Love saved my life!" muttered John as he sank gratefully into a sofa in Lawyer Gbami's waiting room. The last few hours had been the most traumatic, the most paradoxically painful time of his life. By association, if not by actual guilt, he should have been shot along with "Bingo" or incarcerated with Pastor Job. But love saved him. "Yes, love is my saviour!" murmured John kissing the gold wristwatch Ebun had given him on his birthday last April.
While he waited for Lawyer Gbami, John's mind roved over the events of the past few hours. He sighed heavily from time to time, his mind buckling with the weight of the illogicalities of it all. Why would Pastor Job do such a crazy thing? What insane impulse engendered such a maniacal act? Even if the pastor had given way to the flesh, must he take revenge in such a stupid, grossly unintelligent and crude manner? Why should the pastor seek revenge at all? Was he not wont to chide him, John, for being too rash and vengeful? If pastor could set the house of his political rival on fire, why did he prevent Code Six from beating up Chairman in retaliation for sending "Area Boys" to break Pastor Job's troublesome little fingers? Pure madness! Unreasonable madness!
The most baffling of all was the way and manner Pastor Job chose to execute his nefarious plan. No idiot or lunatic would commit arson in such a way as to leave the scene of crime only after he had been seen. Imagine Pastor wearing his cassock and surplice to the scene of crime! And after setting the house on fire, he waited dumbly for people to come out and accost him before taking flight. He even knocked down the Chairman's police orderly.
Madness undiluted! I used to think that Pastor Job was an intelligent man. But now I'm sure he's as dumb as Baba Ijesa's deaf sheep! No wonder his political rivals joke that his initials "D.S." really stand for Dumb and Stupid! Wallahi! I think Pastor Job should have been named Pastor Fool, so his full name will be "Pastor Dumb Stupid Fool!" John sighed deeply and loudly.
"You want to go to the toilet, Sir?" asked Lawyer Gbami's secretary, misreading John's discomfiture.
"No, Sir, I'm just fine."
For a moment, John looked at his surroundings. Lawyer Cbami's waiting room was a large room with wall-to-wall carpet and comfortable sofas. Heavy but expensive drapes shut out the sunlight, giving the flourescent bulbs a free play. The walls were wood-panelled and decorated with oil-paintings of legal luminaries, past and present, dead or alive. At a comer, a 22-inch colour television had been switched on, perpetually turned to the American Cable News Network for global information. The whole room was chilled by four split-system air-conditioners.
John was grateful for the cold air as it helped cool down his over-heated brain and roiling passions. Still the irony of his situation did not escape him. Lawyer Gbami had never been an ardent supporter of Pastor Job. A confirmed atheist, he resented the pastor's foray into the political arena and said so openly. At a recent book launch, he had warned people to be wary of "those who want to inject the virus of religious hegemony into our body politic!" Every politically aware person knew that Lawyer Gbami's salvo was aimed at Pastor Job for aspiring to the chairmanship of the Lagos Island Local Government.
Not that Lawyer Gbami hated the pastor as a person. Far from it. Even certain was his disapproval of the incumbent who he once described as a "fat brainless toad!" Nevertheless, the atheist in Lawyer Gbami could not accept Pastor Job. For him, it is better to rock in hell than to rule in heaven. Said he: “A cleric in politics is a menace to liberty!"
"So, what am I doing here?" mused John.
What a paradox! Yes, a paradox. In his hour of need, John sought solace in the arms of a confirmed opponent. He had little choice, though. Only one person could get Pastor Job out of the infamous Alapere Police station and give him a good defence. That person was Lawyer Gbami, a fearless human rights lawyer whose name alone sent tremors through the ranks of policemen, judges and government officials.
John remembered the adage which says that whoever wants to sup with the devil must have a long spoon. Right now, John was prepared to scratch Satan's back if it would give his beloved pastor a fighting chance in court. Now he understood his father's famous prayer: "Lord, let me not be so desperately hungry that I eat the food of my enemy!" And that was exactly what Baba Ijesa's only son was about to do. In his desperation, John was not only willing to eat his enemy's food, he was ready to swallow the plate and cutlery as well!
The telephone on the secretary's table rang. He picked it up and spoke briefly into the receiver. Then he beckoned to John.
"You may go in now, Sir."
