Gold of Our Fathers - [6]

That comment, delivered in a voice that sounded to Dawson like a 60-hertz electrical hum, could have been a wry joke, but Oppong cracked not even to trace of a smile. He was referring, no doubt, to Dawson’s anger management difficulties years ago-an explosive temper that had slowly settled down since.

Oppong was studying a sheet of paper headed with the GPS insignia. “Were you made aware of your impending transfer to Obuasi?”

Dawson’s eyebrows shot up. “Transfer to Obuasi, sir? What transfer?”

Oppong read from the document. “Following the untimely death of Chief Inspector Pascal Addae, supervising crime officer at Obuasi Divisional Headquarters, his post is to be filled for a period of at least one year by Chief Inspector Darko Dawson of CID Headquarters, Accra.”

One year? Dawson fell back in his chair, dumbfounded. Oppong looked up at him. “Evidently this comes to you as a surprise.”

“No one told me,” Dawson said, hearing his voice sharpen. “Was this a decision by ACP Lartey?”

“I don’t know whose decision it was,” Oppong said kindly. “All I know is that the notification is signed by him. Since he is my senior officer, it is my duty to implement it, not to question it.”

Dawson was furious. This was a dirty trick by Lartey-a parting shot, a last laugh even as he left his post. He knew all about Dawson’s family, the trials of Hosiah’s surgery and nursing him back to emotional and physical health, and yet he had still done this.

“Dawson?”

He startled back to the moment. “Yes, sir.”

“You need to get to Obuasi as quickly as possible,” Oppong said. “Seeing as how you are taken by surprise by this development, I will give you a grace period of two weeks, so that you can get your affairs together. Are you planning to move with your family?”

Dawson’s impressions of the chief superintendent changed. Seemingly aloof at first, Oppong appeared to have the heart that Lartey did not.

“I’m not sure, sir,” Dawson said despondently. “I don’t know. What happened to Chief Inspector Addae?”

“I think it was some kind of stroke,” Oppong said.

Dawson felt guilty that he wasn’t feeling as much sympathy as he should have. “Who will take my place here at headquarters?”

“Chikata will report directly to me on any cases.”

Dawson nodded. At least that would be good. Chikata could gain added experience and prestige that way.

“Well,” Oppong said, folding his long fingers in front of him. “That’s all for now.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Dawson didn’t remember getting up and leaving the room. He was in a daze.

CHAPTER THREE

The quiet Myohaung Street at the rear of the CID premises, named after a place in Myanmar in recognition of Ghana’s contribution to the WWII defeat of the Japanese in Burma, was often Dawson’s place to think and brood. He thrust his hands in his pockets and walked in the shade of the trees that lined the street, passing embassy residences and expensive gated communities.

So much to think about. He tried to clear his head and work through it methodically. Obuasi. About 160 miles away in the southern part of the Ashanti Region, it was one of the major gold-mining towns in Ghana and home to the huge multinational AngloGold Ashanti. Dawson thought the population might be around a couple hundred thousand people. It and other areas in the region had been in the news of late because of illegal gold mining by not just hundreds, but thousands of Chinese who had flooded into Ghana from a certain region of China-Dawson couldn’t remember the name at the moment-and succeeded in laying waste large tracts of fertile land as they dug feverishly for alluvial gold.

Dawson couldn’t possibly be away from Christine, Sly, and Hosiah for that long, could he? No, they would have to come with him to Obuasi. But that meant finding the boys new schools and Christine a new job. He winced at that. Christine had just been promoted to assistant headmistress. How could she be so prematurely uprooted now from a post that was providing her experience and prestige, and bringing in a little more income? Maybe the family should stay in Accra and Dawson could visit from Obuasi as often as possible? But he knew what that meant in reality. When a case becomes very busy, there is barely time to get away. He would be missing his family for intolerable weeks on end.

A new worry struck him. Over the last year, Hosiah had gained social confidence and overcome the physical and emotional consequences of his long illness. With new activities in which he could take part, he was enjoying life to the fullest. In particular, he had become best friends with one boy in his class called Seth. Sometimes it seemed that Seth was at the Dawsons’ home more than his own. Wrenching Hosiah away was going to be tough on both boys.

Sly was more adaptable to change than his younger brother because of his past street life. Dawson wasn’t worried about him, and in fact, Sly would be of great moral support for Hosiah.

In the evening after the children had gone to sleep, Dawson would talk it over with Christine. He turned back toward CID, his stomach churning with anxiety.