Eye of a Needle: The Otherside of Truth

By Christopher Odijie

The day dawned with the discovery of four hacked corpses inside a student hostel. A brief investigation hinted a reprisal attack from a rival cult group. But it rippled into a nationwide menace as students were hunted and murdered in the midst of a boiling political crisis.
Deputy Superintendent of Police Donald Ero was determined to unravel the oddities behind the unprecedented nationwide cult war and to rebuild the already dented image of the Nigerian police force.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Oct 2, 2013
• ISBN: 9781490715209

Christopher Odijie

Christopher Odijie is a graduate of Plant Biology and Biotechnology from the University of Benin. He currently lives in Lagos Nigeria.

Book preview

Copyright 2013 .

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

Printed in the United States of America.

isbn: 978-1-4907-1519-3 (sc)

isbn: 978-1-4907-1521-6 (hc)

isbn: 978-1-4907-1520-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013917510

Trafford rev. 09/24/2013

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It’s a brilliant work of art putting together crime, history, religion and politics together to get such a suspense grilled story.

—John Dobbyn,

Harvard Law LLM and Author of the Black Diamond.

To God Almighty for His grace and love that abounds me.

Most of the contents in this book are facts; it is only left for the reader to decide which isn’t.

Evil is unspectacular and always human, and shares our bed and eats on our table.

. . . . W H Auden

Prologue

They quietly shut the door and prowled through the dark hallway that leads outside. Under the umbrella of the dark squally cloud, the flood of Ekosodin roofed their feet and the looming silhouette of Caesar’s tower was first to come into sight despite being more than one hundred and fifty meters away. The vicinity seemed clear notwithstanding the dead darkness that engulfed the community after PHCN withheld power when the squall was certain.

The four of them strode against the fast flowing flood with an eye on every side and a hand on their defense. Their sloshing footsteps were muffled by the rain’s anarchy that every sound was that of the falling droplets. Albeit they were close to a blue Audi 80 parked four meters away from Caesar’s tower, their hearts panted terribly like the Kalengo of the north and their eyes flickered dangerously in the dark. The farther they went under the rain, the cleaner they became from the ruby stain of blood—the blood of their victims.

The interior of the Audi 80 felt like home as they slammed the door behind them. The one on steering wheel revved the engine; the digital clock on the dashboard displayed 4:40a.m. He took the lane to the left and purred into Edo Street, sloshing against the flood. They disappeared into the night before a chink of dawn materialized in the sky.

Chapter

1

Saturday, April 12.

James Akpokonor stood in the way of the morning rays, yawning his night sleep into history. A lopsided grin animated his face as he held a glass of water and toothbrush heading towards the rear of the building for a rigorous mouthwash. There was a lot to be accomplished today but then, last night’s frolicking in alcohol and cannabis was not meant to fade away easily from his memory. A frustrating week in the department of Geology and of course, the cruel 300-Level life should drown in last night’s memory. He wished.

The passageway of Havannah hostel looks deserted with the stony sleep of its occupants. He was up early to have woken by 8:45a.m; his friends occupying the fourth room from his were still in their drunken sleep from the night’s mischief. He passed his toothbrush into his soured mouth and walked languidly towards the rear of the hostel. Every stride was concurrent with the oscillatory movement of the bristles on the enamel of his molars. Every sticker and handwriting passed by slowly as he approached the fifth door on his right with Room 5 written on the doorframe. He paused to take a glimpse on the sticker on a door that displayed the association of History students. For a moment he freed his mouth from the scouring of the toothbrush. But the sticker was meaningless instead the bristles caught his sight. He remembered that a chemistry student had once told him that the stockings he wears every day share the same chemistry with toothbrush. Both are regarded as Nylon, a synthetic polymer gotten from stretched fiber.

The entrance into the rear of the building was now four feet away and he was standing right in front of the fifth door to his left (Room 10). Something that ought to be meaningless caught his sight as he was about taking his next step; the key port on the doorframe seemed to have been damaged. In other words, the door might have been forced opened. These boys don probably lost their key again; the second time inthis month. He thought. The damaged key lock lured him to open and peeked inside to see how they were faring after the overdose of last night’s intoxication. He’d like to laugh at them when they become sober. The door creaked open as he gave a slight push… every second he gazed into it, his heartbeat increased and his bronchial passage began to constrict. The asthma he had eluded for two years fell on him immediately. It has never been this worse; he was losing every air and the inhalation of a Bronchodilator drug within few minutes was his best option. The toothbrush and glass of water fell from his hands and splashed water on his feet and littering the floor with broken glasses.

