Year: 1884
In Lagos, Vice-Consul James Morton reviewed the latest intelligence reports.
"The Benin situation is becoming concerning." He spread photographs across his desk--blurred images taken from a distance. Men in formation. Structures that might be training grounds. "Our informants report military activity that goes beyond traditional preparations."
"How reliable are these informants?" Captain Shaw sat across from him, his military eye scanning the photographs.
"Mixed. The direct sources--Osaro's network--are good but limited in access. The peripheral sources give us fragments." Morton tapped one image. "This was taken three weeks ago. Rifle drills. Not our rifles--locally manufactured."
"They're making their own weapons?"
"Apparently. The quality is unknown, but the volume is concerning." Morton pulled out another document. "Production estimates suggest several hundred rifles. Perhaps a thousand within the year."
Shaw whistled softly. "That's an army."
"That's a problem." Morton stood, moving to the wall map. "Benin sits at the heart of the Niger Delta region. If they consolidate control over the Itsekiri, the Ijaw, the Urhobo--they become a regional power we can't simply pressure into treaties."
"What do you recommend?"
"Accelerated timeline. We need to move before they're ready."
---
The message arrived at the forge three days later.
"From our contacts in Lagos." Osarobo handed over the decoded text. "The British are sending a special agent. Arriving within the month. Purpose: assessment of Benin's military capabilities."
Akenzua read the message twice. "They're not waiting for Berlin."
"They're preparing their own intervention. The agent will report directly to the Foreign Office."
"What do we know about him?"
"Very little. Name is Gallwey. Colonial service experience. Speaks multiple African languages." Osarobo's voice was grim. "He's not coming to negotiate. He's coming to measure."
One month. The British would have eyes inside Benin within one month--professional eyes that would see past the deceptions they'd constructed.
"We need to accelerate training. And hide what we can't accelerate."
"We can't hide everything. The forge, maybe. But the training grounds? The men themselves?"
"Then we give him something else to see. Something that makes us look weaker than we are."
---
The first cohort had transformed.
Akenzua watched from the observation platform as fifty men executed maneuvers that would have been impossible six months ago. Formation shifts. Covering fire patterns. Coordinated advances.
"Ready! Aim! FIRE!"
The volley was crisp. Seventeen of twenty targets showed hits.
Sergeant Okafor approached. "The men are ready, my lord. What they need now is combat experience."
"They'll get it soon enough." Akenzua's eyes remained on the drill. "How quickly can we reduce visible activity?"
"Reduce?"
"A British agent is coming. He'll try to assess our capabilities. I want him to see a kingdom preparing for defense--not an army preparing for conquest."
Okafor considered. "We can move the advanced training to the secondary site. Keep only basic drills visible here."
"Do it. And select your best men for... special assignment."
"What kind of assignment?"
"The kind that happens far from British eyes."
---
Morton met with Henderson at the trading post that evening.
"Your contacts in Benin. Can they provide more specific intelligence?"
Henderson--the trader who had been quietly gathering information for years--nodded carefully. "Possibly. But the prince has been tightening security. My best source was killed three months ago."
"Killed?"
"Officially, an accident at a workshop. Unofficially..." Henderson shrugged. "They're cleaning house. Anyone connected to outside interests is being watched or eliminated."
"What about the council vote? I heard they suspended the prince's military activities."
"The vote was largely symbolic. The prince controls the actual operations. The council can vote whatever they like--the weapons program continues regardless."
Morton made notes. "And the expansion plans? The territories they're targeting?"
"Warri first. The Itsekiri are vulnerable--their Olu is aging, the succession is disputed. Benin has legitimate claims through royal bloodlines."
"Can we disrupt that?"
"We're trying. But the prince has been building relationships for two years. Our entry is late."
---
Esohe brought the suggestion that evening.
"The British agent will be looking for our strength. What if we show him our weakness instead?"
"Explain."
