Jamal woke up to a sharp pain at the back of his head. He opened his eyes but closed them quickly due to the intensity of the light that hit his retina. He then slowly opened it and let his eye adjust to it. With his head still banging, he sat up and heard his back crack. It made him realize that he wasn't in his room. He was on a hard floor. He looked up and noticed the distance between the ceiling and the ground. The room was a quarter of his room and had nothing except the central bulb and a small window, and the door was locked. They began to recall the events of the previous day: the call, the sound of rain, Bamigboye, the taser, and the force on his head. Stringing together the occurrences, he deduced that he must have been arrested and is currently in a cell. He sat there for three minutes before deciding to try the door. He shook the door, but it didn't bulge. He searched for cracks in the door but was disappointed that he couldn't even pick out the lock position; it was a flat, solid surface, probably made of steel. Instead of squandering his remaining energy, he returned to the corner, sat, and rested his back against the wall, imagining what his grandmother and sibling would be doing at the time. Perhaps the whole community was looking for him at that moment. He thought he must find a way out of the cell, wherever he was.
"Why did you lock him in here?" He heard a voice outside the door and quickly stood up, ready to take his chance. He then heard beeps outside the door, followed by the sound of gears turning, then the door sliding open. Two gallant men stepped into the room, securing both sides of the door, followed by a short man with a round stomach. He wore a smile on his face, which Jamal found strange, adding to the strangeness of the place.
"I am sorry for the inconveniences; we are moving you to another place; you shouldn't be kept in a cell like this," he said, flashing his teeth again, which were as white as the spotless lab coat covering his small frame. Jamal only nodded; he didn't have the energy nor the will to object. With the two agents by his sides, they marched him out of the tiny cell, while the short man followed them at a distance.
They entered a long, narrow corridor with similar cells on both sides. Jamal looked around and sighed; he concluded that he was really in a hot soup. He moved along until they came to an open space, where people sat in cabinets working on their systems. Some of them were typing, while many of them were monitoring surveillance systems, both inside the cells and outside the station.
"Here," the man directed them to a different room than the one they had just left; it was nearly five times the size of the cell, with a bed, a fan, and even a chair and a table.
"This is a better place to talk," he said, but he noticed Jamal touching the back of his head due to the pain he was feeling. He moved closer to check.
"Oh, there's a big lump at the back of your head; I think you should shave your head so we can treat it; they said you resisted arrest; I'm sorry for the pain; you should call the doctor," he motioned to one of the officers, who quickly moved to get the doctor.
"I didn't resist arrest; they came all of a sudden and hit me on the head," Jamal defended, looking at the agent that stood by the door; he didn't even turn to him, like he wasn't even part of the room.
"Well, you can write that in your statement. Just know that you are in safe hands though; my name is Engr. Robert," he said, flashing his white teeth again. Just then, another man entered; he was diametrically opposed to Robert; the only thing they had in common was that they both wore white lab coats. The other man was taller, at least 6'5", and his face was serious. Without asking, he checked Jamal's eyes and nodded; he then gave him a brown pill and a bottle of water, which he took from the tree the agent held. Jamal looked at the pills suspiciously but used them since the men were looking at him, more like waiting for him. The drug started working just minutes after it traveled down to his stomach; its catabolism was so fast that the sharp pain he felt at the back of his head immediately subsided.
"What is this drug?" Jamal was questioned in disbelief.
"Don't worry, it is not a drug you can find in pharmacies. it is super efficient, we have tested it and it is safe; it is one of the wonders of Dr. BADEWA," Robert said, and the doctor smiled briefly.
