Enemy in the Camp

By Ogbonnaya David Heanyichukwu.

Enemy in the camp is an engaging story of two opposing camps. In the story, Brett is presented as a super undercover agent deploying the coy, decoy and subterfuge of his trade to unravel a seemingly intractable malfeasance against the society. On the other hand, Mr. Gamel, a seemingly benevolent and responsible politician and businessman runs the most crafty and notorious gang amidst the aura of responsibility. Hart Anthony, director of a special fraud unit puts his nose to the ground and sends his agents to unravel the mysteries behind the invincible gangs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Nov 4, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496990945

Ogbonnaya David Heanyichukwu.

The author, through the character of Mr. Gamel and realistic use of language tells a story of a society that worships and indulges the affluent without asking questions….find out what happen to Mr. Gamel, the underworld benefactor! Was he caught? Or did he escape justice like most rich criminal in our society?

Book preview

© 2014 Ogbonnaya David I Heanyichukwu. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse   10/31/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4969-9093-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-9094-5 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Dedication

To the Ogbonnaya family and my friends; Pst Onyema Jonathan Ogwo;

To Mr. Don Emenike;

Seth Moses and Amara;

With fond memories.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

The writing and publication of this novel took lot of, not only my effort, but also the effort of so many others who I think are worth of mentioning. Among these are brothers: Mr. Peter Okechukwu Ogbonnaya and family, Engr. Isreal Ogbonnaya and family, Engr. Arisa Chiekweiro and family and my very good friends: Ndubueze Emmanuel Chiekweiro, Amanambo Onwusoro, Mrs. Ngozi P.C, Promise Kanu, Onyinyechi Eze, Chukwuemeka Ugwu-orji, Chukwuemeka Nwaoha. Certain debts cannot be re-paid in terms of monetary values. I also thank all the staff of Izyprecs Nig Ltd for their support. Finally, I will not forget my University of Benin friends: Frank Ikeji, Onwubolu P.C. and Humphrey Ehi-Uwaifor for useful comments and observations. I cannot conclude this if I fail to appreciate my Middlesex University London friends: Kenneth Chinedu Odoh, Olufemi Adeolu Agboola, Falah Al Qatani, Rafsel Capintero, Sami Almarri, Esimus Jones, Andre Bonzale Salvador, Harry Cornish, the list is inexhaustible. Each of you inspired this final push.

Ogbonnaya David Iheanyichukwu

London 2014.

CHAPTER ONE

B rett Emenike sat behind the steering of his Bluebird car speeding furiously along Main Street. His mind was racing, wondering why the urgent telephone that shattered his evening should come when it did.

Approaching a police post, Brett slowed down and clutched carefully, not exceeding the speed limit. He was thinking; how on earth could Mr. Anthony have called him then? The spoiler he muttered viciously to himself. Trust him to ruin something. He scowled angrily.

He was approaching the intersection in the street and he again applied his brakes, slowing down for the traffic light, which had turned to amber preparing to change to red. A quick decision and Brett gunned the car and the Bluebird surged forward with screeching tyres beating the red by seconds. He nodded his head in approval. Good judgment, he commended himself silently ignoring the drivers from the opposite direction yelling curses at him. He grinned mirthlessly. He was in the mood for a yelling match.

He took the Park Lane intersection on two tyres blasting on-coming cars to the curb. Brett felt like strangling somebody in his anger: only this time, the obstacle was his boss! He shook his head in regret. Too big a tiger to meddle with, he smirked ruefully.

Brett consciously slowed down the car as he turned into the much quieter Ngamazu National Gardens, housing top Government offices and other real business enterprises. He was much calmer now. Speed sometimes does that to him.

Brett was big; six feet tall with black lustrous hairs and with brown eyes set in a very smooth face. His lips were full and his shoulders broad. He had a flat stomach with very long legs. He always wore his jacket with a pair of brown gloves. He never allowed his strength interfere with his interpersonal relationships; rather willing to get out of a fight than encouraging one.

His gloved hands resting lightly on the steering Brett drove slowly as the sign post advertising the private Agency loomed ominously up and turned into the gate. He had total control of himself now. His mind was now receptive for business. He glided to a halt at the security entrance.

He showed his ID and the guard stood back. The gate swung open and he drove through.

A casual look at the seemingly harmless Shipping Line would reveal nothing but, Brett was no casual observer. He knew that it was a façade and a blind front for the people in the outside world. As an insider he knew things that pressmen would envy. Things that, were they known, could spell disaster and doom for those who possess such vital information. He smiled secretively.

Brett headed for the small parking lot at the side of the big Shipping Line. He parked his car and entered through a green door marked ‘Directors’ only; rode the lift to the top floor of the eleven storey building.

The lift stopped and the door slid open. He stepped out into the long passage. Along the passage were doors with name tags. He was not a visitor to the place, as he knew every inch of the ground and the names of its numerous officials and their designations. He made his way familiarly to the door at the end of the passage marked ‘Director of consultations’ and rang the bell: twice fast twice slow. He waited grimly.

The door swung back on its oiled hinges and he entered the secretary’s office. The office was well furnished. Two doors stood facing each other; the first to his immediate right led to the waiting room while the other led to the director’s office.

The secretary, Miss Williams sat behind her desk hammering away on her keyboard. He came to rest in front of her desk.

