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He pointed in the direction she had just come from. She did as he said. When she got to the point indicated, she asked again. This time, she asked an ice-cream vendor. He made as if he didn’t understand English. She then repeated the request in Igbo. The vendor’s face lit up and he pointed out the location of the bus to Oshodi: it was just behind them. Then he added, in Igbo: “Nne, why didn’t you speak Igbo to me the first time.”
She didn’t know what to say in reply so she just thanked him and boarded the bus quickly before it zoomed off.
Peter was impressed with what he saw. It seemed that each time he viewed the program, there was always more to discover, an endless vista. He was so impressed that he became jealous of Ignatius. He’d been told to deploy the program on the company’s network. They had been using the limited version of the program, successfully, for the last three months. But it was nothing compared to what he had now. He suspected that Mr. Phillips was planning to cheat Ignatius, but that wasn’t his business anyway.
Suddenly, the screen went black. He checked the power cord: it was still connected. He traced the power supply from the socket on the wall to the computer: everything seemed in order. He now switched off the monitor and switched it on. It came back on. But there was a blue background with a message flashing: call 08062424241. The phone rang. He picked it up. It was Mr. Phillips. He had same problem on his computer in the network: the same message flashing and nothing else. He promised to look into it and report immediately: a temporary glitch in the network, he assured. As soon as he dropped the phone, it rang. It was the accounts department: same problem. Two other calls in quick succession: all with the same problem. He restarted the computer. A message box came up before it started booting: ENTER PASSWORD OR CALL 08062424241. The problem could have only one cause.
Shortly, Mr. Phillips called again and asked him to report to his office immediately. Peter knew he had to give a very good explanation for what was going on. He walked to Mr. Philips office slowly, deliberating on what he would say when he got there. Mr. Phillips’ secretary, a slim young lady, waved him past.
“What is wrong with the network, Peter?” she asked as he grabbed the door handle. “This has never happened before.”
“It’s just this new program they brought. It’s just a temporary thing,” Peter replied, unconvincingly, as he opened the door to the office. The boss was seated on his seat facing the door directly. On one of the visitors’ seats was Mr. Dele Durojaiye, the Admin manager.
“What took you so long? So what is the situation with this thing?” Mr. Phillips badgered.
“I was trying to crack the codes of the program that is causing all these problems. The guy is an amateur so it should not take much time. Forget about the threat of calling the number.”
“So, Dele, did you try the number on the screen?” Mr. Phillips asked as if Peter had not spoken.
“Yes. It rang but nobody picked the phone. Maybe we should try again.”
“Yes, I think so. But you should also start looking for this boy. He can’t be holding us to ransom like this. And Peter, do break that code. I pay you good money to handle these things.”
“Yes sir.”
“I want the two of you on this. If the phone doesn’t go through, ask around and find where he works, where he hangs out, where he sleeps. In fact, call in the police. Just find him fast. We have a big project for the federal government to deliver this week and the boys, who are behind schedule, can’t deliver with all their systems down. We are losing big money here and your jobs could be on the line. Is that clear?”
They nodded vigorously in unison and quickly left the office.
“So what do you intend to do?” Peter asked the Admin manager after they had left the office.
“Well, I will try and find his house while I keep trying his number. Or do you know where he lives? I will check the files; at least he must have put a contact address in the initial project proposal. Are you coming with me?”
“No. I think we can crack this program. This guy has not done so many jobs so he can’t be that good. I would rather work on it while you try to find him,” Peter said as he walked away, to his office. Then, he suddenly turned round when he got to the door of his office and walked back towards Dele. He had remembered something.
“If you insist on finding him, at least you can start with this name.”
He handed him a sheet of paper that he had retrieved from his breast pocket. On it was scribbled in Peter’s unique scrawl: “Jazzy Networks.”
“Where did you get this from?” Dele asked.
“When you create a file, the computer you first created it on always leaves its mark on it,” he said and walked away quickly, in a self-possessed manner.
Dele shook his head. He tried the GSM number again. It just kept on ringing. Then he went to the office and retrieved the file. Ignatius’ address was a cyber café, but it was not Jazzy Networks. He strongly suspected that it was a fake address but he noted it down. He then called his friend in the police, gave him the phone number and asked him to put out an alert for Ignatius. He also gave him the phone number. The reason: fraud. He then took the sheet of paper where he had written the address, entered his car and went out in search of Ignatius. Time was of the essence.
Ignatius went to the police station to report that his phone had been stolen. With no money in his pocket, he reluctantly had to go see an old schoolmate to bail him out of the embarrassing situation. This guy worked in a bank. Ignatius hated banks. He hated the situation he was in even more. After explaining his embarrassing situation, Ignatius had gotten enough money to get back home, with a bit of change. He had used that to call his number several times but he had not gotten through. The only time he had, it rang for quite a while before the thief picked up the phone and told him to bring 15,000 naira to collect his phone. He was complaining about the sum when the connection had cut. When he tried again, the phone kept on ringing but no one picked it. He must have annoyed the thief. So he had decided to report to the police in order to reclaim the line. There was a lot of bantering in a corner of the station between some of his officers and the people in the small cell at the back. A sign which read “Bail is Free” hung boldly, but loosely, over the counter. There were two persons behind the counter looking dejected. A policewoman stood at the counter, like a shopkeeper.
