Chapter One

On a hectic Monday morning, Mr. Oscar, a mathematics teacher at St. Francis College, Benin City, walked out of his classroom drenched in sweat.

The noise of excited students followed him into the corridor. He loosened his tie and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. His head was pounding badly, as though someone were striking the inside of his skull with a hammer.

He had barely slept the previous night.

A drinking session with some old friends had lasted far longer than he had planned, and the bottles of beer he had consumed had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now, however, he deeply regretted every drop.

His hangover was terrible.

Yet he had forced himself to come to work.

Oscar knew the principal would not tolerate his absence, especially on a Monday morning when teachers were expected to be in their classrooms preparing students for the week.

He staggered into the staff room and dropped heavily into his chair.

For a few seconds, he simply sat there with his eyes closed.

Then he opened his drawer, searched through it, and found a packet of painkillers. He removed two tablets, reached for his bottle of water, and swallowed them.

He leaned back and sighed.

"What am I doing to myself?" he muttered.

He looked at the clock on the wall.

There were still several hours before the school day would end.

The thought alone made his headache worse.

Oscar knew that if he approached the principal and asked for permission to leave, the answer would probably be no.

The principal was a strict man.

Unless Oscar was lying unconscious in a hospital bed, he doubted he would be allowed to leave simply because of a headache and a hangover.

"Coffee," he whispered.

Perhaps a strong cup of coffee would help.

He was about to send one of the younger teachers to buy him a cup when his phone suddenly rang.

Oscar frowned.

He glanced at the screen.

Then his expression changed.

"Osas?"

A smile slowly spread across his face.

It was his childhood friend.

The same Osas who had joined the Nigerian Army shortly after they graduated from the university.

Oscar answered the call immediately.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?"

"At school."

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

Oscar sat upright.

"You're in Benin?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"I'll explain when I arrive."

The line went dead.

Oscar stared at his phone.

Something about Osas's voice had unsettled him.

They had been friends for years, and Oscar knew when something was wrong.

Twenty minutes later, a dark vehicle stopped in front of the school gate.

Oscar's phone rang again.

"Come outside."

He walked out and saw Osas waiting for him.

For a moment, the two men simply stared at each other.

Osas looked different.

He was still physically fit, but there was something in his eyes that Oscar had never seen before.

Exhaustion.

Anger.

And perhaps fear.

Oscar entered the vehicle.

"Osa, I must admit I'm surprised to see you," he said as they drove away. "Shouldn't you be at the war front fighting insurgents?"

Osas remained silent for several seconds.

"I was," he finally replied. "Until three days ago."

Oscar turned toward him.

"What happened?"

"Our counter-terrorism unit was ambushed on Kukasak Road."

Oscar's eyes widened.

"Wait... you mean you were among those soldiers?"

Osas nodded.

"According to the news, nobody survived that attack."

"There were no survivors," Osas said quietly.

He paused.

"Except me."

Oscar stared at him.

"You survived?"

"I escaped."

"How?"

Osas gripped the steering wheel tighter.

"I ran."

The words hung heavily between them.

Oscar's expression hardened.

"You ran?"

"Yes."

"When your men were being attacked?"

Osas swallowed.

"We were outgunned, Oscar. Completely outgunned. They had weapons we couldn't match. Our ammunition was running out, our commander was dead, and several of my colleagues were already down."

He took a deep breath.

"I realized that if I stayed, I would die too."

Oscar frowned.

"The military has a name for that."

"I know."

"Desertion."

Osas gave a bitter smile.

"And they don't treat deserters kindly."

Oscar remained silent.

"What happened after you escaped?"

"I was arrested."

Oscar turned sharply.

"I spent twenty-four hours in detention. They were preparing to court-martial me."

"Then how are you here?"

"Luck."

Osas's voice became colder.

"The President's Special Adviser on Security visited the base. Somehow, he learned about my case. He spoke with the commanders and convinced them not to proceed with the trial."

Oscar exhaled.

"So you're free?"

"Not exactly."

Osas glanced at him.

"They dishonourably discharged me."

Oscar shook his head sadly.

"I'm sorry, my friend."

"Don't be."

There was bitterness in Osas's voice.

"I've already accepted it."

They drove through the busy streets of Benin City.

For several minutes, neither man spoke.

Then Osas suddenly smiled.

"I have a business proposal."

Oscar raised an eyebrow.

"What kind of business?"

"One that will change our lives forever."

Oscar laughed softly.

"Coming from you, that sounds dangerous."

"It is."

Oscar's laughter disappeared.

He studied his friend carefully.

Osas had always known exactly how to get him into trouble.

From childhood, they had been partners in mischief. At university, they had survived countless adventures together. Oscar had always possessed a brilliant mind and an unusual ability to think under pressure.

But there was something else Osas remembered about him.

Oscar loved adventure.

Especially the kind that other people considered too dangerous.

That was why Osas had come to him.

He needed someone intelligent.

Someone fearless.

Someone he could trust completely.

And he needed that person now.

Osas had served his country faithfully, risking his life countless times.

Yet when things went wrong, the military had discarded him.

He refused to spend the rest of his life carrying the shame of being a dishonourably discharged soldier.

There was also his fiancée in Kumasi.

He had promised her that one day he would return to Ghana and give her the life she deserved.

He could not return as a poor, disgraced former soldier.

He would return wealthy.

Very wealthy.

And if there was one thing his years in the army had taught him, it was that fortune sometimes belonged to those willing to take the greatest risks.

Osas glanced at Oscar.

"I need your help."

Oscar studied him.

"Help with what?"

Osas smiled.

But he did not answer immediately.

Instead, he increased the speed of the vehicle.

"I'll tell you when we get somewhere private."

Oscar's curiosity grew.

"What exactly are you planning?"

Osas finally looked at him.

"Something that could make us rich."

He paused.

"Or get us killed."

Oscar stared at him.

For the first time that morning, his headache seemed to disappear.

He knew his friend well enough to understand one thing.

Osas was not joking.

And whatever he was about to propose would change both their lives forever.