CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Two days after the Dansoman rescue, Accra tried to resume normal life.

Headlines screamed "Cartel Sleeper Plot Foiled!" while panel discussions argued over government failure, school vulnerability, and the integrity of the police. But underneath it all, there was fear — a quiet, invisible fog that hung over every parent, every child.

Inside the safehouse, the B-Team wasn't celebrating.

Brian, hunched over the war board, pushed a red pin into a location southeast of Ho. "This is where Echo House sits, if the girl's testimony is accurate."

Adjeley had already begun compiling satellite data. "Isolated compound. Fenced. Heavy cover from forest canopies. It's perfect for disappearing people."

Kojo leaned back, tired eyes flicking through intercepted radio chatter. "No chatter from that region in a week. Almost like it went dark on purpose."

"Or they're preparing something," Selorm muttered.

The silence was broken by a soft knock.

Alicia entered, holding a small brown envelope.

"This came to our safehouse mailbox this morning. No stamp. Hand-delivered."

Brian took it. Inside, a flash drive.

They loaded the contents.

A single video file played.

A girl — no older than 14 — chained to a rusted hospital bed. Her eyes bloodshot. She shook uncontrollably.

A distorted voice echoed: "She refused the third dose. Said she could still hear her mother. We'll try again after the next adjustment."

The file cut.

No metadata. No location stamp. But the background matched Echo House's rumored layout.

Akosua clenched her fists. "We're not waiting. We go in."

Brian nodded. "This is black ops. No backup. No uniforms. We don't tell Command. We take Echo House down ourselves."

Preparation was swift.

Kojo worked on scramblers to block outgoing transmissions. Selorm and Adjeley pulled up escape maps through nearby cocoa plantations. Alicia set up medical packs. Her hands trembled as she taped morphine to her boots.

Brian stood before the team. "If Echo House is what we fear, we're not just up against smugglers. We're facing brainwashed kids, armed guards, and potentially... experiments."

He looked each of them in the eye. "No one dies unless absolutely necessary. We save whoever we can. No hero plays."

That night, they moved.

Crossing into the Volta region by dirt paths and illegal back roads, they camped in silence, listening only to forest sounds and the buzz of their own anxiety.

By 3:17 a.m., they reached the ridge.

From there, Echo House emerged — a four-building compound with electrified fences, a central tower, and dogs pacing the perimeter. The moon cast enough light to paint its cruelty in shades of blue and grey.

Brian whispered into his mic. "Team A — Kojo, Selorm — north flank. Disable security grid. Team B — Akosua, Adjeley — breach west wing and locate captives. I'm entering through the maintenance duct under the tower. We regroup inside."

"Copy."

Kojo and Selorm approached the north tower. Using thermal blankets and mud camouflage, they evaded drones and infrared sensors. Kojo jammed the first satellite node.

"Cutting visuals now," he whispered.

Inside the main compound, Brian emerged in a corridor lined with doors labeled "Treatment A," "Behavioral Suite," and "Auditory Response."

The walls were covered in mirrors. Or so he thought.

They weren't mirrors — they were two-way observation panels.

Suddenly, a voice behind him.

"You're not one of the nurses."

Brian spun.

A woman in a lab coat. Mid-forties. Calm. Too calm.

"Who are you?" Brian asked.

She smiled faintly. "I'm Dr. Myra Edem. I run the program here."

Brian raised his pistol. "Where are the children?"

"They're safe. For now. But it's you I'm interested in."

"Step back."

"You don't understand, Detective. We're not hurting them. We're... unlocking them. Removing the limits society imposed. No poverty. No trauma. Just purpose."

"By drugging them into obedience?"

"We're freeing them."

Brian shot her in the leg.

She screamed, collapsing.

"I'm freeing them."

Meanwhile, Akosua and Adjeley stormed the west wing. A guard lunged at them — Adjeley dropped him with a tranquilizer dart.

Inside, three girls were shackled to chairs, IV lines running into their arms.

Akosua ran to them. "It's okay. We're here to help."

One girl wept. Another whispered, "Don't let them inject us again."

Back on the north flank, Kojo found the main server room. He planted charges.

Selorm whispered, "Ready to exfil in ten."

But just as they turned — alarms.

Someone had triggered a panic button.

Guards flooded the halls.

Brian, dragging Dr. Edem, ducked into a lab.

Shots fired.

Adjeley pulled two girls under cover, Akosua using overturned beds as shields.

Kojo radioed: "We're exposed. Moving to Plan Echo — extraction route C."

Brian responded, "Burn everything. We're leaving with who we can."

Selorm set off the first explosion — the servers went dark.

Smoke filled the compound.

The team moved fast, using confusion to mask their retreat. They carried six rescued children. Two more ran beside them, barefoot, bleeding.

Alicia waited at the ridge, medical supplies ready.

They made it out.

The facility behind them burned.

By sunrise, Echo House was nothing but smoke and ash.

Back in Accra, they debriefed in silence.

Six rescued. Four guards killed. Three confirmed cartel operators captured — including Dr. Edem.

But something bothered Brian.

"Where was P?" he asked aloud.

"He wasn't there," Kojo said. "And there were files missing. The advanced experimentation rooms… completely cleared."

Alicia said quietly, "What if Echo House was just one piece?"

Brian nodded. "We've been gutting the branches. The root is still untouched."

He stood.

"Which means… we go deeper."