Danny sat at one end of the long bar at T junction, sipping his beer thoughtfully and occasionally drawing from his cigarette. The money didn’t interest him any longer. He was seriously bothered about the prospect of failing because he knew the consequences. He was confident in himself though; after all, he has solved many kidnap riddles in the past and handled tougher jobs for Chief and other important clients too. Even the journalist and the reporter weren’t any problem. Talking about fixing the reporter and the journalist, Danny reminisced, that was a piece of cake because both had regular jobs and routines unlike Jessica who could be anywhere right now, it was therefore easy to keep tab on them effortlessly and nab them at his convenience. Tim Abubakar has a drinking problem which he had conveniently kept hidden from the public. It was therefore easy for Danny to trace him to one of the joints where he usually takes his ‘one for the road’ before going home. He pulled the deal off with one of his buddies, Fatai with a car they snatched from its owner at gun point. The TV reporter, on the other hand, was easy to stage. Like Tim Abubakar, they traced her to house and blocked the entrance to her house with their car. When she got there and discovered the car blocking her entrance, she’d flown into a tantrum and gave the guys a piece of her mind, which was expected. But little did she know that Danny and Fatai weren’t gentlemen. “This is from the Senator,” they told her before dragging her out of the car and beating living day lights out of her.
He took another sip from his beer and glared at the tip red end of his cigarette; there was this uncanny feeling at the pits of his stomach that something would go wrong. Shifting uneasily, he took another instinctive look at his wrist watch again. It was nearly mid day and his heart skipped a beat. He has barely 20 hours to find the girl or proceed on a self imposed exile.
20 hours only!
He stood up irritably and began pacing the floor restlessly. They have searched for the girl intensively for the past 28 hours and yet there was no trace of her whereabouts. She seemed to have disappeared into the thin air. She also seemed to be keeping away from everybody that knows her. They have traced her to all her known friends and relatives but none of them seems to have set eyes on her or could tell of her whereabouts. Their best moves only amounted to near misses. Unable to take it again, he jumped into the car and drove aimlessly around for some time.
Meanwhile, Jessica continued roaming the streets for hours. She was sad and almost frustrated because she couldn’t get a representation or air her views. She couldn’t understand why no one wanted to help her. Feeling tired, worn out and nearly suffocating under the intensity of the sun, she found a lonely place under one of the trees by the roadside and sat down. She could not find a way out of the quagmire she found herself in. All she sees were fears, doubts and unanswered questions. How will she and her baby cope? Where will she get work and a shelter? Already, the money she has with her was fast running out. Should she go back home and have the baby aborted and continue with her life as if nothing happened? She shuddered at the last thought. She tried to push the thoughts away, but they kept coming back time and time again.
And for hours, these thoughts and questions filled her brains like flushing water fills toilet. She took another cursory look at her timepiece, it was just a few minutes after 11am; she sighed. How time crawls when one is a waiting position but flies when you are having fun. She was supposed to meet Pastor Okechukwu by 2:00 pm and the 3 remaining hours seemed like eternity to her. She thought of some useful ways to while away the time. She needed to visit the internet to see what’s new. But she daren’t go near a cybercafé for fear of being spotted. She wasn’t fooling herself her father’s thugs weren’t on the lookout for her. After a lot of brainstorming, she decided to go to the library and while away time.
For several minutes, she roamed from one department to another, looking for something good to while away the time with. But nothing caught her interest in the book department so she went over to the magazine department. She searched through a dozen magazines until her eyes caught something that attracted her attention. It was a pro-life magazine published quarterly. She picked up the magazine and scanned through hastily. An article titled ‘Condom Study: A Medical Cover Up?’ caught her attention.
The article had started. ‘You almost have to feel sorry for them. I mean, the safe sex lobbyists have been so faithful to condom…’ she paused; looked at the cover and publication date again and frowned. It was the March issue.
‘Phew,’ she muttered to herself. ‘So the CDC has known for years there was insufficient evidence that condoms do block the spread of HIV virus?’ “‘The entire public health model, designed by the CDC and based on the fact that condoms offer protection is a lie,’” said one of the doctors. The article had continued. She was so engrossed in the article and must have read it a thousand times over. She was still digesting the article when a man came into the library with the current edition of the magazine. She walked over to him.
