The Patriot

Samuel Cobby Grant

Episode 10

Issah Musah knew at once that the men meant to kill him when they were done with him as soon as they entered. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have shown their faces. His dossier on each of them was as thick as a stack of books.

Klaus Kinski, he had already met in captivity.

The other two were Claude Pompidou, head of a shadowy intelligence unit in France and Jack Blakeson, the enigmatic head of the MI5. All of them had so many aliases that it was sometimes difficult to pin them down to a particular name. They knew him by reputation and so did he. He was chagrined that they would go to that extent of abducting him but he could sense that they had something sinister up their sleeves.

“Are you guys out of your mind,” he shouted at them, his steely eye burning holes in them. “You and your countries are going to pay dearly for this atrocious act.”

They just stared at him without saying anything. They looked at him carefully as if they were examining a rare artefact; also as if they were trying to see their way through him. They left after a while without saying anything to him to plan on their next strategy as far as he was concerned.

***

Squadron Leader Kofi Frimpong woke up at midnight to take a walk along the dark but shimmering beach. He strolled as he pondered over the mystery of Issah Musah. He eventually got to the spot Ataa Adjoa thought she might have seen what she suspected could be a midget sub. He stared unseeing into the far distance, making up scenarios in his mind and mind’s eyes. His probes had revealed an uncanny disquieting along some fronts in Europe, especially those of Germany, France and England. Their Heads of Intelligence seemed to have vanished from the face of the Earth, and so have Issah Musah but he knew that unlike the situation with Issah Musah, they were constantly in touch with their outfits.

 “Where the hell are you, Big Boss?” he asked in despair with the roaring sea the only listener.

His probes had heard of talks of ‘fishermen guarding fishes’ in three European languages.

It was ‘fischer, die fische bewachen’ in German and ‘pecheurs gardant les poissons’ in French.

Those words were being whispered in secret locations and dark places. He analyzed the whole quagmire of information pertaining to the case on hand. The fish word was mentioned a lot in secret places, so were ‘fisch’ in German and ‘poisson’ in French. He felt strongly that there was a connection somewhere but had no luck so far.

He had studied satellite images on all submarine docks and had revealed that one sub was missing from a German dock.

Satellite images had shown that the one in place was just a shell: a fake, a camouflage to deceive prying eyes. Yes, the Fischjager was missing from its dock. He felt a whiff of connection but couldn’t really grasp it. The sea washed over his feet as he stood there in the cold weather in deep thoughts.

He had intercepted a mail from the French that had been quite difficult to decipher. It was ‘chasseur au poisson’.

A huge wave washed on the shore knee-deep. Another one larger, landed and hit him as the sea became rough. The connection clicked as he struggled to find his feet.

‘Chasseur au poisson’ in French meant ‘fish hunter’ in English and in German, it was ‘Fischjager’ the same name as the name of the missing German submarine.

He screamed triumphantly and leapt into the roaring sea and extended his clenched fist upwards in victory. When he finally walked away from the beach, his face had taken on a dead set expression that indicated his determination and resolve to persevere in the task ahead

***

 Ataa Adjoa couldn’t help but feel a few butterflies in her stomach. She was getting ready to attend a ball at the German Consulate at the invitation of David Muller. It was being held in honour of the fall of the Berlin Wall that culminated in the reunification of Germany. In actual fact, the day was being marked in all German Embassies from across the world.

She got dressed in a fetching black dress that covered her body from head to toe, accentuating her voluptuous curves to maximum effect. The diamond-studded necklace with its matching earrings greatly enhanced her looks. So did the soft leather footwear with its 5″ heel she had on which made walking steps seem sensual and captivating.

She took a last look at her face in the mirror and left for the ball.

It wasn’t as if she had never been there before. She had been there countless times but this time around, she was going to be there as the date for David Muller, and also as an opportunity to keep her eyes open for anything that could help with locating Issah Musah and anything else in addition.

