The Patriot
by Samuel Cobby Grant
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EPISODE 8
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A door slid open and a squat man with powerful arms and legs walked in. The man behind the voice, he guessed.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said quietly, regarding him with calm eyes
“Yes, it’s me,” he replied gloatingly.
“Mr Klaus Kinski, I presume,” Issah Musah said, looking at the man straight in the eyes.
“You know me?” he asked, sounding not so sure of himself anymore.
“Yes, I know you, Klaus,” he snapped at him as if he was speaking to a child, “You are in charge of the K Division of German Intelligence.”
Klaus Kinski’s heart missed a beat and stared at his captive. The K Division was responsible for all foreign assassinations of people the German state deemed necessary targets and its existence was so secret that only a handful of German’s top officials knew of it.
He knew that if Ghana knew of his outfit’s existence, then there was no hiding place for him, nevertheless, he put up a show of bravado and continued to taunt him.
“See who is talking now. I was able to sneak into your country and capture you, didn’t I?”
“Are you out of your mind? How dare you,” he hissed his eyes boring into the German’s eyes.
“I dared and I succeeded,” Klaus said, “And now you are going to tell me some secrets. And I am going to use it to destroy your Ghana.”
Issah Musah sighed but kept mute. He knew he could withstand torture to any level but it was the Truth Serum he was powerless against. Just 10 milligrams when injected into him could make him say anything they wanted him to say but he was prepared to hold on for as long as possible.
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***
“This is enjoyment,” Vice President Abeiku Sosa said to himself as he pummeled his way through the thighs of Otubea, a long-legged beauty he had helped gain employment at the Presidency.
She had approached him at a Party function with a plea for help. She had told him of her search for employment and just one look at her had convinced him that she had all the basic requirements needed for employment as a Vice Presidential Aide. She was full of youthful exuberance, long-limbed and full chested. He had given her his signed card and she was employed three days later. The interview was conducted at a secret location in the capital. She had arrived on time, clutching an envelope containing her CV and certificates, but it was her ability to please him in bed that convinced him that she was going to be a good Vice Presidential Aide. She got the job pants down.
As he was catching his breath, a message dropped on his phone and it turned out to be a video. Repeat playback of his rumble with Abena Dompey. Another message dropped with the same sender asking him to stand by for further instructions. His frail heart already racing from over-exertions took a racing lurch and sweat broke out on his skin.
Just like the Veep, Chairman Siriboe who was on his way to a meeting he has called to discuss what he termed ‘unparty’ policies of the President, got the same message and video. He felt a jolt in his heart and winced as a sharp pain pierced his chest. He stopped the car and feeling nauseous, retched.
He was struggling to control his breathing when he received a call.
“Do you think we have forgotten about you?”
“I didn’t kill her, I didn’t kill her,” he said, screaming.
“I know but when I show them your video, they’ll say you did it,” the voice said, taunting him.
 “What do you want from me. You can’t do this to me,” he screamed into the phone.
“You are in no position to tell me what I can do or not do,” he barked.
“Please, please, please,” he said, whimpering.
“Just listen. I have your balls in my palm. I can squeeze it anytime I please,” his tormentor growled.
“Please, please, please” he pleaded, with tears in his eyes.
“Shut up and listen!”
“Yes please, I am listening.”
We have a common enemy in your President and we are going to help each other bring him down,” he said and Chairman Siriboe listened like a drowning man grabbing a plank for survival. He listened as the man on the other end of the phone told him about how they were going to render the President unpopular and powerless in order to bring him down. He listened and began to have a ray of hope for his own survival.
“What… what about the video,” he asked, stammering and seeking assurances.
“The video would be destroyed as soon as we achieve our aim.
Chairman Siriboe smiled, heaved a sigh of relief and adjusted himself well in the car’s seat, a contented smile coasting along his lips.
It seemed now to him that the President had powerful enemies who could be Ghana’s enemies but he wasn’t perturbed at all. All he knew was that an enemy of his enemy was his friend.
Kweku Olasty had found fulfilment in his life’s journey. He had had a very large amount of money deposited into his bank account by the Participatory Democracy Organization (PDO), a Frankfurt-based NGO that had the aim of helping to deepen democratic values in all nations.
“This will certainly open the floodgates for more demonstrations against the Government,” he said to himself as he drove to the location of a crunch meeting he was going to.
“Now I have enough cash to ensure that they all follow me on my way of doing things,” he mused as he drove sedately towards East Legon with the hope that the meeting he was going to would result in a mammoth demonstration that was sure to make him a household name.
He smiled more, at what he was going to do with the surprisingly large amount of cash in his account.
***
The nation woke up in the morning to be bombarded with a barrage of criticisms of the ruling government. Almost all the newspapers had paid adverts in them chronicling the failings of the Aaron Awuku government. It bespoke of his government’s transgressions, his dictatorial attitudes, his disregard for the constitution and laid down procedures, his bullying of presidential staffers, his mad rush to implement the now nicknamed ‘Lofrɔŋ Tro Tro’ in complete disregard for rules governing the aviation industry. Even his supposed lack of fashion sense was criticized as an offence. The press took it up, both print and electronic media, giving him no breathing space.
 Interviews were granted to various opinion leaders and views were articulated vehemently depending on one’s political standing, sometimes even on one’s financial status or position in life.
Another pressure group, The New Ghanaian Organizer (NGO) sprang out of the fallout of the cacophony of noise. They had also received massive funding from an European source and within a short time, their membership had reached five hundred thousand with their main support base being the institutions of higher learning. Especially from students who were aggrieved with the way tertiary institutions were being run by professors who were stuck up in their ivory towers. They were young and they found faults with everything. They wanted better hostel facilities, better food with desserts, and they wanted their learning allowances to be tripled, though accommodation and feeding were free.
The two pressure groups were in competition with each other on who made the most noise and on who kept the Government on its toes.
The Government stuck to its developmental agenda, refusing to bow to pressure.
President Awuku with his famed icy calmness, and using his charm and charisma won over most Ghanaians. He refused to respond to what his PR team referred to as ‘the woeful cries of infantile anarchists’.
He, giving the keynote address at the I. L. O conference held in Accra, which had attracted delegates from all over the world, spoke about his ‘FOR CASH AND COUNTRY’ scheme. He spoke at length about the need for employers to do well to ensure that their employees were well remunerated.
“Pay your workers well and they will work well to your satisfaction,” he thundered amidst applause.
“Pay them well and you’ll have patriotic citizens. Pay them well and you’ll have value for money. Pay them well and you’ll have golden returns,” he said and there were cheers all over the conference room.
Unable to go on due to the applause, he took a sip of water from a glass of water on the podium and waited for the noise to subside.
He smiled charmingly at the delegates who were mostly labour and employment ministers who could not resist the chance to be in Ghana.
He raised his right arm and the noise went down considerably.
“This is why with immediate effect, I, Aaron Awuku, the President of the Republic of Ghana, announce to you, with the consent of the Tripartite Committee that the minimum wage of Ghanaian workers has been increased by a 100%. For Cash and Country!” he shouted and proudly placed his right palm on his chest.
The standing ovation he got even from the non Ghanaians was overwhelming. There were applauses in almost every household as most of them were watching it live on TV.
It was a satisfied President indeed who went home to his loving family, and the daughter of the US President who had become an integral part of the family, welcomed him home the same way his kids did.
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