THE GHOSTS OF IFE
PrimeVistas Advisors
Victoria Island
9:15 a.m
Sonia leaned against the edge of John’s cubicle, arms folded tightly across her chest, her manicured nails tapping an impatient rhythm on her sleeve.
“Tell me you found something useful, John. I don’t have all day.”
John glanced nervously around the empty office before sliding a printed sheet across the desk. His voice was barely above a whisper.
“Took me until 3 a.m., but yes. Old campus article from 2010, The OAU Eye. I found a front page coverage of a cult clash between some cult factions right outside Moremi Hall. The name there is Seyi Adeyemi. They called him an enforcer. He disappeared from campus shortly after the fight. No clear photos, just a blurry group shot where he is facing sideways instead of at the camera.” John’s voice took on a note of exasperation. “But please, note the difference in first names.
“But you said it is the same set and same department.”
John nodded. “Yes. Economics 2011.”
Sonia snatched the paper, her eyes gleaming with predatory satisfaction as she scanned every line twice. A sharp, satisfied smile curved her lips.
“Seyi Adeyemi. I am sure this is him. I mean, he walks around here like he’s untouchable, but this,” she waved the paper triumphantly like an important piece of history, “this explains why.”
She folded the sheet carefully and kept it balled in her right fist.
“Good job, John. Make sure to keep digging. I need pictures, more school reports, anything at all with his name. This is my lever against that fraud. Don’t mess things up.”
John nodded slowly, unease flickering across his face. Tomide had been nothing but decent to him since he joined the firm. For a moment, he felt a strong urge to call Sonia’s bluff and back out of their dangerous little plot. But he knew he was cornered. Sonia’s influence in the firm ran deep. One wrong move and he would be dusting off his CV, hawking it from Ikeja to Victoria Island with no references.
He sighed heavily, the sound barely audible, and forced his eyes back to the spreadsheet glowing on his screen.
Outside in the corridor, Sonia walked away with a light, excited sway in her steps, like someone who already knew she had won.
*****************************
PrimeVistas Advisors
Conference Room 3
11:40 a.m.
Tomide stood at the head of the polished table, commanding the attention of the people in the room. He had been chosen as team lead by Mrs Fabiyi to steer the one of firm’s most important client through a period of unprecedented market turbulence.
His team of analysts, associates, and two senior managers watched him attentively as he clicked through the client portfolio slides. The projector hummed softly, casting crisp charts and graphs across the far wall.
“The oil sector exposure needs urgent rebalancing,” he said, voice steady and measured. “We cut fifteen percent from downstream assets immediately and pivot that capital into the gas value chain and midstream infrastructure, specifically CNG/LPG distribution, gas processing facilities, and petroleum storage terminals. Projections show a twenty two percent upside in the next eighteen months if we move now.”
He paused, letting the slide transition to a risk heat map.
“Mrs Fabiyi made it clear. This client represents thirty-eight percent of our discretionary AUM. We deliver alpha here, or we lose the mandate. Questions?”
A junior analyst raised her hand.
“The second jurisdiction just announced stricter ESG compliance rules for foreign oil and gas holdings. Should we accelerate the exit beyond fifteen percent?”
Tomide nodded, a faint smile of approval touching his lips.
“Smart catch, Sarah. Let’s push it to twenty percent and rerun the full scenario analysis, factoring in gas to power tie ins and terminal capacity expansions, before close of business.”
He advanced to the next slide, a detailed bar chart comparing projected returns. As he turned slightly to gesture at the screen, his peripheral vision caught movement through the glass wall.
Down the corridor, Sonia and John stood close together, heads bent conspiratorially over a tablet.
John’s demeanor was tense and guarded, shoulders slightly hunched, in contrast to Sonia’s which was unusually bright and animated. She spoke a few more times, gesturing with quiet excitement, then they separated. John walked briskly towards the lift while Sonia headed back toward her office, a small smile playing on her lips.
Tomide’s grip on the laser pointer tightened imperceptibly.
They found a thread.
The realization settled in his chest. It was not panic, but a cold, calculated awareness. The game had accelerated. He masked everything behind a calm, professional smile, turning smoothly back to his team.
“Any questions on the allocation strategy?” he asked, voice unchanged.
One analyst raised a hand. “What about regulatory exposure in the gas space?”
Tomide addressed the concern effortlessly, fielding follow ups with precision while his mind raced ahead. He had seen enough. Sonia was closing in. They had not spoken since their lunch the last time. He looked down at his wristwatch.
Lunch break was only a few minutes away.
******************************
Coffee Room
2:05 p.m.
Sonia pushed open the door to the coffee room, her heels echoing on the tiled floor. The familiar, comforting scent of coffee and herbal tea wrapped around her. She needed her usual Twinnings Earl Grey.
Tomide was already there, leaning casually against the marble counter, his broad shoulders filling out his tailored navy shirt. He was laughing, a deep, genuine laughter, at something the young intern, Timi, had just said. Timi’s eyes sparkled as she gestured, clearly basking in his attention.
Sonia’s jaw tightened. She ignored Timi’s bright, respectful greeting.
“I emailed you another batch of documents fifteen minutes ago,” she told the intern, her face devoid of expression or courtesy.”Please print them. I need them in ten minutes.”
Timi blinked, confusion flashing across her face.
“But ma, I have finished them. They’re on your desk…”
“I just sent more,” Sonia said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Handle it now. Please don’t make me repeat myself.”
Timi hesitated for a beat, then turned to Tomide with a shy, hopeful smile.
“Don’t forget my invitation. It will be nice if you came.” She gave a small wave at him. Turned to Sonia with a more cautious smile.
