“What happened that day when he was killed?” Dawson asked her gently. In the corner of his eye he saw Chikata watching with his usual stress-free pose, arms open, legs apart. “It was a Sunday, correct?”
“Yes please,” she said, nodding. “He had been in Côte d’Ivoire since Monday of that week, returning on Friday night. He spent the whole of Saturday at home writing something on the computer. On Sunday morning, I came to him to ask him if he needed anything.” Charity rubbed her hands back and forth over the top of her thighs, revealing the stress she was feeling telling the story. “He said no and told me I can go to church and spend the day with my family. That was the last time I saw him alive.” Charity’s bottom lip began to tremble. “When I returned in the evening, I went to check on him and found him dead in the sitting room.”
Ah, this is what I want, Dawson thought ecstatically. “So, it’s not true that you welcomed Silas to the house in the afternoon or that you were home when you heard a gunshot and saw Silas running from the house?”
She bowed her head. “Yes, please. It’s not true.”
“It’s okay.” Dawson didn’t want her to feel any shame or embarrassment. He could tell she was the kind of person who easily accepted undeserved blame. “Who told you to say that you were home that day and that you saw Silas?”
“Two policemen,” she said softly, almost fearfully. “They came to see me the next morning to ask me what happened. I said to them that I had already told an inspector from the police station what had happened the night before, and they had already taken my statement. They told me that the inspector was not working on the case anymore and that I had to sign a new statement.”
Dawson exchanged a glance with Chikata. These two so-called policemen had probably been imposters or BNI guys.
“Did they tell you their names?” Dawson asked.
“No, please. They told me to come with them and they took me inside their car. One was driving and the other one sat with me in the back. They drove me far to somewhere around the Trade Fair site, and they didn’t say anything. I was afraid to ask where they were taking me.” Charity’s voice was shaking with emotion. “They found some lonely place and parked the car there. They told me I was in trouble because since I was the only one who found Mr. Tetteh dead, then probably I was the one who killed him. So they’re going to arrest me.”
She sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand and brushing tears away.
“I told them I can never kill Mr. Tetteh. I begged them for mercy. Then they said they had to arrest me, and the one who was driving said he was going to handcuff me, and the other one said, ‘No, don’t do it.’ And I begged them, ofaine, ofaine, don’t take me, please. They said they knew Silas killed Mr. Tetteh, and they could arrest him if I confirm it for them. If I don’t confirm, then they have to arrest me rather.”
Charity was wringing her hands and curling her feet inward. Dawson could see how much anguish the story was causing her. “They said I should make another statement saying that I saw Silas coming to kill Mr. Tetteh. They would write it for me, and I would sign it. Then when the time came to testify in court, I have to say the same thing as I said in the statement, and they said they will teach me how to say it. So I signed the statement, and they let me go.”
She looked up at them almost apologetically. Dawson was angry but not with her.
“There’s nothing else you could have done,” he said, doing his best to reassure her. “I would have done the same thing if I had been in your position. Did the two policemen ever return?”
“Once, about one week later. They said they had arrested Silas for killing Mr. Tetteh, and they wanted to thank me for helping them but that later they would need me again to make the statement in court.”
Dawson’s jaw was clenching and unclenching. “Don’t worry. You won’t have to.”
Her eyes searched his face with both hopefulness and pleading, as though she had finally found someone she could lean on.
“Charity,” Dawson said, “do you know what a pen drive is?”
“Yes, that small thing to stick into the side of the computer.”
“Did Mr. Tetteh have one?”
“Yes, please.”
Without warning, she smiled, taking Dawson completely by surprise. He realized he had not yet seen her smile. “Do you know where I can find it?”
“He gave it to me to give to you.”
Dawson’s heart stopped. “What?”
“You were the one he said would come.”
“We don’t understand what you’re saying,” Chikata said, coming so far forward in his chair that it almost tipped over.
“He told me that certain people hate him,” she said. “Even, some of them used to threaten that they would kill him. He told me that if he dies, many different detective policemen will come to ask me questions, but only one will really care, and one day—he didn’t know when—that one will come to see me and that I should give the pen drive to that one who cares, but to no one else. When you came this morning, and I heard you say, ‘We have to care about Mr. Tetteh,’ I knew you were the one.”
Dawson was reeling. He felt heat and chills alternately in his face. “You have the pen drive here?” His voice almost shook.
“Yes. Please, I’m coming.”
She went into another room. Dawson looked at Chikata, speechless in disbelief. Charity returned seconds later. Into Dawson’s hand, she dropped a shiny, dark blue 8 GB pen drive inscribed with the word GOILCO.
This has to be it, Dawson thought. This pen drive held the solution to the mystery of who killed the Smith-Aidoos. He tried to curb his enthusiasm. His hunch could easily be wrong—again—he cautioned himself. Still, in spite of his trying to restrain his exuberance, he had a certain feeling, a feeling he had something very hot in his hand.
Chapter 34
THE TIME WAS ALMOST eleven when Dawson and Chikata left Charity. They had spent hours talking and not only about Mr. Tetteh’s murder. Conversing with the two men in rapid Ga, Charity had become relaxed and full of good humor. She had then insisted that they join the family for a meal of kenkey and fried fish.