John dragged himself towards the door. He entered Lawyer Gbami's office and was dazed by the sight. As a university graduate, though a jobless one by choice, he had seen many libraries before. But he could swear that the books lining the walls of Lawyer Gbami's cavernous office were more than the entire collection in his former university library. He was dumbfounded. Lawyer Gbami's desk dominated the posterior of the long office. Behind it sat the lawyer himself. He was dressed in his usual impeccable three-piece suit with a matching silk tie. In stature, he was a smallish man, barely five feet four. However, he made up for his diminutive stature with his razor-sharp intelligence and bullish aggressiveness. His learned friends called him "short man devil!" but never to his face. For it was better for a man to enter the kingdom of God without an arm or a leg than for a ''learned friend" to face an unfriendly Gbami in court. Lawyer Gbami had a waspish tongue and a short-fused temper. To his face, his colleagues called him "TNT!"
But below his hard mien and gun-powder temper was a humorous and humane personality, forever willing to apply his phenomenal knowledge of the law to defend the poor and the downtrodden. He had often done so at great personal cost He had been detained several times over such cases. Worse, some of those cases ended as unmitigated financial failures to him.
Lawyer Gbami smiled as he watched John's open-mouth admiration of his library. He usually derived pleasure and satisfaction from the shocked expression on the faces of people who entered his office for the first time. To him, such admiration was a catharsis of sorts. It helped plug the gaping hole which the library had sunk in his bank account.
"Good morning, Sir," said Gbami, standing up.
"Morning, Lawyer," said John snapping out of his infatuation with the academic tomes. Gbami came round the table to shook hands with him.
"To what do I owe the honour of your celestial visit?" began Gbami, indicating that John should sit in a sofa. “I hope you are not a messenger of doom come to warn me to accept Christ or burn in hell?"
"Certainly not!"
"Perhaps you are here like your namesake, John the Baptist, to warn us 'brood of vipers' to turn to the Lord or be damned. If so, you are on a mission impossible. I don't believe that God exists, and I'm prepared to die for my belief!"
“You may go to hell for all I care, Sir!"
"What!" shouted Gbami in mock-anger. "How can a born- again, tongue-talking, conference- attending, Bible-quoting Christian like you talk like that? The Bible says that you should love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you. If you were a true Christian, you would not wish I went to hell."
John was initially stung to silence by the acidic accusation of Gbami. His logic was unassailable, his reasoning, a veritable "point of law". But the spirit behind the word was absolutely false. Suddenly, John burst into laughter.
"But you don't even believe in heaven or hell, lawyer!" he managed to say in between guffaws.
TNT, too, could not hold the pretence any longer. He also burst into laughter. Afterwards, he asked: "Okay, what can 1 do for you?"
"I need your help, Sir, urgently!"
"How come? Have you forgotten that the Bible says that Christians should not be unevenly yoked with unbelievers?"
"You are quoting out of context, Sir. Have you forgotten that Jesus Christ healed as many gentiles as he healed the Jews? And Simon of Cyrene who helped Jesus to carry his cross to Golgotha was not even a disciple. So, the Bible does not say that Christians should not employ the services of non-Christians."
"I see that you're more intelligent than I thought," said Gbami sitting on a sofa opposite John. "Jokes apart, what's the problems?"
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"Pastor Job has been arrested by the police and needs your help, I mean, your services."
"This is not the first brush Pastor Job has had with the law enforcement agents. Why come to me now?"
"This time, Sir, only you can save him. The offence is... is so great that I fear any other lawyer except you will foul up the case."
"What offence? Is it not the usual skirmishes with political rivals who control and misuse the police?"
"No, Sir."
"So, what's it, this time around?"
John did not know how to wrap the crime in a euphemistic way. So, he blurted out: "Arson and attempted murder!"
"Impossible!" shouted TNT, jumping to his feet. "It's a lie, a frame up. They just want to get rid of him to ensure an easy victory for the incumbent. But it won't work! Not as long as Gbami lives. I'll give them a fight that will make legal history. The verbal pyrotechnics alone will knock down the sky."
TNT was up in arms. His quixotic spirit was always easily roused by any sob-story of human rights violation and or abuse of power. He bounded up and down his library, pulling down heavy tomes containing the legal authorities he would need to cite in defence of his "client".
"Where is he being held?" he asked, pulling down another heavy tome.
"Alapere!"
"That's very bad. They must be taking the matter quite seriously to detain him at S.I.I.B. But don't worry, I'll get him out even if he has been detained in hell. Good old Habeas Corpus has not failed me yet."
He carried the first batch of books to his desk. Then he grabbed his phone, punched a number. While he waited for the connection, he asked John who the IPO was.
"Sergeant Slaughter!"
