“I was interested by Cas’s piece a couple of weeks ago about online scams,” Herbert said, pouring Marc a little more brandy.
“Oh yes?” Casper said. “What did you think of it?”
“Top quality, of course,” Herbert said. “Caused quite a stir on Ghanaweb.com, which posted excerpts of the piece and had a commentary.”
“What’s Ghanaweb?” Cas asked.
“It’s an all-media website,” Herbert explained. “Radio, TV, videos, social networks, and so on. But what makes it stand out are the no-holds-barred comments underneath the features. The Ghanaweb audience is like a bunch of gunmen firing their weapons indiscriminately and not caring who gets hurt.”
“Oh, really?” Marc said, interested. “What was the response to the Observer piece?”
“From what I could tell,” Herbert said, “it broke down into three categories. People who condemned these sakawa fraudsters, those who castigated and or mocked the victims, and finally those who blame the scandal entirely on the present ruling party. Everything is politics in Ghana. I should let you know that President Bannerman has called me about the article.”
“The president himself?” Cas said. “What did he say?”
“Well, he was concerned. You know, he has a comprehensive anti-corruption campaign in full swing. He asked if I had been aware this article was coming out in the paper. I told him, no. He went on further to say that, as an ambassador, I need to be reassuring potential American investors that the Ghanaian government is cracking down on corruption.”
“Corruption in Ghana has given the country a black eye internationally,” Marc said. “Would you agree?”
“Yes, I would,” Herbert said. “But back to the article—I’m curious why it’s penned by Casper, who is not even in Ghana. Shouldn’t it be someone who is actually there?”
Marc appeared uncomfortable. “We do have someone there—an American who was a victim of one of these scams. He’s agreed to carry out inquiries for us, and Cas is putting the two-part series together based on his experiences.”
“Who is this man?” Herbert asked.
“I can tell you once I have your assurance that you won’t pass on the information,” Marc said.
“Of course.”
“His name is Gordon Tilson,” Casper said. “He was fooled by a romance con out of Ghana and now he wants to tell his story in the Washington Observer. I’m writing it for him.”
“How long will Mr. Tilson be there?”
Casper and Marc exchanged uneasy glances.
“What’s going on?” Herbert asked, looking from one man to the other.
“Well,” Casper said, his craggy face creasing up, “the problem is we haven’t heard from Gordon in more than two weeks. We can’t reach him. He’s gone completely silent and we’ve no idea where he is.”
THIRTY
May 15, Accra, Ghana
Emma had successfully completed another background check. The client was going into business and wanted to be sure his intended partner was clean. He was. Her inquiries had taken her out of Accra to the Brong-Ahafo town of Sunyani.
She was happy in this job. She had a clearly defined role, encouraging colleagues, and a patient, supportive boss. She was free from long statement forms and reports in sextuplicate. With Sowah’s computerized system for filing data and reports, the agency was able to cut tedious work to a minimum. Sowah had been there for Emma every step of the way. He was committed to giving her work that would challenge her sufficiently while not exposing her to anything dangerous.