No good would come from trying to get back to Takoradi at this late hour, and in any case, they were dead tired. They drove around and finally found a cheap place to stay for the night.
“I can sleep in the car,” Baah said.
Dawson and Chikata looked at each other and laughed.
“Oh, why you dey laugh?” Baah asked in surprise.
“Chaley, dis no be Takoradi,” Chikata said, grinning. “Dis be Accra.”
Dawson put his arm around Baah’s skinny shoulders. “Come on, you’re not going to sleep in the car. It’s too dangerous.”
Dawson paid for one room. It was all he could afford right now. The accommodations were the lowest of the low: a bare ceiling bulb, two low-set, lopsided beds with thin foam mattresses, and no toilet, bathroom, or even a sink. The public facilities outside were unpleasant. Baah sat in the one plastic chair and dozed off almost immediately.
Chikata looked for an electrical outlet but didn’t find one.
“Ah, well,” he said, switching on his laptop and sitting on the bed beside Dawson, “we’ll run it as long as the battery lasts.”
He popped in the pen drive. Dawson was trying to tone down his sense of anticipation so that if nothing on the pen drive turned out to be of interest, he wouldn’t feel crushed with disappointment.
The first thing they found on the drive was a set of emails between Charles and Tetteh.
From: Charles Smith-Aidoo
10 April 2012
To: Lawrence Tetteh
Subject: Re: Corporate responsibility
Hello, Lawrence –
I understand your concerns, but Malgam is working very seriously on developing a fund to cover the cost of cleaning up any spills.
Charles
Original Message
From: Lawrence Tetteh
8 April 2012
To: Charles Smith-Aidoo
Subject: Corporate responsibility.
Charles – the lack of serious commitment by Malgam to prevent environmental degradation by oil spills concerns me greatly.
After this exchange, no communication appeared between the two men until 10th May, when Charles sent a brief message:
I’ve been trying to call you regarding what we discussed. It appears your phone is off. My brother, I’m appealing to you as a fellow Ghanaian and colleague, please, don’t do this. This could threaten everything that we’ve achieved so far. All whistleblowers eventually suffer contempt, and they all come to regret their actions.
Turning to Chikata, Dawson explained. “On the fourth of May, Smith-Aidoo had texted Tetteh to say he would be in Accra in a few days and that they should meet up. He sounded very serious. They must have met, and this is the email after the meeting. So, it seems Tetteh wanted to blow the whistle on something, and Charles was trying to stop him from doing it.”
“Maybe it was a corruption scheme,” Chikata suggested. “Is it possible Charles had Tetteh killed in order to stop him from exposing it? But then, who killed Charles and Fiona, and why? This is confusing.”
Dawson’s eyes were closed as he tried to work it out. “It’s more likely that Charles told a third party, who decided to get rid of both him and Tetteh because of what they knew. It could be the BNI director behind it, or Amihere, the MP.”
“What about Superintendent Hammond?”
Dawson opened his eyes again and looked up at Chikata. “What about him?”
Chikata shrugged. “Maybe he hasn’t told you the whole story and he’s more involved than we think. How do we know he’s not caught up in a cover-up and had a hand in the killings? Why else has he been trying so hard to block our progress?”
“Maybe,” Dawson said with a sigh. He was worried that Chikata could be right. “We’ll have to keep it in the back of our minds as a possibility.”
There were no further emails to be found on the drive.
“He has some documents on here too,” Dawson said. “Let’s see what they are.”
They skimmed quickly through minutes and transcriptions of several meetings with sterile-sounding titles like Progress on the East Cape Three Points Exploration Block and Plans for Monetization of Natural Gas. Nothing was remarkable about them, but the next one they found had them carefully reading every line.
THE OIL COAST
Why Ghana is Not the Master of Its Destiny in the Petroleum industry By Lawrence Tetteh
To: TheTimes.co.uk
In 2007, the Malgam Oil Company discovered large reserves of offshore oil at Ghana’s Cape Three Points in the Western Region. With the cooperation of the Ghana government, the development of the East Cape Three Points well oil was fast-tracked in record time to first oil in December 2010. A feeling of elation captured the country. People dreamed of working in the oil and gas industry and of the riches that would result.
Of course, much of it was, and still is, an illusion. Most of oil work is restricted to a highly trained few, and the industry itself will never be a huge employer. There are more opportunities in the supportive, service, and hospitality industries, where less-skilled workers have a chance. This explains the massive influx of people moving from other parts of the country to the city at the center of the new oil industry, Takoradi.
Another illusion abides, however, concerning Malgam in particular. Malgam’s CEO, Roger Calmy-Rey, son of renowned Ulysses Calmy-Rey, has given the impression that the company is committed to preserving the environment, the fishing industry, and the livelihood of the coastal peoples. With his successful promotion of the highly polished public image of his company, Mr. Calmy-Rey is lauded for aspiring to his father’s lofty ideals of humanitarian oil exploration and production.
