My name is Kelechi, and I'm in love with the library.
The library has always been a source of escape for me. Escape from my overbearing parents, from my overprotective siblings, from the bullies at the playground, from the entire world even. There was this peace and tranquility that existed in libraries, it seemed to be cut out of the rest of the world. Matter of fact, it was a world of it's own. One in which everyone minded their business and you were free as a bird to do whatever one felt like. That was why since I was ten, I've always returned to the library.
Now I'm a sixteen hear old boy, and I frequent the library more than I frequent the Barber's shop. And I go to the Barber's once a week at least. It's am routine to me now, especially in this community library located in Ikotun, one of the most populated cities of Lagos.
The plan was to go to the library, begin a new book, and if there wasn't any, read an old one. Then leave the library sometime around six in the evening. Simple.
That was be for I knew I would step into what could turn out to be a deadly web of espionage and conspiracies.
I got to the library around noon, she I was finally done with my housechores. The librarian, Mrs. Rosa greeted me warmly. She was in her late forties and we were friends. She has probably been here as long as the library itself.
"Good afternoon Kelechi, how are you doing?" She said after I greeted her.
"I'm fine ma." I too her, stopping at her desk. "Have the new books arrived yet?"
"No. I was told it'll be in by next week. Again."
I let out a sigh of frustration, they had been telling her "next week" for months now. The library was a public one, owned and funded by the Lagos State government. This meant there were a lot more scattered around the state clamoring for attention. I knew that soon it'll get to us, I only hoped it was soon enough.
I went through the shelves, as one already familiar with it all. Then I picked my favorite thriller by Dan Brown. One I never got tired of reading.
As I settled to read, ready to get lost in the pages and be transported into another world, I got distracted by a young man who walked in. He was dressed neatly in crisp jeans and polo. He had on a facemask. I figured it was due to the Corona Virus Pandemic ravaging the world. I was one of those who kept forgetting to leave home with mine.
He spoke briefly to Mrs. Rosa and then followed her directions.
I don't know why I was intrigued, it must have been the aura of mysteriousness around him or just the mere fact he was a stranger to this library seeing as I knew all the regulars here. Either way, my eyes followed him as he walked through the shelves and stopped at the same shelf I had stopped at.
So he was also a thriller person, I nodded in appreciation.
He then perused the books and picked one. From my angle, I recognized it as a Sidney Sheldon novel at once. I turned back to fave my book just as he hurried to a desk and chair a few paces away.
I still couldn't look away. I kept sneaking glances at him to some reason I couldn't pinpoint. After a while, I realized he was not doing much reading, but writing. Inside the novel.
I frowned in anger at this, how dare he deface such valuable property?
Still, I didn't act on my anger. I let it simmer as I watched him till he was done. Then he closed the book and returned it to the shelf. Looking around to see if anyone had notices the movement( I turned my head just in time), he turned and walked out of the library.
Unable to read anymore, I wondered what was going on. Why had he been writing in the novel instead of reading it? What had he been writing?
It could be a message. I've seen it happen all the time in the movies. The library is always a good place to pass sensitive information.
Tho thought only served to spike my curiosity. I got up and walked quickly, fearing the strange man would return and find me snooping.
I found the book quite easily. I flipped through the pages, looking for the page he had written on. It was on a blank page at the end of the novel. He had written it in pencil.
As I studied it, I could see he had not written in words. It looked to be a series of dots and dashes.
It didn't take me long to recognize it as Morse code. In excite, I hurried back to my seat. And with my smartphone, through the aid of google, I began to crack it.
It took me thirty minutes, but I was able to pull out this message:
School field.
Tonight.
Call once hit is confirmed.
My excitement dulled and was replaced by fear as the word "hit" jumped out at me.
Someone was going to be killed in a school field tonight. That was the only meaning I could get from the message.
I had no idea who the intended victim was.
Like galloping horses, my heart raced as I tried to think clearly. Then I realized the message had been addressed to someone. What would happen when the recipient comes and doesn't get the message?
I don't know what to do. I don't know what to think.
I'm at a complete loss.
P.S: The image of the Morse code is taken on my Tecno Camon. I wrote out the code myself. I hope i got it correct.