Hoping it was only a touch of paranoia, Colin kept his eye on his mirror as he turned off the main road and drove into the shelter of the cocoa mill. Behind him he saw the red Peugeot pull into the side of the road just beyond the gates. Forget paranoia! he told himself, feeling sweat suddenly bead out on his forehead and trickle down his face. Definitely time to be thinking about getting out of Ghana before Akaba dug up any more information and decided to pull him in for a more physical form of interrogation.
*
‘So you’re thinking of going home?’ George looked over the rim of his tumbler as they relaxed on the cool verandah.
‘It’s time I went home. You can get too used to this sort of life, you know. I’ve got to get back to real living again. Find a decent job and try to settle down.’ He looked over at George. ‘Lesley will be going home herself soon and I’d like to have something to offer her by the time she arrives.’
‘That’s wonderful,’ George enthused. ‘I had the impression that you two had fallen out.’
‘We have had a bit of an argument,’ Colin understated. ‘But I think she’ll come round.’
He was less certain than he sounded about Lesley. He had called at the club every day since she had denounced him, and although they had spoken, she had remained distant, allowing none of their former closeness. He sighed, and found himself wishing once again, and for more than one reason, that he could turn the clock back.
‘Penny for them?’ He jerked at the sound of George’s voice.
‘Just thinking of how much I’ve enjoyed it out here. The lifestyle … the people … the weather … It’s been really nice.’
‘You could always come back. Perhaps when it’s more settled politically and there are jobs for Europeans again. Who knows?’ George winked. ‘You might even bring Lesley with you.’
Lesley! Colin agonised. It was going to be hard leaving her.
*
‘You’re going home?’ They sat facing each other across a table in the club’s empty lounge.
‘I have to,’ he said, longing to stretch his hand towards her, yet scared of inviting a rebuff.
‘Have to?’ She gave him a knowing look, but kept her thoughts to herself. ‘When will you be leaving?’ her voice was cool, the question a convention rather than a caring enquiry as they fenced like a divorced couple meeting unexpectedly.
‘There’s a Wednesday-night direct flight to London. I’m booking a ticket tomorrow.’ He took a deep breath and reached across for her. Lesley’s hand slipped to the edge of the table, but she let him reach out and gradually he teased her fingers forward until her hand was in his.
‘I’m sorry,’ he began.
‘Don’t!’ She held her free hand up, as if to block his words. ‘Don’t make apologies, Colin. You made your decision. Did what you wanted. I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘But I love you, Lesley.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘We’ve never really spoken properly since …’ He saw her flinch at the immense, unmentionable secret that lay between them. ‘Look, Lesley,’ he committed himself. ‘I’m finished with all that business now. It’s over for me.’
She looked at him incredulously. ‘It’s only over because you’ve got the gold, not because you’ve suddenly seen the light!’
‘No, no, Lesley.’ He lowered his head, thinking about Doc. He hadn’t told her what had happened and the news media had failed to connect Doc’s ‘accident’ with the hijack. There had only been a brief newspaper report about a drunken Cooper fan falling to his death from a hotel balcony. ‘I … I can’t explain it, but something happened that day. It completely changed my ideas. I can’t tell you about it. But even if the gold wasn’t involved, I’m finished with villainy for good. I want you to know that. And I want to see you when you come home.’
‘As long as you keep that gold, Colin, I don’t think we’ll ever have a relationship with each other again. I’m sorry, but I think that that gold should be put to use for the improvement of the Ghanaian people. They have little enough as it is. So if you really do want to see me again, you must see that the gold is returned.’
‘Be realistic, Lesley,’ Colin begged. ‘Who could I give the gold to anyway, even if I did want to hand it back?’
‘There’s always Yarty Okufu,’ she said. ‘He has always fought for his people and against corruption in this country. He would know how to use the gold for the best.’
*
Colin parked outside the Kingsway supermarket in Takoradi and entered its cool interior. From behind a food rack he watched as a car drew in and parked on the opposite side of the road, its driver making no sign of leaving as he opened a newspaper and began to read. He didn’t appear to notice when Colin slipped out through a side entrance and crossed the road to a small travel agent’s shop.
It took Colin less than five minutes to purchase a flight ticket home and two minutes later he was getting back into his car outside the Kingsway store. Smiling to himself, he watched his sentinel follow him down into the dock area; there was a ship loading cocoa butter and the stowing had to be checked before it sailed that night.
*
An aide entered Akaba’s office in a rush. ‘Grant has just purchased a ticket on this evening’s flight to London. Do you want him picked up?’
Akaba stared at the anxious man, eyes pinpoints of light in his dark face. Then his lips moved with a reptilian smile of satisfaction; this was a cat and mouse game he liked to play. ‘Good,’ he said, nodding thoughtfully. ‘But no, I do not want Grant picked up, at least not immediately. After all, we know what flight he is on and we will have no problem intercepting him when he is about to board. So let us allow him to think he is free and clear, and then, when he is least expecting it, I will make the arrest myself. And I can assure you, Lieutenant,’ his lips thinned in a sinister smirk, ‘once I have him in my interrogation room he will be only too willing to tell us all he knows. Good,’ he said again, already anticipating a lively interrogation session. ‘All we have to do now is wait for Grant to walk into my trap.’