Yet, last year when an oil spill occurred and killed millions of fish, Malgam showed no interest in compensating fishermen for their losses. They claim they paid for cleanup costs, but the process lacked transparency, and it is not clear how much they spent or how much they actually cleaned up. The two companies refused to pay the Ghanaian government a fine. Malgam is now embroiled in a legal case.
A number of additional disturbing issues have surfaced within the last year:
• Mr. Calmy-Rey has indicated that he seeks to bring local content online as soon as possible. However, the “training programs” that Malgam provides are a token gesture that involve only a small handful of Ghanaians every year.
• Rather than sourcing local food supplies, Malgam imports food for its rig workers from Europe or neighboring Ivory Coast.
• Malgam has preferentially awarded contracts to foreign companies, e.g. air transportation for executives was awarded to a Dutch company instead of a capable Ghanaian one; heavy lifting equipment was awarded to a British company; and the tug boats used in repositioning offshore oil rigs are operated by an Italian group.
• Expatriate engineers are paid three or four times what their equivalent Ghanaian counterparts are and are more likely to get certain perks such as a free car or company credit card.
Goilco, Ghana’s state-owned petroleum company, has a 10% carried interest in the East Cape Points license. That Goilco entered into this agreement is a matter of personal pride for me in the last three years that I have been on board as the CEO. However, I have a wider pride that goes far beyond the boundaries of our offices. I want to see a minimum and not arbitrary pay scale for Ghanaian workers, and I have fought for it. It has been a losing battle.
Malgam CEO Roger Calmy-Rey himself approached me with a proposal that I abet his efforts to achieve certain ultimate goals in return for substantial remuneration to me. The specifics were as follows:
• Reduce pressure on Malgam to reimburse fishermen in the event of an oil spill.
• Strengthen regulations against fishing activities near deep-sea installations.
• Work toward avoiding fines on Malgam in the case of an oil spill—they will pay for cleanup only and their own experts will determine the cost.
• Establish few or only loose regulations against waste dumping from the FPSO (Floating, Production, Storage, and Offloading) vessel into the Gulf of Guinea.
• Firm pressure against establishing a Maritime Law in Parliament.
• Avoid any formal, government-determined pay structure for Ghanaians, and a “look-away” policy vis-à-vis discriminatory salary policies against Ghanaian workers.
• And above all: collusion in promoting a humanitarian image for the Malgam in general and Roger Calmy-Rey in particular.
Malgam Oil and its CEO now have a problem. I am the problem. In my entire career, I have never been corruptible, and I don’t intend to start now. My answer to all of the above proposals is “no.” I have sacked the three Goilco officials known to have accepted gifts of cash and expensive trips abroad from Malgam.
In order to achieve the corrupt schemes listed in the foregoing, Malgam is paying off high government officials in the chain of command. The Minister of Energy, the Hon. Terence Amihere, has received a retainer of $200,000, deposited in his Swiss bank account in order to assist Malgam in the ways outlined above. I have this on the authority of a ministry insider.
The time has come for a full investigation of corrupt practices carried out by Malgam and other oil companies operating off Ghana’s shores. I call for this because I love my country and I want to see it prosper. This is not about me. In fact, I don’t care what happens to me. This is about Ghana, a country whose immeasurable potential can be attained only if honor can triumph over greed and corruption.
Dawson took a breath and leaned back. “Unbelievable.”
“Do you think all these accusations are true?” Chikata asked.
“I don’t know,” Dawson said, rubbing his chin in thought, “but it almost doesn’t matter. The point is that the accusations have been made, and they are so serious that they warrant an investigation.”
�
�Why was Tetteh sending it to a UK paper?”
“Because he wanted the biggest impact, I suppose,” Dawson said. “He knew the penalties imposed on a UK company for corrupt practices in foreign countries are severe, so he was sending the article to where it really counts. From the Times it would immediately be picked up here in Ghana—all over the world, actually, especially online. But let’s go back to the beginning and work our way forward to this article. Say I’m Tetteh of Goilco and you are Charles of Malgam. We’ve known each other since the beginning of the discovery of oil in Ghana, say, five years—or maybe even before that.”
“Okay,” Chikata said, nodding.
“Formerly,” Dawson continued, “I was an employee of an oil company in Texas, but now I’m back in Ghana and I want to work for the state-owned oil corporation, Goilco. Three years ago, I became CEO, and I’m passionate about making it a world-class oil and gas company. I’m determined to do it. I want to leave that legacy, right?”
“Right,” Chikata agreed.
Dawson got to his feet and paced a few steps back and forth. “However, after looking into way the previous CEO ran the company, I’m finding waste, redundancy, missing reports, missing money, and above all, evidence of bribery and corruption. I dig further, and I find this goes wider, deeper, and higher than I’d imagined, and I’m shocked to find that Malgam Oil is paying off people at all levels of government to maximize oil profits and avoid being regulated. So now, what should I do?”
“Well, you—Tetteh—know me very well,” Chikata said slowly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, “or maybe we are quite good friends and you need to talk to someone. I’m in Takoradi, and you’re in Accra, so you text me from there asking to meet me to talk about this because you’re worried.”
Murder at Cape Three Points Page 26