Kwei Quartey - Children of the Street

“Yes, it would.”

Dawson woke at two-fifteen in the morning thinking he had heard a noise in the backyard. He looked out the window but saw nothing. He slipped on his sandals and headed outside, pausing on the way to check that Hosiah was peacefully sleeping. He walked around the perimeter of the house. All was quiet. When he got back in bed, he told himself he was being paranoid.

In the morning, he called up P.C. Gyamfi to ask if he was on duty that night.

“No, Dawson, sir,” Gyamfi said. “I’m off.”

“I have to be away from home on a surveillance job for several hours tonight,” Dawson said. “Can you watch my house from eight at night until about three in the morning? I’ll pay you.”

“Thank you, sah! I would be happy to do that for you. Is there something I should know?”

Dawson explained about the on-air threat that had been made Tuesday night.

“Yes, of course, Dawson, sah,” Gyamfi said. “No problem. I will take care of it. Anytime you need me and I’m free, I can help you.”

“Thank you, Gyamfi.”

At dinner, Dawson told Christine and Hosiah that he would very likely be out late at night, but that Constable Gyamfi would be watching the house in his absence.

“My relief is supposed to come in at two in the morning,” he said, “so I’ll be back home soon after that.”

“Who are you going to catch tonight?” Hosiah asked, dexterously spooning up his rice and stew.

“Good question,” Dawson said. “That’s what I don’t know.”

Chikata was to watch the perimeter of Kantamanto Market, the railway station, and Kwame Nkrumah Avenue as far up as CMB. Kantamanto itself was shut down at night, so he was spared the impossible task of monitoring the interior of the market itself.

Dawson would take Kinbu Road and points south, which included Issa’s base. Quaynor and two other constables would cover the rest of the areas within the parallelogram. The fourth constable was Chikata’s driver, while Baidoo was Dawson’s. All were to keep in close touch with Dawson. He badly wanted the killer to show himself tonight.

Dawson called Chikata. “All clear?”

“Everything’s quiet.”

And that’s how it remained for another two hours. At 1:06, as Dawson was making a pass south on Kojo Thompson, Chikata called.

“Dawson, an adult male walking near Liberty House on Okai Kwei Road before it intersects with another street-I’m not sure what it’s called.”

“Commercial,” Dawson prompted. He knew his streets cold.

“Okay, yes. He looks suspicious. Too dark to see his face well, but he’s about five-ten, well built… Oh, wait. He’s disappeared.”

“Try following him. Be careful. I’m coming over.”

Dawson sprinted west on Kimberly Avenue the five hundred meters to Okai Kwei and Commercial. When he got there, he didn’t see Chikata at first. He turned down an alley where empty market tables were stacked upside down for the night. He jumped as a shadow appeared out of yet another alley. It was Chikata.

“I lost him, Dawson,” he said.

“Did he see you?”

“I don’t think so.”

Dawson saw a movement in his peripheral vision and swung the beam of his flashlight around to find a boy of about twelve standing a few meters away.

“What are you looking for?” Dawson asked.

“My friend.”

Dawson went up to him.

“What’s your name?”

“Labram.”

“Who’s your friend?”

“Hassan. I saw a man talking to him. He went with the man.”

“Which way?”

Labram pointed south toward the UTC building.

“Did you see what the man looked like?”

The boy shook his head.

“As tall as me?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay, let’s walk that way.”

They went quickly. Except for Dawson’s and Chikata’s flashlights, it was pitch dark. They whirled around as an engine started up. A hundred meters away, a large, silver car was pulling out of a small side street off Commercial. They shined their flashlights, but the car moved off too quickly for them to see who was in it. It made a left on Kwame Nkrumah and sped north.

“Get your driver and the other constables,” Dawson said to Chikata. “I’ll take Baidoo, and you follow us.”

He took off for Baidoo’s parking spot. The sergeant must have figured out he was needed because he was already pulling up to Dawson in the Tata jeep.

Dawson hopped in. “Did you see the vehicle?”

“Silver Benz,” Baidoo said, bumping over the avenue divider to get to the opposite side. There were no cars on the streets now, so it was easy to keep the taillights of the Benz in view.

Dawson called Chikata. “He’s going on Tudu toward Novotel,” he told him.

“Coming that way now.”

“I’ll stay on the line until you catch up with us. Baidoo, move up a little bit so we can see the license plate-not too close, though.”

As they neared the car, Dawson’s blood ran cold. “Oh, Jesus.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I know the owner of the car.”

“Who is it?”

“Dr. Allen Botswe.”

Dr. Botswe’s silver Benz swung into his driveway. Less than a minute later, the two police Tata jeeps went by, pulling over just a few meters up. Dawson jumped out, and Chikata, Quaynor, and the other constables came up behind him as he hid near the wall and watched the Benz being parked. The driver got out. It was Obi. He opened the passenger door to let Hassan out. The boy looked about the same age as Labram.

As Obi and Hassan reached the front of the house, the door opened and Dawson caught a glimpse of Botswe as he let them in.

“Okay,” Dawson said. “Let’s go.”

He ran up to the door and rang the bell. As soon as Obi opened up, Dawson pushed past him. The others followed. Genevieve Kusi, standing in the foyer with Botswe, Obi, and Hassan, let out a startled cry.

“Everyone stay where you are,” Dawson said.

“What’s going on?” Botswe spluttered.

“Quaynor, take care of the boy.”

She sidled up to Hassan, took his hand, and escorted him outside.

“What are you doing here?” Botswe shouted.

“Would you come with us to the station, please, Doctor?”

“What for? Are you arresting me?”

“No, but I do need to ask you some questions. I would like Genevieve and Obi to accompany us as well. If there’s any attempt by any of you to resist, you will be handcuffed. Is that understood?”

It was going to be a long night. Botswe, Genevieve, and Obi were transported to the Legon Police Station and separated. Fortunately there was one office and two small rooms available to confine them.

Dawson would take on Botswe first. He briefed Chikata on how to interview Genevieve and the key information he wanted out of her.

“You’re okay with me interviewing her by myself?” Chikata asked.

“Yes, I trust you.”

“Thank you, Dawson.”

Dawson went into Botswe’s room and shut the door behind him. A ceiling fan was circulating the warm, oppressive air.

“So, Dr. Botswe. We meet again under rather different circumstances.”

Botswe, who had been seated in front of the table in the center of the room, shot to his feet, tipping the chair over. “This is an outrage, Inspector!” he shouted.

“Doctor,” Dawson said softly, “please sit down so we can talk in the proper fashion.”

His chest heaving with anger, Botswe righted his chair and took his seat again.

“Thank you very much, sir,” Dawson said, now sitting down himself on the other side of the table. “Certain areas of Central Accra have been under surveillance in regard to the recent killings of street youngsters. This evening, we observed your vehicle taking a boy away from the UTC area. In view of recent events, which you’re well aware of, I’m obligated to question you.”