“Good afternoon, sir,” she greeted him, “I was enjoying your magazine. Are you the publisher?”
Something in her voice made the man to look up sharply. He has heard that voice somewhere before. “Good afternoon, young lady. I’m glad you like it. Yes, I am the publisher. Which part of the story interested you actually?”
“Virtually all the articles, most especially, that one about condoms and the lies they tell.”
“I’m glad you did.”
She noticed the current edition. “Is that the current edition?” she asked, picking one up.
“Yes, it just got out of press today. It was supposed to be here yesterday.”
“Oh! Sorry about that,” she said, dropping the copy back hurriedly.
“Oh, that’s okay. Do you want that?”
“Yes, please.”
“You can keep it,” he said. He was still wondering where he had seen her before.
“This article about condoms ineffectiveness, is it true?”
“That there is nothing like safe sex?”
“Yes, it’s true?” she asked, looking at him closely. There was something definitely familiar about him. She had the feeling that she has seen him before too.
“Yes, it’s quite true. Condoms are not foolproof.”
By then Jessica was sure she has seen him somewhere before. “Excuse me, sir, but…but you …you look familiar. Are you a lawyer?”
“No. You look familiar too.”
“You are a medical doctor?”
“Yes, I mean, no. I am a doctor but I am no longer practicing.”
“Then you are a journalist?”
“No, but I work with pro-lifers.”
“What does that mean?”
“We defend life and families all over the world.”
“Oh, ho!” she cried as the penny dropped. “You are the same man I knocked down his files at the hospital the other day. What are you doing here?”
“Distributing this,” he said, pointing at the magazines. “Besides I have an appointment by 2: 00 pm with somebody here. And you?”
“Same for me.”
“Now tell me, what were you doing at the hospital the other day?” the pastor asked.
“Is it any of your business?” she snapped.
“Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have asked.”
“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“It’s …it’s okay. It’s stupid of me to have asked anyway. Well, you said you are waiting for someone?”
“Yes. I don’t know him in person, but my friend asked me to meet him here.”
He frowned. “Are you Jessica, Jessica Nnamani?”
She nodded.
“Oh my God!” the pastor cried. “It’s you I’ve come to see.”
“But …but Ijeoma said you will be coming by 2:00 pm or so. It’s only after 12:00 pm. I thought you run a tight schedule?”
“Yes, I told her I will be here by 2:00 pm, but I had a change of plans. I’m sorry but now, here I am.”
“Thanks for coming, pastor.”
“Don’t mention. It’s part of my job. So how are you doing? Have you taken a bite?”
“No, I need a bath first.”
“That’s all right, please come with me.”
Danny was cruising past the library when he saw Jessica getting into Pastor Okechukwu’s car. He wouldn’t have noticed her had he not been interested in the man of God as a person. He represents everything he couldn’t and wouldn’t be and would have loved to be and more. Instinctively, he stepped down on the brake without thinking, nearly causing an accident. The vehicles coming from behind stepped on their brakes too. Tires screeched and cars swerved this way and that to avoid hitting each other. A barrage of curses rained on him but he was not bothered. He heaved a sigh of relief. He was so happy and felt like hitting the ceiling.
‘I’ve made it, whoa!’ he enthused, hitting the steering wheel hard.
Immediately, he called the boys and asked them to call off the search and to meet him at once at T Junction for further instructions. He watched the Pastor as he reversed and pulled out of the library’s parking lot, starting his car, he followed them from a safe distance.
Meanwhile, Pastor Okechukwu and Jessica drove on unhurriedly, chatting happily, unaware they were being followed.
“Oh, are you telling me they told you it was alright to have sex but you prevent infection using condom?”
“Yes, they told us sex is okay so long as it is protected and consensual. They used to give us free condoms and encourage us to use it.”
The Pastor laughed loudly.
“Why are you laughing? It’s not funny, you know?”
“I’m really sorry for the lies. But the truth is there is nothing like safe or protected sex. Sex can either be licit or illicit and not safe or unsafe. And they know this but they wouldn’t admit it.”
“Why?”
