The Hyena Code — Continuation 7
March 2019. Maitama, Abuja.
It was a beehive of activities as a first-generation bank was holding its AGM in one of the halls of the Sheraton hotel. The hall was decorated with red ceiling drapes and white balloons which were the colour of the bank’s logo. The 200 plastic chairs in the hall were covered with white spandex and faced the elevated stage in an auditorium-style seating arrangement. The stage had a red and white backdrop, about ten plastic chairs covered in white spandex, and a long table enveloped with red, blue, and white drapes. The bank executives were seated on the stage and answered questions asked by the shareholders.
The shareholders that could not get into the hall, stayed in the lobby to hear the latest decisions firsthand, a few others were eating and drinking in the adjoining restaurant. It was a big lobby with a dark blue carpet, gold-plated red chairs, blue and white patterned sofas, and small black, coffee tables beside the chairs.
A lovely-looking lady of northern descent, Aisha, sat by herself in the lobby on one of the red chairs. She wore an above-the-knee dark blue shirt, a white camisole, and a sky-blue blouse. She was staring intently into a novel titled Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. Her black and gold fingernails were long and attractive.
A tall woman in a flowing kaftan walked in her direction and stopped in her front.
“I love your nails,” complimented the woman with the flowing kaftan.
“Oh, thank you,” Aisha looked up and replied.
The woman smiled as their eyes met. Aisha smiled back.
“Where did you get your nails down?” She asked as she took a seat opposite Aisha.
“Well, not from around here.”
“Wow, must be expensive.”
“Well, soup wey sweet, na money kill am,” Aisha said with a laugh.
The woman smiled. “So are you a staff of the bank?”
“No, I’m not.”
“A shareholder then?”
Aisha smiled. “Sort of.”
The woman stared back with arching eyebrows, looking bemused. “Sort of,” she repeated.
Aisha smiled and said nothing. She picked up her bag as she felt her phone vibrate. It was a message. It read, “The CRO is coming your way.”
She held the phone as if typing a reply and counted one to twenty. She looked up casually and watched him walk past the lobby.
“I’ve got to go,” she said to the woman. Then she got up and slowly followed him to the toilet.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Outskirts of Lagos.
“What’s on your bucket list?” Tony asked.
“To travel to Yankee and nack a white babe, an Asian babe, a Jamaican, and a black American.”
“This one maddooo.”
“My own na to do threesome with twin sisters or maybe sef, foursome with triplets.”
“Oshey baddest.”
“What about you?”
“Na to marry Otedola’s daughter dey my own mind, dazall.”
“Baddo.”
“You nko?”
“Just gimme Rihanna, dazall. I no ask for too much.”
“You wan follow Don Jazzy drag him babe?”
“You forget say me sef na Don?”
“Sorry sir, blame it on the alcohol.”
They laughed out loud drunkenly.
Yemi watched silently as his two friends and the three new guys drank, smoked, and talked loudly.
The six of them were seated in an en-suite hotel room that had a double bed in the center, a two-seater sofa, a chair, and a desk. Yemi was sitting on the chair, his two friends were sitting on the sofa and the three new guys were seated on the bed. The bathroom was on the right side of the bed close to the entrance, while the glass door that led to the veranda was on the left. Between the bathroom and the bed, there was a door that led to an adjoining room, which was where the three new guys were lodged.
Suddenly, Usman turned to look at him and asked, “Yemi, you nko? What is on your bucket list?”
“To do like Dangote, withdraw or get N50 million and just look at it.”
“Haa, I like that one o,” Usman responded.
“Shebi by tomorrow morning we go get the N50 million?” One of the new guys asked.
Yemi looked at him, smiled, and replied, “If all goes according to plan, yes.”
“But would the bullion van have up to that amount?” Another one of them asked.
“We strike the bank and not the bullion van.”
There was a hushed silence.
“That sounds like a plan,” the last of the three mused aloud.
“It is,” replied Yemi.
Tony frowned and stared intently at Yemi. “You sure? You don analyse am well? The extra security, the CCTV, the people, the police and all.”
“Fear not, I’ve it all figured out,” Yemi stated confidently, “once una don sober, I will break it down for you.”
“But what happened to the plan we had agreed on earlier. It’s a little too late to change plans now. Do we still hit tomorrow morning?”
“Yes, we do. With a slight adjustment to the time. But enjoy the rest of the day, I’ll fill you in on the details at dawn.”
Usman sat up. “With this change of plan, what do we need?”
Yemi smiled smugly. “You guys bring along your handguns, I’ve all I need.”
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Maitama, Abuja.
Aisha was assaulted by the raging air-borne war between urine and disinfectant as she pushed open the toilet door. The all-white room was spacious and clean. The urinals lined the walls on the right and left, the WC stalls were opposite the entrance and several stainless steel wash basins and hand dryers were situated in the middle of the room. She walked in just as the CRO finished peeing in a urinal by the left and was shaking his penis. She stopped suddenly in the center of the room as if she just become aware of someone turning to stare at her. She looked up in mock shock to meet his surprised gaze. Then she looked down at the erect penis in his hands with urine still trickling down into the urinal.
“I’m so sorry sir,” she said, “I thought this was the female toilet.”
“No problem young lady, we all make mistakes,” he replied smiling. Then he uncomfortably tucked in his turgid organ and zipped up. “And maybe this one was a divine coincidence.”
“So sorry sir,” she repeated as she slowly turned away.
“Wait,” he called out, “are you a guest here?”
She turned back looking dejected. “No sir, I was supposed to meet my uncle here but he canceled the meeting at so short a notice.”
The CRO smiled slowly. He knew the term uncle could also mean sugar daddy. “Your uncle, huh?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Well, a girl has got to do, what a girl has got to do.”
The CRO sized her up. “Hmm, okay. Perhaps I can make it up to you, and make it worth your while.”
Aisha smiled seductively at him.“How sir?”
“I will be in Room 307.” He checked his wristwatch. “Meet me in two hours.”
“Okay sir. But what would I be doing while I wait?”
“I will leave word with the manager. You can order all-you-can-eat and drink at the restaurant, and even take a massage. All on my account.”
“Wow, thank you sir.”
“No problem dear, just go sit at the bar so I can point you out to the manager.”
To be continued…
Signed
Olumide Holloway (King Olulu)
