Continued from: An Ace For Oscar Part 1
And by another sheer dint of good fortune, I managed to drive us all to our location without any glitch. While I tried to find a parking space for the car, Mr Dada had dragged the girl out and forced her into the house. By the time I finished parking the vehicle, the girl had been tied in a chair and locked in another room. We—Mr. Dada and I—sat on a chair and planned the next action. And as usual, he presided over everything. I wasn’t even sure if he needed me anymore; the girl had been successfully kidnapped, my job was basically over. Still, he would not hear that I was leaving. He treated me as if he had dominion over my life.
The time was around 8pm when he picked up his phone and called the girl’s father. He put the call on speakerphone so that I could hear. Then he placed the phone on the table.
“Hello. Am I speaking with Mr. Oputa?” Mr Dada said.
“Yes, Mr Oputa speaking. How may I help you?”
Mr Dada laughed at the question and said, “I honesty believe you are the person who needs the help. Please hold on, I want you to speak with someone.” He picked up the phone and unlocked the door of the room where the girl was kept. Her mouth was gagged with a thin cloth. Her eyes were already swollen from crying. She now looked disheveled, all thanks to Dada. Behind her was a bed that had its sheet cover it entirely. The sheet even draped to the floor of the room. There was an oil painting of a nude Abacha over the bed, one hand hiding his privates, the other raised in a military salute. An apple showed in the background. There was a faint scent of disinfectant in the air.
“Your father would like to hear your voice.” He said unkindly. He moved the phone close to her mouth.
There was a brief moment of silence. Then she spoke to the phone, “Daddy?”
“Ana, is that you?” Her father asked. I couldn’t help but detect the tremor in the billionaire’s voice. “Where are you? Who is the person that called me?”
“I don’t know, Daddy! I think I’m being kidnapped, Daddy! They’re doing terrible things to me! Daddy, I’m scared. I think they’re going to—” Mr Dada terminated the call. Then he locked the door behind us as we left the room.
“Why did you cancel the call?” I asked.
“That would show the man that we meant business.”
“Of course he knows we mean business. We kidnapped his daughter, remember?”
“If I hadn’t cut that call, he would be calling our bluff and threatening us with imprisonment and stuff like that.”
“Surely, he’s going to call the number and actually threaten us now. He could have even given the number to the police. We could be in serious trouble.”
“Negative,” answered Mr. Dada, “he would never be able to connect with the number because, one, the number would appear PRIVATE on his phone. Even if he were able to discover the number, he would still not be able to connect. You see, this number is a very special one. I had it specially made and tweaked. It’s totally untraceable. I paid a hundred thousand naira for this SIM card. He might not even have any record of receiving this call on his call log. We’re perfectly secure. Just put your mind at rest.”