"Damn it! That murderous son of a bitch must have thrown him inside Underground. There is no time to waste. I just hope Pastor Job is still in one piece."
The connection went through.
"Hello! Is that S.I.I.B.? Could I speak to C.P. Jones?... He's not in? Okay, put me through to his deputy... my name? Lawyer Oluwagbami... okay, I'll hold on... Hello, how are you, Adamu?... I'm fine too, thank you... I learnt you are holding Pastor Job, the chairmanship aspirant at Alapere on charges of arson and attempted murder... O yes, I'm going to represent him.. yes, yes, I'll come over to file the appropriate papers. When is he appearing in court? Today?... Court 6, Ikeja High Court, eh?... Thanks... See you later... one moment please. Tell Sergeant Slaughter I want to see my client later this morning in one piece and in excellent conditions.. Okay... okay... it is not an order but a legal request backed by section two of... I am much obliged. See you later, Adamu."
John looked on with mixed emotions. He did not know whether to cry or to laugh. On one hand, he was elated by the way his mentor's defence was being expertly handled. That a self-confessed antagonist could spring to Pastor Job's defence was to him a miracle. It reminded him of a biblical scripture which says that when a man's ways please the Lord, he will make his enemy to be at peace with him. Yes, this must be the work of God. Even Isaiah 55 tells us that we shall command enemy nations and they shall obey us!
Still, bat's wings fluttered in John's bowel. How would Lawyer Gbami react when he learnt the facts, the full facts of the case he had so incautiously signed on? "He would throw me out of his office!" thought John. A loud sigh escaped his lips. Lawyer Gbami put down the phone and said. "Don't worn! I will soon have him out safe and sound."
He picked up the handset again, but before he could dial, John blurted out:
"There's something important I have to tell you, Sir!"
"Yes?"
"Pastor Job is guilty as charged!"
"What!" The handset crashed onto the base. "What did vou say, John?" Gbami shouted, coming over to the sofa.
"I said the pastor is guilty. I saw him do it with my own eyes!"
"Lucifer's cursed beards!" wailed Lawyer Gbami, collapsing into a sofa like a boxer knocked out by a heavy-weight punch. He stared at the ceiling for a while, his fingers laced behind his head. He remained rigid like a plastic image, locked into eternal immobility. Only his battering lids and his heaving chest indicated that he was alive. John watched him with great suspense. He was at the edge of the sofa like an arrow tensed for flight. But the expected explosion did not come. Instead, Lawyer Gbami said: "Tell me exactly what happened as far as you know."
John relaxed a little and cleared his throat.
"It was love that saved my life, Sir. Yes, love is my saviour. As you know, I have been with Pastor Job since he declared his intention to vie for the chairmanship of our local government. I was his campaign manager, personal assistant and junior brother rolled into one. The times I have left his side were when I went to see my parents, Baba Ijesa the contractor. You know him. Also when I was detained briefly for removing the teeth of Eyo, that irresponsible and shameless masquerade.
"Two days ago. Mama Dola, Pastor Job's wife, packed out to protest his refusal to succumb to harassments and step down for Chairman. Even Anenih, the maiguard, had run away after some thugs from Chairman beat him up and threatened to shoot him if he did not abandon his duty post. So, by 9 p.m. yesterday, I was the only person with the pastor.
"We came back from our campaign trip to Isale-Eko at 8 p.m. By 9:30 p.m both of us had had our dinner. Ordinarily, pastor would listen to the news till about 11 p.m. Then we would pray and go to bed.
"But being a Friday, we both relaxed in the sitting-room, waiting for midnight to start our usual Friday vigil. Pastor was reading the Bible, while I read TELL magazine. As I was reading, I felt love pulling my heartstrings towards my lover. It was as if I would die if I did not see her immediately. In fact, I saw her face on every page of the magazine and each word spelled her name. When I closed my eyes, I saw her beautiful face plastered with that bewitching gap-tooth smile of hers. Opening my eyes, the whole walls seemed to be plastered with her face. The sound coming from the radio was her name. The BBC, the Voice of America, every station seemed to be shouting 'Ebun! Ebun!' And the air I breathed seemed saturated with Channel Four, her favourite perfume.
"I endured this silent agony for some one hour. My dilemma revolved around my instinctive fear that I should not leave pastor alone that night. But like Jacob who wrestled with an angel and won, the call of love eventually knocked out my sense of duty. At 10:50, I jumped up and headed for the door.
“Where are you going at this time of the night?” asked Pastor Job.
