Chapter One – The Vanishing
The rain poured down on Lagos that night, hammering rooftops, flooding streets, and drowning out the usual chorus of danfo conductors and impatient drivers. Inside his one-bedroom apartment in Surulere, Tunde Bamidele sat hunched over his laptop, the glow reflecting off his tired eyes. He was finishing an article for the online newspaper where he worked, but his mind wasn't entirely on it.
At 11:37 PM, his phone buzzed. The name on the screen froze him.
Kehinde.
His twin brother.
Tunde answered immediately.
"Ken, where have you been? I've been calling you since morning."
The voice on the other end was strained, breathless. "Tunde… they're following me."
Tunde sat upright. "Who's following you? Where are you?"
"I can't talk long. Listen carefully. If anything happens to me, check my laptop. There's a file—hidden. Name is Eagle's Eye. Don't trust anyone. Not even the police. Do you hear me?"
The line crackled. Car horns blared faintly in the background.
"Kehinde, wait! Where are you right now?"
"I'm at—" The line went dead.
Tunde's heart thudded. He tried calling back, but it went straight to voicemail. He jumped up, pulled on a shirt, grabbed his keys, and bolted out into the rain.
---
By the time he reached Kehinde's flat in Yaba, it was past midnight. The compound gate stood ajar. The security man's chair was empty.
Tunde banged on the door.
"Kehinde! Ken, it's me!"
No answer.
He tried the handle—it turned easily. Inside, the small flat was a mess. Drawers open, papers scattered across the floor, the laptop missing from its usual spot. A broken glass lay near the table, and dark stains—blood?—dotted the tiles.
Tunde's breath caught. He rushed to the bedroom. Empty. The wardrobe had been ransacked.
On the floor, half-hidden under the bed, he spotted a flash drive. He picked it up, slipping it into his pocket just as he heard footsteps in the corridor.
Tunde froze.
The footsteps stopped outside the door. For a moment, only the rain and his pounding heartbeat filled the silence. Then—softly, deliberately—the door creaked open wider.
A shadow shifted in the hallway.
Tunde backed into the room, eyes darting for something to use as a weapon. He grabbed a broken bottle. The shadow lingered, then retreated. The door closed quietly.
Silence.
Tunde waited several tense seconds before rushing to the window. He peered out into the rain-soaked street. A black SUV sat idling near the gate, headlights off.
He ducked back quickly, heart racing. Whoever had been in the flat was still watching.
---
By morning, there was no sign of Kehinde. The neighbors claimed they hadn't seen him return last night. The gateman, when questioned, swore he had dozed off during the rainstorm.
Tunde knew something terrible had happened. His brother wasn't just missing—he had been taken.
At his own apartment later that day, he locked the door and plugged in the flash drive. A folder named Eagle's Eye appeared. Inside were documents, photos, and a short video.
The documents listed strange transactions—millions of naira funneled into shell companies. The photos showed familiar faces: wealthy politicians, business tycoons, even a Lagos state commissioner.
But the video was worse.
Grainy, shaky footage of a ritual. Hooded men surrounding a fire, chanting. In the center, a figure bound and gagged. The camera zoomed briefly on one of the hooded men as he lifted his mask.
Tunde gasped.
It was Chief Oduwole, one of the most powerful businessmen in Lagos.
Suddenly, a message flashed across Tunde's laptop screen. He hadn't typed anything.
STOP DIGGING OR YOU'RE NEXT.
Tunde slammed the laptop shut, pulse thundering in his ears. His brother had vanished into the shadows of Lagos, and now, those same shadows were coming for him.
To be continued