By the time she got to the corporate office of Bell Communications, the publishers of Razor Newspapers, it was already 4:00 pm. Immediately, she asked to see the Editor -in -Chief and after the usual protocols, she was ushered into the not too big office of the deputy editor, Mr. Tim Abubakar. He was sitting behind the desk, punching away on his computer.
“Yes, what do you want?” he asked, the moment she came into the room, still punching on the keyboards, his eyes not for a moment leaving the screen.
“I have a story for you.”
“Yes, where is it?”
“Won’t you ask me to sit down first?” Jessica asked.
“Oh sorry, I forgot my manners. Do sit down, please,” he said and spurn round on his desk to look at her for the first time. “Now, let me get it. Who are you and what is the story all about?”
“You’re Tim Abubakar, right, the editor? I’ve read a lot of your articles; you are a very good writer.”
“Thanks for the compliment. I must say I’m really flattered. Point of correction, I’m the deputy editor.”
“Good,” Jessica said, “And for introductions, I am Miss Jessica Nnamani, I’m the daughter of Senator Alfred Nnamani. Does the name mean anything to you?”
‘Gaddem,’ Tim thought, obviously taken aback. “Of course, it does. Senator Nnamani, the presidential hopeful?”
“Yes.”
“So, Miss Nnamani, what can we do for you? What’s the story about?”
“It’s about my father, Senator Nnamani.”
“Good, tell me about it, I’m all ears.”
“Where is your recorder and camera, I thought journalists collect information with that.”
“Here,” he said, tapping a small black recorder lying nearby. “It is a voice activated recorder and highly sensitive. I will bring in the in-house photographer when we are through. Go ahead.”
So Jessica went ahead and told him all that happened without leaving a thing out.
“So, that is my story. Will you publish it?” she asked, searching his face.
“Sure. I will do my best,” He promised. He was all over himself with happiness. He knew he was going to make a lot of money, fame and name out of the story.
“I hope no one knows about this?” he asked as she stood up to go.
She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Have you told other journalists about this?”
The frown deepened. “Yes, why do you ask?”
“Nothing really,” he said hastily. He just wanted to be the first to break the news and maybe retain monopoly of it for some days. Still, he was confident he could beat them to it and get the story out before anyone else does
Not satisfied, Jessica headed straight to another media house. As luck would have it, the editor in chief, Mr. Andrew was on call. After filling the necessary papers, she was ushered in to the editor’s tastefully furnished office.
“Welcome Miss Nnamani, so what can we do for you?”
“I have a story for you?”
“A story?” he asked, puzzled. “A story about what?”
“About my father, Senator Nnamani. Will you like to listen to it?”
“Yeah, go ahead. I’m interested.”
She told him all without any reservation. “Will you publish my story? I will like the world to know the type of person you are dealing with.”
“Sure, I will,” he assured her. “The story is quite touching but I assure you it will get to the right quarters and appropriate actions taken.”
“Thank you, sir,” she thanked him and stood up to go, but he stopped her.
“Excuse me, Miss.”
“Yes,” she paused.
“Have you been to other media houses?”
She hesitated. “Yes, why do you ask?”
“Which of them?”
“I can’t give you all their names now, but I’ve been to a couple of media houses. Why do you ask?”
“Well, never mind,” he said, his countenance changing. He had thought he was the first port of call. He had meant to kill the story from here before it goes viral. Still, he was confident he could stop the story. He has enough lead time, he thought.
So, immediately Jessica left his office, he picked up his phone and called Senator Nnamani. He must inform the Senator about the development as soon as possible. He could see that the girl’s mind was poisoned and that she has a grudge against him and must warned beforehand. He also knew that she should be stopped before she caused more damages. Who knows how many media houses she has been to already, he wondered as he heard the phone connection go through.
“Chief, I don’t know how to tell you this but your daughter just left my office.”
“My daughter? Jessica you mean? What does she want?” he asked unperturbedly.
“Chief, I think there is trouble. She is roaring like a tiger with a sore head. She is feeling really frustrated and seems to have a grudge against you and against the larger society. She said so many nasty things about you and I really think you should not dismiss her grudges as mere ranting.”
“Like what, Andrew?” Chief asked in that same I don’t care tone.
“Like…like neglect, abuse, intimidation, domestic violence, and stuffs like that.”
