In the brightly lit dining hall, which was now a scene of dread, the hostages remained face down on the floor. Their eyes, wide with fear, darted between each other and the armed captors who stood guard at the exit. The air was thick with tension and anxiety, the only sounds the soft sobs of the frightened and the prayers of the fearful.

Nobody knew how long it had been since this surprise invasion. Whether it had been ten minutes or half an hour was anyone’s guess. The fact that there was no idea how long this would last made it feel like an agonizing eternity.

But why was this happening to them? What had they done to deserve this? Why were they the target?

Mr. Jed Murphy lifted his head up slightly. Gazing at the armed men at the door, his voice trembled but carried a desperate plea.

“Please, please, you don’t have to do this. Please, we can give you any amount of money you want. Just name your price. Let us go, please.”

The room still as silent as ever, all eyes fell on the captor nearest to him, whose hard eyes peered at him with a stone-hearted edge. He then scoffed, the sound echoing mockingly through the hall.

“See the shit he dey tell we oo, Stefeus,” he said scornfully to his fellow figure.

“Hah! Na Dephios paaa. Abi we said it,” Stefeus replied. “We said they’ll try and bribe us. Stupid fools.”

Dephios guffawed for a moment, then turned to the captives, his voice laced with pure disdain. “Money? You think this is about money? You idiots don’t understand anything. Fuck your money!”

Tears streaking down her face, Ms. Kay chimed in, her voice cracking. “Then w-what do you want? W-w-what can we do? Please, tell us. Tell us so we-“

Before she could finish her sentence, Stefeus stepped forward, the barrel of his gun pointing menacingly toward her. “Shut the fuck up!” he barked, his tone leaving no room for further questions. “This isn’t some fucking negotiation session, you hear me? Keep quiet, and stay quiet, or you’ll regret it!”

The room fell into a fearful silence once more. The captors resumed their stoic watch, their intentions unclear to the delegation before them, but their resolve unmistakable.

Jacob and Thelma, totally muted by fear at this point, exchanged looks of despair.

This was awful. Clearly, this was no kidnapping matter with the captors seeking a huge payday by way of ransom. Whatever this was about, it went far beyond anything anybody could simply pay their way out of.

***

The President’s Situation Room was a hive of anxious energy. The tension was so thick, it felt like a physical weight pressing down on everyone present.

In less than three hours, the cabinet members had gathered at the Flagstaff House upon hearing this shocking piece of information. As they were seated around the long table, their faces were grim as the buzz of their phones was unrelenting, each alert a text of worry or a WhatsApp message of concern.

The news had already leaked to the public and was going viral on social media. On X, the handles of various media houses had announced this developing story, and underneath those announcements, tweets and posts streamed in an endless barrage of speculation, outrage, and panic.

And the President was not pleased at all.

“How the hell did this get out so quickly?” he demanded. “This was supposed to be classified information, for God’s sake! We’re not even through our first meeting, and the entire country is already up in arms!”

“Mr. President, with all due respect, the hostage situation was always going to leak,” said Interior Minister Adelaide Nketia, her voice measured but firm. “We’re in the digital age. Social media can’t be controlled. A number of people on the ground must have posted about it before we even knew.”

Ansa-Obiaka shook his head, a dark expression on his face. “This is terrible! Just terrible! We’re hosting a special international delegation, for God’s sake! This is supposed to be a symbol of our leadership in West Africa. And now, we’re gonna become a laughingstock! A country held hostage by a gang of sick criminals with some stupid agenda!”

He sighed as he took his seat. “Well, we’re not going to fix this by yelling at each other over spilt milk. Right now, lives are at stake. We need to focus on securing the hostages and neutralizing the threat.”

He then turned to the Defence Minister, Mark Adu-Boamah. “Adu, any updates so far?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. President,” Adu-Boamah responded evenly. “Our intelligence teams are already gathering information on the Dead Eyes’ movements. We’re coordinating with military units near Sekondi and exploring options for negotiation or a tactical response.”

“Options?” the President scoffed. “Options at this time? We don’t have time for options! We need results—now!”

“Mr. President, with the greatest respect, we must remain calm,” Foreign Minister Naana Tachie interjected, her voice steady. “I understand your desire for quick action. But panic and rash decisions will not help those hostages. Intel gathered so far indicates these… these terrorists are ready to shed blood at the drop of a hat. We need a solid plan, because if something happens to any of those those delegates, no amount of spin will repair the damage to our country.”

Ansa-Obiaka sank into his chair, rubbing his temples. She was right. “Very well. What are the latest updates from Sekondi?”

Adelaide Nketia glanced at her tablet. “No new updates so far, Your Excellency. All we know for now is that the Dead Eyes have demanded the government respond publicly to their demands within the next three hours. The hostages are alive for now, but there’s no guarantee that will last. The security officers, however, were not so lucky. All gunned down by the hostages.”

Ansa-Obiaka looked a bit stunned. “All of them?”

Nketia nodded. “Even those assigned to the delegation. None of them survived. They took out all security detail. And every single security officer that shows up there gets gunned down.”

“Jesus Christ! What about those in the hotel? Workers?”

“Intel confirms that they’ve all been forcefully evacuated. None of them were harmed, just driven out of the hotel.”

The President let out a slow, seething breath. “And their demands? They want me to confess to—”

“Yes,” Nketia confirmed. “To admit to orchestrating Jo Hanta’s imprisonment and death, and to resign immediately.”

The room went cold at the reminder of the explosive accusation.

“Absolute foolishness,” Ansa-Obiaka muttered. “I knew the opposition want me out, but this is one hell of a new low.”