"’To my daddy's place,’ I lied, unwilling to admit that I had a heart-throb hidden somewhere whose pulsating love demanded my presence.
"’What's so important that you can't wait till morning to tell your parents?' demanded the pastor.
"I cannot now recall the excuse I gave, but thirty minutes later. l was on my way to lkoyi. I got there around 11p.m. My lover lives.... lives... in a house not far from that of the Chairman. I sent a message to her and we were soon hidden in our favourite spot by the Chairman's fence, hugging and kissing and being generally lost in our mutual happiness.
"About midnight, I received the shock of my life. I happened to look up and beheld Pastor Job heading straight for our hideout. He was dressed in his full pastoral regalia and carried a big Jerry can in his right hand. He was making a bee line for our hideout. My soul wilted inside of me. What a mess! How could pastor have known about my illicit love affair? Who told him our usual spot of assignation? Who informed on us? For how long had pastor known about our affair?
"These and other questions rattled through my brain as I watched the pastor come at us. I was dumbfounded. I was shocked silly, like a man suffering from a stroke-induced paralysis. I gaped as pastor bore down on us like God's angel of vengeance. I quavered. 1 shivered. I cringed with fear. But I could not run. Neither could I move. I was numbed with shock.
"Pastor Job came nearer and nearer. He was just a few feet from us and I waited for his explosion, the well-deserved condemnation and moral interdiction. But to my greatest shock, pastor simply passed us by without saying a word.
"Then the madness really began. The fence surrounding Chairman's house was low at a point a few feet from our spot. Pastor Job put his Jerry can on the fence, jumped over it and disappeared inside the compound. Two minutes later, the chairman's house went up in flames and 1 saw pastor being chased by a group of people. At the gate, Chairman's orderly tried to stop him, but pastor gave the gave the sleepy policeman a sizzling upper-cut which knocked him out cold. Pastor Job made fast his escape.
''I... I... was transfixed. 1 couldn't believe what I had just witnessed. After pastor's escape, a great confusion took over the neighbourhood. Soon, the police and the fire-brigade arrived. The fire was soon put out. Thank God, only the garage containing Chairman's x-class Mercedes car was burnt. Nobody was hurt except a young man who went too close to the fire. He had his clothes singed. I later learnt that he is a relation of one of the wives.
"With a heavy heart, I dragged my feet towards home, pastor's house, I meant. My love and I parted in acrimony, she accused all horn-again Christians of being serpents, green snakes under green grass. No explanation or excuse could soothe her hurt feelings. She abandoned me, threatening to abort something very precious to both of us. Believe me, Sir, love's tender wings are too easily broken by violence or threats of falsehood.
"So, I headed for home with leaden feet. I had planned to sleep over at my parent's place at Obalende, but I could not face them with the knowledge of pastor's guilt still hot in my eyes. I got to our Close at around 1 a.m. in time to see the police arrest the pastor and take him away. This morning, I managed to trace him to Alapere. From Alapere, I came here."
A deafening silence followed John's narrative. Lawyer Gbami did not stir for a while, then he got up and began to pace up and down the room.
"Even madness has its own logic, John, but the story you've just narrated lacks basic logic."
"I swear that it is true, Sir. I saw him do it."
"Look, John, I'm not calling you a liar. But doesn't it strike you as being illogical that your master had worn his pastoral robes to commit arson?"
"I know, Sir. In fact, I can't understand the way he behaved that night. Like a demented person. Or a demon. And a stupid demon at that! He even waited for people to accost him before taking to his heels!"
"He did?"
"Yes, Sir. I saw him."
"How illogical! Has your master a history of mental disorder?"
"None that I know, Sir."
"What about his family, his extended family?"
"None, Sir."
"Is he a violent man by nature?"
"Certainly not, Sir. He cannot even kill a chicken!"
"How illogical! I’ll be straight with you, John. I'm tempted to drop your brief..."
John's heart sank.
"... but there's something mysterious about it all that fascinates me. I know Pastor Job to be a principled and disciplined gentleman, although recently bitten by the born-again bug. But I can't see such a peace-loving person do the heinous things you have just described. Yet, I can't disprove your eye-witness accounts. I don't know what to believe. My heart sways one way, but the evidence sways the other way. It is a contest between the heart and the head. Since this case has been built on intrigue and illogicality from onset, I choose to follow my heart instead of my head. Come, let's go hear Pastor Job's side of the story."
John's spirit soared as he followed Lawyer Gbami out.