“Why? Well, because the culture of death is built on lies and do you blame them? John 8: 44 says, ‘ye are of your father the devil and the lust of your father ye will do. He was a murderer from the beginning, and abode not in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he speaketh a lie, he speaketh of his own, for he is a liar, and the father of it.” We know these truths but we tell ourselves something different to cover our guilty knowledge and rationalizations,” he explained. “I will show you a few facts that ought to arouse your suspicion– facts about the precise kind of moral confusion we suffer. For example, most people who call abortion wrong call it killing; most who call it killing says it kills a baby, most who calls it killing a baby decline to prohibit it altogether. Most, who decline to prohibit it, think it should be restricted. More and more people favor restrictions. Yet greater and greater numbers of people have had or have been involved in abortion,” he paused and looked at her briefly. “Or this one: most adults make out they are worried about teenage sex. Yet, rather telling kids to wait until they are married most tell kids to wait until they are older. Most say premarital sex between two consenting adults is a normal expression of natural desire, yet hardly are any comfortable telling anyone, especially their own children how many people they have slept with themselves. As to the first example, if abortion kills, it ought to be banned to everyone but if it doesn’t kill a baby, it is hard to see why we should be uneasy about it all; why restrict it? We restrict what we allow because we know it is wrong but don’t want to give it up; we feed our conscience with scraps in hope of hushing them up. As to the second example, sexual promiscuity has exactly the same bad consequences among adults as it has among teenagers. But if it is just an innocent pleasure, then why not talk it up? Vacillation is no longer novelty; the sexual revolution is grey with age. “So you can see clearly that whatever our problem may be, it isn’t that conscience is weak. We may be confused but we aren’t confused that way. It isn’t that we don’t know the truth, but we tell ourselves something different. For example, when ordinary rationalization fails, people revert to other modes of suppression. We often see this when an unmarried young woman becomes pregnant, suddenly her conscience discovers itself; although she was not ashamed to pull off her skirts, she is suddenly ashamed to show her swelling belly. What can she do? Well, she can have an abortion; that is reverting to other modes of suppression called ‘getting rid of the evidence.’ But then she finds that the new transgression is no solution to the old one; in fact, now she has something more difficult to rationalize. Think of what is necessary to justify abortion. Because we can’t not know that it is wrong to deliberately kill other human beings, there are only four options; we must deny that the act is deliberate, deny that it kills, deny that its victims are human beings, or deny that wrong must not be done. The last option is literally nonsense. That something must not be done is what it means for it to be wrong. The first option is hardly promising either. Abortion does not just happen; it is performed. Its proponents not only admit there is a ‘choice,’ they boast of it. As to the second option, if it was ever promising, it is no longer. Millions of women have viewed sonograms of their babies kicking, sucking their thumbs, and turning summersault; whatever these little ones are doing, they are busily alive.” He paused, took a breath and continued. “The only option left is number three; to deny the humanity of the victims. It is at this point that the machinery slips out of control. For to make option three work, is to ignore biological nature which tells us that from conception onward the child is as human as you or me (does anyone imagine that a dog is growing in there?) and invent another criteria of humanity, one that makes it a matter of degree.”
She nodded in agreement.
“Some of us must turn out to be more human, others less. But my dear girl, this is a dicey business, even for abortionists. It hardly needs to be said that no one has been able to come up with the criteria that makes babies in the womb less human but leaves everyone else as we are. But the teeth of the moral gears are too finely set for that,” he said grimly. “Now consider for instance the criteria of “personhood” and “deliberate rationality. According to the former, one is more or less human according to whether he is more or less a person. And according to the later, he is more or less a person according to whether he is more or less able to act with a thoughtful, mature purpose. Unborn children become killable because they cannot act maturely; they are less than fully persons, and so less than fully humans. In fact, they must be killed when the interest of those who are more fully humans requires it. Therefore, not only may their mothers abort, but it would be wrong to stop their mothers from doing so. But look where else this drives us,” he said as he pulled up outside a fast food joint.
“Are we home?”
“No,” he said as he killed the engine and jumped out. “Let’s grab some food.”
She jumped down from the car, too dazed at what she was hearing. She must be lucky to have met the pastor. She wondered what she would have done.
“I thought you are a pastor?” she asked as she munched hungrily.
“Of course, I am. Why do you ask?”
“Nothing. I …I was thinking, but doesn’t your pro-life work interfere with your pastoral work?”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t. In fact, they are rather complimentary. It’s the main stay of my ministry.”