“I’ve heard a lot about their shawarmas, that’s why. From all the reviews on Google and Tripadvisor.”

“Oh really? Coz I’ve had them numerous times, and they’re not so special, to be honest.”

“But at least lemme try them. It’s a solid part of my bucket list for our visit here.”

“Oh well, no problem. We’re already here, so that’s not a problem.”

As the silver Nissan Patrol stopped in a convenient spot in the vast parking lot of Forester Café, the two inhabitants unbuckled their seat belts. Stopping the engine, the driver stepped out of the car, and so did the person in the passenger’s seat.

“So… beef shawarma it is?”

“Yes. With mango juice.”

“You know you can get a 1 litre bottle, right? I’m sure you’ll want some extra for the journey to Cape Coast tomorrow.”

“Grand idea. So beef shawarma with a 1 litre bottle of mango juice.”

“Got it.”

“What about you? What will you get for yourself?”

“Uhh… nothing. I’m okay.”

***

The entrance door of Forester Café opened, and in stepped a stout man, accompanied by a white woman, both in their late forties.

Gilbert Addison and his partner, Elisabeth De Mulder.

They had arrived in the country from Belgium about three weeks ago and were busy exploring the capital city and all it had to offer. For Elisabeth, it was her first time experiencing Accra; for Gilbert, it was a return to the country he had left fifteen years ago. He had left Ghana as a man seeking greener pastures and now returned as a wealthy partner of a construction, real estate and financial services firm.

It felt good to move around the city on this new level. From purchasing an expensive Nissan Patrol within three days of his arrival to wining and dining in expensive restaurants, this was the life Gilbert had craved for so long, and now he was living it.

Sometimes, though, there was that small voice that broke through every now and then, questioning if the measures he took to get there were worth it.

Many years ago, he had sought financial assistance to begin the business with a partner in the European country from a close friend called Barry Evan. Even though he had not been too enthusiastic about doling out such a huge amount to him, Gilbert had pleaded and swore on his life that the money he sought would be paid back in full once his deal came through and the profits rolled in. The convincing nature of his pleas, as well as the fact that he and Barry had been good friends since secondary school, gradually persuaded Barry to part with a total of seventy thousand euros to help him out.

Once he arrived in Belgium, he kept in constant touch with Barry, assuring him that everything was on course, and that he would soon receive his money, plus some special ‘gratitude interest’ for being such a helpful friend. Within a year, the deal Gilbert and his new partner had been working on became successful, and the profits made him twice as richer.

The sight of all that money in his account, however, turned the heart of Gilbert. Suddenly, the thought of giving so much money back to Barry did not seem like a wise decision. Why let him have all that money when he could keep it for himself and possibly invest it to make him even richer? As such, he decided rather to place that money in investment policies for himself and began ignoring Barry’s checkups.

Concern gave way to anger and a feeling of betrayal, as Barry began calling and emailing him frequently and angrily, demanding his money be paid back. This continued for a while until Gilbert grew tired of the bombardment, and in response to one of the many emails, sent a simple message.

Leave me alone. I won’t tell you twice.

The onslaught of angry responses from Barry was to be expected, but it was clear his ‘warning’ had not been heeded. Which was why the next action he took, though extremely dastardly, was necessary.

Two thugs were contacted back in Ghana and given the task of dealing with him as a lesson. And that they carried out with success; they had barged into the Evan home, beaten Barry senseless, and left him paralyzed in the process. As a result, communication with his friend ceased totally.

It was that action that the still small voice constantly questioned him about, asking if his newfound wealth was worth having his friend confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life.

Surely it shouldn’t have gone that far. Couldn’t he have just gone ahead and given his friend back the money? It wouldn’t have hurt his pocket too much, would it?

Gilbert always repressed that voice, however. As far as he was concerned, the good life was worth it. Too bad if his friend could no longer walk. He should have heeded that warning and just continued with his life as it was. After all, he had his own big company and could easily replace that money.

In fact, wasn’t he even the greedy one seeking to retrieve his money from him? With all the money he had, did he have to demand it back from him when he could easily write it off as bad debt and make that same amount within a year?

A trip into the mind of Gilbert Addison would reveal a lot about him. But the main thing you would certainly learn about him was that he was a lover of the good life, and would do absolutely anything to get there.

Even if it put his morality, relationships, or human life at risk.

***

“Duah! Duah! Those two ladies at Table 13 have been sitting there for over twenty minutes now, and nobody has attended to them. Please get their order, fast!”

As the restaurant supervisor, Barbara Evans did not play around with her work. And one way of getting on her bad side was to leave customers unattended. If a waiter made that mistake, the least they could expect was a good rollicking from her. And as Duah rushed to see the two ladies, he knew Barbara was going to let him have it later on.