"So, we are waiting for the director so he can be briefed about you, and before you ask where you are now that you are okay, you are in a secure facility. I won't say much yet, but your families know you are here, well, under a different notion, so just relax and gather your thoughts." Engr. Robert said and smiled as they exited the room, locking the door behind them.Jamal was feeling better, but he knew he couldn't trust them because they obviously didn't trust him either, as evidenced by the fact that they still locked the door behind them. He switched on the television and tried to change the channel, but all the stations on the list were news channels; there were no movies or even football games. He got bored and switched off the television. He then tried to guess things about the people who arrested him. He was sure of two things: they are dressed in white, and with what Robert mentioned about the drug, they are into research. Their system setup also indicated that their technology is top-notch. They are the kind of agencies he watches in movies. He started wondering what the whole thing was about. The strange blue drug, the commandos, and now he's in a strange room, awaiting some directors. Just then, one of the officers opened the door and gestured for him to follow him. He obliged, and they walked through a different passage to another section of the building. He entered the hall, which looked more like a conference room. There were four people in the room, all dressed formally, with their eyes fixed to the big screen, which showed three people in three different cells. Jamal recognized the people in the cell right away: Small was seated on the floor, shockingly calm, while the other two looked worried and had bruises on their faces.
"Here he is, sir," the officer announced and offered Jamal a seat. He sat down and looked at the man sitting across from him, who was sizing him up.
"Is this the boy you mentioned, Robert? Do you think he can really be of assistance in this case?" The director, a wry-looking man in his fifties, inquired.
"Sir, with the report I got from the field agent, he had a device with him that they mistakenly thought was a gun. When I checked the device, it was a home-made taser, something I wasn't expecting from anyone in that area. His actions have proved that he is smart enough, and I think he is a better option than TELA, who is still trying to fit into a high school image. We just need to train him." Engr. Robert said as he passed around the homemade taser. Jamal noticed that the capacitor had been detached from the board, and he suspected that Engr. Robert had really checked it; he must be their technology specialist.
"Well, this looks impressive, but can he work undercover in such a setting?" The man sitting beside the director asked.
"That is why I mentioned that he has to be refined a bit to fit in," Robert responded sharply.
"Then do that; you know this is a very important mission, and we can't afford to have loose ends," he said. "Just make sure it all goes smoothly," he added before leaving the room with the deputy director and another agent at his heels.
"So, you need to undergo three weeks of training here with us; you will understand all you have to do in that time. I have informed your guardian that you are undergoing a scholarship exam and that you need to be here for weeks, so don't worry about them." a light-skinned man who had never spoken before said.
"But I haven't even agreed to work with you; I don't even know where I am or what happened to my friend," Jamal protested.
"Well, the situation doesn't really give you a chance to negotiate; you were arrested as a dangerous drug trafficker, and we're only giving you this chance because Robert and Hadiza believe you're innocent and smart; it's either you're out here working for us or you're in that cell," he threatened subtly and smiled. Jamal tensed; he really has no reason to be involved in that kind of deal. The day before, all he thought about was how to pass his o'levels excellently, get admission to study engineering at the University of Lagos, and pull his family out of the ghetto. There was a time he dreamed of getting a scholarship to study at schools abroad, but his grandma, who was a retired teacher, had pruned him and told him to "cut his coat according to his cloth." Maybe he shouldn't have acted on the call; he would have been in biology class at that moment, safe and sound, not being threatened to work undercover. But then, maybe Bamigboye would be dead.
"What happened to my friend?" he asked.
"Well, he ended up in the hospital but will be discharged soon; he won't remember all that happened the night before, so you don't need to worry." "My name is Ali Borgu, and I am the mission's head; she is Hadiza; she will be your handler; you have met Engr. Robert before," he introduced, and Robert smiled, while Hadiza simply nodded, her eyes fixed on the ipad in front of her, but Jamal noticed she looked reliable and capable; her aura screamed perfection.
"First of all, you are changing schools," Ali announced.
"I still don't want to work with you, sir; I am the head boy of my community school and I have a family to care for, you can easily find someone better," Jamal protested.
"Look, this is not just about finding an agent to work undercover; we can always do that; but I believe there is a reason you walked into that building yesterday, and you are part of the game now; this is something bigger than what you think you are doing; people's lives are at stake; if we are not able to control the distribution of that substance, more people like your friend will be destroyed by it; it will change a lot in our fight against drug abuse; it can destabilize our society in three years; and you can imagine just how much it will affect your local community. I am sorry for threatening you with the cell, but if you succeed, it will be like you saved the lives of hundreds of youths," Robert explained. and handed Jamal an iPad that contained information about the case. Jamal sighed; he had always wished he could pull everyone in the community out of the mud, but even his closest friends were still stuck, so he saw the offer as an opportunity to save them.
