The Price of a SergeantWhile Senator Otunba's political machinery was moving like a well-oiled engine in high-brow Abuja offices, Adekunle was currently learning how to speak to mosquitoes in the dark."Senior, please... the water from the ceiling is dropping on my head," Adekunle whimpered from his damp corner, his voice sounding like a deflated balloon.His multi-million Naira designer shirt was now brown from sweat and grime. One of his eyes was swollen from a mosquito bite that looked like a small local pear.The Cell Chairman, still sitting on his concrete throne, didn't even look at him. He was busy chewing on a piece of local beef that one of the wardens had secretly smuggled in for him."If that water drop on your head again, tell am make e stop," the Chairman muttered casually. "Or you wan make I go arrest the ceiling for you?"The entire cell erupted into a chorus of wicked, mocking laughter. Adekunle closed his eyes, weeping silently. He had never prayed for daylight so much in his entire life.Meanwhile, miles away in a hidden VIP room of a local restaurant, the chess pieces were being moved.Corporal Sunday, the police officer whom Adekunle had brutally beaten on camera, sat nervously at a table. His uniform was neat, but his heart was beating like a standard generator. Sitting across from him was a man in a flawless agbada, holding a briefcase."Corporal Sunday," the man in the agbada smiled, opening the briefcase just enough for the officer to see stacks of crisp, mint-green Naira notes. "Life is a stage. And right now, you are the main actor."Sunday swallowed hard, his eyes glued to the cash. "Sir, the video is everywhere. My colleagues are cheering me. If I back down now, I am a traitor to the force.""A traitor with fifty million Naira, Sunday," the man corrected smoothly, sliding a document across the table. "Plus an automatic promotion to Sergeant, signed from the Abuja headquarters. And a three-bedroom apartment in a gated estate. You can retire your old police barracks life today."Sunday looked at the document. He looked at the cash. He thought about his leaky roof at the barracks and how his wife always complained about the price of food. His patriotism evaporated within two seconds."So... what do you want me to do, sir?" Sunday asked, his voice suddenly full of deep respect."Simple," the man in the agbada grinned, pulling out a high-end smartphone. "We are going to record a new video. You will tell the world that the first video was a scene from a Nollywood movie you and Chief Solomon's son were acting in to raise awareness about police-youth relationships. You will say the internet edited it out of context."Back in the cell, the heavy iron door suddenly banged open. The morning light pierced through, blinding Adekunle's red eyes.The DPO walked in, followed by two officers. He looked at Adekunle with a mixture of disgust and hidden amusement."Adekunle Solomon, stand up," the DPO commanded.Adekunle scrambled to his feet so fast he almost tripped over himself. "Papa? Is my papa here?!""Your papa is a very busy man," the DPO said coldly, tossing a cheap pair of rubber bathroom slippers at Adekunle's bare feet. "Put those on. You are being transferred to the State Headquarters for 'further questioning'."As Adekunle hurried out of the cell, the Chairman called out to him from the dark. "Chief pikin! Safe journey o! If your papa vex for you again, our VIP lounge always open for you!"Adekunle did not look back. He ran out of that block like a man escaping from hell, completely unaware that outside the station, the internet was about to witness the biggest plot twist
