CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The rainy dawn broke over Accra with a strange stillness, the kind that comes just before something erupts. Detective Brian stood by his office window, his eyes scanning the city skyline as droplets tapped gently on the glass. He hadn't slept much. The events at the Volta border, the mystery informant, the warning from the supposed dead Dora—his mind was grinding nonstop.

Across the room, Akosua scrolled through crime scene photos from the last three weeks. There was a pattern emerging—but it was hazy, like a blood trail diluted by too much rain. Every tip, every lead, pointed to an operation far bigger than anyone in their division had imagined.

"Brian," she called out. "Take a look at this."

He turned, eyes bleary but alert.

She spun the laptop around. "That man the border team found—the one whose face was disfigured—he has the same tattoo as one of the bouncers at Club Palms. I did a frame-by-frame of the footage from the club's back room."

Brian frowned. "You think it's the same guy?"

"I'm sure of it. But there's more. The same bouncer was seen in a customs CCTV feed in Tema, escorting a shipping container into a private dock. And get this—he was driving a state-marked military truck."

Brian's blood ran cold. "So, they're using military access."

Akosua nodded. "Or at least pretending to. Which means someone up there is helping them. Or someone high up has no idea their authority is being hijacked."

Brian ran his hand across his chin. "This means we need to talk to Kojo Asante again."

Akosua raised an eyebrow. "The Deputy Transport Minister? You think he's involved?"

"He was on that list of military customs clearances Dora mentioned. And two of the trucks we've tracked had his department's tags. If he's clean, he can help us. If not…"

"We'll find out."

Later that morning, Brian and Akosua visited Kojo Asante at his Ridge residence. The minister looked shaken when he saw them—more from paranoia than guilt.

"You said this wouldn't come to my doorstep," he hissed behind closed doors.

"You said your name wasn't on any manifest, and yet, here it is," Brian shot back, placing a photograph on the table—Asante's face, grainy but clear, shaking hands with one of the suspected couriers.

"That… that was at a charity gala," he stammered.

Akosua stepped forward. "And the man next to you was killed at the Volta border three nights ago. His body was dumped with cartel-style mutilation. Ring any bells?"

Asante sat down. "You don't know who you're dealing with."

"Then educate us," Brian said coolly.

Asante hesitated, then leaned in. "There's someone who controls the eastern corridor routes. He's ex-intelligence, highly connected. They call him The Ghost."

Brian exchanged a glance with Akosua.

"And why haven't we heard of him?" she asked.

"Because he doesn't exist on paper. He's the kind of man who moves between borders like fog. The only people who've seen his face are dead—or hiding."

Brian's voice dropped. "Does P work for him?"

Asante shook his head slowly. "Other way around. P might be ruthless, but he's a lieutenant. The Ghost runs the operation."

Brian stood. "We need names. Locations."

Asante looked at him grimly. "I'll get you what I can. But I want protection. If they suspect me…"

"You'll get it," Akosua said, but her tone was clipped. They both knew time was running out, and trust was a luxury they couldn't afford.

Meanwhile, in a quiet guesthouse on the outskirts of Ho, Dora pressed her ear against the window, her fingers trembling as she watched the unmarked car across the street. She had taken precautions—new SIM card, wig, false ID—but she could feel it in her bones. Someone had followed her.

She opened her encrypted laptop and sent another anonymous message to Brian's burner email.

Subject: Ghost Sighting

Location: Keta Lagoon Port

Note: You'll need scuba access. They use underwater entry.

She hesitated, then added:

Tell Alicia to check her mailbox. Her past is catching up.

Dora didn't trust Alicia. Not fully. But she had known Alicia before Brian. Before all this. And she remembered how Alicia had vanished for a full year, returning like a phoenix with secrets in her eyes. If anyone knew about covert operatives and manufactured lives, it was her.

Back in Accra, Alicia found a brown envelope tucked in her private locker at the gym. No address, no stamp—just her name in red ink.

Inside: a photograph of Brian talking to Asante, and a handwritten note:

"If you love your husband, stop him. Or we will."

Her heart sank. She closed the locker quickly, eyes darting around. Someone had been close—too close.

She pulled out her phone and typed a message to Brian, then deleted it. No. This wasn't something to text. She needed to decide what side she was really on.

By nightfall, Brian was reviewing Asante's intel—smuggled blueprints of a port facility at Keta Lagoon. One of the areas was marked "Subsurface Bay." Another, "Shadow Entry."

Akosua leaned over his shoulder. "We'll need diving gear. And a distraction."

"I'll call Kwame and Nii from B-Team," Brian said. "Tell them to prepare for silent infiltration."

"And the woman who sent the tip?" Akosua asked.

Brian didn't answer immediately. Then: "If she's who I think she is, we owe her a lot more than just backup."

The following dawn, four agents from the anti-narcotics unit gathered at a beach just a few kilometers west of Keta. Brian handed them their instructions—no radio contact, no lights, full underwater suits.

As they moved into the water, Brian whispered to Akosua, "Let's see what secrets this Ghost is hiding under the sea."

They dove beneath the surface, navigating the murky waters with quiet precision. Twenty minutes in, they spotted it—a hidden hatch beneath a rusting barge, invisible from above. Nii tapped the entry mechanism, and the hatch opened with a hiss.

Inside, a steel tunnel led into darkness.

They swam in, heartbeats thudding like war drums.

Then a figure emerged at the end of the corridor—armed, waiting.

But it wasn't an enemy.

It was Dora.

"Welcome to hell," she said softly. "You found the nest. Now let's burn it down."