The Immortal - Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

President Victor

The less power a man has,

the more he likes to use it. – Petit - Sen

The air in the president’s office is swollen with tension, thick like a storm about to break. Portraits of past leaders line the walls, their gazes piercing in perpetual scrutiny. President Victor, his image newly minted among them, sits behind a massive mahogany desk, his brow furrowed. Papers lie scattered across the surface, remnants of a day spent wrestling with decisions.

Henry, the head of the state security service, stands before him, clutching a stack of bulky files. His face is taut, a mask of professional composure betrayed by the nervous tic in his jaw. The president hisses through clenched teeth, frustration simmering beneath his calm facade.

“Must I make every decision myself?” President Victor mutters, more to himself than to Henry. What they assured him could never happen has happened, and the ramifications coil around his thoughts like a serpent. Elijah warned him—no, ordered him—that Prophet John and the seditious Moses must not meet. The reminder gnaws at him. Who is really in charge? Is it he, the elected leader of a nation, or Elijah, the carnal-minded puppet master pulling strings from the shadows?

A sharp pang of doubt cuts through him. Was this what he wanted? To be a president who bows to the whims of an ordinary citizen cloaked in religious authority? The first lady’s advice echoes in his mind, a whisper of caution: “Be careful of that prophet. He is a sly one. You cannot trust him unless to your peril.”

President Victor exhales a long, weary sigh. The weight of a second term presses heavily on his shoulders, a prize for which he has bartered his autonomy. “Henry, didn’t you say you put the pastor under house arrest? How did he manage to sneak out without anybody spotting him?”

Henry scratches his head, a gesture of uncertainty. “I wish I knew,” he admits, his voice a low rumble of frustration.

“Elijah wasn’t too happy when he phoned. He threatened that he would jeopardise my presidency if I didn’t do something about it fast. He shouted and raved at me when I told him I hadn’t heard from you. The stupid prophet called me a fool! Who does he think he is?” President Victor’s voice rises, the sting of insult still fresh. “I heard laughter in the background before I hung up the phone. I will teach Elijah to respect the president,” he vows, a flicker of defiance igniting in his eyes. For the first time in a long time, President Victor contemplates the possibility of becoming his own man.

“Henry,” President Victor repeats, his gaze fixed on his most reliable security officer, “how could you let the two of them meet after you assured me John was under house arrest?”

“I did not only put him under house arrest, sir; I kept one of my men in the house to prevent him from sneaking through any secret door. I stationed someone at the back of the house, too. I don’t see how he could leave the house without somebody seeing him.” Henry frowns, confusion knitting his brows. He looks ruffled, troubled—a rare state for a man known for his nerve of steel.

The president leans back in his chair, the leather creaking beneath him. He relies on Henry to solve any problem; today, the issue looms large, casting shadows over everything else. He chose Henry to head his most formidable security outfit because of his unflinching resolve and ability to stare chaos in the face and bend it to his will. But now, even Henry seems powerless against the machinations unfolding around them.

At this moment, the weight of leadership presses down on President Victor like a vice, with each decision and misstep echoing the potential for disaster. And in the quiet space between breaths, a realization begins to unfold: perhaps the actual battle is not against men like Elijah or Prophet John but within himself, a struggle to reclaim the power he once thought he wielded.

Henry stands before the president, his expression a careful mask of professionalism. But beneath that façade lies a razor-sharp mind that has long been the envy of other security chiefs. If Henry is worried, there must be more to the situation than meets the eye.

“Henry, there’s something you’re not telling me. Let’s have it,” President Victor prompts, leaning forward with an intensity that demands honesty.

Henry hesitates, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. “Sir, with all due respect, I think it’s fair to assume the prophet is up to something sinister. I’ve never liked him, but he’s up to no good this time. I’ve had him under surveillance for about six months now due to a hunch of mine. I’m not comfortable with him turning himself into a parallel government. He has his security outfit, his own ‘court,’ and detention camps. The man is becoming too powerful.”

His eyes dart away to avoid meeting the president’s gaze. Henry’s unease is palpable, a quiet tension crackling between them.

“Excuse us for a moment,” President Victor orders the two other security officers present to leave the office. The room seems to exhale as they step out, the door clicking shut behind them.

