Chapter 4

A round of laughter rang in his head while staring into the distance with his phone still in his hand. Seven was not aware of the tears. He remembered the times he spent talking to her — too scared to call her name.

It was not even an actual name. All made up. The name. The person. The emotions.

They talked about practically everything. How she would tell him about her greatest fears. Losing him topped the list. She had many dreams and one of them was to finally meet Seven and reveal to him the things she believed he was not prepared to know.

The idea of withheld information gave Seven a sense of thrill. Anticipation. Of the unknown. The picture was so clear in his mind and it gave him hope for a brighter future. A future with her in it. Getting to touch her every single day. And getting to finally know her. Bare. That future did not seem like forever anymore and Seven enjoyed the moments before it was to come. Nigeria would be heaven, amidst all the turmoil and the struggles of trying to find himself and his purpose. One thing remained more powerful than his desire to find his place on the threshold of life, and that thing was hope: hope that one day, he would have her in his arms.

By then nothing would seem to matter.

He watched that hope burn and the image turn from vibrant hues to depressing black, burnt, and then, ashes. He had blurry eyes and his blocked nostrils, shuddering violently with trembling hands. It felt like a cosmic whole caving in on him, snatching his oxygen. His phone slipped through his fingers and fell to the ground. Hot tears poured down his cheeks. And there was a thump in his chest.

Like liquid pain coursing through his veins as he fell on his bed.

For a split second, he wanted to end it all; his life, the world, everything. Nothing seemed to matter. There was nobody to love him. An unattractive socially awkward teenager that nobody took seriously.

End it.

A voice in his head said.

End it all. They, your parents never wanted you anyway. See how they adore Angel over you. Remember when you told them your dreams and they frowned in disgust while you poured your heart out?  They are too close-minded for your vastness.

End it all. The voice urged.

“But I have people who love me,” Seven said aloud.

Who exactly?

Silence.

Thought so. End it all. True freedom will come after. You are just a little boy, Caged in this dwindling world. You just found out that the girl you love with your whole life was not real. Your entire relationship was a joke. You should set yourself free.

“I'm not caged!” Seven barked.

Oh, not right now, but you soon will be; you cannot keep this from the world. The person that you loved never existed.  Imagine their thoughts before and how they would see you after the word gets out. You would be ridiculed for the rest of your miserable days. Why not just end it?

“No!” He screamed. Blocking his ears, rolling on his bed in protest.

Fighting off the wild thoughts.

Just then.

His phone starting to ring. Drawing in the sobs and wiping, his blurry eyes, he picked up his phone.

He checked the Caller ID.

Private Number.

Huh?

Who would call him with a private number?

After racking his brain for who it might be, he decided to pick it regardless. But not after clearing his throat. To remove any sign of weakness.

He was a man.

“Hello?”

“Is this Seven?” A shaky voice asked.a

“Who wants to know?”

“My name is Wale, and I am someone close to Janet. Janet Kwesi.”

Seven's heart froze. His body froze. His mind froze.

“Listen, something happened to her and she's sorta... Missing. I'd like to meet you up soon and ask you a couple of questions that I cannot ask over the line.”

Seven was unable to speak. He must have had a mini-stroke.

“Seven are you there? I know this call might come off as odd, but you have got to believe me.”

The croaky voice over the line was a mature man. However, his terminology was modern-teens. Seven definitely would believe anything at this point.

“Are you there?” The man broke into his thoughts.

“Yes I am,” Seven said, finding his voice. He wanted to know who Janet was.

“Where can I find you?”

Having champagne sips on the front porch of his condo was Olalekan’s version of therapy. Looking at the vast expanse of duplexes littered around his mini-empire. About three miles away was the Integrity Bank’s signature building, the fifty feet mansion with the twin Roman pillars at the front entrance.

The sight of the distasteful architecture always had a way of ruining his breezing tranquil. He believed in moderation. His glass coven was a perfectly good example; making good use of the land, which consisted of 20% pool space and a beautiful, ultramodern, building.  With Smart House sequence performing self-clean, automatic ignition features installed. Nearly every inch of the house was glass-cut from the doors to the walls. It looked more like a science lab than a home.

Moreover, Olalekan loved it.

The porch, and of course, the bedroom were his favorite places in the entire house. The bathroom is on another level of categorization.

