Killing Abacha

Soldiers with black faces and long guns dotted the road leading to the presidential villa, though they chatted with each other you could sense the focus and alertness in their demeanor. It was obvious it would take a war to breach the security securing the Head of State.

Two soldiers were already waiting to pick them up at the airport, promptly whisking them away immediately they entered the arrival lounge to a clean Peugeot 504 pan. No introductions were made, not a word was uttered between the parties. The soldiers already had pictures of the two beautiful young girls who had not been difficult to spot among the throng of people who had arrived with Emirates airline flight 337 from Dubai to Nigeria which mostly consisted of middle aged men and a good number of Asian families.

It was Saanvi’s third trip to Nigeria and she appeared more at ease than Anika who was making her first trip. The latter offered terse replies as her friend chirped away in Sanskrit. The soldiers who were riding in the front seat were quiet most of the car ride. They soon got to the huge gates of the presidential villa, the huge rock looming in the horizon. Two thick armored vehicles were parked on each side of the gate with a coordinated number of gun-wielding soldiers. The car submitted to the customary trunk inspection and perfunctory bomb check though it had been barely two hours since the Peugeot left for the airport but protocols were protocols. The soldiers nodded at each other, exchanging brief words before the electronic gates slid open and they drove through.

The presidential compound was palatial, manicured hedges lined the neat tarmac. It was evident that colossal effort was put into maintenance. They drove for close to a minute before diverting to a narrow stretch that led to the guest lodge. A neat duplex painted pristine white. The soldiers parked, helped the girls with their light luggage then led them to a cozy well furnished room on the ground floor. One of the soldiers told them to feel comfortable that a steward was coming to attend to their every need, he gesticulated wildly as he talked probably thinking the girls were not fluent in English or maybe he was not so fluent himself and opted to drive his point home with his hands. Both girls could school him in the Queen’s language.

Anika had an ulterior motive for being in Nigeria, a do or die affair. It was actually more complicated than that, her success did not determine her survival. Everything had to be perfectly timed in other to go smoothly. The level of security in the villa was overwhelming and was already sending chills down her spine. Besides that, she faced one major conundrum, to let Saanvi in on the operation or not. That alone could jeopardize the whole movement. What if she tells and Saanvi eventually chickens out or makes a bad move that will spell trouble. For now, she was going to keep it to herself, she was only going to let Saanvi know if the circumstances got dire.

She had met Saanvi six weeks ago in Dubai, to Saanvi it might had been a chance meeting but to Anika it was an orchestrated meeting. Saanvi had been happily bragging to the other girls about how she had lain with the Nigerian Head of State on an all expense paid trip plus fifteen thousand dollars in cash for services well rendered. Anika had quickly added that she had also been with a leader; the president of Rwanda and had direct access to his private telephone. Soon the two girls were swapping presidential stories much to the chagrin of the other girls. A friendship developed with promises of tag along visits to the prominent leaders. An experienced menage a trois would be most welcome by the powerful men.

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Anika was a member of an elite assassin squad known as the SOFO-V which offered their services to high end clients who were capable of acquiring their services which did not come cheaply. Efficiency was paramount to the SOFO-V. Three months ago they had been contracted by an anonymous group who wanted the Nigerian Head of State assassinated by any means necessary. The assassins squad were getting used to killing leaders. Two of them in as many years. One in Asia, another in Africa. Reports had it that the Nigerian elections was slated to be held that August with a view of transitioning from a military government to civilian rule. It was apparent that General Abacha had no intents of conducting a free and fair election as he had already strong-armed and bullied the five political parties in Nigeria into endorsing him as their sole presidential candidate. No wonder the group was jittery and needed the General assassinated by any means necessary.

The SOFO-V went to work on how best to eliminate their target, eight million dollars wired to a Swiss account was well worth the stress. It was now left for them to find out the best way to carry out the assignment which was not going to be an easy one. The General was heavily guarded 24/7 by hordes of soldiers, the powers of the military. It was obvious that the use of force or infiltration would be a long shot destined almost for a sure failure. The efficient assassination method of the use of an experienced marksman to snipe the Head of state was almost impossible. The General limited himself to the least public exposure as possible and whenever it was inevitable his goons combed the scene and environs vigorously, also mounting watch over any vantage position a sniper could exploit. One way or another there was bound to be a loophole and SOFO-V were waiting to pounce.

Through extensive intelligence gathered, the General had a penchant for prostitutes, young Asian beauties barely out of their teens. Indians preferably. It was obvious that he did not feel safe with his country whores so he preferred importing them. The routine was simply. An aide showed the General a picture of the hottest Asian prostitutes in Dubai for him to make a pick about once every month. He rotated the girls to avoid unforeseen occurrences but having different faces troop in and out the villa many times a year was equally risky, so he mostly recycled the girls, always making sure no security protocol was breached in entering the villa.

It was on the second night of their visit that the General finally had their time. Two soldiers came to knock on their door some minutes before midnight. The girls had been well taken care of by the steward who was assigned to be at their beck and call. In less than thirty eight hours in the presidential guest villa the girls had gained a few pounds. The soldiers instructed them to dress as flimsy as possible while they waited outside the door. In less than two minutes, the girls were ready to see the General.

They were led to the presidential mansion, they passed through well-lit corridors adorned with sparkling chandeliers, exquisite furniture, vintage artworks and bric-a-brac lining the walls till they got to a room on the east wing with two soldiers positioned as sentries. They were frisked thoroughly by the sentry soldiers who enjoyed every bit of subtly poking the foreign girls in private places with a smirk on their faces. Saanvi smiled sheepishly at Anika to assure her it was normal procedure, having gone through the same bashful frisking on her previous visits.

The General was in his fifties, a man of average height with a slight pot belly, he did not appear physically to be in shape but it was evident he had strength in his body through years of military training. A little light skinned for someone who was from the northern part of Nigeria, he had a face that would’ve been called handsome in his younger years, good white teeth in a fleshy clean-shaven face. Long tribal marks ran down his cheeks giving him a somewhat menacing and ominous look.

Anika was expecting a dictator with a hard countenance but the General was a man of smiles or maybe he was just that way in complimentary situations. The room was obviously reserved for his sex escapades. Dim lightning, soft plush bed, erotic paintings and a host of other arousing sexual paraphernalia. They soon got down to business. The General proved to be apt in his ways around his girls but Anika could not let herself get distracted, she had a mission at hand. When she was sure the General was carried away and into the pleasures of the flesh, she went to the tall refrigerator beside the bed and was welcomed with an array of refreshments. This was her chance, she had to make the General take something from her. The General might easily decline liquids. She had an idea. She brought out a healthy apple from the refrigerator, then she surreptitiously slid out a tiny tube of Ricin concealed in her hair and carefully rubbed it all over the apple, she had to be careful too lest she falls prey to the highly potent poison. In a seeming act of lust and pleasure, she fed the General chunks of the apple who received them with all smiles. Smiling to his grave she thought.

The Ricin would definitely kill him as their was no known antidote, it was a safe method because they would probably be out of the country before the symptoms began exhibiting. The General had a maximum of three days to live.

She was sipping Pina-colada in Malibu when she heard of the Generals death on CNN.

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