"Staged exercises. Drills that go wrong. Equipment that fails. Officers who argue in public." She spread papers on the table--mock reports, fabricated disagreements. "We feed their informants a picture of dysfunction. A kingdom trying to modernize but failing."
"That's dangerous. If they believe we're weak, they might accelerate their intervention."
"Or they might wait. Why rush to conquer a kingdom that's collapsing on its own?" Her eyes were sharp. "The British prefer acquisition through treaty. It's cheaper, cleaner, more defensible to Parliament. If they think Benin will fall into their hands without a fight, they'll offer treaties instead of gunboats."
"And while they're negotiating treaties we never intend to sign..."
"We continue building. Training. Preparing for the day the treaties fail and the guns come out."
Akenzua studied the documents. False intelligence was a double-edged weapon. Feed the enemy lies, and they might make decisions that backfired. But if they discovered the deception, they'd know you were dangerous enough to deceive.
"We do it carefully. Partial truths mixed with strategic lies. Enough real problems to be believable."
---
The accident happened three days later.
A rifle misfired during advanced drill. The barrel split. Metal fragments tore through the face of the man holding it.
Osadolor--the warrior who had questioned honor by the river. Who had learned to embrace the new ways. Who had become one of their best soldiers.
He died within the hour. The healer couldn't stop the bleeding.
Akenzua stood over the body, his face carved from stone.
"The rifle?" Igue asked.
"Flawed barrel. A casting defect we missed during inspection." Igue's voice was heavy with guilt. "We've been pushing production too fast. Quality suffers."
"One man dead. Because we were trying to arm an army faster than we could do safely."
"He won't be the last." Igue met his eyes. "If we slow production, we might not have enough weapons when the British come. If we maintain speed, more men die from our own mistakes."
There was no good answer.
"His family?"
"Will be cared for. But..." Igue hesitated. "The other men saw it. They're rattled. Some are talking about the weapons being cursed."
"Then we address it directly. Tomorrow. At formation."
---
Agent Gallwey arrived two weeks early.
Osarobo's network spotted him at the coast--a tall man with sharp eyes who asked too many questions and listened too carefully to the answers.
"He's moving faster than expected," Osarobo reported. "He'll reach Benin City within the week."
"Is everything in place?"
"The staged exercises are ready. The informants have been fed conflicting information. When he arrives, he'll see exactly what we want him to see."
The deception unfolded smoothly.
Gallwey observed training sessions that fell apart. He saw officers arguing about tactics. He spoke with informants who complained about inadequate equipment and unclear leadership.
He wrote extensive notes.
"Your assessment?" Morton asked when Gallwey returned to Lagos.
"They're trying to modernize. Failing badly. The prince has vision but lacks the institutional capacity to execute it." Gallwey set down his report. "I recommend continued observation but no immediate action. The kingdom will likely destabilize on its own within five years."
The false intelligence had worked.
For now.
---
But the deception created its own danger.
"Gallwey's report is circulating in Lagos," Osarobo reported. "The assessment says we're weak. That intervention isn't necessary."
"That's what we wanted."
"Yes. But..." Osarobo hesitated. "Some of our own people believe it too. Chiefs who opposed the council vote are pointing to Gallwey's assessment as proof that modernization is failing."
"Osaro is using our own deception against us."
"He's using what everyone can see--the staged failures, the apparent dysfunction. He doesn't know it's staged. Neither do the chiefs who are losing confidence."
The trap of successful deception. Convince your enemies you're weak, and your allies might believe it too.
"We need a visible victory," Esohe said. "Something that shows strength without revealing our true capabilities."
"The northern raiders," Akenzua said slowly. "They've been harassing the border villages again. A punitive expedition--using traditional methods publicly, modern methods privately--would demonstrate capability without exposing everything."
"And give the men combat experience."
"And honor Osadolor's memory. Show that his death led to victory, not retreat."
The false intelligence had bought them time.
Now they had to use that time wisely.
Before the British realized they'd been deceived.