"What if I disagree?" he asked.
"Well, you will be relieved to go back to your trenches; you will lose the scholarship offer as well as the monthly packages we planned for your family." ALI answered sternly.
"Did you say you have told my grandma that I am undergoing a scholarship screening? "I won't want to disappoint her, but can you transfer my sister to the same school?" he negotiated.
"No, that will be too dangerous; we can't afford loose ends; the fewer people you are tied to, the safer it is," Hadiza said for the first time. Jamal swiped the ipad, and his pupils dilated as he realized he was about to be transferred to one of the best schools in the country, a school he had always wanted to attend; he had always envied the kids who went there, and now that he has a chance to go there, he tried not to show his happiness, but it was obvious he loved the development. His joy was cut short when he slid the screen up and the target's face appeared—it was one of the state's wealthiest men, a top-tier entrepreneur who was even one of Jamal's role models. He was smiling just like he does in all of his pictures—classy, smart, and composed. Jamal looked up, and the other three people in the room were staring at him, monitoring his reaction.
"The suspect is William Dosunmu, and you are to tail his son, which is why you are going to that school," ALI declared.
"Williams, I understand. I thought you said it had passed the first trial; what is this about another tri al again? Do I need to come down there?" Kiki heard her father on the phone in the sitting room; unlike when their family was complete and they used to have dinner together no matter how busy they were, everything changed when her mother died and her father began infesting his time with his work more, making excuses that he has to save the company from bankruptcy. Kiki tried to entice him back, but all she got was money—more money and less presence—which had caused her to rebel; they initially thought it was her way of grieving until she attempted suicide. She would have stayed in her room, but she really felt like discussing the new development with him, and as soon as she stepped into the sitting room, her dad spoke first.
"The therapist said you told her you needed a break from school?" He said while putting off his shoes that, even though he was a rich man, he still found it absurd to wear shoes in the sitting room; his home training stuck to his feet.
"That's true, but I think I need to take a step back from everything, from this city," kiki replied.
"Well, if that will get you back on track, it is okay, but won't that affect your valedictory spot?" he asked
"I have lost that already; I don't deserve it anymore, and I just want to be in another place," Kiki said, upset that all he cared about was her grade.
"Okay, I don't think I have much right to force you into doing anything you don't want to do, so where do you want to go, Paris?" He asked as their old maid brought him his favorite coffee.
"no"
"Rome?"
"No, I want to go to Lagos; I want to visit Grandma," she declared.
"What?, you can go to Dubai, Berlin, or Serengeti if you want a calm environment; why go to Lagos? That place is noisier than London, and you know what your old granny will say about that? They will think I am manipulating you to my side, just so I can take over the company with all your shares," he said.
"But I am eighteen now and I can make my choices; I want to visit Mama; they can think whatever they like; it is not my problem," Kiki answered.
"Wait, you are eighteen now?" Her father, scratching his brow, inquired, having missed her birthday for the second time in a row. He told the head-maid to remind him a week before. And he was sure she did, but he was out of the country at that time; he was in fact in Lagos, settling some deals.
"Yes, dad, Margaret even organized a little party; you were out of town," she told him.
"I am sorry; a lot is going on with the company. I am thinking of expanding the company, but we will talk about it later." "I just hope you understand," he tried to explain.
"Well, I do." "I hope you just let me go to Lagos too," she said, and she left the sitting room without waiting for his approval. She knew he wouldn't be able to decline her request; he always wanted her to be closer to his Nigerian family than her late mother's family. They all wanted her love, but it all changed after her mother's death. They only cared about the stock and the company; she just wanted to clear her mind and find her bearings, and a city without snow would be ideal. She entered her room, locked the door, and slid down the wall, letting out a rare sob.