She looked up with a ready smile at him – a smile he had grown to find welcoming. Good evening, Mr. Emenike, she said, raising a beautiful brow at him.

Good evening, Miss Williams, he replied calmly; with an accommodating smile of his own. He liked the girl. He thought she was swell.

How’s the going today? She asked with mystified smile at his cool composure.

Not so bad, he said, his brows cocked. Hope you and your boss are not hatching up some guys’ downfall. He smiled his half mystified smile.

She studied his expressionless and serious face noting how difficult it was to read the always frowning face before her, Mr. Anthony is expecting you. I’d better ring to tell him you’ve arrived. She picked up the intercom, spoke briefly into it and nodded at him to go on in. He nodded genially with bemused smile. He stared hard at the Director’s closed door.

Brett crossed the office with long swinging strides, tapped on the door and entered the office, treading softly on the noiseless rug.

Hart Anthony, his boss, was sitting on his swinging chair behind his very big semispherical mahogany desk.

"Good evening, sir.’’ Brett said, coming to rest before the desk.

Hart Anthony merely nodded briefly to acknowledge his presence waving him into a chair. Make yourself at home, Brett. He pushed a tray of coffee to him and went back to work as if Brett had not been there. He was used to it so he waited patiently with carefully cultivated nonchalant air.

Brett mixed himself a cup of stifling coffee and allowed himself, to study the comfortably furnished office yet another time. He started from the gigantic filling cabinet within reach on the left side of the desk. Beautiful picture of interesting places and objects adorned the walls; one entire section of which was given to a large world map hanging arrogantly on the right side of the office wall. Anthony loved to deliver his lectures standing in front of this piece of drawn lines running criss-cross like spider’s web.

He blinked as his gaze encountered the glare of the bright light in the office. He stared fixedly at the silk ceiling, which gave out a distinct colour of its own.

Gradually he took in the floor. The rug carpet was bound at the door with a glittering binding bar. He made a conscious effort not to look behind him, knowing that there was a cctv scanner that looked every bit ordinary. He was aware that the camera picked the entire grounds enabling Anthony, the director, to have an omniscient view of the goings on around the ground of the company. His mind dwelt briefly on the labours the interior decorators put in into that office.

Then, he looked at the big desk with the radio set and batteries of telephone on the left side and at the man seated behind the desk. He could not imagine himself on that seat as he thought how dull life would be, seated behind the Director’s chair always. Yet Anthony could move the world at a lift of his finger. He didn’t envy him for such powers.

Hart Anthony was a small man in his early forties with intelligent eyes hidden behind his horn-rimmed spectacle. He had a kindly feature and charming smile. He was quick in finding solutions to problems and that was one of the reasons why Brett could not do without him.

The man behind the big desk suddenly looked up and their eyes met. Up to that moment, he had been going as if he had no intention of stopping. But he suddenly dropped his pen and looked up straight into his eyes. Brett held his eyes for a moment and respectfully looked away.

Sorry son. I hope I have disturbed nothing vital, he said, a small knowing smile touched his lips.

He pushed back his chair into a more comfortable position.

The meddler; thought Brett. He knew, but what does that matter to him provided there was work to be done? They have worked as a winning team for many years.

Aloud he said: it’s alright, sir. Nothing really important, he shrugged.

Anthony needed his understanding. Something real big has come up that mustn’t wait, he said explanatorily as he pushed a blue file to Brett.

A vicious and crafty gang has been operating nationwide for some time now. He continued they have made away with great loot. It seems the people behind this gang really knew what they are doing. So far only scratchy information has been gathered about them. Their operation covers everything from bank robbery, currency trafficking, to highway brigandage: The police have tried to break them but it appears that they haven’t gone far. Anthony tapped his desk absent-mindedly.

Brett stared at him; his eyes narrowed in his usual way in concentration.

Continuing, the director said: All these of course you’ll deduce by going through this file. Again, the significant tap on the file. I am afraid there isn’t much to go on but our department was informed by the internal affairs Minister that it is a top priority job, Anthony said with a shrug. Any questions so far? He said.

Brett cleared his throat calmly.

I want to know if the police are in on this job too. What co-operation do we expect?

Not exactly, But few of the very top brass knew and are advised to keep our department informed of any new development, Anthony replied, Is there any other thing you would like to know?

Brett stretched himself, I guess that’s all for the moment. He said and shook his head.

Anthony pushed an envelope across the table which slid to a halt before Brett. This will take care of your expenses. You can ask for additional fund if you run dry.

Thanks, He turned the envelope around in his fingers. He had always loved working with his boss and knew that there may be no need for more money.

You must earn it, Brett, Anthony said lightly. Remember to deliver the goods in good time. Good luck sonny.

Brett crossed the door, opened it and went out quietly closing it behind him. He stopped briefly to exchange some pleasantries with Miss Williams, then rode the lift down and took the back door out.

He stood momentarily and surveyed his beautiful bluebird which, as was his custom, was at its dinkiest. He entered the car, turned it around then nosed slowly and carefully out, picking his way around the flower lined paths on his way to the main parking lot. He sometimes wondered at what corrective destruction are always hatched around these beautiful scenarios. He coaxed the car along whispering. Come along baby! You and I are again on this job together.

He drove out into the main stream of traffic in the busy streets of Ngamazu town to shake hands with the unknown.

CHAPTER TWO

T he Gamel Estate was