The queue at the payout counter was a snake of sweating, shouting men.
I stood at the back, hidden in the shadows of a pillar. The air smelled of stale sweat and cheap beer.
I had Tashi's ticket in my left hand. 48,000 CFA.
I had my own ticket—the Pa Kila ticket—zipped safely in my pocket. 60,000 CFA.
Total: 108,000 CFA.
In 1999 Bamenda, you could buy a plot of land for 200,000. I was carrying half a plot of land in my shorts.
< Heart rate: 160 bpm. > Gemini noted. < Cortisol levels: High. Suggestion: Breathe, Operator. You are hyperventilating. >
I'm not hyperventilating, I snapped internally. I'm plotting.
I couldn't just walk up to the counter. The cashier was a man named "Bone." He had no neck and a reputation for "losing" winning tickets if he didn't like your face. If a ten-year-old handed him a 48,000 franc winner, Bone would just rip it up, pocket the cash, and slap me.
I needed a proxy.
I scanned the room.
Most men were drunk. Useless.
Then I saw him. Mr. Lucas.
He was a neighbor from our quarter. A retired teacher. He wore thick glasses and walked with a cane. He was respectable. He was honest. And right now, he was holding a losing ticket, shaking his head sadly.
I slipped through the crowd and tugged on his sleeve.
"Pa Lucas," I whispered.
He jumped, looking down. "Nkem? Weti you di do for here? This place bad for pikin."
"My Papa sent me," I lied, keeping my voice low. "He is outside. He has running belly. He cannot stand in the line."
"Tashi?" Lucas chuckled. "He drank too much?"
"Yes, Pa. Please... he said you should help me collect. He trusts you."
I held out Tashi's ticket.
Lucas took it. He looked at the numbers.
"Correct Score? 2-0?" He whistled. "Tashi get luck today."
"Please, Pa. He said I should give you 2,000 for your beer."
That sealed it. A retired teacher's pension was peanuts. 2,000 francs was a week of groceries.
"Okay, small man. Wait here."
Lucas joined the line. I watched from the shadows.
Because he was an elder, the crowd made way for him.
"Make wuna shift! Pa wan pass!"
Lucas reached the counter. He handed the ticket to Bone.
Bone checked it. He grunted. He counted the money.
Bills. Dirty, crumpled bills.
Lucas took the stack.
He walked back to me. He counted out 2,000 francs and put it in his pocket. He handed me the rest.
46,000 francs.
"Tell your Papa say I drink his beer," Lucas smiled.
"Thank you, Pa."
I grabbed the money. I shoved it deep into my pocket, right next to the other ticket. My shorts felt heavy, dragging down on my hips.
I didn't run. Running attracts attention.
I walked out of the shop, slipping into the darkness of the street.
Now for the hard part.
I had to get to the Main Market to cash my ticket at Pa Kila's.
It was a twenty-minute walk.
In the dark.
With Razor's goons somewhere in the city.
Abakwa Streets
7:45 PM
Bamenda at night is a labyrinth.
The main roads have cars, but the "short-cuts" are dirt paths that wind between houses, uncompleted fences, and drainage ditches.
I took the short-cuts.
Gemini was my radar.
< Audio anomaly detected. Footsteps behind you. Distance: 30 meters. >
I froze against a cement wall.
I held my breath.
Two men walked past on the main road, arguing loudly about the match.
< False positive. Civilians. >
I exhaled. We need night vision goggles, Gemini.
< Work in progress, Operator. For now, use your ears. >
I moved fast. I reached the Main Market. It was shut down for the night, but the "Winner's Chapel Pools" back entrance was always open on match days.
I found Pa Kila's shop.
It was quieter here. The market boys had gone home.
Pa Kila was sitting behind his mesh cage, counting a massive pile of cash. The house had won big today—most people had bet on Man Utd to win 3-0 or 3-1. The 2-0 score had wiped out the majority of bettors.
I walked up to the cage.
"Pa."
He looked up with his one good eye. He squinted.
"The school pikin?"
"My Massa send me," I said. "He wants his money."
I slid Ticket 0492 under the mesh.
Pa Kila picked it up. He looked at his ledger. He paused.
He looked at me.
"This ticket... 60,000."
"Yes, Pa."
"Who be your Massa?" he asked slowly. "I never see man play 5,000 on Correct Score before."
"He is a big man," I said, pitching my voice to sound bored. "He is waiting in the car."
I pointed vaguely toward the dark street.
Pa Kila hesitated. 60,000 was a heavy payout. He didn't want to let it go.
But in the gambling world, reputation is everything. If word got out that Pa Kila didn't pay a winner, his shop would burn down tomorrow.
He sighed. He reached into his safe.
He counted the money.
Six bundles of 10,000 (in 500 and 1,000 notes). It was a brick of cash.
He pushed it under the mesh.
"Tell your Massa say yi luck too much."
"I will tell him."
I took the brick.
I couldn't put this in my pocket. It wouldn't fit.
I opened my school bag—the rice sack. I shoved the money inside, wrapping it in my dirty PE shirt.
I walked out.
Total cash on person: 106,000 CFA. (Minus the 2k for Lucas).
Now, the final leg.
Auntie Manka's shop.
Auntie Manka's Provisions
Commercial Avenue Junction
8:30 PM
Auntie Manka's shop was a beacon of civilization.