“No one is going to believe her,” Chief laughed. “I sent her to one of the best schools in the country and provided her with the best of anything money can buy. So, what else does she want? I refuse to be intimidated.”
“I think they will believe her, Chief. The way you are looking at things isn’t the way the world looks at things today. The world has changed.”
“Meaning?” he sounded offensive now.
“She is pregnant and that alone is a proof of your ineptitude. She claims you are putting pressure on her to abort the pregnancy against her wish and you know that is wrong.”
“And you think she is telling the truth?”
“Of course, Chief. I know she is. The feeling is too real to be mere pretence.”
“Well, believe that Andrew, and you’ll believe anything.”
“Let’s not dismiss this with a wave of the hand, Chief. She has some proof.”
“What proof are you talking about, Andrew?”
“She’s got marks and bruises all over her body. She said she sustained them from the bashing you gave her.”
“And so?”
“Already she has talked to a lot of media houses and if we don’t act fast, the information might leak and we would be sunk.”
“That should be your worry, not mine. Why am I paying you?” he barked and hung up.
Mr. Andrew was still staring at his phone when it began to ring again. It was Tim Abubakar of Razor Newspapers.
“Yes?” Andrew barked into the phone.
“Oga, I’ve made it. I’ve landed a big fish. Guess what?” Tim enthused across the line.
“Well, I can’t guess. What is it?”
“I’ve got hot gist about Senator Nnamani. It’s really hot and steaming.” At the mention of the name Nnamani, Mr. Andrew nearly had a heart attack but he managed to restrain himself from an uncontrolled outburst. He was trapped because he knew any information that gets into Tim’s hands was as good as public property. He was a die-hard journalist and patriotic to the core. “His daughter just left my office now,” he boasted.
“Senator Nnamani?” Andrew asked, feigning ignorance.
“Yes, Oga, this is great. It’s going to blow the old man into pieces,” and before Andrew could say anything, Tim said. “Watch the papers tomorrow. It’s going to make headlines. Bye,” he said and hung up.
Immediately the line went dead, Mr. Andrew called Chief back and told him of the latest development.
“There’s trouble, Chief. She’s shooting. She has just been to see the Razor team and they are warming up to hit the news stand with it tomorrow morning.”
“Oh my God!” Chief cried. There was panic in his voice. “She must be stopped. Come over to my office immediately.”
Chief was pacing the spacious office when Mr. Andrew arrived. “Please sit down,” he ordered hurriedly. “What will I offer you?” he asked him, beckoning to his P.A.
“Nothing, Chief. Thanks all the same.”
“So tell me, what are we going to do? This guy mustn’t publish that story. He must be stopped at all cost.”
“Chief, that will be impossible now. I know Tim like I know the back of my hand. He is a die-hard.”
“Nothing is impossible. Everything has a price. I don’t care how much it costs but the bottom line is, he mustn’t publish that story, do you hear me?”
“Chief, you don’t know this guy like I do. He is a no nonsense fellow. He will never mortgage his conscience.”
“That’s because no one has made him an offer he couldn’t resist. Listen, I’ll pay in additional ten million naira into your account. So money, at least, wouldn’t be a problem. See that they are adequately compensated and that no scrap of it gets out, okay?”
“It’s okay, Chief but I doubt if he will listen. He will rather die than do a thing like that.”
“Then so be it. Let him die,” he said and dismissed him with a wave of the hand.
Straight away, Mr. Andrew drove over to Tim Abubakar’s office at the Bells Communications headquarters and tried to broker a deal with the journalist, but like he had suspected, Tim was unbending and refused to kill the story despite all entreaties.
“Okay, what will it take? Name your prize. Will a million naira do?” Andrew asked.
“Are you trying to offer me bribe?” Tim asked, looking at him intently. “Do you know it is a crime?”
“This is more than a bribe and this is more than me. It’s state affair. Now, let’s look at it this way. What will you gain by publishing this story? Take the money and forget you ever saw the girl or heard the story.”
“And live with the guilt all the days of my life?” Tim asked him. “No way, I wouldn’t do that. Concealment of information is a crime to humanity. We’ve all got a right to know.”
After trying unsuccessfully to convince Tim to change his mind, Andrew left a frustrated and sad man. The next morning, the story was in the front covers of Daily Razor.