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Locust Invasion
By CHIKA VICTOR ONYENEZI (Nigeria)
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Revised 3/28/08
CHAPTER 1
2
THE SPY
MURTALA MOHAMMED AIRPORT, LAGOS
[16:00, 1 NOVEMBER, 2010]
The dry season is getting stronger. The wind pushes a few junks along, throwing it up and scatters them along the way. Tiny particles of debris fill the air, dropping into people’s eyes. The sun is shinning but the temperature is not hot for Nelson Johnson. The weather makes him feel feverish, at the same time cold inside, maybe rubbing my hands together like this African when the sit beside fire will help he thinks. He tries rubbing his palms together to produce heat; at least it’s helped, although no fire around. Nelson is an undercover agent for the CIA, every morning he drives his jeep, parks precisely thirty meters from the airport main gate, which has become his vantage post. He takes photographs of the Arabs, Islamists, in fact any Muslim coming in from Middle East into Nigeria. A report from CIA shows that some Arab militants are either hiding in Nigeria or want to enter Nigeria for an operation. The question “hiding” has been eliminated after some logical analysis, and then to check those entering, the CIA dispatched some top spies to Nigeria borders and airport. Nelson Johnson was dispatched to Murtala Mohammed Airport. A well-known militant leader, Sadiq Amar was sighted leaving Iran for Nigeria by CIA agents. His purpose has not been ascertained, and so they had to mount surveillance at every strategic point. Nelson has no difference between with Nigerians. He is black and they are black. Every morning, he first reports at the embassy, gets full details about flights taking off from Middle East to Nigeria. At times, he leaves his house at night just to catch these people move in. Nothing has happened for the past two weeks, every image he took has been certified clean by the Headquarters. He would keep looking out for them. For him Nigeria is fun, many activities to catch. Whenever he is free, he likes visiting Obudu cattle ranch; at Obudu he felt a city that can be turned into a paradise, up on that mountain he saw nature in its raw form mix with civilization; the monkeys running up and down in the wild and birds chirping. Maybe the more reason he like going to Obudu is because of the weather; it’s ever cool. He has stayed in Nigeria for two years working as one of CIA attachés to the Embassy. What he loves most about this people is that they don’t scream fuck you as they walk on street. They respect their traditional institutions; like when they visited the Oba of Lagos, People respect him; they prostrate before him, isn’t that a big respect ho la.
His digital camera lies in the passenger seat. Developed by the CIA scientist, it takes fifty motion pictures per second. His information said that the jet from Lebanon would arrive by five o’clock. He picks up can of coke beside him. Open it; he empties the content into his mouth. He takes another look at the parchment; the next flight from Iran will be in an hour’s time. He will steal five minutes for “Mr. Biggs,” a well nourishing fast food in Nigeria. He places his camera on a small tripod stand; you do not need to fix your eyes into the lens, just look at the small digital screen, and then focus it.
The Marshall Bank of Nigeria beside the airport is on the fourth floor of a twelve-storey building. Agent Samuel Ekpo of the Nigerian State security Service mounts his surveillance; he has been following a person who he had discovered to be Nelson Johnson of the CIA on his tail. He wants to find out his purpose for he has been visiting the airport every time, on daily basis, even at odd hours. His jeep has tinted glass, so he cannot see him; he had to follow him to Mr. Biggs to unveil his identity. He must report to his superior on the activities of Nelson, he needs more detail. Inside Ekpo live two men; the family Ekpo, and the service Ekpo. The family Ekpo is a caring father of two; the service Ekpo is a man who blows off the bad guys head for his country. Today the service Ekpo is trying to serve his nation but the family Ekpo keeps disturbing him .His wife complains of his dedicated service to the country and of his neglect of his family. Most times, he is filled with emotions, like now; the image of his children keep popping up his brain. He takes the binocular tries to find out what is inside the car but can not.
A small operation has been organized in the morning, to unveil his mission. Agent Okoro now on the street waiting for instruction to execute the operation called “Operation Beggar.” Ekpo picked up the communication Device, designed by the Russian KGB, so tiny that you will not notice any object in his ear.
“-Operation beggar -” Ekpo sounds
“Yes Sir, I am in position.”
“Move in.”
It was a short order, agent Okoro with his tattered dreadlock hair, torn dirty trousers, moving like a crippled person towards the black jeep, he placed his hands on his knee, raised the hand and leg up at the time, creating a semi-crippled gait. Agent Okoro notice that only the front passengers seat is open, he moves towards it, hold the front door, give Nelson a look that says, “I need help”, “That’s one thing with Nigeria beggars,” Nelson says to himself, handing a one hundred Naira note to the beggar. Okoro walks away
“Oh no, they are out.” Nelson clicked his camera; the Lebanese passengers are coming out, one Arab man is standing at the gate.
Continued ...
