Late morning found Bayo and Tope back in the Surulere office.
The whiteboard had become crowded again.
At the top, Bayo had written:
7A-214
Under it:
CRESTLINE LOGISTICS
APAPA
WATERFRONT
ELEGUSHI
IKORODU
MISSING DESTINATION
He stepped back and studied the list.
The questions beneath it were simpler.
WHO HANDLED THE MOVEMENT?
WHO CONTROLLED THE PAPERWORK?
WHERE DID THE TWO TRAILS MEET?
Tope stood beside the desk, scrolling through the messages on her phone.
“Kunle is willing to meet,” she said.
Bayo turned.
“When?”
“Today.”
“Where?”
“Apapa.”
Bayo looked at the whiteboard again.
“Convenient.”
Tope gave him a look.
“You say that like Apapa personally arranged it.”
“I’m saying the location is interesting.”
“It is a transport yard.”
“It is also where some of our records keep pointing.”
“That too.”
Bayo picked up his notebook.
“Let’s go.”
The journey towards Apapa took longer than expected.
Traffic thickened as they approached the industrial corridor.
Trucks occupied entire stretches of road, some moving slowly, others parked along the edges with drivers waiting for instructions, loading slots or clearance.
Bayo watched them through the window.
There was something different about seeing the movement physically.
On paper, a vehicle was a registration number.
A company was a name.
A destination was a line on a form.
Here, everything was connected to people.
Drivers.
Dispatchers.
Security men.
Loaders.
Clerks.
People who knew which gate to use and which one to avoid.
People who knew when a document mattered and when it could be ignored.
People who could move something without ever appearing in the final record.
Tope glanced at him.
“You’re thinking again.”
“I’m always thinking.”
“That is not always a good thing.”
Bayo smiled faintly.
“You’re the one who brought me here.”
“I brought you to Apapa.
I didn’t create the problem.”
“Fair.”
They drove on.
Kunle was waiting near the entrance to a transport yard.
He was in his late fifties, broad-shouldered, with the heavy build of a man who had spent most of his working life around trucks and warehouses.
His clothes were ordinary, but his eyes were alert.
He greeted Tope first.
Then he looked at Bayo.
“You’re Adeniran?”
“Yes.”
Kunle nodded.
“I’ve heard your name.”
Bayo did not ask where.
“Thank you for meeting us.”
Kunle glanced around the yard before answering.
“Some things are easier to discuss away from offices.”
Tope noticed the way he looked towards the parked vehicles.
“You were expecting someone else?”
“No.”
“Then why keep checking?”
Kunle smiled without amusement.
“Habit.”
He turned.
“Come.”
They followed him past several parked trucks and into a small office near the rear of the yard.
The room was functional rather than comfortable.
A metal desk stood against one wall.
A battered filing cabinet occupied the corner.
An old standing fan rotated slowly, making more noise than wind.
Kunle closed the door.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then he reached beneath the desk and brought out a ledger.
It was old.
The cover had darkened with age and handling.
Several corners were worn away.
He placed it on the desk.
“This is the first one.”
Bayo looked at it.
“You have more than one?”
Kunle nodded.
“I found this one first.”
Tope leaned closer.
“Among old transport records.”
Bayo opened the ledger carefully.
The pages contained vehicle registration numbers, driver names, collection points, delivery points, company names, dates and dispatch references.
He turned several pages.
Then stopped.
The same vehicle appeared again.
Different company name.
Different date.
Same registration number.
Bayo looked at Kunle.
“Who owned the vehicle?”
Kunle shrugged.
“That’s the problem.”
“You don’t know?”
“I knew the drivers.
I knew some of the companies.
Ownership was not always as straightforward as the paperwork suggested.”
Bayo made a note.
“Meaning?”
“A truck could be working for one company while the paperwork showed another.”
“Why?”
“Contract arrangement.
Subcontracting.
Temporary dispatch.
Sometimes the company changed after the vehicle had already been assigned.”
Tope looked at Bayo.
He was already writing.
“Anything else?” she asked.
Kunle pointed to several entries.
“Look at the dispatch references.”
Bayo followed his finger.
The same reference appeared beside different vehicles on different dates.
He frowned.
“What does this reference mean?”
Kunle shook his head.
