Miller Caldwell - Caught in a Cold War Trap

‘Yes, that’s the name I’ve heard people call it.’

‘Tro-tro—it means tuppence, tuppence. It’s the cheap way to travel. You will find yourself squashed between several market women,’ he said as he stopped at the entrance to the lorry park.

I thanked him and he offered to stay with me till the lorry came, but I assured him that was not necessary. As he drove off I made my way into Sandema town. As I passed a family outside their home, lighting a fire to boil water, I stopped and took out from my pocket the bag with the four wrapper covered chocolates. I approached the children and gave them each one. Their smiles were gigantic, as was their mother’s in showing her appreciation.

Then I made my way back towards Amadu and his plane. It was such a reassuring sight and I was pleased when the wheels left the ground and Sandema and even Navrongo disappeared from sight. I looked at the land far below with a hint of satisfaction. My cover seemed secure. Yet it had been such a simple task. Delivering Quality Street from someone I knew only by description.

Once we landed I thanked Amadu and gave him some cedis for all his efforts in assisting me. As it was still only 3.30 p.m. I made my way back to the office, but of course, only Peace was there to greet me.

‘How did you enjoy Sandema?’ she asked.

‘It seemed hotter than here and that’s saying something.’

She laughed. ‘What were you doing there?’ she enquired, curiosity in her eyes.

‘Delivering chocolates. That’s about it.’

She looked glum. ‘There’s rarely a box of chocolates in this office.’

‘Perhaps I can address that. Is the boss…’ I cut short the sentence and finished it with a shaking finger to my lips.

Peace nodded. ‘Obliterated, as usual.’

The next morning Igor Utechin sought me out first thing.

‘Robert, how did it go?’

‘Quite well, I think.’

‘Were you offered any chocolates?’

‘Yes, I was,’ I said.

‘You didn’t eat any did you?’ he asked taking me by surprise.

‘No, I told you I was allergic to chocolate. But as they were so soft; he put them in the fridge.’

A smile came over Utechin’s face. I was unsure why, but he seemed pleased that I had not taken one. Over-concerned I thought. He knew I had an allergy to them.

‘He did offer me some when I was leaving, but I thought it best to tell him I’d have them in the car on my way back.’

‘And did you? Or did you give them to the driver?’ he asked in haste.

‘Of course not. I told you they make me ill. I actually gave them to a family with four children. You can imagine how pleased and surprised they were. They couldn’t get the wrappers off quickly enough,’ I said recalling the moment with great satisfaction—but Utechin seemed out of sorts. I turned to head towards my desk after he failed to ask any more questions. He seemed deep in thought. Perhaps his hangover was particularly bad.

He followed me into my office.

‘Robert, you are in charge for the time being. I’ll be in hospital for tests for a couple of days.’

‘Nothing serious I hope?’

‘Time will tell young man. Time will tell.’

Around mid-day, there was knock on the door.

‘Come in,’ I shouted looking up. ‘Ah Mr Nkansa, what can I do for you this morning?’

He looked humble, holding his hat in both hands on his lap when he sat down.

‘It be our pay. We’ve not had a rise for a while.’

‘I see. Well that’s a matter for Mr Utechin, when he comes back from hospital.’

Nkansa looked around the room furtively. I had never seen him in my room before. I awaited his response, my pen tapping my knee out of his sight.

‘Mr Utechin, he’s an ill man.’

‘Yes, I can see dat.’

Another pause—but this time I saw him fight for his words.

‘Will you… er… take over from Mr Utechin?’ he asked, looking at me directly

‘That’s a bit premature, surely?’

‘I don’t tink so, or I would not have asked.’

‘Okay, you have asked a decent question. The answer is that I really don’t know. If I left then the powers that be could appoint someone from here, I am sure. But we are not at that stage, I assure you.’

Mr Nkansa nodded for a moment. He had exhausted that topic.

‘A pay rise then?’ he asked with tilt of his head.

‘Is this just you asking, or on behalf of your workmates?’

‘We have formed a union. I am the secretary and I speak for the members.’

I held my chin in my hand. ‘I see. And how many members do you have?’

‘We have five at present, but more will

join.’

‘Five? That’s not even half the workforce. But I am sympathetic. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. When Mr Utechin returns, it will be the first point on my agenda. I promise to let you know how we will proceed with your request. Is that fair?’

He pondered my suggestion. Then I saw a slight nod of his head.

‘Yes, that be fair,’ he said moving the chair back before standing up.

‘Just a moment Mr Nkansa. You were a Nkrumah supporter. Are you still of that view?’

‘Nkrumah, for all his faults was de first black African leader. He is the flame which lights our continent. You can’t take that away from him.’

‘You are right—I can’t and don’t want to. But he is no longer leader. Things move on, we have to adjust.’

‘We move on yes, but don’t forget the past. Nkrumah brought the Russians here. They helped us stand on our own two feet after independence. The British drifted away.’

I nodded—he spoke the truth, as I knew it to be.

‘Even today, I see Russia as my friend. I am happy to work under Mr Utechin.’

‘Then I suspect he will hear your proposition fairly.’

Nkansah rightly took that as the end of our encounter. He offered his hand.

‘By the way, when you were in Sandema, did you see Mr Desoto?’

‘Er… yes, I met him?’ I said wondering how he knew about Desoto.

‘Did he take the chocolates?’

My mind was in turmoil. Why did Utechin quiz me so intently about the chocolates, and now Mr Nkansa? Were they in some plot together?

‘Yes, he took them,’ I said, watching to gauge his response.

It was a smile.

‘Fine,’ he said and left without a further word.

Two days later I saw a car drive up outside the office. As the passenger’s door opened the first thing I saw was a walking stick. Utechin followed and stood with its aid. Then I saw Peace go out to support him and bring him into the building. She returned to the car and took the day’s edition of the Ghanaian Times newspaper from the back seat. I waited until he was settled in his office chair before I went to inquire after his health.

His back was to me as I entered. ‘How are you feeling?’ I asked in Russian.

He turned around with no hint of a smile. His hand was shaking and then he thumped the table. ‘We’ve got to get you to Accra as soon as possible, Robert.’

‘Why?’ I blurted. ‘What’s the rush?’

He grabbed the Ghanaian Times and threw it at me.

I picked it up. The headline struck me to my core.

I read on with shaking hands and total disbelief. “A white man gave some chocolates to them,” said their grieving mother. My hands still shook and a lump formed in my throat. My description had been given to the police who were also looking into a death at an oil company compound, where a Senor Lorenzo Desoto had also died in similar circumstances, from poisoning. The authorities had requested additional police from Kumasi to be drafted in to solve the five murders. There was a fear that there might be more deaths waiting to be uncovered.