. "Hi," he said as he slumped into a seat beside her. "Looks like he has stood you up?” She turned and her bloodshot, expressionless eyes regarded him slowly with the practicality of a professional. Either what she saw impressed her or something in him upset her delicate balance, but the frown disappeared and her mouth came out of the faint pout. "Yes. He has." "So have I too, but never mind, two lonely hearts can keep each other company. So what's the name? I'm Lucas, Lucas Abia." She took a sip slowly, still watching him. "Chi." "So Chi, what would it be? Beer or spirit?" "Nothing, but thanks all the same. I've had enough alcohol for one day." "But surely, a bottle or two won't hurt," he insisted.  She shrugged. "Okay, if you insist." He beckoned to the waiter and ordered a bottle of Hennessy.” A minute or so later, the Hennessy arrived. He picked up the spirit, uncorked it and poured the contents into a glass and pushed it across the table to her. "Whoa!" she cried as she caught sight of the almost half full glass. "You are impossible, do you want to get me drunk?" "There is nothing to worry about," he said defensively. She rolled her eyes and raised the glass. “Cheers." "To us." She winked and took a long sip. "Looks nice,” he said as he scanned the crowded bar. "Yeah. I like the poolside best." "Is that right?" "Yeah, would you like to see it?"  He saw the bait and applied caution. "Yeah, but not right away, anyway. Maybe later." She made a face "So, what's wrong with now?" He could feel her urgency. So, he hedged again. "Nothing really,” he laughed lightly. “Who runs this joint?" She regarded him again suspiciously."I thought anyone in your position should know that." "Well, I don't know," he replied in that same tune. "Is that a crime?" She fumbled in her handbag, brought out a packet of Benson & Hedges cigarette, selected one and set fire to it. She inhaled deeply and blew out the smoke. "Well, it's owned by Captain Onyerubi Jnr." She pronounced the name with a lot of weight as if hating to part with it. "Did you say Captain Onyerubi?" he asked a sulky, hurtful expression on his face. "Oh yeah, got any problem with that?" He scratched his hair. "No, not at all," he said hurriedly. Could it be possible that this same Captain, who wants to ruin his life and career, could also be the owner of this nightclub where his wife might have spent the night? He was getting somewhere. "This Captain," he said softly. "Does he often come here?" She gulped down the rest of the Hennessy. "Of course, he is always here. In fact, he came in a moment ago with his friend, Alhaji Shehu Dauda, the deposed Chief of Morako. They are never found without each other, much like the Siamese cats." He refilled her glass and saw her eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.  "This guy, Captain, what do you know about him?" he was eager to get as much information about the Captain as he could from her. "What?" she snapped. He could see and the hardness jumped back into her eyes, see the callous disposition, the pout and crevasses on her forehead come to life. "I had wanted to know what he does for a living." "If you are that inquisitive," she snapped. "Why don't you know all these then?"  He swallowed hard. He couldn't afford to fall out with her. As it seems, she was the last bridge to captain and a rare opportunity to let go. "You don't understand. I am willing to pay for any information."  At the mention of money, the light in her eyes came back and the hardness in her eyes softened and nearly disappeared. "Why? You sound mysterious, she said as she ran her eyes over him again. "Are you a policeman?" He laughed. "No." She frowned. "I don't see what's funny. You are a private dick?" "No, why?" "Okay, a journalist?" "No, no, no," he laughed again. "Okay, you're a gangster?" "Oh, not at all." "Then, who are you?" "Never mind let’s just say I'm just curious," he said, and fumbling in his pocket, he brought out his wallet, selected five one thousand naira notes and placed it on the table. Her eyes popped out with greed at the sight of the money and the meanness and hard lines on her face disappeared. In its place, a tiny whisper escaped from her mouth as the hungry look of appreciation settled on her face. "You’re quite impossible. You will make it ten thousand or nothing." "Eight and not a dime more." She regarded him suspiciously like a trapped animal. "Well, I shan't take anything from you but you'll promise not say a word to anyone," she was speaking hurriedly, her eyes darting to and fro. He wondered what was scaring her. "That will be kind of you, but I will like you to keep the money." She looked this way and that. "Very well then, if you insist," she grabbed the money with a hawk-like, well-manicured fingers. "Thanks, maybe you will like to have my call card?" she said and pushed her card across the table to him. He picked up the card. "Thanks." Immediately, two evil-looking men appeared from nowhere and stood on either side of the table. One of them was Ette Uche, the boss's bodyguard. His shrewd, colorless and brutal eyes were regarding him menacingly. His mate was shot and thickset and his goatee was long and messy and seems not to have seen a razor blade in years. He felt a cold chill run down his spine. "We don't like gatecrashers here," Ette Uche said in-between clenched lips. "Now get out and stay out." “Ette Uche, that’s… that’s…” she glared at him. He shot her a deadly stare. "A word with you, now." She knew the meaning of the coded word. She stood up, and without a single word or another look at Lucas, followed him out of the bar.  Once out of earshot, she turned and faced Ette Uche. "Look, Ette Uche, I wouldn't have you interfering with my business or I might be forced to report you to Captain," she warned him and turned to go, but Ette Uche barred her way. "And where do you think you are going?" "What does that suppose to mean?" "This way. The boss wants you."  She hesitated, feeling cornered, she followed him. Immediately Ette Uche left the office, Captain spurned round and faced her. "I see that Mr. Abia has taken a fancy to you," he started. "I guess I should put you in the picture then. You see, that man happens to be an important and a respectable man, a moralist if you prefer that term. A few weeks ago, I tried to persuade him for a business deal, never mind the details or the nature of the business, but he turned down the offer. However, he's got a wife he adores and whose sole objective is to be trendy. I need him. I can see that he's taken a fancy to you. So that makes it easier for you. I want you to work on him. You know what to do. The ball is now in your court. "Any questions?" "No, sir. I…I…" "Good. I will furnish you with details later." He pulled open the drawer, selected ten one thousand naira notes and tossed it across the table to her. “I’m done with you.” Immediately she left the office, Captain pressed the buzzer and Ette Uche appeared. "I want that girl watched. I want all her telephone conversation intercepted and her every movement accounted for. Do not let her out of your sight for a moment, okay?" He saluted. "No problem, sir."