Mistress of the Game Read online

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  Whereas the Oval Office is above ground in the West Wing along with the National Security advisors office, the Situation Room that manages intelligence for the government sits in the basement of the West Wing. It is a large room, 5,000 square feet, designed as a conference room and equipped with secure, advanced communications equipment for the President to maintain control over US forces as near as Canada and as far away as Tonga. Since world events are monitored on a 24-hour basis, the President and the White House Staff are able to be apprised of rumblings occurring around the globe.

  The President arrived with four people in tow. Jake Modern the White House Press Secretary, Juan Mendoza, the Vice President, Gertrude Gold the Secretary of State and Kwame Jackson, the Ambassador to Ghana. Majeed swiftly passed around a morning summary for them to quickly scan through.

  “We have a couple of items on the agenda that need looking at but I’d like to start with Ghana first. Around one thirty, E.S.T, two school children on their way to the local public school in Takoradi for a function noticed something suspicious peeking out of the bushes along a wooded path in Takoradi. Being boys” – at this, everyone chuckled – “they decided to investigate and found two dead men, both white, apparently shot and strangled lying in the brush with American flags drawn in paint on their cheeks”. He paused for effect.

  “They ran as fast as they could towards a police station and reported it to the police. The police officer on duty was having his breakfast -

  ‘…probably kenkey & fish…” piped Kwame

  Majeed continued with a smile on his face.

  “…so he took his sweet old time while harassing and yelling at the boys. We have a transcript of the conversation if you are ever in the mood for a laugh. Anyway, the bodies were identified as belonging to two oil workers, both employed by JettSco and working in the Freedom oil fields. As we speak, their families are being notified about their untimely demise”.

  “May their souls rest in peace”, murmured Rude Gold.

  A silence permeated the ultra tech conference room, as everyone knew the President was about to say something.

  “Do we know anything about this?”

  “No Sir, we don’t”, replied Jake Modern emphatically.

  “Good, lets keep it that way’, the President sanctioned.

  “We have asked for the bodies to be taken aboard the HMS Peace which is equipped with a medical center capable of performing autopsies. Afterwards, they will be flown home to their families – both happen to come from Atlanta, Georgia”.

  “How many ships do we have off the coast of Ghana?” asked Juan.

  “Quite a number actually. The Takoradi Harbour also boasts a Naval base that has been fully functional ever since the Harbour was built. We have three Patrol Craft Coastals, one Steam Frigate, 1 submarine, 1 torpedo boat and an aircraft carrier. Another advantage to that increased presence in that region is the fact that the 2nd Battalion of the Ghana Armed Forces used to be based not too far from the Ghana Secondary Technical School and their facilities are not half bad. Also, the Ghana Air force has a training base in Takoradi and this is what made our job easier when we were designing details for Mr. President’s trip to Ghana recently”.

  The occupants of the Situation Room all looked at Majeed as he proceeded to one wall, touched the screen and it came alive. He pressed a few more buttons, pausing to shift back and forth.

  “I don’t want to bore you with geographical details you are bound to know so I will just show you an aerial view – courtesy of google earth – of the site in discovery in Takoradi.”

  After a few deft placements of his fingers, the room fell quiet as they looked at the evidence before them.

  “Since the locals don’t bother with street names, our location is called ‘about ten minutes from the car repair shop that is beside Chop Your Dollar Chop Bar.”

  They all chuckled. All of them had been to parts of Africa, South America and Asia and had experienced this quaint way of life that seemed so far removed from their own tightly managed, technologically choking ones. Majeed continued.

  “Here are the two boys. All evidence points to the fact that they had absolutely nothing to do with it – they just happened to come upon the scene of the crime. We received information about an hour ago indicating that the local investigation was moving along surprisingly well since the Chief of the Traditional Takoradi area, one Kingsley Quainoo is an American doctor who was born in Ghana but emigrated to the United States to study medicine. He is trying to make some changes in the way things are done and is facing some opposition from the Council of Elders who claim he has not received the support of all the elders who make up the Kingmaking Council.”

  “And why should we care?” Mendoza asked petulantly

  Majeed looked at him like he was a child and spoke slowly, like he would to a child.

  “We should care, Mr. Mendoza because Dr. Quainoo worked in the US Ministry of Defense prior to taking up the chieftaincy in Ghana. He has had access to certain information, is conversant with the American way of doing things and has an American wife. He has a lot to gain by developing the Takoradi area – it’s his ancestral home after all – but he has even more to lose by ignoring American demands.”

  “And the local media?” asked Jake Modern who had so far been very quiet. He had just received word from his doctor that he would have to undergo tests for bowel cancer and so he had found his mind wandering a couple of times during the presentation.

  Majeed touched a few buttons and they could immediately see all the cyber activity in and around Ghana and about Ghana. There was much speculation on who killed the men, why they had American flags painted on their cheeks, why they were both strangled as well as shot, where they could have been killed since the investigation had revealed that the location of the bodies was not the location of death.

  “As you know, spirituality is high on the typical Ghanaian’s agenda so all morning, prayers have been said for the dead men and their families both on air – TV and radio – as well on several blogs. Christopher Blagogee, the outspoken radio personality who has a talk show has suggested that perhaps the Americans killed their own workers. Many people believe him”

  “And we are not amused”, said Rude Gold. She had a smirk on her face that thinned her maroon coloured lips.

  “Who the hell is Christopher Blagogee anyway?” asked the Vice President.

  All eyes turned to Kwame, the official and unofficial Ghanaian in the room. This was what he dreaded more than anything; an issue that would force him to choose sides in a situation that was compromised right from the start. He tugged at his tie, feeling his blood pressure rise as his tongue flitted around his mouth looking for a tooth to suck on for security. He was sometimes convinced they all thought he was a spy but then again, with all the anti-depressants he was taking, paranoia did become him.

  “Mr. Blagogee is an outspoken radio and TV personality who has incurred the wrath of many a politician. He says what he thinks - often without thinking - claiming that he is driven by truth. As you can imagine, he has a loyal following and especially in Cyberspace, many flock to his website to read what he has found about this local politician or that. With tensions running high in the country and talk of some sort of American conspiracy, I’m not surprised he is fuelling the fire of speculation…that’s what he does best.”

  There was silence in the room as all present absorbed this tidbit of information. Clearly, some damage control needed to be done but how?

  The President stroked his chin.

  “Wasn’t there another murder in the same area not long ago? I recall that a Chinese worker was killed in that one and he also had an American Flag drawn on his cheek”.

  “You’re right Mr. President”, Majeed concurred, moving to the screen and maneuvering a few buttons to bring up a new screen. “The Chinese worker was called Jun Li and his absence was noticed on the morning after the purported murder when he did not show u
p to the crew boat that would have taken him to work on the oil rig. It took about a week to get any information since the local authorities believed he was still in the arms of some local prostitute so they did nothing.”

  They all stared at the images before them. About twenty four squares filled the large 72 inch screen and each of them showed at the very least, a man, a woman and some trees and ….

  ‘What’s that sticking out from that tree? Looks like a leg…”, asked Rude Gold.

  Majeed zoomed in on slide number 24. Poking out from behind a tree was what looked like a small leg, standing it would seem or propped up against the side of the tree. If it belonged to a living person, then the person, most likely a child was hidden behind the tree. If the owner was not attached to the leg, then it had been placed there, propped up by the tree trunk. What on earth for? The gruesome thought was forming in the minds of all those gathered there and apart from the President, all the other faces, for a brief suspension of time, could not control that thought from being evident on their faces.