"Twaah!" The sound echoed in the high-roof, largely empty space of the banking hall, making everyone look up and people walking stopped midstride. All eyes were directed towards the source of the sound. That was the sound of a slap from the dishevelled man with blood dripping down his face. He seemed entirely unaware of and ignorant of the blood that ran down his face onto his shirt.
"Where is my money?" One could easily see the veins which popped out on his neck and forehead, his eyes were bloodshot. The once immaculately ironed white shirt was in shreds. The tie hung limply from his heck. He banged his balled fists on the countertop, and the sound echoed in the big banking hall.
It was 11.30 AM and the sparsely crowded hall of New Meridian Bank suddenly went quiet as the people surveyed the weird scene that was unfolding before their eyes. The security guard manning the man-trap door was unarmed and in his estimation, the situation required more than just bare hands. More importantly, he had known the customer for way too long to know that the scene that was unfolding before him was out of character, plus the man made a point of leaving him with a tip and hearty greeting whenever he came around. So Akpan, the security man was conflicted on whose side to take. As a result, he glued to his post and tried as much as possible to pretend that there was nothing wrong with what just happened. He did not move
"Where is my money?" he repeated. As before, the slap came almost at the same time as the question. The young petite cashier took a step back, a move that took her out of the striking distance from the angry man. The cleaner who was cleaning the banking hall, for the second time of the day, surveyed the scene and was mesmerised by the drama. She was beside the cashier, she stopped sweeping and held her broom with one hand while staring at the scene in an awkward silence and fascination.
After the second slap, Akpan felt that he could no longer wait on the sidelines because he feared that the man could commit murder if he was not restrained from delivering another slap to the lady. He surreptitiously gave a signal to one of the armed guard standing outside the banking hall and he came into the bank. The summoned guard, sensing trouble corked his rifle and walked cautiously towards the bank.
But before then, Mr Adeyinka, the newly transferred Business Services Manager in the branch had just come out of his office and was confronted with the spectacle. He approached the man and in his most professional voice asked, "Hello, Sir, what is the problem?"
But the man was so focused on the cashier that the manager could have been a part of the pillar beside which he stood. His question fell like on the back of a duck. "I want my money back!" The man thundered.
"I am the branch manager and I'm truly sorry that..."
"Oh, yes! You will all be sorry when I have finished dealing with you guys." He cut off the man in midsentence.
"I was warned to never deposit my money here. I was told that you all are rogues in suits." He pointed to all of the bank staff he could see. "Now, see what my stubbornness had led me to."
By that time, the armed guard was now near the raving man. The man on sighting him calmed down enough to say, "Hello Officer, thank goodness you are here, I want you to arrest this lady." He pointed at the bank teller who had the look a rat would have in a presence of a rampaging cat.
"Mister, I would advice you to calm down. This is a banking premise and you really do not want to scare the other customers. What is the problem here?"
The shouting man was about to shout more when he noticed the AK 47 assault rifle that the guard was holding. He swallowed hard and spoke in a measured tone. The restraint in his voice was visible on his face as he said, "Officer, I was in this bank about two hours ago, I wanted to do a transfer of three million to another bank, but the bank said that they will charge 3% interbank transfer fees. I decided in order not to pay that 3%, that I would withdraw the money cash." He paused, and the Business Service Manager used that opportunity to make a comment seeing that the man was relatively calm compared to a few minutes before.
"While there are no such charges for interbank transfers, I'd like to ask: did you notice any shortages in the cash we paid? We always advise our customers to confirm cash paid on the counter before leaving the bank."
"No, that was not the issue. Wait, I am getting to the root of the problem." He looked at the Business Service Manager who nodded.
The man looked at the guard and continued, "The three million was counted and I left the bank with the money. I entered my car and drove off, less than fifteen minutes after leaving the bank, three guys on a motorcycle cut me off and brandished a gun. They beat me up and collected the three million."
"Sir, I do not understand the relationship between the story you just narrated and the spectacle you created a few minutes ago," The police officer replied, and the Business Service Manager nodded in agreement.
"Oh, she does have everything to do with the robbery. She was working as an accomplice to the robbers, she informed them when I was on my way out." He pointed this time to the cowering cash officer.
"How did you know this?" the police officer asked.
Before the man could answer, the bank manager added, "The cash tellers do not work with their phones. All phones are submitted to the head cash teller at the beginning of the day and they only pick it at the end of the day to forestall such from happening."
Before the man could answer, the cleaner bent down, picked up a phone from the ground, and innocently handed it to the cash teller.
"Aunty Cynthia, your phone is vibrating."
The cash teller froze and her face was a mask of terror. The guard took two steps and snatched the phone off the cleaner. As soon as he did, the call dropped. But immediately a text entered the phone.
He pressed read option on the phone and the following text popped out, "Cynthia, we got the man and the money. Your share is the usual 25%."
He wordlessly handed the phone to the Business Service Manager who was surprised that the cash teller somehow smuggled in another phone after handing one in just a few hours ago when she resumed.
"So, Cynthia you have been informing criminals of our customer's transactions?"
Cynthia was dumbstruck.
"But Sir, how did you find out the cashier was involved?" The Business Service Manager wanted to know.
The crowd of onlookers waited to hear the man.
"I know." He simply replied.
Two women standing a bit far from the scene recognised the man.
"Is that not the High Priest of Loji Shrine, Dima, The Dry Tree that Defeats the Harmattan?*" One asked.
The other replied, "That is him alright, the man is a powerful juju priest. His father was a powerful medicine man. I heard when he was alive he used to keep his shop open and travel to the neighbouring town and not even a broomstick is stolen from the shop on his return. The last man that tried to steal from his shop ended up sweeping the man's shop for the seven days he was away until he came back and slapped him before the thief regained his senses."
The End.
Footnote: * Harmattan is a very dry season in the West African coast. During that period, there is an increased chance of a bushfire, since the environment becomes extremely dry with cold winds. Many healthy trees shrivel up and die during this period, but there is nothing the weather can do to a dry tree as it is already dry. If someone has the nickname of The Dry Tree that Defeats the Harmattan, it simply means a person that is tough and probably has some magical powers.
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