It was a proper concrete store, painted bright yellow, stacked floor-to-ceiling with sardines, bread, milk, and crates of beer. A generator chugged reliably out back, powering a string of bright bulbs.
I saw Tashi sitting on a beer crate outside.
He looked terrible. His shirt was torn at the shoulder. He was sweating. He was holding a beer, but his hand was shaking.
Razor had caught him.
I ran across the street.
"Papa!"
Tashi looked up. When he saw me, his eyes filled with a desperate, terrifying hope.
"Nkem?"
I stopped in front of him.
"Are you okay?"
"They cornered me," Tashi whispered, checking the shadows. "At the Hospital junction. They searched me. They turned my pockets inside out. They found nothing."
He let out a shaky laugh. "They slapped me. Razor said I hid the money in my socks. He made me take off my shoes."
"Did they follow you here?"
"I don't think so. I ran through the church yard. I lost them."
He grabbed my shoulders. His grip was frantic.
"The ticket, Nkem? Did you cash it? Or is it lost?"
He was terrified that a ten-year-old had dropped a fortune in the dark.
I looked around. Manka was inside serving a customer.
"Let's go inside," I said. "To the back store."
We walked into the shop.
"Auntie!" Tashi called out. "I need the back room. Small family meeting."
Manka looked at Tashi's torn shirt. She looked at me. She smelled the trouble.
She threw a key to Tashi. "Don't steal my stock."
We went into the store room. It smelled of dry fish and soap.
Tashi locked the door.
"Show me," he pleaded.
I reached into my pocket.
I pulled out the wad from the first ticket (46,000).
I handed it to him.
Tashi grabbed it. He kissed the dirty notes.
"God! God is great!"
He started counting.
"Forty-six? Where is the two thousand?"
"I paid Pa Lucas to collect it," I said. "Bone would not pay a child."
Tashi nodded, impressed. "Smart. Very smart."
He stuffed the money into his pocket.
"We are rich, Nkem! We are back!"
He reached for the door handle. "Let's go. I will buy a crate for the house."
"Wait," I said.
"What?"
"I have more."
Tashi froze. "What do you mean?"
I took my school bag off my back. I placed it on a sack of rice.
I unzipped it.
I pulled out the PE shirt.
I unfolded it.
The brick of cash sat there. 60,000 francs.
Tashi stared.
He stopped breathing.
He looked at the money. He looked at me.
"Nkem... did you steal this?"
"No," I said. "I played a ticket too."
"You?" He backed away, as if I had turned into a demon. "You played? With what money?"
"I sold lights," I said. "I made 5,000. I bet it on the same score. 12-to-1."
Tashi's legs gave out. He sat down heavily on a carton of soap.
He looked at the pile of cash.
106,000 francs total.
"Who are you?" Tashi whispered. He wasn't asking his son. He was asking the entity in front of him. "My son is ten. My son plays with mud. You... you move like a man."
This was the moment.
I could lie. I could say it was luck.
But I needed a partner. I couldn't build Gemini Corp alone. I needed Tashi—not as a father, but as a frontman.
"I am Nkem," I said steadying my voice. "But I have seen things, Papa. I have a gift. God gave me a map."
"A map?"
"A map of how to make money," I said. "The radio. The match. This is just the start."
I pushed the 60,000 toward him.
"But I cannot hold this money. I am a child. If I hold it, people will kill me."
Tashi looked at the cash. The greed was there, but it was mixed with fear now.
"You want me to hold it?"
"We make a deal," I said.
"The 46,000 is yours. For the house. For food. For rent. Pay Pa Che. Buy Mami a dress."
I put my hand on the big brick.
"This 60,000... this is Business Capital."
"Business?"
"We are going to open a shop," I said. "Not a betting shop. An electronics shop. Tashi & Son."
Tashi blinked. "Electronics?"
"I fix them. You sell them," I said. "We stop gambling, Papa. Gambling is for fools. We become the House."
Tashi looked at the money. He looked at his torn shirt. He looked at his hands, which had lost money for twenty years.
He looked at me.
He saw a way out.
"Tashi & Son," he repeated. It sounded good to him. Respectable.
"Okay," Tashi said. He reached out and covered the money with his big hand. "We do it."
< Alliance formed, > Gemini confirmed. < Hostile entity 'Tashi' converted to 'Asset'. >
Suddenly, there was a banging on the shop door outside.
Loud. Violent.
"Manka! Open this door!"
It was Razor's voice.
Tashi jumped up. "He found us."
I grabbed the bag.
"Does this room have a window?"
Tashi looked around. "High up. Small vent."
"Lift me," I said.
"What about me?" Tashi whispered, panic returning.
"You stay," I said. "You have the 46,000. That is your winnings. If they search you, they find that. It matches the ticket you won."
"And the 60,000?"
"I take it," I said. "If they find two tickets' worth of money on you, they will know something is wrong. They will kill you for the rest."
"But—"
"Lift me!"
Tashi grabbed me and hoisted me up. I scrambled through the vent, dropping into the dark alley behind the shop.
I hugged the rice sack to my chest.
I heard the front door crash open.
I heard Razor shouting.
I heard Tashi shouting back, playing the drunk winner.
I didn't stay to listen.
I ran into the night.
I had 60,000 francs.
I had a business plan.
And I had just declared war on the local mafia.
< Welcome to the game, Operator, > Gemini whispered.