The president rises from his desk, his movements deliberate as he walks to the wall where a photograph of himself and Elijah hangs. He lifts it down, staring at it with a mix of contemplation and resignation, before placing it face-down on the table.

“Henry, I’m going to tell you a story today that I’ve never shared with anyone, not even my wife. It’s about Elijah.”

A chill runs through Henry as he looks at the president, his fear almost palpable. His heart begins to race, and an instinctual voice from deep within urges him to flee, to escape from whatever truth is about to be revealed. But he remains rooted to the spot, unable to leave even if he wanted to.

The president returns to his chair, settling in with a heavy sigh. Henry knows President Victor genuinely has the country’s best interests at heart despite his quirks. Yet, since Elijah’s appearance, there’s been a noticeable change in him, a shift that has not gone unnoticed by those closest to him.

“A year before the end of my first term,” the president begins, locking eyes with Henry, “I was sitting here in this office, wondering why the economy was in such dire straits despite having the best economic minds advising me. And then, I looked up and saw a man sitting comfortably in the chair you’re in now. I demanded to know how he got into my office and what he was doing in my office.”

“Elijah,” Henry guesses, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, Elijah.” The president’s gaze grows distant as if the memory plays out before him. “I called for my security, but no one answered. Elijah just sat there, a smug smile on his face. He told me not to bother; that my security details were asleep. I opened the door, and they were all on the floor, sleeping and snoring. That’s when I knew the man before me was no ordinary person.

“He said I could be Nigeria’s greatest president if I desire it. Those were his exact words: desire it. I told him that with the current state of affairs, I’d likely end up as the most hated president the country had ever known. If the military overthrew me at that time, no one would shed a tear for me. Every decision I made seemed to run contrary to what people expected.”

The story unfurls like a shadow creeping across the room, each revelation adding weight to the air. Henry listens intently, his mind a whirl of questions and calculations. The president’s voice, usually commanding and confident, now carries an undercurrent of vulnerability that makes Henry’s skin prickle with unease.

In this silent exchange, an unspoken understanding passes between them: the truth, once hidden, now stands exposed in the harsh light of reality. And with it comes the realization that the path ahead is fraught with dangers and decisions that will test the very core of their beliefs.

“Elijah promised to reverse all of that. He assured me I could rule Nigeria for as long as possible. The people would love me so deeply that they would demand I remain in office indefinitely. He even suggested that I could become the president of Africa.

“At first, I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of his claims. But as I looked at him, a strange certainty in his demeanor warned me against dismissing him. He was not smiling or boasting. It was as though he genuinely believed what he was saying. I knew then that I was dealing with someone who wielded extraordinary power. I asked for two days to think it over. He bowed to me, said goodbye, and vanished into thin air right before my eyes.

“Initially, I resolved not to engage with him, determined to manage independently. However, the House of Representatives initiated an impeachment process the next day against me. That was the tipping point. Desperate and cornered, I found myself reaching out to Elijah.

“On the morning of the third day, as if on cue, Elijah reappeared. By that time, I was like a drowning man, clutching at any straw, no matter how fragile. Elijah assured me that not only would I rule the country, but I could have everything I ever desired. Suspicious, I asked what the catch was. He insisted there was none. Yet, I pressed him, confident there had to be a price. Still, he maintained there was none.

“Looking back, I realize that those politicians in the House of Representatives, eager to remove me and elevate the Vice President through the back door, forced my hand. It was they who drove me to make a pact with Elijah.

“Deep down, I suspected Elijah’s offer came with a catch. But I had no other option then, and Elijah knew it. His presence exuded an air of inevitability, as if everything was predestined to unfold this way. He always seemed to anticipate my thoughts, manipulating my decisions even before I consciously formed them. It was as though he wielded the power of autosuggestion, bending my will to his desires.

“True to his word, Elijah delivered on his promises—and more. The impeachment proceedings against me evaporated. The same man who had initiated the motion became the loudest supporter of my government, championing every policy, no matter how flawed.

“Then came the economic miracle. The nation began to experience unprecedented prosperity. My financial advisers were baffled. Nigeria remained unaffected while the global oil market languished in a historic glut. Our economic resurgence defied all logical explanation.

“Do you remember the article in the New York Times? It speculated on Nigeria’s swift rise as a major economic player, even though no one could identify the source of our newfound wealth. The journalist who penned that article died two days later.

