Chapter 09

Chapter 09

The Man Who Slept Through History

The nephew’s house sat behind high walls and nervous silence.

Too quiet for a man connected to power.

Kofi moved first, slipping through the compound like breath through cracked lips. No alarms. No guards worth naming. Inside, the air smelled of expensive incense and fear.

They found him in his bedroom.

A large man sprawled across silk sheets, mouth open, chest rising and falling with heavy snoring. Jewelry lay scattered carelessly on a nearby table—gold chains, rings, excess without discipline.

Nyarko didn’t hesitate.

He pressed the flat of his knife gently against the man’s throat.

The snoring stopped instantly.

The man’s eyes flew open. He froze—then began to shake.

“Please—please—take it and go,” he stammered. “I swear I won’t look—”

Nyarko leaned closer. “You’re not being robbed.”

The man swallowed hard. “Again?”

Kofi exchanged a glance with Nyarko.

“Again?” Kofi asked.

The man’s composure collapsed. “They came last week,” he blurted out. “Professionals. Quiet. Took some things.”

Nyarko’s blade never moved. “What things?”

The man’s eyes darted. “My family pendant. Half-moon with a star—Osram ni nii ne osram—. Old. Sacred. And… documents. Storage drives. Things I didn’t even understand.”

“Why didn’t you report it?” Kofi asked.

The man laughed weakly. “Report it? My uncle would kill me himself if he knew I lost that pendant. That thing is older than his crown.”

Nyarko withdrew the knife.

Kofi leaned closer. “Who took it?”

The man shook his head frantically. “I never saw them. But they knew what they wanted. They didn’t take money.”

Silence settled.

They had their answer.

And it was worse than expected.

Morning broke with sirens and headlines.

Screens across the city lit up with the same words:

FORMER INTERIOR MINISTER FOUND DEAD — FOUL PLAY SUSPECTED

By the time the sun reached full height, the Cavemen teams were already back underground.

The hideout buzzed—analysts cross-referencing data, operatives pacing, screens flooding with feeds and black-market chatter. The mission board filled rapidly.

Pendant theft.
Vault breach.
Minister silenced.

Kofi stood among them, listening, absorbing.

Then Mission Control went quiet.

Too quiet.

A technician frowned at her screen. “One of the senior agents… I can’t locate him.”

Another voice followed. “Last ping was during the Jubilee House operation.”

Nyarko’s jaw tightened. “Which agent?”

The name appeared on the screen.

A Caveman.
A veteran.
Trusted.

Gone.

Kwabena Stone stepped forward, eyes dark. “Say it.”

The technician swallowed. “He’s gone off-grid.”

No death signal.
No extraction request.
No trace.

The room understood at once.

“He didn’t vanish,” Kofi said softly.

He felt it—the same instinct that had guided him through forests and water and shadows.

“He stepped into them.”

The screens flickered, feeds overlapping, data scrambling.

Somewhere beyond the walls of the hideout, an unseen player was moving pieces ahead of everyone else.

The Cavemen had uncovered a conspiracy.

But now, someone from within had chosen a side.

And Kofi King stood at the center of a storm that was no longer hiding.