He reached the Director’s office, a glass-walled enclosure that offered a panoramic view of the bustling floor. Mr. Mensah, a portly man with a laugh that could shake the windows, rose from his mahogany desk as Kwesi entered.

“Kwesi! My son!” Mensah boomed, extending a hand that engulfed Kwesi’s own. “You have done it again! The shipment left Tema ahead of schedule. The buyers in London are ecstatic.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Kwesi replied, taking a seat opposite the Director. “The new route saved us a day, and the negotiations with the local transport unions paid off.”

“Paid off? It’s a goldmine!” Mensah leaned back, his chair groaning in protest. “You have a gift for logistics, Kwesi. You see patterns where others see only chaos. That is why…” He paused, a glint of something significant in his eye. “That is why I have been singing your praises to the board. Big changes are coming, Kwesi, and I want you ready.”

Kwesi felt a surge of adrenaline. He knew what “big changes” meant. The Regional Director position. “Sir, I… I am honoured.”

“You earned it!” Mensah laughed. “The board meets next week. Prepare yourself. We need new blood. Honest blood.”

As Mensah spoke of honesty, Kwesi’s gaze drifted past the glass wall to the accounting section. Kojo was there, watching them. He wasn’t working; he was just watching, a stillness about him that was unnerving in the busy office. When their eyes met, Kojo offered a thin, tight smile before turning back to his computer screen.

“Speaking of honesty,” Kwesi said, bringing his attention back to Mensah, “I wanted to discuss some discrepancies I noticed in the accounts before I left. The fuel logs for the last quarter don’t seem to match the mileage reports.”

Mensah waved a dismissive hand. “Details, Kwesi, details! You are too diligent sometimes. Let Kojo worry about the beans; you worry about moving them. But…” He leaned forward, his expression serious. “If you think there is a problem, document it. When you step into your new role, you can clean house as you see fit.”

“I will, Sir,” Kwesi promised. He knew Mensah meant well, but he also knew that in the cocoa trade, small leaks could sink big ships.