By Larry SUN (larrysundynasty@gmail.com)
It is not every day a man in a black mask approaches you and offers you a million naira to deliver a package. That was exactly my experience. I didn’t take him seriously at first until he demanded for my account details and sent half a million naira to me.
All I had to do was simple. I just had to move a package from Point A to Point B. How hard could that be? The mysterious guy in mask collected my phone number and assured me that the instructions would be sent to my phone. I watched in awe as the short-masked man limped away.
I received the instructions via WhatsApp that night. I was to be at Maryland bus-stop by 10:00am prompt. A certain Mr. Thomas would give me a package to deliver to Mr. Azuka at a certain address in Ikeja.
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I was standing at the precise location at 10am the next day when a man I recognized from the photographs sent to me approached me and handed me a small travel-bag.
“Remember, do not open the package!” he warned before disappearing among the crowd.
I grabbed the bag firmly and boarded the next available bus. I was in Ikeja in half an hour. But I still had to take a bike from Ikeja bus-stop to the site of delivery.
A hand suddenly snatched the bag as I waited. I quickly turned around and beheld a short man in black clothes making away with the bag. As he ran, I noticed that he was limping. I took chase immediately. I ran after the thief as I had never done before. Realising that I was catching up, the bolting villain turned a corner and dropped the bag before he disappeared across the bend. I had no reason to pursue further since the bag had been dropped.
I boarded a bike to the final location. I couldn’t wait to make the delivery and collect my balance. I was beyond shocked when the motorcyclist dropped me in front of a police-station. He claimed it was the address I gave him. I slowly dismounted from the bike and wondered why a police-station would be chosen as the point of delivery.
“What do you want, Oga?” Two armed policemen walked up to me.
“I was asked to deliver this bag to someone,” I replied politely, looking around for Mr. Azuka. He didn’t seem to be around.
“A bag?” the men exchanged glances. “Who were you asked to deliver it to?”
“One Mr. Azuka,” I answered. I could feel a trickle of cold sweat run down my spine.
“I am Officer Azuka,” replied the taller policeman. But this man had no resemblance whatsoever with the one in the photograph I was sent.
“Open the bag.” The other officer ordered.
“I was told not to open the package.” I sounded stupid.
“My friend, open the bag!” The man barked.
I slowly bent down and unzipped the bag. What it contained was hideous. There was a human head, bloody and awful, balanced in the bag. There was a mask covering the face. It was the same mask worn by the man who had approached me.
The policemen aimed their guns at me immediately. “Remove the mask!” Other officers had joined them.
My hands shook as I gently pried off the mask.
The man behind the mask was the same man whose picture was sent to me: Officer Azuka.
*Larry Sun (+2349061754872) writes from Ikorodu, Lagos
