Chapters (109)
- Part One
- ONE
- One day earlier
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- PART TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- EIGHTY-FOUR
- EIGHTY-FIVE
- EIGHTY-SIX
- EIGHTY-SEVEN
- EIGHTY-EIGHT
- EIGHTY-NINE
- NINETY
- NINETY-ONE
- NINETY-TWO
- NINETY-THREE
- NINETY-FOUR
- NINETY-FIVE
- NINETY-SIX
- NINETY-SEVEN
- NINETY-EIGHT
- NINETY-NINE
- GLOSSARY
- Acknowledgments
- Continue reading
- Part One
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
“Sis, what are you doing here?” Bruno said in an undertone as she came up to him.
“That’s not the right question,” Emma said angrily, trying to keep her voice down. “The question should be what you are doing here?”
Bruno was deadpan. “I haven’t done anything.”
“Don’t lie to me. It was all in the papers today—pictures of you and those sakawa boys. Didn’t I tell you they would get you in trouble?”
Glumly, Bruno looked away.
“Were you with that Nii Kwei I met the other day?” Emma asked.
Bruno nodded.
“Is he also at this station?”
“No, I’ve not seen him,” Bruno said. “Maybe they took him to somewhere else. I’m not sure. But the rest of us are here.”
It was possible that this station’s jail was at capacity, Emma reasoned, although that normally never stopped anyone packing in a few more prisoners.
“Can you get me out?” Bruno asked her, making sad eyes at her.
Emma bristled. “No! I will not. You got yourself into this trouble, and you’ll have to get yourself out. Maybe you’ll finally learn your lesson. It serves you right, Bruno.”
Emma noticed the desk sergeant staring at Bruno as she talked to someone on the phone. At intervals, she nodded and said, “Yes, madam.” After ending the call, she beckoned to Bruno. “Come.”
The sergeant opened a large ledger. “Sign here,” she said, pressing her index finger to a space down the column.
Puzzled, Bruno signed.
“You may go,” the sergeant said, looking at him with both offhandedness and distaste.
“Please, you say?”
She raised her voice. “You may go! Are you deaf?”
“Yes, madam. No, madam. Thank you.”
A corporal lifted the barrier at the counter and incredibly, Bruno walked out scot-free.
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-EIGHT
Sana Sana was a mysterious if not forbidding figure. He was Ghana’s most famous journalist, yet very few people had ever seen the face hidden behind a curtain of thick wires or threaded beads hanging from the brim of a hat. On occasion, he had removed the mask in front of an eager TV audience only to reveal a prosthetic face underneath.
He kept his identity a firm secret because over the years he had broken dozens of stories of corruption and organized crime all over Ghana. He was the mastermind behind daring undercover operations that exposed not only the most influential personalities in the country, but murderous rituals practiced in remote parts. Sana’s most recent exposé had blown up the corrupt world of soccer game fixing in Ghana. His motto was, “name, shame, and jail.” His enemies were criminals in both high and low places, and as he once said at a TED talk in Europe, if he ever revealed himself to the crooks, he would be dead within days.