The Lagos Directive

Ogun didn’t wait.

He recognised them instantly. The two guys playing draughts beside the P.O.S stand. Faces now covered, but their clothing and build remained the same.

Two shadows. Two flanking angles. One breath. He stepped sideways and dropped into a ‘Sul position’ just as the first assailant burst through the side door. Tactical grip, suppressed weapon. Ogun double-tapped, a silenced thwap! thwap!! to the chest. Clean.

The second moved faster but not fast enough. Ogun pivoted right, kicked a loose plank into his path, distracting him momentarily. Ogun rose fluidly, and fired a hollow-point through his right cheek. 

Almost instantly, Makx tore past him, leaping through a shattered window. A piercing scream followed.

Ogun went after her, quick and fast.

He didn’t check the bodies. He knew his work. He knew the sound of finality.

Outside, the street was already shifting. Lights flicked on in windows. A car door slammed.

Time to move.

He found Makx, teeth stained, panting, hovering over the recharge card guy, his throat missing. They had been waiting for him. But for how long?

“Good girl,” he said, rubbing her belly.

The last attacker had dropped his phone. Locked, military-grade. One open message onscreen:

“Target confirmed. Burn and fall back. Code: Echo-H.”

Hadji?

Ogun swore under his breath and moved fast. The neighborhood wasn’t safe. The message meant Hadji was either the bait, or someone had intercepted him.

They ditched west, took the brush path behind the sawmill. Vaulted over the fence of a nearby Moshalashi, and disappeared into the grid. Lagos had a thousand layers and Ogun knew them all.

By midnight, they reached an old remote dead-drop site in Badagry. Ogun buried some of his gear here six years ago. Not much had changed. His stash remained untouched.

Makx kept sentry, covertly in the dark.

Inside, Ogun decrypted the thumb drive.

Files loaded, field footage, intercepted comms, internal agency logs from six years ago. The mission that broke them.

Onscreen: body cam footage from the Niger op. Surveillance of a humanitarian convoy. Gunfire. Chaos. Hadji giving cover. Ogun shouting extraction coordinates.

Then static.

A still image: internal memo -“Directive 9 Asset Termination Approved.”

Signed: Commander Idris Falaye. Their handler.

Betrayal! It cut deep because Falaye recruited him, mentored him.

Hadji had survived. The note was his. He’d been watching. Waiting. Protecting Ogun from the shadows.

Around 2am, Makx began growling outside.

How had they found him?

Ogun glanced at the dropped phone from the sawmill attacker and realised instantly. The moment he decrypted it, they had his location. 

“Sloppy”, he thought.

He grabbed his gun, loaded in a fresh mag and once again, faded into the dark.

Makx howled three times and disappeared. Her signal: three tangos approaching.

Then a voice called out:

“You should’ve stayed buried, OW-T!”

Ogun smiled calmly.

“Yeah?!” he replied. “Na why I bring shovel.”