The wail of the sirens faded into the distance, swallowed by the hum of the Kumasi traffic, leaving behind a silence that was heavier and

The morning sun hadn’t yet burned off the mist hanging over the Sofoline Police Station when a courier motorcycle skidded to a halt at the

“What are you suggesting, Accountant?” Osei asked. “Kwesi is flying high right now. But a bird that flies too high is easy to shoot down.