“I don’t know exactly.”
“Company?”
“Could be.”
“Person?”
“Could be.”
“Instruction?”
“Could be that too.”
Bayo wrote it down.
He did not circle it.
He did not connect it to anything yet.
He simply recorded it.
Then he saw another name.
A.
ADEYEMI
He looked up.
“Who is Adeyemi?”
Kunle was silent for a moment.
“Around the movement side.”
“That isn’t a role.”
“I know.”
“What did he do?”
“He gave instructions.
Checked things.
Followed up on movement.”
“For which company?”
Kunle shook his head.
“I can’t say.”
“Government?”
“No confirmation.”
“Transport company?”
“Not that I can confirm.”
“Then what can you confirm?”
Kunle looked at the ledger.
“That he was involved in the movement.”
Bayo wrote:
A.
ADEYEMI — TRANSPORT COORDINATION?
Then he underlined the question mark.
Tope noticed.
“You don’t trust the description.”
“I don’t trust anything until we can support it.”
Kunle nodded slowly.
“That’s probably wise.”
Bayo turned another page.
There were more entries.
More vehicles.
More destinations.
More references.
And the same pattern continued.
Different names.
Different paperwork.
Repeated movement references.
He closed the ledger halfway.
“You said there was another one.”
Kunle looked at him.
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
“I haven’t brought it.”
“Why?”
“Because I wasn’t sure I should.”
The room became quiet.
Tope folded her arms. Follow the newest chapters on novelping.com.
“What changed?”
Kunle looked at both of them.
“You came asking the right questions.”
Bayo did not react.
“That isn’t an answer.”
Kunle gave a faint smile.
“No.
It isn’t.”
He sat down.
“There is a driver you should speak to.”
“Who?”
“Sani.”
“What did he drive?”
“Different trucks at different times.”
“Routes?”
“Apapa.
Waterfront.
Ikorodu.”
“Anything else?”
“Maybe Marina.”
Bayo wrote the name down.
“Sani knows what happened?”
Kunle shook his head.
“He knows what he saw.”
“That may be more useful.”
Kunle leaned back.
“He may not want to talk.”
“Why?”
“Some drivers remember things they don’t like remembering.”
Tope studied him.
“And you think he’ll talk to us?”
“I think he might.”
“Might?”
Kunle looked towards the window.
“People become more careful when they realise old records are being opened.”
Bayo closed his notebook.
“Where can we find him?”
Kunle gave them an address.
Then, after a pause, he added:
“Try a café nearby first.
He sometimes goes there.”
Bayo wrote that down too.
“Anything else?”
Kunle looked at the ledger.
“There may be another record that explains some of the changes.”
“The second ledger.”
“Yes.”
“Will you give it to us?”
Kunle hesitated.
“Let me see what is in it first.”
Bayo held his gaze.
“That means you don’t trust us.”
“No.”
Kunle’s answer was immediate.
“It means I don’t trust what these records might lead to.”
Bayo understood the distinction.
He stood.
“We’ll speak to Sani.”
Kunle nodded.
As they reached the door, he called after them.
“Mr.
Adeniran.”
Bayo turned.
Kunle’s expression had changed.
“Be careful what you assume from the paperwork.”
Bayo waited.
“Paper can tell you where something was supposed to go,” Kunle continued.
“It doesn’t always tell you where it actually went.”
Bayo said nothing.
Kunle looked back at the ledger.
“Sometimes the road and the paperwork are two different things.”
Outside, the noise of Apapa swallowed them again.
Trucks moved.
Engines rumbled.
A driver shouted instructions across the yard.
A security man waved another vehicle forward.
Tope slipped her phone into her bag.
“He knows more.”
Bayo looked at the traffic.
“Yes.”
“Much more?”
“Probably.”
“Do you trust him?”
“No.”
Tope smiled.
“Good.”
Bayo glanced at her.
“You sound like you’ve been waiting to say that.”
“I have.”
He almost smiled.
They started walking towards the car.
Behind them, the old ledger remained inside Kunle’s office.
Ahead of them was Sani.
And somewhere between the paperwork and the road was the missing part of the story.
For the first time, the investigation was no longer speaking only through documents.
It was beginning to speak through people.
Tomorrow, they would listen.