His room was sixty feet away but was as far as sixty meters. He groped along the passageway like a pirate groping a dark alley for a priceless coin.

The air we breath had never been this expensive to James that as he pulled his weight forward to finally reach his door mouth. He pushed the door opened and teetered inside. But he lost his balance and fell on the electronic sets. The sound agitated Kelvin, his bony roommate from his sleep that he jumped up quickly from the bed thinking the roof might have fallen. He reacted reflexively when he saw the appliances littered the torn grey rug and James on the floor was still trying to fix properly into an explainable sight. Kelvin’s pidgin was garnished with a Bini accent ‘wetin dey do you?’ his visage was clad in frown. He expected an explanation from James but James could only reply with a fight for breath. Quickly he went to him with a sudden curiosity ‘wetin dey happen?’ he asked.

James managed to point at the red box on top of the wardrobe; his lips were already slimy with saliva. A stint of horror gripped Kelvin that he didn’t want to imagine what might happen. He bawled out for help and his voice echoed through the hostel. He had lived with James for a session and half; hitherto, he never knew he was asthmatic.

James managed to seize a wave of strength to point at the red box and tried to pronounce ‘inhh… aa… ler’ faintly. Kelvin quickly motioned his sight to the direction James pointed. The red box houses most of James’ old stuff; stuffs he refused to get rid off. Kelvin heaved it off the wardrobe and opened it. A blue SmithKline Beecham inhaler lay gently on the left corner. He reached for it and clicked the inhaler inside James’ mouth. As the drug forces its way through the bronchial tube with every click, the relief was gradually blossoming in James’ eyes. Four minutes later, the occupants of the opposite room and the one after his came into the room to see how he was.

While they all stood inside to see James recuperate, a screamed roared from the end of the passageway. The occupant living in room 5 had just seen what James saw. Kelvin and the others ran out towards where the scream emanated from. They met him in a terrified state pointing into the room. Other occupants of the hostel came out from the room and the passageway was filled with students gazing into the last room to the left; room 10. The number on the doorpost turned into a horrific identity. The sight made them retch and caused a rumbling in their stomach.

They receded from the room shuddering in grief with what they’ve seen. Kelvin’s thought started to run like the numbers of a fuel pump. It reminded him of what happened behind the University of Benin Ekewan campus about four years earlier. A headless baby was found in a sack bag in front of an uncompleted building. The policemen arrived later and arrested everybody within the vicinity. Even a boy on top of a motorcycle was not left out. Under aged children whose parents were not home were also apprehended. By the time they were through, two ten-sitter buses were filled with their presumed suspects. Till date the police are yet to ascertain those behind the murder of that baby but one thing was sure, those arrested left the police station with the bail of fifteen thousand Naira each.

As Kelvin’s thought faded slowly, a feeling with a Siamese connection hits them and suddenly everyone ran back into their respective room to pack up. The next step on their mind was to leave Havannah hostel before the arrival of the police.

The mild temperature outside invited some male students around the vicinity for a morning street football. Few yards from Amega hostel, they gathered right in front of Magdalene hostel, four players aside. While they kicked the round leather around, the motorcycle interruption didn’t stop. Something became synonymous with the riders; the passengers were always with big bags defining a clear intention of traveling. They stood with dribbling sweat trying to fix the puzzle. Seven motocycles had gone pass them in two minutes; the passengers, all from Havannah hostel carried a traveling bag. They can’t possibly be traveling knowing fully well that the semester’s examination would be starting less than six weeks. The boys on the street started to think the same way; something was wrong. Someone among them tried to inquire but the riders won’t slow down. The terrified faces worn by the occupants of Havannah hostel fixed a piece of it.

Chidi, a dark complexioned, muscularly built final year engineering student who had lived in the area for seven years from his diploma days, wasn’t new to such situation. He fixed the remaining piece of the puzzle. His interest in the morning street football died immediately. ‘Somebody don fall for that hostel’ he said while pointing to the direction

He turned around and headed for his shirt. Everyone started leaving for their respective hostels. With the fright of the police, hostels with prison walls like that of Amega and Caesar’s tower began to lock their gates while the students occupying hostels without fence were obliged to leave their hostels. The petty shop and hair salon owners scurried out of the vicinity in order to save their meager pockets.