He was gulping down the remaining contents of glass when his phone vibrated to life.

Answering without hesitation.

“I see that you have been waiting for my call; you picked on the first ring. That is so not like you.” The crispy voice teased.

“Oh? You pay attention to me. That's a plus. How are you doing, Q?” He had a smirk on his face. The same smirk he had whenever he was talking to this man. Q. Has been one of Olalekan’s most reliable informants.

“Of course I do pay attention to my clients, how then would I know the kind of service to provide?”

Valid point. Olalekan was always impressed... Sometimes he is overwhelmed to the point that he gets the urge to propose an actual meeting with the man. Unfortunately, such an illogical action would jeopardize their business relationship.

“We might have found a lead.” Q declared.

“Go on,” Olalekan urged, “This phone cannot be tapped.”

“Very well then, the good news: after I reached a guy skilled in contact tracing, we got a couple of hits, people who verified that your guy had lodged in some hotels and been to some eateries at some point. These people claimed to have interacted with him at some point. However, we hit a rock.”

The bad news.

“And by rock...?”

“I mean him,” Q said. “He slipped out of our radar. The private investigator I hired to tail his ass got carried away. Literally. I mean the man knew we were following him and he pulled some cards and made the authorities get my man.”

“Damn. That's a bust.” Literally.  “Will you be okay?”

“I will be. I can’t say the same for my Connect. He won't reveal who his last assigner was. It's part of the job. The police are wasting their time. He won’t crack.”

Dreadful, Olalekan’s spine gave a little shudder.

“Keep tracking him,” Olalekan said. “I want him.”

“I can see how badly you do.” Q concurred matter-of-factly. “I'll let you know how it all goes.”

“Take care.” The line went dead.

If the situation cannot be helped, he is going to take pressing measures. Nothing is as irritating as a helpless situation. One mistake and he can lose it all. So he must tread carefully and wisely. He is ready to do whatever it takes to come out of this unscathed.

Whatever it takes. No room for mistakes.

The first thing Seven noticed when he stepped foot into the Royal Boat Hotel were the cracks on the walls. The paint was coming off, and there were brownish patches that hinted a leakage somewhere. Still, the place managed to look quite modern. Renovated, but not entirely. The number of people in the reception made Seven wonder if aesthetics were meaningless. It was clear that these people did not give a hoot. There were G-wagons and Lexuses out front too.

Seven couldn’t help but notice how discouraging the building was from where he was standing just beside the exit doors. Hands clutching his backpack. He had taken some supplies just in case.

An offensive smell reached his nostrils.

Semen.

Ugh!

He took quick strides to the Receptionist Counter.

The lady was heavy-cheeked, with tired eyes and a dry smile caricatured on her lips.

“Welcome to The Royal Boat, uh – sir. How may I be of service?”

Her warm words eased up his tension.

“Thank you, but I have a meeting with one of your customers, a Mr. Wale?”

She checked the old computer on her desk.

“Yes, room 112. He’s expecting you.” She said. Squinting.

“Thanks.”

Seven took the stairs just as the lady had directed, heading to the man he who knew the identity of his girlfriend. Or the man that wanted to take advantage of his predicament.

Whichever the case, Seven was fully prepared to react accordingly.

He had one of his mother’s small kitchen knife holstered on his waist.

***

With his feet anxiously shuffling through the room, darting from the window super-seeing the hotel entrance, to inspecting the program running on his Alienware at the bedside, it was very clear that Wale was a paranoid man.

While waiting for Janet’s boyfriend to come, he performed a last-minute tracker to ensure that He was indeed out of radar.

The results came at the same time a soft knock came from the door.

MATCH: 0%.

This is frustrating.

He tossed his phone to the bed, opened the door, and a slender-looking boy with youthful stared back at him.

“I’m sorry, but are you…?”

“Seven. You spoke to me over the phone saying you know something about my girl and her whereabouts.”

Seven watched a heavy sack of disappointment fall on the man’s face.

“You are…”

“Young? That’s not relevant. May I have a sit? I’m tired, it was hard locating this place.” He entered the room and headed for the bed.

“Sure you can. Make yourself comfortable.” 

Because you’re going to need a lot of strength for what you’re about to hear.