“I will print them now, Ma.”
She hurried out immediately, the door swinging shut behind her.
The room fell into heavy silence. Sonia gave Tomide a curt, barely perceptible nod.
“I need to take a tea bag.” She linked her fingers before her and stated the obvious in a scathing tone. “It’s in the cupboard above your head, to the right.”
Tomide held her gaze, silent and brooding. He knew she would come. He knew she would need to reach for the cupboard where the packet of Twinnings was kept. He had been studying her little habits and had positioned himself directly between the open shelves and the small high table with its four chairs, blocking the easiest path.
She waited. He waited. She opened her mouth to ask again and just then, he shifted barely an inch to his left. It wasn’t enough. Just as he had intended.
Sonia pressed her lips into a thin line, refusing to ask again or show weakness. She squeezed past him, her body forced into the narrow gap. Her arm brushed firmly against his chest as she reached upward for the box of tea sachets.
She grabbed one. As she pulled back, her breasts pressed unmistakably against his chest, a soft, warm, unavoidable contact that sent an electric jolt through her. She froze mid motion, their faces inches apart. Her eyes locked onto his. For a heartbeat, time stretched. His gaze dropped deliberately, slowly, to where her body had touched him, tracing the curve of her breasts before rising back to meet her shocked stare.
Heat flooded Sonia’s body, shock, unwanted awareness, and something darker twisting low in her belly. She stepped back sharply, nearly stumbling, clutching the tea sachet like a shield. Without another word, she spun on her heel and fled the room, heart pounding violently against her ribs.
****************************
Tomide’s Office
3:20 p.m.
Alone in his office, door locked, lights dimmed, Tomide sat in his leather chair with perfect stillness. Eyes closed, breath deep and rhythmic. The meditation goal was crystalline.
Make Sonia lower her guard completely.
In his mind’s eye, he stood at her apartment door on Keffi Street, holding a sleek black box of premium seventy percent dark chocolate, her secret favorite indulgence.
She opened the door, surprise widening her eyes.
“How did you know it’s my favorite?”
He smiled, warm and disarming.
“Lucky guess… or maybe I pay closer attention than you think.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she stepped aside and let him in.
Inside, he moved slowly, studying her space.
He put details to the image.
Elegant sofas, carefully chosen art on the walls, the neat stack of books on a shelf or a stool.
“It suits you,” he said quietly.
The compliment unsettled her visibly. They spoke briefly, surface words that carried deeper currents. When he turned to leave, he reached out and rubbed her upper arm lightly in goodbye, his fingers lingering just a fraction longer than necessary. He felt it clearly through the connection: the storm of conflict inside her, the sharp spike of unwanted desire rising beneath layers of suspicion and fear.
Tomide gently ended the meditation, eyes opening to the quiet of his office. A small, knowing smile touched his lips.
It was working.
***********************
6.00pm
Tomide left his office minutes and walked down the corridor. There she was again with the IT guy, heads bent close over a laptop in a quiet alcove, whispering urgently.
They sprang apart guiltily the moment they saw him approaching. In her flustered hurry, Sonia dropped something. It fluttered to the carpet.
Tomide crouched smoothly, picked it up. It was a folded paper. A light frown on his face, he looked in the direction Sonia had gone. Seconds went by and she did not return for it. He rose to his feet and unfolded the paper. The name stared back at him in bold print.
Seyi Adeyemi.
A violent wave of suppressed memories slammed into him. Blood on cracked pavement under campus streetlights, the metallic taste of fear, sirens cutting through the night, the desperate shedding of an old identity like snakeskin. His jaw clenched hard as he rose, slipping the paper into his pocket. The ghosts were stirring.
****************************
Outside Sonia’s Apartment
Keffi Street, Ikoyi
8:15 p.m.
Sonia opened the door to find Tomide standing there, holding a sleek box of dark chocolate. Surprise rooted her in place.
“How…?”
“Can I come in?” he asked, voice calm and low.
She hesitated, instincts screaming caution, but something, curiosity, the lingering tingle from earlier, made her step aside. Inside, he moved with quiet confidence, eyes tracing her apartment with genuine interest.
He walked from the art she had bought from a friend in Surulere to the shelf where her small collection of books sat.
“It suits you,” he said, his voice clear and surprisingly sincere.
The words landed like a gentle blow, unsettling her more than any insult could. When he turned to leave, his hand rubbed her upper arm lightly in goodbye. The touch was brief, but it sent tingling warmth racing down her side and straight into her core. Sonia stood frozen long after the door clicked shut, off balance, mind reeling with conflicting emotions she refused to name. She leaned against the door, feeling slightly off.
What was that?
What just happened?
******************************
Abule Ijesha
10:30 p.m.
Tomide sat on the bonnet of Seun’s old Corolla, the metal warm beneath him. Razor and his boys stood a few meters away under a weak streetlight, arguing loudly about an English club’s weekend win, voices booming with passion.
He passed Seun a cold can of Heineken Zero, condensation already forming on the sleek green aluminium.
With a sharp metallic psssst, Seun cracked it open, releasing a fine mist of carbonation into the warm air. He tilted the can and took a long sip before turning again to his friend.
“So, what are you going to do?” Seun asked.
Tomide stared ahead into the shadows, past the present, into the ghosts of OAU nights and choices that still echoed. The paper with his old name burned in his pocket.
He took a slow sip from his own can. The teacher’s voice came to him, ancient and clear.
Be still. Know.
He spoke, his own voice calm, resolute, and final.
“I will wait,” He paused a while and added, “I already know how it ends.”
© Umari Ayim.
2026