Chapter

2

Peter Edohen looked colorful in his Ankara attire while issuing receipts in his office to the new occupant of a duplex in GRA. The receipts bore the monogram:

PE Ventures

Surveyor and Real Estate Agent.

As he passed the receipt on, one of his cell phones rang. It was a call from one of the occupants of Havannah hostel. Visitors in his office noticed a changed in his countenance when the call ended. He couldn’t hide his dismay from what he just heard. He took over the management of Havannah hostel five months ago after the owner of the hostel left the country. He never envisaged this kind of problem in less than one year. He attended to his visitors briefly and dashed straight to his cars making series of phone calls along the way.

Peter Edohen arrived the premises of Havannah hostel in the company of some officers from the Ekosodin police station. Sergeant Ahmed Asunogie stepped forward ebulliently; his dark, round oily plump face with a protruding fat lips rested on a plump body of a visible rotund belly attired in a faded black police uniform that had gone through the rigors of hot iron and sun bath.

They went inside the hostel and straight to the room; behold the gory site. Peter Edohen could not stand it; he ran back and puked on the way. Sergeant Ahmed shook his head; his grotesque face couldn’t portray how terrified he was this is above us he said to Peter Edohen as they headed for the exit.

Then what’s going to happen Peter replied with a slow cadence wiping his mouth with his handkerchief.

The Sergeant stopped in front of the car and took a fleeting look at Havannah hostel. It was as if he was looking at a dreadful house of the dead. We will have to inform the State. Two officers will have to stay behind to prevent anyone from going in he said absently. They both entered into the vehicle and drove back to the police station leaving two lowly ranked officers behind to keep the crime scene pristine.

1:45pm

The clamoring chants of match spectators echoed from the large television set in the lobby of Decency guesthouse. It was an English Premier League match between Derby County and Aston Villa at Pride Park; Assistant Superintendent of Police ASP Solomon Ekhase and his colleagues were enjoying every bit of it with bottles of star lager beer standing tall amidst clouds of smoke puffing from their mouth. Their mood was interrupted with the loud ring of Solomon’s phone. He peeked at the number; he recognized it very well with a frown. That number has always been the bane in his social life. The ASP looked at his watch and hissed

But I still have fifteen minutes left in my lunch break he complained to the busy ears of his colleagues.

Solomon had no choice but to leave; that call was from the State Criminal Investigation Department CID. He pulled his Peugeot 406 from the lot and meandered his way into golf course road. As he motioned to a halt, a team of armed police officers were already waiting for him at the entrance.

He went to the office of the Commissioner of Police CP and flagged a mandatory salutation even when the commissioner seemed not to notice because he was engrossed in a phone conversation. ASP Solomon Ekhase waited patiently for the bulky CP to end his conversation before stepping forward

You requested my presence sir he said politely

Yes the CP adjusted his position on his black leather upholstered armchair I want you to be in charge of a case in… . he scooped a piece of paper from his desk and peered into it. "Ek . . . oso . . . din" it was a bit difficult reading without his glasses. He often complained that his horn-rimmed medicated glass made him look 60 when he was only 51.

Solomon stood still in front having a lot in his mind about Ekosodin—a student community.

"What’s the level of the case sir?’ he asked

Multiple homicide the CP answered and sighed deeply I want you to see for yourself; this is different from your previous cases and I was told it’s a student community so you know what to expect. The Eko… so… din division will be of assistance to you. They are already waiting for you at the crime scene. He retired his weight on his chair and gently waved him out of his office.

Two questions sagged all over Solomon’s thoughts while they left the premises: what kind of homicide will be too much for the Ekosodin police division and why was he chosen for it.

He returned his mind to where they were—the blue police Hilux was just entering Sapele road right beside the NNPC mega filling station. The road became smaller with a long queue of vehicles agitating for fuel.

Five minutes had gone, the blue Hilux had meandered his way through Forestry road diverting through Dawson, then through Iyaro and down to Uselu Lagos road. The driver, who was conversant with the road, knew where traffic might loom so he switched on his siren and it blared its way into the pothole community, down to Havannah hostel.

Peter Edohen and Sergeant Ahmed were already at the entrance waiting for them. The sergeant extended a handshake and identified himself I’m Sergeant Ahmed and this is Peter Edohen the caretaker

Solomon shook their hands wearing a stoic visage.

The crime scene is inside; follow me the sergeant and Peter Edohen turned around and walked towards the room leaving Solomon and the others to trail them.

