Episode 7: THE STORY OF TOLA THE UNINTENTIONAL RUNS GIRL.

It was time. Tola had been contacted. Her mission was simple, all she had to do was invite Dapo out to a private club they liked to visit when they had something to celebrate.

When she did, he had been happy to accept her invitation if it meant she had truly accepted him. The car he picked her up with was a high performance Audi. Stolen, she now knew. Throughout the drive, Tola stared out the window, hands on her lap and pretended to listen to him prattle on about the latest car he had gotten for her.

Would she want to see the dealer tomorrow? Of course she wanted to. She turned and gave him her brightest smile just as they arrived at the club.

The door was opened for them as they arrived by an imposing bouncer. He showed them to their table in the VIP section and winked discretely at Tola. She gave an imperceptible nod in his general direction. He was of course a police officer.

Every other person in the building besides them were. Funke had paid off the owner of the club, there was to be a private party, they’d been told. She was Funke Oni after all, who would dare refuse to have her in their establishment? Money had exchanged hands, the place had emptied in minutes as delighted employees reveled at the rare chance for a paid night off.

A waiter came to deliver menus displaying the night’s selection of drinks and food. Dapo, oblivious to the trap that had been set for him continued to talk about everything and nothing as he pointed to various items on the menu, trying to decide which to pick.

Tola, anxious and unsure what was expected of her at this point, answered him with the occasional ohs and ahs. She fiddled with the menu and waited. A cleaner pretended to mop in a corner, but instead of water in his bucket, there was a handgun. Another cleaner with a stack of towels in his hand busied himself wiping tables and chairs.

In another car parked to the side of the building, Funke waited. A phone buzzed beside her, she picked it up and listened.

“Alright,” she said.

There was a click, then silence.

Show time! She stepped out of the car and brushed imaginary dirt off her designer button down dress. She didn’t need to check the mirror to know her makeup was on point.  

She slung her Armani bag over her shoulder and made her way into the club, hesitated a fraction of a second just before the VIP section when she caught a glimpse of her husband chatting away with the girl. Then she burst in with a shout.

‘So this is where you were Dapo!’

Both Dapo and Tola jumped at the sight of Funke, pointing an accusing finger at Dapo, her eyes narrowed. Tola had not expected this but she decided to play along. It was probably all part of the plan.

Dapo’s chair scraped noisily as he hurriedly got up. He held up his hands,

‘Funke calm down, can’t I enjoy my dinner in peace again?’

“Dinner? What dinner? Do you think I’m a fool? You think I don’t know all the rubbish you’ve been up to?

Before he could reply, the door to the club burst open and a group of five men swaggered in and headed to the VIP section. The bartender glanced up in surprise then looked around, his eyes searching for the bouncer. It took a few seconds for him to remember the bouncer would have left after having fulfilled his duty.

The waiter on the other hand did not miss a beat, one hand reached into a pocket, a button was pressed, and the other hand waved the men to a table in a corner. One of the men, most likely the leader, with a cigar in his mouth had his jacket off and hitched on his shoulder, looked down at the waiter, then shoved him aside. As they approached the VIP area, each man took out a pistol from their pockets.

Where is he? Where is that fool that stole from me?

The cleaner in the corner, unable to comprehend this new development, panicked, he quickly dropped his mop, reached for his handgun and fired. One of the men screamed, pitched forward and dropped on the floor, clutching his knee.

In seconds the sound of shots began to ring in the club, the bartender pulled out a shotgun from under the bar, shot, missed.  The other cleaner pulled a gun from beneath the towels and fired. Blood spilled, the cups jumped, ashtrays flew sideways and emptied. Tola flung her purse and scurried under the table, hands shaking, legs trembling, heart pounding. Was this also part of the plan?

Unknown to her, in the chaos, Funke had made her way around them on her hands and knees. She crawled to the back of a chair and spotted Tola’s discarded purse. She scooped it up and slipped in the keys to the most recent car Dapo had acquired.

She smiled, her eyes gleaming evilly. She looked up to survey her surroundings, then ducked when a bullet zipped past her ear. The bartender was nowhere to be seen, the cleaner with the mop lay sprawled in a pool of his own blood. She couldn’t see where the others were. Where was the Chief Inspector and his team?

The waiter was crouched behind a table by the door, he thrust his hand into his pocket again and pressed a button. Was the phone not working? He needed to contact the Chief, they should have come in by now.

“Enough!” the leader bellowed. The shooting stopped. “Where are my cars Dapo?”

His gun was pointed at Dapo’s head. Dapo had dropped to his knees, hands on his head, his expression rigid with fear.

“Did you think you could get away with it? I looked into your background, you’ve been swindling dealers for years and somehow you never got caught. Well those days are over now because if you don’t hand over my cars to me, I will not hesitate to kill you.”

Tola whimpered. Funke coughed.

The leader’s eyes settled on Funke who was still ducked behind a chair but not completely out of sight.

Ohoo you must be the wife, his partner in crime abi?

Funke shook her head, ‘Ah no sir, I’m the owner of the club. That is his wife under the table’. She pointed at Tola. His gun swiveled to face Tola and she gasped in surprise. Her mouth opened to deny the accusation but as she looked up at the barrel of the gun, fear made her speechless.

What was Funke doing? Was it a distraction of some kind? She glanced behind her, saw the woman smile. A terribly wicked smile. Her eyes went wide. Oh my God! She thought.  Funke had betrayed her. Her eyes searched for Dapo’s, pleading, he should save her, clear the misunderstanding. But instead of defending her, Dapo looked away, his expression hard.

“Mathew, bring her to me,” the leader called. One of the three remaining men limped over, he was the same man that had beat her senseless at the parking lot. He grabbed her arm and yanked her out from under the table.

“We meet again!” he sneered.

Is this the end for Tola? Has her goose finally been cooked? Tune in next week for more juicy details.


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