Walking to the ladies at the counter, she nodded to the customers and asked if all was well, to which they responded in the affirmative.

Her eyes scanned the restaurant as she stood next to the lady taking orders at the counter, checking out all the customers waiting for their orders. Something she liked doing every now and then, just to see the kind of people who frequented their restaurant. As well as ensure those at the counter stayed diligent.

She took note of the couple in matching shirts, giggling as they stared at something on the guy’s phone. Must be some newlyweds. Bless their heart!

Then she noticed the Caucasian woman in yellow overalls. Oh, nice! A foreigner. I sure hope she enjoys…

Her thought trailed off as she noticed the gentleman sitting next to her, busily pressing his phone.

A familiar gentleman in a Lacoste shirt and black jeans, with a chain on his neck.

Oh my God, Gilbert Addison!

As if on cue, he looked up from his phone.

Their eyes locked immediately.

Barbara stared hard at him. This was the man that had destroyed her husband’s life. After convincing Barry to lend him some money for a trip to Belgium to secure a major deal, he not only turned on him and refused to pay back despite his promises, he had some wicked men come and assault him into paraplegia.

How evil could you be?

You wicked, evil, despicable man! She thought furiously, ready to open her mouth.

He looked away quickly, then rose from his seat, saying something to the white lady before moving out.

Barbara watched him walk away and shook her head, breathing in and out. All that anger from many years ago rushed through her veins, as she debated within herself whether to keep her cool or jump over the counter and chase that disgusting piece of bile and disgrace him for what he did.

She had to go with the former; she did not need her subordinates making her the subject of their numerous gossip sessions for the next few weeks.

As she watched him walk out, though, she somehow wished she had taken that chance. Who cared what they would say? As long as she let that man know just how much hurt and pain his selfish ways had put her family through…

Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting man.

***

“Oh, you didn’t know, eh? He’s been around for the past three weeks. He and that white woman are supposed to be in a relationship or something. And they are touring the country, apparently.”

“Ei, really? And he and that woman have been moving about freely like that? Ah ah ah ah!”

Barry smiled and shook his head. They were seated at the dining table, having some small chops Barbara brought from the restaurant as usual.

“Yep. And you know what? I wanted to wait a bit to tell you this, but when I heard about it, I immediately phoned that investigator. Remember the one we were dealing with when it first happened?”

Barbara nodded. “Investigator Fynn, right?”

“Yeah. I called him and told him that Gilbert is in town, and I want him to deal with him. He told me he’d get back to me. Can you imagine he called back two days later and said there’s nothing he can do about it, and that it’s been fifteen years, so I should just forgive and forget?”

Barbara’s jaw dropped. “WHAT!?”

“Yes! That’s what that buffoon said to me.”

“Ei, what kind of police force do we have in this country? What sort of nonsense is that? Someone committed a crime and you say the victim should just forgive and forget? Ah, these people paa!”

Barry shook his head. He had ranted enough about the inefficiency and incompetence of the police in handling his matter long enough. From refusing to acknowledge that email threat Gilbert had sent, to showing very little interest in flushing out those two scumbags who did the dirty work for Gilbert, he had yelled enough and cursed enough about it.

“Look, Barry, forget these people and their ineptitude. Justice will surely be served. As long as I serve the God who made heaven and earth, there’s no way this man will get away with this! Never! He will pay for it, and it won’t be pretty at all!”

“Hmmm!”

“Seriously ooo, Barry. He’ll see what will come to him, and it’ll shock him. Ahh! Because of money, see what you did to a man who helped you to get to where you are. See, Barry, God won’t let this one go. He’ll deal with him swiftly. We’ll see.”

That passionate decree completed, she stood up from her chair and took up her plate and Barry’s and proceeded to the kitchen to wash them.

Barry remained in the dining room, a smirk on his face.

He appreciated his wife’s sentiments, and of course, justice had to be served.

But waiting on God? Not his plan. Not in a million years.

He could have done with God dealing with Gilbert right after he was attacked by those scumbags. Not after He had permitted him to prosper for many years and come back to Ghana and flaunt his wealth so proudly. No thanks! If justice was going to be served, he was going to make sure it was done himself.

He had been debating over this for a while, but now he was fully convinced.

It was time to call that guy.

You are going to pay for this, Gilbert. I swear on my life, you’re not getting away with this. I’m not gonna rest till you’re dead. Mark my words…

Hmmm, revenge is on Barry’s mind. Can’t say I blame him too much; Gilbert has already proven to be a terrible person. Who’s he gonna call for that, though? The next episode will answer that for us…