Anthills of the Savannah - Chinua Achebe [63]
“No be me go kill you, my friend.”
This retort was made frontally to Ikem. With a strange expression of mockery and hatred on his face the policeman mounted his heavy machine and roared away. The Master of Ceremonies asked Ikem:
“Did you get his number?”
“I’m afraid I didn’t think of that. Anyway it doesn’t matter.”
“Here it is.”
And he held to him a number written with biro on the palm of his left hand and Ikem took it down on the back of his summons paper.
MONDAY MORNING at the Traffic Police Office. Ikem had decided to do what he rarely did—use his clout. There were more important things to do with his time than engage in fisticuffs with a traffic warden. So he had telephoned the Superintendent of Traffic from his office and made an appointment for nine-thirty.
There was a senior officer waiting for him at the Desk Sergeant’s front room who took him straight into the Superintendent’s office.
“I never meet you before in person sir,” said the Superintendent springing out from behind his massive wooden desk. “Very pleased to meet you sir… I was expecting a huge fellow like this,” and he made a sign sideways and upwards.
“No, I am quite small. Anyone who feels like it can actually beat me up quite easily.”
“Oh no. The pen is mightier than the sword. With one sentence of your sharp pen you can demolish anybody. Ha ha ha ha ha. I respect your pen, sir… What can I do for you, sir. I know you are a busy man and I don’t want to waste your time.”
As Ikem told his story he thought he saw something like relief spreading through the man’s face.
“Is that all? You shouldn’t have come all this way for that. You should have told me on the phone and I should have asked the stupid fellow to bring your particulars himself to you and to stay there and wash your car before coming back. These boys have no common sense.”
“Well, I suppose he was only doing his job.”
“What kind of nonsense job is that? To go about contravening important people.”
He slapped his open palm on the buzzer with such violence that the orderly who scampered in from the outer office was confusedly straightening his cap, holding his loose belt and attempting a salute all at the same time.
“Go and bring me at once everybody who was on road duty on Saturday night.”
“Sorry, it was Friday night,” said Ikem.
“Sorry, Friday! Everybody here one time. Except those on beat… Again Mr. Osodi, I must apologize to you for this embarrassment.”
“No problem, Superintendent.” He had thought of putting in another mitigating word for the constable but remembered his utterly atrocious behaviour and held his peace.
At that point eight worried constables were marched in. Ikem spotted his man at once but decided that even engaging his eye would be a mark of friendship. They saluted and stood stock-still, their worried eyes alone swivelling around like things with a life of their own.
The Superintendent gazed at them in turn without saying a word. In his code they were all guilty at this stage.
“Do you know this gentlemen?”
They all shook their heads.
“How you go know? Stupid ignoramuses. Who contravened him on Friday night at… Mr. Osodi, where did it happen?”
“Outside Harmoney Hotel on Northwest Street.”
This announcement was followed by the briefest pause of surprise or even shock which was mercifully overtaken by the constable’s owning up.
“Na me, sir.”
“Na you! You no know who this man be? But how you go know? When you no de read newspaper. You pass standard six self?”
“Yes sir.”
“Na lie! Unless na free primary you pass. This man is Mr. Osodi, the Editor of the National Gazette. Everybody in the country knows him except you. So you carry your stupid nonsense and go and contravene a man of such calibre. Tomorrow now if he takes up his pen to lambast the Police you all go begin complain like monkey wey im mother die… Go and bring his particulars here one time, stupid yam-head.”
The poor fellow scampered out of the room.
“Now all of you listen well. You see this man here, make una look im face well well. If any of you go out tomorrow and begin to fool around