“Okay,” Gordon said, still waiting for the punchline, “so . . . so what? You’re saying that my case is different because I’m here in Ghana.”

“Bingo,” Cas said with satisfaction. “This is one hell of a golden opportunity to nail this shit.”

“Hold on a second. Yesterday it was, ‘fuck it all, live and let live.’ Today I’m the new sheriff in town here to fix all the evils?”

“I’m saying you’re in a unique position to make a difference, is all I’m saying,” Cas responded. “You can alter the paradigm. It’s like a big block of stone everyone’s been walking past and ignoring for years until one day a sculptor comes along and shapes it into a statue.”

“Nice metaphor,” Gordon said, “but what if one day the damn statue falls over and crushes the sculptor? In other words, what if I go after this thing and end up getting hurt?”

“I don’t think it has to be that way,” Cas said. “You won’t be inventing the wheel. First, there’s a guy called Sana Sana in Ghana—”

“Who?”

“Sana Sana. I know, weird name, but anyway he’s a Ghanaian investigative reporter who does exposés on prominent people—mostly corrupt politicians. He’s done some TED talks in the States and he’s working on a documentary on these scams right now. He’s got a bunch of resources at his command. If you could get a hold of him and work with him, he might even be able to track down the people who duped you. I’ll text you the YouTube link.

“Second, for what it’s worth, I think you should go to the police about this. Just making a report is an important first step because they’re going to say, ‘okay, this guy is here right in front of us, and he’s serious.’

“Third, what about that woman you told me you met at the Ghanaian ambassador’s? Didn’t you say she’s the wife of the attorney general or whatever?”

“Josephine. Wife of the inspector general of police.”

“Yes, that. Jesus, Gordon. You have a contact intimately connected with the top law enforcement guy there and you’re not going to use that opportunity? How many people do you think have ever been in such a strategic position?”

Gordon chewed on the inside of his cheek. To be honest, he had ruled out meeting up with Josephine, not to mention her husband. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t tell you this, but I had sex with Josephine.” Silence from the other end. Gordon continued. “So, I fucked her, and now I’m here in Ghana looking for another woman who, by the way, doesn’t exist? How awkward are the optics on that?”

“Okay, well,” Cas said, recovering, “that’s still no reason not to get in touch with her. You’re both grown-ups. Whatever happened, happened. This is another matter altogether.”

Undecided and mixed up, Gordon heaved a sigh.

“The thing is you’re embarrassed about this,” Cas persevered, “and I don’t blame you. But this is what scammers rely on—your shame and embarrassment. They’re master manipulators. You’re not the culprit here, you’re the victim. And it’s time to turn it around and become a survivor, goddammit.”