‘Tunde, I hope you’re not sleeping. Have you forgotten that you’re supposed to slow down when approaching a junction? Do you want us to have an accident?’ Prof Stan asked. He was wearing an all white agbada. Tunde was dressed in a corporate attire. Beads of sweat were running down his face despite the cool temperature of the car. ‘My brakes are no longer functioning. I can’t slow down’, Tunde replied in a panic stricken voice as he continued to frantically hit his breaks, all to no avail. ‘We would have to run the red light. I just hope that we can beat the vehicles moving in the adjacent direction ‘, Prof Stan said.
They were not so lucky. Immediately they entered the junction, they heard a loud honking from a speeding van coming from the left. There was a loud crash. Professor Stan’s last thoughts were of the mail he had received that morning from the Author. ‘I shouldn’t have ignored that mail’, he thought, before everything went dark.
The Author heard the news of the accident from his car radio. The newscaster of Lion FM radio had stated in his report that Professor Stan’s driver had died on the spot while the professor had survived with a lot of injuries and was admitted at St Mary’s hospital, Opi. ‘That job needs to be completed. It’ll probably be difficult for me to gain access to the professor in that hospital. I think Lilian will be in the best position to help me out’, he thought.
The night shift at St Mary’s hospital had been relatively quiet and uneventful for the past two hours since it started, until a pretty woman in her early thirties, briskly walked into the hospital and moved towards the sleepy-eyed nurses at the front desk. The woman was dressed exquisitely in a black Gucci gown with black stilettos to match.
‘Hi. My name is Dr Lilian and I have a dying man in my vehicle. I found him by the road side about a mile from here. He was stabbed on his thigh and brutally attacked. He’ll probably bleed to death if he doesn’t get medical attention as soon as possible. Come and lend me a hand, let’s stretcher him into the hospital. No need bothering the doctor on call. I’m a highly trained medical doctor. I’ll take care of the patient’, she said in a British accent as she showed them her ID card.
Three of the nurses helped to stretcher the injured man into the hospital and he was moved to the emergency ward. Dr Lilian then started to treat her patients with the assistance of one of the nurses.
Doctor Allison was so pissed off when his beeper went off. ‘What is it this time?’ he asked in an angry tone. ‘We have an emergency. A man having multiple wounds that could be fatal was brought in by a good Samaritan doctor. She has already started treating him in the emergency ward but I decided to let you know as the doctor on call’, the Chief nurse said.
Doctor Allison swore continuously as he dressed up. He had slept off because of boredom but he was annoyed because his sleep had been interrupted. ‘Well, this is the life I chose. I have to do what needs to be done’, he said, with resignation and started walking to the emergency ward.
‘You seem to be handling your patient quite well. I’m impressed’, Dr Allison said. He had come to the emergency ward to watch Dr Lilian. He wanted to be sure that she was a surgeon and not a butcher. He had been impressed by her work and looks. ‘I told you that I was highly trained. They shouldn’t have woken you up in the first place. You can go back to sleep. Seems like you were having an uneventful shift’, Lilian said. ‘It’s been a bit quiet. Apart from the Professor over there, whose condition we have been monitoring, it has been a quiet night. They did the right thing by waking me as the doctor on call. Anyways, when you’re done, we could discuss your patient over coffee’, Allison said. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t linger after this. I was on my way to my boyfriend’s house when I saw him lying on the roadside. I’ve wasted enough time already. I’ll just make some recommendations and leave him in your hands’, Lilian said. ‘I understand. I’ll let you finish up. It was nice of you to do this. We need more Nigerian doctors like you’, Allison said and left the ward.
Lilian collected a blood sample from her patient and gave it to the nurse assisting her. ‘Take this to the lab. Let them find out his blood group. He may need a blood transfusion’, she said.
Immediately the nurse left, Lilian rushed to the other side of the ward where Allison had pointed to. The professor was lying on one of the beds, sleeping. She quickly took one of the pillows from an empty bed, removed Professor Stan’s oxygen mask and used the pillow to suffocate him. The professor had tried to struggle but he was too weak. Lilian made sure that he was dead before replacing the oxygen mask and dashing back to her patient’s side.
‘Well-done dear. You mean, they didn’t suspect anything?’ The Author asked. They were seated in the living room of the Author’s apartment in Enugu. ‘No. They believed me without doubt. You beat that man up pretty bad. I had a lot of work to do’, Lilian said. ‘I had to make it convincing. Stanford is down. It’s time for us to send Frank an email. It’s his turn to meet his ancestors’, He said.