34
Colin boarded the mid-afternoon flight to Accra with ambivalent feelings. On one hand he was glad to be going home, on the other he was not happy about leaving Lesley. There had been a tearful parting in the departure lounge, but Lesley had made it clear that as long as he refused to return the gold there was little hope of them ever having a life together. All his arguments about securing their future had been to no avail; as far as Lesley was concerned he had no right to the gold and it should be returned for the good of the people of Ghana. In the absence of this, she considered their romance over. Sadly, Colin looked down as the plane climbed out over the coastline and headed eastwards on its short journey to Accra.
Back in Takoradi one of the agents assigned to follow Colin punched a number into a telephone. ‘Subject one has boarded flight GA 228 to Accra. Agent Yanu is travelling on board the same plane.’
Akaba put down his telephone, satisfied that his target was behaving exactly as expected. The mouse was heading straight for the cheese and in a few hours’ time he, Judas Akaba, would personally spring the trap.
The airport was busy when Colin arrived in Accra but with only hand baggage he was quickly through arrivals and out onto the main concourse. Casually he stood by and watched the other passengers come through the arrivals gate. For the last few days he had been aware of the close surveillance on him and knew he could identify at least two of his satellite shadowers. He casually eyed each passenger as they passed through the arrivals doorway. One man caught his attention, or at least his brightly coloured shirt did. It was the driver of the car who had waited for him outside the Kingsway store that very morning in Takoradi. Colin looked round anxiously and caught sight of another man who was also watching the disembarking arrivals. He saw the Shirt, as he had christened his shadow, stare towards the man and give a slight nod of recognition. Colin felt the noose tighten; how many more of them were there? Acting casual, he made his way over
to the café and ‘relaxed’ into a chair with a coffee, surreptitiously eyeing the other customers. A few moments later the Shirt ambled in and took a seat across the floor from him. Through the open front of the cafeteria he saw the other man take a seat facing the front of the café and pretend to read a newspaper; Colin was beginning to feel boxed in. He looked at his watch; barely four o’clock, more than six hours before the London flight was due. Time enough for him to do what he had planned.
‘Where is he now?’ Akaba asked for an update on Colin’s movements.
‘Still waiting at the airport, sir,’ his lieutenant reported. ‘Sergeant Yanu reports that he appears quite calm and does not suspect that he is being followed.’
‘Good,’ Akaba nodded approval. ‘The more secure he feels the greater the shock when I confront him. I can’t wait to witness his collapse.’
Back at the airport, a bored-looking Colin glanced at his watch; still more than four hours to wait. He yawned and stretched a little before deciding to make a move and headed for the taxi rank outside the terminal building. ‘City centre,’ he instructed the driver. ‘Take me to a bar, a good bar. One with nice girls in it. You know what I mean?’
The taxi driver aimed gleaming white teeth at him. ‘Yes, sah! I know what you mean. You like black woman, that what you mean. I take you to good bar. Always plenty ladies there.’ He pulled away just as the Shirt and his colleague clambered into a car and fell in two vehicles behind.
The taxi driver pulled up outside a bar in a busy part of the city and turned to his customer. ‘Here, sah,’ he said, smiling all over his face. ‘Plenty girls inside this place. Good girls; good beds. Always busy. You like very much, I think.’
‘Aye,’ Colin grinned back at him. ‘Nice way to pass the time when you’re bored waiting for a plane.’ He looked at the man’s meter and handed over his fare along with a substantial tip. ‘I hope she doesn’t make me miss my flight,’ he said, giving the driver a knowing leer. Two minutes later he was at the bar and ordering himself a drink.
Outside the bar the taxi driver was still counting his windfall, when his door was yanked open and the Shirt spoke to him brusquely. ‘Your passenger,’ he barked. ‘Why did you bring him here and what did you talk about?’
‘I don’t talk about my customers,’ the driver protested. ‘That none of your business.’
The Shirt pulled a badge from his pocket and held it in front of the taxi driver’s face, making him swallow nervously at seeing the insignia of the secret police.
‘Don’t waste my time,’ the Shirt snarled. ‘You tell me now or I take you down to headquarters and chop off your hands. Now, why did you bring your passenger here and what did he talk about?’
The taxi driver stammered an answer. ‘He he ask m … m … me to take him to a b …b …bar with girls.’
‘He say anything else? Quick now, you tell me. Did he say anything else?’
The taxi driver was still stuttering. ‘He … he only say that he b … b … bored waiting for plane. He, he say he want nice way to pass the t … t …time. That is all, sir. My heart to holy Jesus.’ He blessed himself as his door slammed and he was left sitting alone.
Colin didn’t look up when the Shirt entered the bar and ordered a beer, but he saw that he had taken up a position with a clear view of the mirror. Ignoring the Shirt, Colin ordered another beer and nodded over to a girl who had caught his eye and smiled when she looked up at him. A minute later she was at his table, happy to find an obvious customer and sipping a cold Coca-Cola.