“I now realize that prosperity was both a blessing and a curse, a gilded trap that Elijah had set. It was a prosperity rooted in darkness, a façade that masked the actual cost of the pact I had made. And now, the consequences of that fateful decision were beginning to unravel. Elijah’s influence had woven itself into the very fabric of our nation, and extricating it would require more than just political maneuvering—it would require confronting the darkness head-on.

“As prosperity surged, so did vice. It seemed Elijah had engineered this all along. Whenever I broached the topic of rising corruption and moral decay, he dismissed my concerns with a nonchalance that bordered on indifference.

“Now, they’re poised to amend the constitution to extend my presidency, yet I’m certain it’s not what I desire. I confess, Henry: I haven’t influenced this amendment despite public perception. I’m weary of this presidency. I want out.”

Henry’s eyes widen as the weight of the revelation settles on his shoulders. He sees the president’s struggle and power burden intertwined with Elijah’s insidious influence. The room feels colder, the walls closing in as the truth stands bare and unyielding.

President Victor’s voice softens, a plea for understanding. “I need your help, Henry. We have to break free from Elijah’s grip. We must reclaim our destiny for the sake of Nigeria and our future.”

Henry nods, a steely resolve forming in his chest. “I’m with you, sir. We’ll fight this together.”

As the president and his trusted security chief lock eyes, a new chapter begins—one of resistance and redemption, a battle not just for power but for the soul of a nation.

Shocked into silence, Henry adjusts his chair and sinks heavily into it. “I always suspected Elijah was no good. But with all due respect, sir, how can Parliament pursue such a critical constitutional change without the supposed beneficiary’s involvement?”

“I understand your disbelief, Henry. Even my wife doubts me. She feels that after nearly eight years, we should thank God for His work through us for the nation. But something tells me it wasn’t God’s doing—it was Elijah’s.”

The president picks up the picture of Elijah and himself, then smashes the frame on his desk. He is about to tear the photograph but hesitates, placing it on the table. Instead of returning to his chair, he sits on the edge of the desk, facing Henry directly.

“The country is experiencing the most significant economic boom since independence, yet corruption and vice are rising. It feels as though the devil himself is steering the ship.”

The realization hits him with the force of a revelation. “Henry, I’m not in control. The devil is. I lost my grip when I handed Elijah a blank check to work his influence. He’s never demanded anything from me directly. Instead, he makes subtle suggestions—every single one I’ve followed to the letter. Now, the man’s influence is beyond the reach of even our government.

“Many believe he is next to God, for Christ’s sake. My cabinet urged me to erect that infernal Tabernacle church within the presidency. And look at the consequences in such a short span. People are deserting their traditional churches and mosques for the Tabernacle.

“I’m told this shift is happening nationwide. Elijah’s picture now adorns more homes and offices than any other religious icon. The swiftest path to prosperity seems to be hanging his portrait on your wall and praying to it as often as possible.”

“‘And he exerciseth all the authority of the first beast in his sight. And he maketh the earth and them that dwell therein to worship the first beast, whose death-stroke was healed,’” Henry quotes from the Bible, the words hanging in the air like a chilling prophecy.

“I am familiar with the Book of Revelation, but what has it got to do with Elijah?” the president asks, unsure if Henry quoted the right portion of the Bible.

“A lot, sir. Elijah has all the attributes of the Anti-Christ, according to my General Overseer at the Vineyard. Pastor Adam and Prophet John are the only pastors who never see anything good in Elijah.”

“Elijah is not the Anti-Christ, but he may represent something terrible. The question is: how do we deal with this man before he destroys us all?” The president picks up the picture of Elijah and himself. Victor tears it into two halves. He throws the one with Elijah in it down and grinds it into the ground with all the force he can muster.

Henry picks up the picture of Elijah from the floor after the president has exhausted his rage. “Why is he afraid of Prophet John and Moses meeting each other? Why?” Henry asks. He focuses on the picture of Elijah as if the answer lies there. “I am beginning to think we acted hastily in dealing with Moses. I knew him at university; he was one of the most analytical minds ever. He seldom does anything without a reason. I am also beginning to think the key to unraveling the mystery behind Elijah lies with these two men. I have the dossier you asked for on Prophet John and Moses. I have another one on Elijah. Even though you did not authorize it, it will be useful now. What I have on Elijah is a bomb.”

Henry did not tell the president when he told him to compile a dossier on John and Moses that he already had an unauthorized dossier on Elijah, which he had gathered some time ago. Only three people knew of the file’s existence until now: the first lady, his wife, and himself. Under normal circumstances, it could make him lose his job, but the situation was abnormal.

The president picks up his phone and cancels all his remaining appointments for the day. “This is a good time to go over those files together. I don’t think anything is more important than this right now.”

Henry places the three files on the president’s table and asks for permission to go for lunch. The president, already engrossed in the first file he opened, nods.

As Henry said, the file’s first page on Elijah would blow anybody’s mind. “Good God!” the president swears under his breath.

He reads on, the chilling details painting a picture of a man who wields far more power and influence than he ever imagined. Elijah’s network spans continents, extending to the highest echelons of government, business, and religious institutions. The evidence of his manipulations and machinations, laid bare in the dossier, reveals a man who stops at nothing to achieve his goals.

The report states Elijah operates a parallel security outfit in Aja. He arrests and detains vociferous Christians in his detention camp. Why those types of Christians? Jesus, this man runs a parallel government! The president thinks, ruffling his hair with his hand.

A few cabinet members warned him about Elijah initially but stopped when he wouldn’t listen. He accepts only positive reports about Elijah. Could he be under the man’s spell? Elijah demanded many times that he sack Henry, but he refused. Thank God he didn’t consent. Something about Henry rubs Elijah the wrong way.

Elijah always smiles. The majority of the country’s population worships him. How could he move against such a man? Would there not be a revolt if he tried? The matter calls for caution.

One interview catches his attention. A man claims to be the head of the family that owned the land where Elijah built his Tabernacle. This man says he doesn’t remember selling any land to Elijah. The man woke up one day to find a cheque far above the land’s worth written in his name. When all empirical evidence points to the contrary, the man insists he never met Elijah. The president makes a note to talk to him.

He knows most of the information in the second file. Moses has always been a good boy, but he isn’t honest like most businesspersons in the country. He did nothing to bring him into collision with the government until that television program. The president watched the recorded program many times; he didn’t see why Elijah demanded they move against him. Other people have said worse things about the presidency. Demanded! Jesus, how could he be blind to what his wife saw a long time ago?

The third file is on Prophet John. The president smiles as he reads. He glances sideways at where Henry sat before. Henry is either a secret member of John’s Church of Eternal Hope or a sympathizer. The file almost paints him as a saint. The president makes a mental note to meet him too. He must know something if he is Elijah’s antagonist. Elijah hates him, yet he cannot harm him.

Henry walks in.

“Henry,” the president says, looking up from the file, “this is even worse than I thought.”

Henry nods, taking a seat. “I suspected as much, sir. What have you found?”

The president sighs, gathering his thoughts. “Elijah’s influence is beyond anything I could have imagined. He has no past, no family, no age. It’s like he appeared out of nowhere. He runs a parallel government and detains those who oppose him. One man claims he never sold his land to Elijah but woke up to find a cheque far above its value. How is that possible?”

Henry leans forward. “Elijah has ways of manipulating reality, sir. People see what he wants them to see.”

“And Moses,” the president continues, “I don’t understand why Elijah was so determined to silence him. His television program was critical, but no more than others. What made him a target?”

“Maybe because Moses has the analytical mind to see through Elijah’s facade,” Henry suggests. “And Prophet John—he’s painted almost as a saint in your file. He must know something crucial if Elijah hates him but can’t harm him.”

The president nods. “We need to talk to these men, Henry. Prophet John and Moses may hold the key to understanding and ultimately defeating Elijah.”

“I agree, sir,” Henry says. “But we must proceed with utmost caution. Elijah’s influence runs deep, and any misstep could be catastrophic.”

The president leans back, determination hardening his features. “We start immediately. I want discreet surveillance on Elijah’s activities, and I need meetings set up with Prophet John and Moses as soon as possible.”

Henry nods, standing up. “Consider it done, sir. We’ll uncover the truth and take back control.”

The battle ahead will be difficult, but with Henry by his side and a newfound resolve, they will confront the darkness and reclaim their nation’s future.

“How is Moses enjoying his honeymoon in Port Harcourt?” the president asks Henry without looking up from the file he’s reading.

Henry stops, shocked. His mobile phone slips from his hand. He picks it up, avoiding eye contact with the president. How did the president know Moses was honeymooning in Port Harcourt? The president must be aware of his several visits to Moses. Good God, the president must realize he acted as his best man at the wedding!

“I want to meet the man who sold that land in Aja to Elijah. Also, arrange to withdraw the security from John’s place and bring him and Moses here. I want to see them together with the former owner of that land. How are you going to accomplish that? I don’t want to know since I suspect Moses might still want to continue his honeymoon in Port Harcourt.” The president taps gently on the other half of the turned picture of himself and Elijah.

“Will do, sir,” Henry says. He pulls out his chair. “When do you want them?”

“I want them here as soon as possible. There is nothing more important than this business.”

Henry grins. The president’s association with Elijah was an ill wind that blew no one any good. Henry knew Elijah’s pressure on the president to get him fired. He had already prepared himself for life as a private citizen and even briefed his family.

Every day, Henry expected his letter of retirement. When it did not come, he relaxed. The issue of his friendship with Moses almost got him fired. He gave advice that got him branded a traitor to the president, even when common sense dictated otherwise. Now, he was the president’s most trusted confidant.

President Victor sleeps as he hasn’t in a long time. Immediately after meeting with Henry, he calls the Senate President. “Sir, I want the Senate to drop the debate on that amendment.”

“Which one, Mr. President? We have a couple of them,” the Senate President replies.

“I am talking about the elongation bill.”

“Why, Mr. President, if I may ask?” a shocked Senate President asks.

“Between you and me, I think I have had enough. It is always good to leave when your popularity peaks.”

“Sir?”

“Yes, what is that, George?” the president only calls the Senate President by his first name when he is in a good mood.

“The country needs you,” pleads the Senate President.

“Come off it, George. The country parades people who are better qualified and younger than I am. Let us give them a chance.”

“None of them is Victor.”

“Victor is a man. He is not a god. If he drops dead today, the country will not die. No one is indispensable,” President Victor says, cutting off the connection.

He stares at the opposite wall for a long time before picking up the phone and dialing Henry. “Henry, cancel all privileges given to Elijah that are out of tune with his private citizen’s status. Let my lone photograph replace any of Elijah and me in all federal ministries or government companies.”

The president also calls a press briefing. Addressing the press, he says, “I thank the whole country for the confidence reposed in me these eight years. Some people, out of selfishness, feel I should continue in office. Eight years is the limit of constitutional requirements in Nigeria for a president in office. It would be selfish of me to deny better-qualified Nigerians the opportunity to serve this country. Moreover, the toll of these past years on my loving family is too much for them; as such, I decline the offer.”

He waits for questions. When none come, he bids the reporters good night. Shocked by the speech, the press cannot recover enough to ask questions.

Many newspaper editorials the following morning show that the country couldn’t survive without Victor piloting its affairs. What arrant nonsense. The country will survive with or without him.

As soon as he steps into the house that day, Joyce kisses him in the presence of her security aide, who looks embarrassed and averts his eyes. The first lady looks radiant and happy. She must have been unhappy because of his shenanigans to continue in office against the spirit of the Constitution. She must have been miserable if his decision not to continue made her happy. She kisses him again without minding James, who stands alert, trying not to look their way without success. Let him have something to discuss with his mates tonight.

“Darling, as soon as this Elijah business is over, I want us to take a trip to one of the Caribbean islands.”

Victor smiles, wrapping his arms around her. “That sounds perfect. We deserve a break after everything.”

James discreetly steps back, giving them a moment of privacy. The house feels warmer and more welcoming as if a weight has been lifted. Victor feels a glimmer of hope and relief for the first time in a long while.

“Everything will be all right,” Joyce says, resting her head on his shoulder.

Victor kisses her forehead. “With you by my side, I believe it will be.”

They stand there, holding each other, savoring the rare moment of peace. The storm may still be raging outside, but they have found a sanctuary inside. Together, they will face whatever comes next, stronger and more united than ever.

🪶
J.J. Oluti
Creative Voice of Africa