Deputy Superintendent of Police, Sam Otuma, was on one of his off-days, which is to say something very unpleasant was lurking and dripping under his armpits. It was not pleasant at all to be sweating out in the sun this Saturday afternoon when he would love to be with his colleagues at the Okay Classic Bar devouring free beer.
"Shine your eyes o, officers," he shouted to his men, more sweat brewing under his armpits. "If we lose that criminal today, you're done for."
Tony-Too-Good is the new kid on the bloc in dare-devil robbery in Benin City now. For quite sometime the police had been on his trail with little evidence to nail him, but they always knew their men.
Two days ago a bank was held up in a chilling two hour raid by men of the underworld, and they got out clean with everything in the vault. Tony-Too-Good was fingered as the mastermind of the operation, and the dogs went after him. Just some hours ago he surface around this side of town, and the police, under the command of veteran criminal-catcher, DSP Sam Otuma, had cordoned off the entire Sakponba quartres.
If the thief slips through, he would be gone forever, Otuma was sure. He suddenly felt a sense of urgency, and began to march towards his men with fire in his eyes. He had forgotten Okay Bar.
What changed Otuma's temperament was a rememberance of a slip five years ago when the leader of the black Jews armed robbery syndicate, Tommy Blackfinger, escaped even under his watchful eyes, and was never found again. He lost his opportunity to become a full superintendent because of that professional mishap. He would never forget it, and if he ever finds Tommy - a remote possibility - he knew, but if he ever finds him, that would be the climax of his career.
A crowd was gathering by the junction ahead of him. He turned swiftly to the spot and took in the scene. A dark sleek toyota celica was quaking with the force of a lurching beast as music poured out of it. The bubbling head at the back seat was locked in some argument with two of his men. Suddenly one of the policemen lunged at the side of the car and the door came off.
The bubbling head climed out with menacing slowness, and the policemen saw and understood the threat, they corked their guns, ready to set off a hale of bullets into the bastard civilian if he tries anything ignoble.
"Stop there, bastard," one of the policemen barked. But Tommy was going to lurch at him, and Otuma Knew that it would be a fatal mistake. He moved fast.
"Stop," he said, to no one in particular.
Bubbling head raised his head, and just then Otuma stopped dead in his track - it's the legendary Tommy Blackfinger!
Otuma spun round, did a native dance step and composed himself in a prayer attitude.
"Now lettest thou thy servant retire in peace," he said, his face lifted resplendently to the heavens.