Naana Tachie shook her head. “Indeed. As to why they fight for the honour of a convicted rapist and murderer is beyond me.”

Defense Minister Adu-Boamah straightened up. “Well, we’ll never know about that, but there’s some good news. Sir, we have secured a team to work directly on negotiations while the military in Sekondi readies a plan. Simultaneously, I believe our PR team should start preparing a statement to address the public, assuring them we’re in control of the situation.”

“Excellent! That’s good to hear,” the President replied, his voice quieter now but sounding a lot more satisfied. “A perfect combination. While the military settles on a plan to rescue the hostages, the negotiators can buy time and hopefully find some middle ground.”

Naana Tachie nodded. “That’s right, Mr. President. Anything to buy extra time. The focus must be on saving those lives, period. Whatever comes after, we’ll deal with it when we get there. But if we falter now, we risk losing everything—not just our reputation, but our moral authority as a government.”

The President looked around the room, his gaze lingering on each face that nodded in agreement with the Foreign Minister. He gave a curt nod.

“Exactly, Naana, exactly. Good, so Adu-Boamah, coordinate with intelligence and the military. Nketia, handle the PR response. And someone get me Vincent. I want him to work with the negotiation team. In the event that they call back, they can work with them. Now let’s be quick about it! Hopefully we can throw them off their countdown nonsense!”

“Yes, Mr. President,” the ministers responded in unison, the room stirring into action.

The mission to save the hostages in Utopia Hotel was now underway. And every second counted.

***

“Sir, please, I’m begging you, try and work with me-“

“Cut the bullshit, boss! I’m not here to work with anybody on this. I know what your M.O. is: try and get the bad little captor to bend, find some middle ground and all that. Well, listen up, guy, there’s no middle ground here! Absolutely no middle fucking ground! The terms are clear: Ansa-Obiaka addresses the nation and admits to everything he did to have Jo Hanta taken out, then steps down as President. Nothing less than that. If not, every single person in that hall is gonna die, and trust me, it will not be pretty!”

“Sir, please, bear with me. I get it. Honestly, I do-“

“No you don’t, you fucking idiot! You don’t get shit! Don’t think you’re gonna lull me into some false sense of camaraderie with your soothing ass words! Because you do not get it! Now, tell the President he has a few more hours to announce his confession and resignation, or blood’s gonna flow! And I’m not kidding around, we will do it!”

When Kosys had called the office of the President to issue a reminder that the clock was ticking, the last thing he had expected was to be redirected to a negotiator hired by the government.

But that’s what he got. And to say he was pissed would be a grave understatement. If this president thought the Dead Eyes had any desire for negotiation, he was even more lacking in IQ than they thought.

“Sir, look, just… lemme talk to you for a minute. Look, you’ve made your point, which is fine, we hear you fully. The problem is that what you’re looking for… it’s… it sounds shaky in the face of…”

“In the face of what? In the face of what? Spare me that bullshit, bros. You think we have no idea, do you? You think we don’t know that this government paid good money to have Jo Hanta set up? You think we don’t know who Yamez is? That he’s the real son of a bitch that raped and murdered that little girl? That money changed hands to put Jo Hanta’s name on the medical report? You think we don’t know how this idiot before us met with the judge to push for a speedy sentencing, under strict orders from Ansa-Obiaka? Don’t give me that crap, Mister Man!”

“Alright, Sir, so you have evidence that disputes what was spread about the Jo Hanta gentleman. That is fine, I get that. Wouldn’t it have been best to pursue justice through the assigned channel-“

“Don’t you even complete that filthy sentence! You think this judicial system is one to be trusted? One that has no space for the poor? One that was going to carry out the orders of its boss? One that has been packed with the president’s favourites? Listen, bruh, I’m not engaging you any further. My demand remains as it is. The president confesses to the nation and steps down, we let the hostages go. He chooses the stubborn route, they die, one by one. Let him know that, and don’t come back to me until he agrees!”

Ending the call, Kosys tossed the phone aside. “They think we’re stupid. Coming to play the fucking compromise game with us,” he snarled.

“Idiots!” Lycipus scoffed. “They think we’ve got time for stupid agreements? When we begged them for the bare minimum, they always ignored us. Fuck them and their agreements! It’s our way or the way of death. Period!”

Kosys nodded vehemently. “Exactly, fuck their agreements. It’s time they understand the only language they’ve taught us—force,” he declared.

Just as he finished speaking, his phone vibrated with a new call. He glanced at the screen, recognizing the number as Mole. One of their cronies.

Planted in a very sensitive place to keep them updated on vital intelligence, there was a reason he had that name.

He answered. “Talk to me, Mole… they are?… Oh really. No wonder the son of a bitch had negotiators attempting to bend me. They’re trying to buy time. Fuck them! Thanks for the info, man.”

With a clenched jaw and a fire ignited within him, he ended the call, his mind racing with countermeasures. Turning to Lycipus, he shared the information given to him. “The military was looking to sneak up on us. They’ve apparently got a few tanks on their way here.”

A scowl of disgust in her eyes, Lycipus growled, “They better fucking not dare! Nobody’s stopping us. Absolutely nobody. Thank goodness we have Mole on the ground, keeping tabs on everything.”

Kosys had the most sinister of smiles on his face. “Of course. And I have just the plan. Watch over this fool while I step outside and see the other guys about a little… surprise. Something that will catch their attention and force them to stand back.”

As he stepped out, he looked at the time, and shook his head.

“Two hours more,” he sniggered. “Time just keeps moving someone closer to their last breath.”

Then he left the room.

Hmmm, looks like they might just have an upper hand over the government on this one. Not very good news for the Wilsons and co…