Dawson scuttled across the ground toward the constable like a crab. Kobby.
He heard the shotgun fore-end slide harshly back and forward again and thought, He’s going to kill me, but perhaps the Chinese man jammed his weapon or had an unexpectedly empty chamber. No report came. Instead, automatic fire from a Battalion soldier’s weapon rang out like a tongue rolling its Rs, and the Chinese gunman crumpled dead as dry twigs.
Dawson was at the constable’s side. “Kobby, Kobby, look at me.”
His eyes were open, staring unfocused. Dawson’s heart leapt as they shifted and looked at him. Blood was expanding on the right side of Kobby’s chest. Dawson lifted the constable’s shirt and singlet underneath. “Kobby, breathe. You’re hit, but you’re going to live. Believe me, okay?”
Dawson was trying to see where the wound was and realized Kobby had several. He had been peppered with shots. Dawson shouted for a medic. Is there a medic? He didn’t even know.
“Massa, I’m sorry,” Kobby whispered.
“Sorry for what?” Dawson said sharply. “Stop it. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
Kobby was staring vacantly at the sky but Dawson forced the constable to redirect his gaze. “Look at me. You tell yourself you’re going to live and not die, you hear me? You don’t ever give up. You keep your eyes open, and you keep breathing, okay?”
Kobby seemed to be hanging on Dawson’s every word. “Yes, sir. I will do that, sir.”
A soldier was running up the incline to them. “What happened?”
“Shotgun blast. Are you a medic?”
His ID plate read essien. “No, sir,” he said. “There is no medic here.”
Dawson removed his shirt and bunched it up, giving it to Essien. “Press on his bleeding areas hard as possible,” he said, and then got on his phone to call their driver. Kobby would need to be transported out as soon as possible. Members of the 4th and Bravo were coming over as they began to realize that one of their own had been hit. On the floor of the mining valley, a dozen or so Chinese men were kneeling or lying on the ground handcuffed and subdued. The Ghanaians had fled, but then they had never been targets in the first place.
Dawson was shocked when he saw the men of Bravo setting the excavators alight under orders from the sergeant. Why not simply confiscate them for use elsewhere? Then, as word spread from one man to the next about what had happened to Kobby, what Dawson feared was going to happen did indeed begin. The men of Bravo and the 4th began to take it out on the Chinese, slapping, clubbing, and punching them. It wasn’t right, but then Dawson was in no mood to be a hero for the Chinese. He just wished they would go away and leave his country alone.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
At KATH, Dawson sat in the packed waiting area quietly praying for good news. Kobby had been taken into surgery almost immediately. If he died, Dawson would never live it down. Yes, he took the blame. A chief inspector looks after his men. He and Kobby had been standing too close to the mayhem. He should have pulled back to behind the cover of trees and taken the constable with him. That way, they would not have been in the Chinese madman’s line of fire.
Over and over, Dawson kept hearing the click-clack of the shotgun’s fore-end, the snap of the report, and its echo through the valley. Nor could he forget the way Kobby had dropped to the ground like a sack of bricks.
His phone rang. It was Commander Longdon.
“Good afternoon, sir.”
“I heard about the incident. What happened?”
“Kobby and I were standing at the perimeter of the property as the raid was being conducted,” Dawson explained. “From behind us and a little to the side, a Chinese guy came out with a shotgun and began shooting.”
“No, you and Constable Kobby were not standing at the perimeter of the property,” Longdon said, raising his voice angrily. “You were standing right in the middle of the action, which you had been specifically instructed not to do. You were sent as an observer, but as usual, you overstepped your bounds. You see, this is the reason I do not send detectives on such raids. Did I not say so at the meeting?”
He’s enjoying this. “Yes, sir. You did, sir.”
“Yet you chose to disregard me, and as a result, a man may lose his life. Do you realize that?”
“I do, sir.”
Longdon heaved a sigh. “You will write a full and complete account of the event and have it for me Monday morning, eight o’clock sharp. Thereafter, I will decide if you will be disciplined or not. Consider yourself lucky if I don’t take you off the case.”
“Yes, sir.”
Empty threats, Dawson thought with a grim smile. Longdon couldn’t take him off the case and he knew it. He would get into more trouble than it was worth when DCOP Manu summoned him to account for his actions. Nonetheless, Dawson felt no better about the way the day had turned out. After the call ended, he sat dejected and brooded until he heard his name called and looked up to see Christine coming toward him. He had texted her briefly about the affair, and she had replied she would come down to the hospital to sit with him.
She forced herself into the tight space beside him. “Any news?”
Dawson shook his head. “Not yet. It’s been almost two hours now. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”
“We can only hope for the best,” she said.
“I appreciate your coming,” he said, putting his hand over hers. “Mama took the kids?”
“Yes, she did, and gladly. You know her. Any excuse to look after them.”
Dawson smiled, realizing that despite his reservations about his mother-in-law, she was often a godsend. He gave a detailed account of the raid and the shooting to Christine, who nodded at intervals as she listened carefully.
“I know you’re blaming yourself, because that’s your nature,” she said, when he was done, “but if you had been farther back from the scene, it might not have made any difference. He was still going to come up behind you. In fact, it might have been worse if he had shot at you and Kobby from close range.”
Dawson cocked his head and conceded her point. Christine really knew how to make him feel better.
A nurse came to the corner of the waiting area and beckoned to Dawson. He stood up and followed her to the operating suite anteroom.
“Doctor will be with you,” she said. “Please, have a seat.”
Dawson sat, his stomach churning. He felt sick with anxiety and suspense.
The surgeon emerged, surgical mask dangling from around his neck. Dawson tried to read his face, but it was neutral.
He sat beside Dawson, looking tired. “Good news, Chief Inspector.”
Dawson felt some of the tension leave him, like a stretched rubber band returning to normal length.
“Mr. Kobby suffered a collapsed lung,” the surgeon continued, “but we have now expanded it with a chest tube. Other than that, the shot penetrated soft tissue and shattered some ribs, but nothing life threatening.”
Dawson found himself hyperventilating with relief. “Thank you, Doctor. From the bottom of my heart.”
He smiled. “You are welcome. He will be in recovery for about an hour, and then return to the ward for further treatment.”
“But you think he’ll be okay?” Dawson asked, needing the certainty.
“Barring the unforeseen,” the doctor said.
“I’m very grateful to you for all you have done. If I had lost him…”
The surgeon smiled as he stood up. “Yes, I know.”
Dawson was at Kobby’s bedside when he woke up. He looked around, puzzled.
“You’re in the hospital,” Dawson told him. “Do you remember what happened?”
Kobby shook his head, looking down at his bandaged chest. “No, sir.” He winced at the large-bore tube in his right side.