“I came to report that my phone was stolen.”
“Won’t you greet me first?” she countered acidly, a sneer on her face.
“Sorry, good morning ma. I am Ignatius Imodibo, my phone was stolen this morning and I need a police statement to be able to retrieve it.”
“What did you say was your name?”
“Ignatius Imodibo.”
“Do you live at number 2 Atunrase Street?”
“Yes,” he replied, surprised.
“Mike, Joe, this is the man we have been looking for!” she screamed.
At this, two of the policemen at the corner of the room, swooped on him, knocking him down. Before he knew what was happening, he was behind the counter. He wasn’t told his offence. His accuser would soon be at the station. Then, he would know.
Peter stared at the screen. Even though he now had some information about the owner of the program, he wasn’t sure he could guess the password correctly since programmers tended to be eccentric about such things. The more complicated a problem seems, the simpler the solution. He decided to give it a go. He typed GOD: Incorrect Password. JESUS: Incorrect. MONEY: Incorrect. MOM, PORTAL, YES, NO, PASSMARK, GREAT: all Incorrect. He stopped to think. What did Ignatius have written on the CD case? He typed PAYDAY: Incorrect Password. He typed the words backwards: YADYAP. The screen blinked. He was in. All of a sudden, the computer started booting. He heaved a sigh of relief. Now that the computer had started, he intended to find out what was the cause. Ignatius must be a dumb programmer, he thought. Imagine him writing the password on the case of the CD. He ran the program again. Everything seemed to be normal again. Then he decided to see if he could view the source codes: the codes that ran the program. He could view them. He was surprised that someone who did something as good as this could allow his source codes to be viewed. This meant that anyone could pirate it. Anyway, what would you expect from an amateur, he thought. As he browsed through the codes, a thought struck him. Why not copy the codes out, polish one or two things, and then sell it to the company and other people who needed such a solution. He could think of several users already. And they would pay highly to have this, or even a lesser version of what he had now. He started copying them to his hard disk. In a short while, he was through.
Dele went with a driver and one of the office boys whose name was Andrew. Their first port of call was to be the address in the file. It was called Genesis Networks, somewhere in Aguda, Surulere. He dreaded the traffic that he had to overcome from the island to Surulere. It seemed so paradoxical. Places in Lagos were close yet so far. If only he could get through to the phone number, things would have been a lot easier. He kept on trying the number as they moved. When they were descending Carter Bridge to get to Surulere someone finally picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hello.”
Dele sat bolt upright in his seat, excited.
“Is that Mr. Ignatius Imodibo?”
“No.”
“Please can I speak to him, if he is anywhere near there? I am calling from Octan and Phillips. It is very urgent.”
The recipient dropped the phone.
Dele redialed furiously. It rang and rang but no one picked up the phone. He thought of what Mr. Phillips would expect of him. He had drummed the exigency of getting the systems running into his head. Ignatius would not mind some consideration. After all, he was calling all the shots now. He now decided to send a text message: WE ARE READY TO PAY YOU SOME MONEY IF YOU WILL RESPOND.
No response.
“Where do we go from here?” the driver asked. They were in Aguda now. They decided to stop and hire a taxi that knew the area to lead them to the address of Genesis Networks. They meandered through the streets of Aguda for about twenty minutes before they finally got to the place. It was a nondescript one-storey building, with a faded signboard in front of it. Through the windows, one could clearly see it was a low level cyber café. After paying the taxi driver man off, he walked into the building with the caution of an alien from space. There was a young lady selling log on time near the entrance. A young fellow was standing on the counter next to her, apparently chatting her up. Dele walked up to the lady and asked to see the manager of the place. The young fellow turned towards him.
“Why do you want to see him?” the young man asked.
Dele shrugged and then said, “I am looking for one Ignatius Imodibo that works here.”
“Ah! Ignatius? He used to work here. He left about four months ago. He was a very quiet fellow. Why do you want to see him?”
“I have a message from someone he did business for. He recommended him highly, that is why I am here. Do you know how I can reach him? It is urgent.”
“Why don’t you call him?”
“There seems to be a problem with his phone. I have been trying all day. Do you know where he lives or where he works?”
The boy looked at the lady. They looked up in thought. After a while, the girl ventured, “I think you should ask Yisa. If anyone knows how to reach him, Yisa is the man. They were quite close.”
The young man disappeared through a door in the corner of the hall, ostensibly to call Yisa. After a while, a thin wiry, dark boy beaming from ear to ear appeared came out with the first fellow looking for Yisa.
“Good day, sir, I understand that you are looking for Ignatius.” The smile on his face seemed to be permanent.
Dele nodded.
“Well, he works at Jazzy Networks in Idimu, near his house. I have never gone there but I understand it is very popular. Maybe it is the only cyber café they have in that area. You know those places are like villages, being in the outskirts of Lagos.”
“Is that all you know?” Dele cut him short.
“Well, yes, I normally reach him by phone although he has not called me in a while. I haven’t called him in a while either, you know how bad these networks can be at times just to call someone next to you.”
“Well, thank you very much.” The lady at the counter and the other young man giggled as Yisa was cut short again. “I will try to locate him at Idimu, then.”
As he stepped out of the building, his phone started ringing. It was Ignatius’ number.
“So you are ready to bring the 15,000 naira I told you to bring now, eh?”
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