She picked up a glass of wine from the tray of a passing waiter and mingled with the strictly-invited guests. Almost everyone who mattered in Ghana was there. Business moguls, statesmen, the clergy and of course, members of the Diplomatic Corps. After the German National Anthem, the ‘Deutshland Uber Alles’ (Germany Germany Above All), a video recording of a speech by the German Chancellor was played and  he spoke about the benefits of German Re-Unification. It was short and drinks and snacks were served afterwards.

It really was a grand affair and she danced and enjoyed herself immensely though David as an interpreter got a bit occupied with being close to the consul but she had the honour of doing the tango with him.

 She found herself looking and analyzing people though she knew most of the Germans by reputation but she couldn’t help it as habits die hard. But there was one thing she knew for sure. That was that, all the waiters were trained undercover agents who could record snippets of conversations that were sure to find their way to their headquarters in Berlin in less than 3 hours. She decided to test her hunch and see. A particular waiter had been staring at her for almost the entire evening and she had been finding it disconcerting. She looked at him straight in the eyes and boldly turned, making her way to the ladies. She got in, and entered a cubicle.

“Now that I am here, I must as well wee wee,” she said to herself and sat on the toilet bowl to do the needful. She did her business and as she got up to rearrange her dress, music being played in the ballroom seeped into the washroom indicating to her analytical mind that the main door had been opened. She tensed and braced herself as soft footsteps approached the cubicles and stopped. A slip of paper slid under the door of the cubicle in which she was. She still waited till she heard the retreating footsteps, the faint click of a door and then silence. She picked up the paper then, and put it in a secret slit in her bra and went out.

Kofi Frimpong came awake without knowing what had awoken him. He was in a very deep sleep that he had no sign of sleepiness on his face when he became awake. He made no movements, choosing to lay still. He knew something had awoken him and was trying hard to figure out what it was. He turned slightly and his hand fell on the gun beside the bed, his breathing that of a man in a deep sleep.

“You can switch on the light now. I don’t have all night,” Ataa Adjoa said from the open window she had just gone through.

“Oh, it’s you,” he murmured and switched on a little light that hardly illuminated the room. It glowed to provide enough light for one to see shapes and forms but not into details.

She, still in the black dress, walked to the bed and sat down. Her hand went into her bra as Kofi Frimpong looked at her and it came out with a slip of paper. She proffered it to him.

 “I’m swimming in your love. I am helpless before the boat in your moat… your slave in Need, Bruno Schnel,” it read.

She narrated the circumstances that led to her receiving the note. She was brief and to the point, only speaking in undertones.

He nodded once, scrutinized the note and slipped it into his wallet.

“I must go. It’s late,” she said and got up to leave.

“Thank you, darling,” he said softly.

“Don’t call me that, I beseech you, please,” she said, feeling agitated all of a sudden.

“Keep safe,” he said and switched off the light even before she had exited the room.

He relaxed on the bed and thought about the lady who had just left.

He lay there long after she left the same way she had entered and thought about the events that had led to her recruitment. He reflected upon what might have been if they had met under different circumstances.

Ataa Adjoa left stealthily and merged herself with the shadows, made detours several times and when she was sure that she wasn’t being followed, went home for a well-deserved rest. She wasn’t concerned with the note as she knew Kofi Frimpong was more than capable of knowing its significance.

“He’s so capable and trustworthy,” she mused as she slid under the duvet, her mind going back to that fateful night that changed her destiny forever.

The night he saved her life.

It was a night just like any other night except that some men arrived to kill her parents. They were in the process of doing so when she woke up and they decided on the spur of the moment, to rape her in front of her parents before killing them all, but Kofi Frimpong who was a tenant in their house arrived and shot the three assassins dead. He made a call and a black van had arrived to take the bodies away. They even cleaned up the blood from the floor.

That was the day she learned of the double life he lived. She made him know no peace until he had trained her in gun handling and marksmanship. Men in high places had seen the potential in her and she had been drafted into the special unit Kofi Frimpong headed and it became obvious that she was a natural and so coupled with her womanly charms, she became a formidable weapon.

They had shared a passionate night once and as she was on cloud nine, fantasizing about how he was going to propose and make her his wife when he told her just the next day that it was unprofessional and unethical for them to allow the affair to go on. She had become very angry with him and dedicated her whole life to helping to destroy the enemies of the state.

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