The Lagos Directive

Unknown Location – Holding Chamber

Hadji hung shackled upright, wrists raw and bleeding, toes scraping concrete, breaths ragged. Blood crusted down his temple, blurring one eye. Ekun paced deliberately, sleeves rolled up, predatory calm radiating menace.

“Your tolerance for pain is remarkable, Hadji,” Ekun said softly.

Hadji forced himself into icy calmness, recalling years of interrogation training, each breath measured, each heartbeat steady. He wouldn’t break easily. OW-T is coming.

Ekun withdrew a video recorder, pressing play. The aged, fragile voice of Hadji’s mother filled the room. His heart twisted violently.

“We traced your family to Gure, Kwara,” Ekun said, watching intently. “She begged for your daughter’s life with her last breath. Memunat, yes?”

Hadji’s jaw tightened visibly, hatred burning in his eyes.

Ekun leaned closer. “You hid them carefully, but your source cracked quickly under my blade. No resilience like yours.”

Hadji erupted, chains rattling violently. “Ekun! I’ll kill you!! I’ll kill you myself!!!”

Ekun smirked dastardly. “Just like you sent Ogun to end me, abi? Save your energy, Memunat will be here soon.”

“You dog. Bastard!” Hadji spat.

Ekun leaned in further, voice deadly quiet. “Where’s Efe? You owe Ogun loyalty, but is it worth your daughter’s agony?”

Hadji’s mind flickered to Memunat’s carefree smile, then Efe’s pleading eyes as he’d hidden her away. He clenched his teeth fiercely. “I owe nothing to traitors.”

Ekun smiled coldly. “We’ll see, when Memunat endures zafi.”

Hadji’s defiant glare held, unyielding even as despair edged closer.

He will surely break.

—

Kaduna Outskirts – Remote Village Dead Drop

Ogun navigated through pre-dawn haze, gripping the Peugeot’s worn steering wheel. Days prior, when de-crypting Hadji’s thumb drive, he’d found an embedded phrase: “grave of faith.”

He recognised it instantly, code for their old operational cache site. As he arrived, Ogun scanned methodically, tree lines, ground disturbances. Trust was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

Quietly slipping past sleeping huts, he reached the charred chapel, kneeling beneath a gnarled tree. Fingers brushing roots, he located the hidden key, then unearthed the box swiftly. Inside, a transmitter, burner phones, and a folded map marked clearly, Ipao, Ekiti.

Efe’s hiding place.

Gathering the gear, Ogun vanished before dawn’s first light.

—

Ipao, Ekiti – Remote Farm Village

Efe huddled alone, hunger gnawing, dread tightening her chest. Days since triggering the transmitter, a desperate message to Hadji. Every faint rustle outside clawed at her sanity, yet she clung fiercely to the hope he promised. “Help will come.”

“Hadji, please,” she whispered urgently. “Hurry.”

—

Journey to Ipao – Ogun’s Approach

Ogun traveled cautiously, taking back routes, changing transport multiple times to avoid any tails. Fatigue gnawed at his edges, but his mind remained razor-sharp, plotting scenarios ahead. He reached Ekiti before nightfall, disembarking several kilometers from Ipao and continuing on foot. Makx moved silently beside him, senses alert.

At a ridge overlooking the village’s outskirts, Ogun paused, scanning the quiet settlement below. All seemed still, until headlights split the dusk. Two vehicles approached a small compound, six figures emerged. One stood taller, moving with unmistakable menace, a dead man:

Ekun.

Ogun’s heart hardened, pulse slowing into tactical precision. Time compressed. Focus heightened.

“Let’s finish this,” he whispered calmly to Makx, rifle already tight against his chest.

Together, he and Makx melted swiftly into darkness, descending toward the endgame.