FORTY-NINE

May 22, Accra, Ghana

It was almost the end of Friday and DCOP Laryea was looking forward to spending some time with his grandchildren when the phone call came in. It was Commissioner Andoh and he wanted to speak to Laryea. Now.

Laryea went up the stairs as quickly as possible, which was decidedly slower than when he was a young man, oh, so long ago. He knocked on the director-general’s door and entered.

“Laryea,” Andoh said, signaling him to a chair at the side of his desk. “I finished meeting with the IGP about an hour ago. He’s concerned about this Tilson case—the American man.”

“Yes, I know of it, sir. It’s DI Damptey handling it—under Chief Superintendent Quaino.”

“I want you to look into this. What are those two doing? It’s almost two months since the American man has been missing, not so? What’s going on? They need to give you a full update on the progress on Monday and I want your supervision thereafter.”

“No problem,” Laryea said. “I will take care of it.”

“This is beginning to look bad,” Andoh grumbled. “You know, Ghana’s reputation is suffering with these increasing stories of Europeans and Americans defrauded of money by sakawa boys and the like. A lot of videos on YouTube now.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now,” Andoh said, “President Bannerman has given the IGP the task of cracking down on Internet fraud. Once he comes up with the blueprint, he will set up a summit to unveil the plan.”

“Yes, sir, I see,” Laryea said. “Very good. I pray we succeed with this.”

Andoh nodded, but absently. After a pause, he said, “But I hope we will see more than the customary lip service that we’ve experienced in the past.”

“We have to be serious about it, yes, sir.”

“And the question is whether we have the right people in place to implement these plans. You know, poor leadership leads to poor results.”

Laryea wasn’t exactly sure to whom Andoh was referring specifically, and he was loath to ask.

“We have some hypocrites in high positions, Laryea,” he said with a surprising amount of bitterness. “I won’t name names, but they know themselves. They are just yes-men, puppets doing the president’s bidding.”

“Yes, sir.” That’s about as far as Laryea would commit himself.

“So that is it. I will let you know of any new developments. And of course, you know everything said in this room is to remain confidential.”

“But of course, sir.”

“How is the family?”

“Doing well, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Andoh smiled. “That’s good. Well, have a good weekend.”

As Laryea returned to his office to pack up for the weekend, he wondered what or whom the DG had been speaking of in his outburst, as cryptic as it was, when he talked about hypocrites, yes-men, and puppets in high places. The IGP? Did Andoh hold some grudge against Mr. Akrofi?

Laryea dismissed the thought. It wasn’t any of his business, and besides, he would never want to be caught up in that kind of contention. There was enough disarray at the CID as it was.