“Hm. I wish my uncle was back.”
“That bad?”
“Not terrible,” he said, “but not great either.”
“You were spoiled by your uncle, don’t forget.”
“You always say that,” Chikata grumbled.
“Because it’s true,” Dawson said, laughing.
A moment after he had ended the call to Chikata, he received one from Commander Longdon. “You are summoned to Kumasi Regional Headquarters for a meeting,” he said.
He sounded grave, and Dawson had a plunging feeling in his stomach that he was in trouble. Again. “Summoned, sir?”
“Yes. So as not to waste time, I have sent my driver to pick you up. Please go with him as soon as he arrives.”
“Yes. Yes, sir.”
The vehicle was an SUV manufactured in India. Dawson sat in the front next to the constable driver and chatted casually all the way to Kumasi Regional Headquarters, belying his anxiety over what was going on. His stomach fluttered nervously. Was he in trouble, or was it something else? He searched his mind for some breach he might have committed. Was it the way he had engineered Chikata’s temporary transfer to Obuasi? No, that was unlikely, because Chikata’s uncle had played some part in that, and as Assistant Commissioner of Police, Lartey was highly placed. Dawson gave a mental shrug. Nothing could be done except to wait and see.
The meeting room was on the second floor of the sprawling Kumasi Regional Headquarters building. At the top of the flight of steps, Dawson faced the door marked regional commander.
He took a breath and knocked. When he entered, he saw Longdon sitting at the conference table with three other people, one of whom was Deputy Commissioner of Police Deborah Manu, one of the very few female regional commanders. She was sharp featured and thin. The second was the rarely seen Commissioner Fortune Dzamesi, Director General of CID. Dawson did not recognize the third person, however. Dressed in a camouflage uniform studded with medals, he was obviously military.
Dawson’s forehead became clammy with a light sheen of sweat. This is even worse than I thought. What have I done? He was fearful, not of them, but of his imminent fate. He had fleeting visions of his family’s marginal assets dwindling to a trickle or nothing at all as he endured unpaid leave, and struggles to take care of the boys’ schooling, food, and health.
Stopping about a meter away from the table, Dawson braced in salute of his superiors, stiffening with closed hands to his sides, knuckles forward.
“Please,” Longdon said deferentially to Commissioner Dzamesi and DCOP Manu, “this is Chief Inspector Dawson, our new chief crime officer at the Obuasi Division.”
“At ease, Dawson,” Dzamesi said with flick of the hand. “Have a seat.” He indicated the only empty chair, and Dawson took it, looking from one solemn face to the other. They each had important-looking three-ring binders in front of them.
“I have to warn you, Chief Inspector,” Dzamesi said, “that this is a top secret meeting. Everything we discuss here must stay in this room. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Those you see around this table, including myself,” Dzamesi continued, “are members of the Task Force on Chinese Illegal Mining. The president has given us the challenge of bringing these galamsey activities to a stop. In order to do this, we must apprehend these illegal Chinese nationals so that they may be deported immediately. And that is what we have pledged to do.”
Lofty words. Dawson had his doubts. “Yes, sir.”
The military man turned out to be Brigadier-General Frank Bediako, who was in charge of the Ghana Armed Forces Northern Command based in Kumasi. His eyes were narrow, and his jaw looked as hard as a coconut shell. “Perhaps I have missed something,” he said in a voice as raspy as sandpaper, “but remind me what the chief inspector is supposed to be contributing to this meeting-or to the task force for that matter?”
“Sir,” Manu said, shifting in her chair to look at him, “we do like to have the input of our officers who are in the trenches, so to speak, so I asked Commander Longdon to invite Chief Inspector Dawson. Perhaps you can explain a little more, Commander.”
“Thank you, madam,” Longdon said, and to Bediako, “Since his arrival, I have directed Chief Inspector Dawson in the investigation of the death of an illegal Chinese miner. Along the way he has collected a lot of information that could be helpful to the task force.”
“Ah.” The brigadier-general nodded without much passion. “Very well. Carry on.”
“There is something I want to ask you, Chief Inspector,” Manu said, turning to Dawson. “At times, when our officers have visited these galamsey sites, they have met only the absence of the Chinese men. Have you located any hiding places to which they commonly disappear?”
“No, madam,” Dawson said. “No specific hiding spots. But more importantly, if the police are meeting their absence, then could it be there are informants within the police service?”
Dzamesi stiffened. “What are you talking about?”
Longdon was angry. “This is ignorance,” he snapped at Dawson. “You have no idea what you are saying. How dare you speak out of turn? Have I ever discussed any issue of police informants with you?”
“No, sir,” Dawson admitted.
Longdon glared at him for a moment before turning to Dzamesi. “I apologize, Commissioner. Mr. Dawson wasn’t authorized to make that nonsensical statement. Kindly disregard.”
“But wait just a moment,” Manu said, leaning forward and looking at Dawson intensely. “I would like us to talk about this a little more because a similar thought has occurred to me now and again. Chief Inspector, what exactly do you mean by informants?”
“Madam, if the Chinese are escaping just before a raid, I fear that someone within the force is feeding them information about the date and time such raids are to occur.”
Manu was fingering her chin. “Do you know of any informants specifically?” she asked him. “Is that why you’ve brought this up?”
“I can’t name any,” Dawson said. “Not yet.”
Dawson stole a glance at Longdon. His face had turned to stone.
“We will take note of what you have said, Chief Inspector,” Dzamesi said self-importantly, jotting something down on his pad. “For now, let us discuss some of the operations that we will be carrying out.”
Manu, still not satisfied, cut in yet again. “Commissioner Dzamesi, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I don’t believe we’ve quite settled the matter. If informants exist, they pose a significant obstacle to our getting the Chinese galamsey activities under control, and we need to pursue the issue.”
“‘We,’ meaning the task force?” the commissioner asked impatiently.
“Why not?” Manu said with a shrug. “I suggest that it should be incorporated into the mission statement of the task force-with the president’s endorsement, of course.”
“I understand your concern, Manu,” Dzamesi said quietly, “but such probes generate ill feeling in the force and have a detrimental effect on morale. I will bring it up with the inspector general of police, but I don’t think it should be the business of this task force.”
Worthless lip service, Dawson thought. He will never take up the matter with the IG.
“Very good, sir,” Manu said respectfully, but Dawson knew she was not pleased by Dzamesi’s response.
“So,” the commissioner continued, “our main task at hand is uprooting these illegal Chinese miners. We will be concentrating first on the mines in a wide area around Dunkwa. Within the next few days, officers with the police SWAT Bravo Strike Force here in Kumasi will join the brigadier-general’s forces and conduct a raid at those sites. On an almost weekly basis, we plan to move farther north to areas like Obuasi, Aniamoa, Ntoburoso, and so on.”