Any witness yet? Solomon asked as he observed the passageway.

The hostel was empty when we got here; not even the occupants of the neighboring hostels were seen around

How did you know about it?

I made the call to them Peter interrupted. They took another four steps and halted in front of the room. The door was shut. So how did you know about it? Solomon asked but ignored the answer when the door swung open. He couldn’t tell if he was starring at his nightmare or an abattoir entrance into a bloodthirsty war. The bed sheet was soaked with blood and right on top of it was a mutilated corpse. The entire left shoulder was hanging by a slice of flesh. A little further, another corpse whose scalp was opened had his face covered with blood. Just in center of the room, another was butchered like a ram on a slaughter table. The fourth one had his back on the wall with a ruptured skull and face. The scene was like a blockbuster horror movie scene with houseflies droning a dirge-like soundtrack as they perched on the blood clotted surface. For a moment Solomon stood aghast from the door mouth, inherently finding words to describe the scene in front of him. He had seen murdered corpse before but not as horrible as this, not four in number on a spot and at the same time.

The blood clot on the gray rug shaped a magenta pattern that they have to observe every spot before placing their feet. Solomon looked round with every inquisition while the others took photographs of the scene. When they were satisfied, he ordered for the bodies to be taken to the morgue. He turned to Peter Edohen I’m going to need every answer from you he walked out of the room and headed outside.

What do you want to hear? Peter asked

How did you know about this?

Someone called me and said there’s a rumor about four people killed in Havannah hostel

Who is he?

He’s an occupant in one of the hostels I oversee

Did he say how he knew about it? Sergeant Ahmed stepped forward and interrupted this is a student community, words spread like wild fire especially in such cases

Solomon exhaled air of tension out of him and turned to Peter I need all the information about the occupants of this hostel. I believe you should have them

I’m afraid not; I took over this hostel five months ago. The former caretaker who was also the landlord would have been of help but he’s currently out of the country

Then how’d you know when the rent expires?

He handed the last receipt booklet to me

That is something to start with he motioned towards the car we’re going to get the receipt as he opened the car door, something occurred to him so he ordered one of his accompanying police officers

Get me the room numbers that have student’s association stickers on the door. The name on the receipts and the respective departments is an auspicious start he then turned to Peter Edohen you still have to follow me to the station to make your statement

I wrote a statement this morning at his division he pointed to the Sergeant. The ASP then turned to the Sergeant with a look of query

He did Sergeant Ahmed affirmed.

Do you have a copy with you? the question heaved a certain weight on Ahmed because he realized he had erred No he replied

Sergeant this is a transferred case, I expect you to know what to do

The ASP joined his team in the Hilux and they purred their way out of Ekosodin’s ambience.

Chapter

3

Monday, April 14.

The tropical sun glowered persistently down on the roofs of University of Benin and on the heads of people within her restraint. It took every drop of water, turning the asbestos into a source of scorching heat. Even the ventilation system that soothed the final year economics lecture with quiet murmur of cool air suffered from temperatures beyond its abilities.

Cursing silently, the female students dabbed their faces with tissues, trying to stop the sweat before it gathered into dribbling droplets and ruined their artfully applied make up. The males loosened their first two buttons on their shirts and constantly wiped their faces with handkerchiefs. The lecturer in charge stood aside to the white glossy board that displayed…

∆C = -[∆T (b)] . . . . . . 13.5

∆Y = ∆C[1/1-b] . . . . . . 13.6

Substitute 13.5 into 13.6

∆Y = -[∆T (b)]/1-b… . . 13.7

Autonomous tax multiplier is…

∆Y/∆T = -b/1-b

He looked at his Movado watch, the minute just ticked into 11:40am. He had twenty minutes left in his two hours lecture. But the students were already turning over the cover slid of their notebooks because they knew the last twenty minutes was for his logical argument.

Every economics student was excited to be in Professor Daniel Ehinebo’s lecture; but what was more exciting is when he starts his last twenty minutes. Regarded as one of the richest Professors in the south-south with a worth of more than three hundred million Naira in stocks, cash and bonds he is the simplest person a student wants to be with.

He was made professor of economics at age 48, two years after he successfully did an economic survey for IMF and UN on two African countries. Best graduating student in University of Benin at the age of twenty-six and best PhD student in Cambridge University at the age of twenty-nine and the following year, he was the best Master of Science student in Human resources in Harvard University before finally coming back home in 1978 to lecture in the great University of Benin at age