‘You like me?’ she asked, arching her eyebrows at him. ‘I good girl. Give you good time,’ she leant towards him, exposing a generous cleavage. ‘You see?’
Colin grinned at her and placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘I like you,’ he drew her closer. ‘I like you very much,’ his hand slipped down almost to her breast, but the girl drew back.
‘I am working girl. I give you good time, but you have to pay.’ She rubbed her fingers together. ‘You have to pay me for good time.’
‘You give me good time, I pay,’ Colin assured her. ‘I pay you good. Come, we go to your room and have a party. Yes?’
‘Yes, I like to party,’ the girl rose to her feet and held out her hand. ‘My room is upstairs. You come with me now.’ She pulled him up from his chair to the accompaniment of whistles from her friends still at the bar.
‘A bottle of champagne!’ Colin ordered as he led him to the stairs. ‘Send it upstairs along with some ice and a couple of glasses.’
The girl squealed with delight and turned to give him a full embrace.
‘Better make that two bottles,’ Colin called down to a delighted barman. ‘It looks like this is going to be a long night.’ The last words were shouted as he disappeared up the stairs.
The Shirt was already speaking to his superiors. ‘He is in the Eros bar on Maxwell Street. He picked up a bar-girl and has taken her upstairs along with two bottles of champagne. It seems he will be there for some time.’
‘Do not leave the place,’ Akaba instructed him. ‘But do not disturb Grant. Let him enjoy his last few hours of freedom. The shock of arrest will be all the more severe after his enjoyable evening.’
Inside the girl’s room she turned to embrace Colin and was surprised when he ignored her open arms and walked quickly past her, going over to the window and looking outside. He had gone from a friendly drunk to a suddenly very serious person.
‘There is something wrong?’ she asked nervously, a little disturbed by his strange behaviour.
‘What’s your name?’ Colin asked, going over to check that the door had a lock fitted.
‘My name is Comfort,’ the girl spoke quietly, still a little nervous as Colin tested the strength of the lock. ‘We have a party?’
‘Well, not exactly,’ Colin told her. ‘But don’t you worry, Comfort, you’ll get paid all right. Just wait until they bring up the champagne and I’ll tell you what you have to do.’ There was a soft knock on the door and Comfort was surprised yet again when Colin grabbed her and threw her on top of the bed. ‘Come in!’ he shouted, holding onto Comfort and squeezing her tight against himself as a waiter entered the room with an ice-bucket, the bottles of champagne and glasses.
‘Put the champagne on ice and leave everything on the table,’ Colin instructed. ‘I’ll be needing a cold drink after this.’ He buried his head against Comfort’s ample breasts as the waiter followed his instructions before quietly closing the door behind him, a wide smile on his face.
As soon as the door was closed, Colin rose from the bed and turned the lock, making certain it was secure. Comfort rose to a sitting position, looking on apprehensively and wondering what this strange white man was going to do next.
‘Right, Comfort,’ Colin turned to her, pulling a wad of notes from his pocket. ‘This is how you will earn your money.’
*
Downstairs the Shirt was questioning the waiter who had delivered the champagne to the girl’s room.
‘What were they doing? What did you see?’
The waiter rolled his eyes. ‘Man! What I see? That man was hot. I think they have some party going on up there.’
In another minute the Shirt was on the phone again. ‘He is holed up in a room with one of the girls here. Looks like he’s settling down for a good time.’
‘Stay at your post,’ Akaba hissed down the line. ‘Report in the minute he leaves the bar.’
*
Akaba sat impatiently in the airport manager’s office. It was almost ten o’clock and time was getting short. He looked at the clock again and reached for the telephone.
In the bar the Shirt answered the phone, stiffening automatically when he heard Akaba’s voice. ‘But he is still upstairs,’ he replied to Akaba’s question. ‘He has been there for nearly four hours now. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. I will go up and check.’
The Shirt listened at the door, hearing the clink of glasses above the sound of music. ‘They are still in the room,’ he sp
oke into the open line. ‘I can clearly hear them.’
‘But his flight leaves in less than forty minutes,’ Akaba barked into the phone. ‘The passengers have already begun to check in.’ He leant forward onto his desk. Something wasn’t quite right here, he could feel it in his bones. ‘Stand by your post!’ he barked. ‘I will be there within ten minutes.’
*
Two vehicles stopped outside the Eros bar, discharging Akaba and half a dozen of his men, some of whom he directed to strategic positions around the building. Satisfied he had covered any escape route, Akaba took two of his men and strode imperiously into the bar and, with the Shirt leading the way, climbed the stairs to the bedroom.
Akaba signed for quiet when they reached the landing and with guns drawn the squad crept silently up to the bedroom door. They could hear music and there was the clink of glass; obviously the party was still going strong. Placing a man at each side of the door, Akaba stood back and raised his foot. There was the sound of a giggle and he stepped forward, slamming his foot hard into the woodwork, shattering the lock and sending the door slamming back on its hinges. Akaba leapt into the room, his two men bundling in behind him, their weapons at the ready, to be confronted by the sight of a happily tipsy Comfort sitting on the edge of the bed, obviously alone and completely dressed.
Ashanti Gold Page 25
