“Hello, boss?” an enthusiastic Koni answered on the other side of the phone.

“Yeah, Koni,” Rex responded, sitting on the edge of his table as he peered out the window. “Listen, I gave the little motherfucker another chance to redeem himself, so… I’ll need you to assist as usual.”

A moment of silence followed over the phone. Koni was obviously stunned at hearing this.

“B-but, but, boss, that little bitch is a screw-up! That nigga can’t do shit right!”

“Listen, Koni, I know you weren’t impressed with his stupidity that evening. And you know I wasn’t pleased, either. But… consider this one of my sporadic displays of grace. I think that nigga just needs a little bit of guidance and shit, and he could become a motherfucking beast on these streets. So yeah, he’s on for another shot.”

Another moment of silence followed. Rex could tell he was mulling over this unusual explanation and wishing he could vehemently protest this decision. Of course, he wouldn’t, because nobody had the guts or temerity to challenge Rex Bruschi. The price to pay for such an action was too chilling to consider.

“Alright boss, if you say so,” he hesitantly answered. “Only issue is, the Addison dude, per the info I have, won’t be moving about town in his usual manner in the coming week. Intel suggests he’ll be moving around the Circle area on Wednesday and Thursday, so… we might have to wait a bit.”

Rex rubbed his chin. “Hmmm… Circle area? I see… Koni, haven’t you got a group of killers in some corner over there?”

“Umm, yeah.”

“And you’re still cool with them, right?”

“Totally.”

“Then we have an alternative. What’s their modus operandi?”

A second later, Rex’s idea seemed to have clicked in Koni’s brain.

“Ohhhhhhhhh, okay, okay, okay. So we get the lil nigga to hang around, then pick out his wallet, let him chase him to the spot where the rest of my dudes will jump him and take him down, right?”

“Your brain’s sharp, Koni, really sharp.”

“Alright, boss. I guess that’s cool. Low-hanging fruit for the lil nigga, too.”

“Yeah, yeah. So get everything in order, alright? Wednesday, you two move and take the man down.”

“I’ll be on it, chief.”

“Excellent. Let’s get this task cleared off the shelf.”

“Sure, sure.”

As he hung up, Rex could sense the uncertainty in that last comment from Koni. He shrugged as he brushed it off.

He had a pretty good feeling about this kid, and he wanted to get the best out of him. So hopefully, it would work out.

Because if it didn’t… well, he knew what the price would be for such levels of failure.

***

The busyness around Kwame Nkrumah Circle.

Never-ending.

People walking to and fro. Trotro mates calling out for passengers. Traders advertising their wares. