Finish quickly.

After that, you will accompany Officer Nnamdi and Officer Bassey to check a robbery report near your area.”

Ibe felt cold move through his stomach.

Near your area.

That was how they planned to get him away from witnesses.

“Yes, sir,” he said.

But under the register, his phone remained connected.

ACP Okoro heard everything.

When DPO Charles returned to his office, the line clicked.

The ACP spoke again, almost in a whisper.

“Ibe.”

“Sir.”

“Good.

They have exposed the movement plan.

My team is close.

Do not enter any vehicle with them.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Also, do you still have any piece of the cake or wine?”

“No, sir.

They collected everything.”

“Then we will collect it from them.”

Another twenty minutes crawled by.

Officer Nnamdi came again, this time with Bassey.

Both were in plain clothes, though their service belts were hidden under loose shirts.

“Let’s go,” Nnamdi said.

Ibe closed the register.

“Sir, I need to sign out from the duty officer.”

“Forget that.

DPO ordered it.”

“For record purposes, sir.”

Bassey stepped closer.

“Are you afraid?”

Ibe looked at him.

“Of what?”

Bassey gave a small laugh.

“You tell us.”

Before Ibe could answer, the sound of engines entered the compound.

Not one vehicle.

Three.

The first black police SUV stopped near the gate.

Two more blocked the exit.

Officers Ibe had never seen before stepped down quickly, their uniforms neat, their faces hard.

Behind them came ACP Daniel Okoro himself.

DPO Charles rushed out of his office.

“ACP sir!” he said, forcing surprise into his voice.

“We were not informed of your visit.”

“It was not a social visit,” ACP Okoro replied.

The station changed instantly.

Officers stood straighter.

Civilians fell silent.

Nnamdi and Bassey exchanged a look that lasted less than a second but said everything.

ACP Okoro walked past DPO Charles and stopped in front of Ibe.

“Junior Officer Ibe.”

“Sir.”

“You will come with my team.”

DPO Charles laughed nervously.

“Sir, is there any problem? If the boy has complained about the small misunderstanding during his party, I can explain.

He insulted all of us by saying we wanted to poison him.”

ACP Okoro turned slowly.

“Did you organize a party for him?”

“Yes, sir.

Out of love.”

“Where is the cake?”

Charles hesitated.

“Sir?”

“The cake,” ACP Okoro repeated.

“And the wine.

Bring them.”

No one spoke.

The DPO’s throat moved.

“Sir, after the embarrassment, we threw them away.”

ACP Okoro looked toward the office.

“Search it.”

DPO Charles stepped forward.

“Sir, with due respect, this is my office.”

“With due respect,” ACP Okoro said coldly, “you are not the only officer wearing rank in this country.”

Two officers entered the DPO’s office.

A minute later, one came out holding the black nylon bag.

Inside were the cake, the wine bottle, and the cup that had been taken from Ibe.

The station watched DPO Charles lose color.

“For a celebration you threw away,” ACP Okoro said, “you preserved it very carefully.”

Charles opened his mouth, then closed it.

The items were sealed in evidence bags.

ACP Okoro ordered everyone who had organized the party to remain in the station yard.

Their phones were collected.

Their names were written down.

Nnamdi tried to protest until one of the outside officers took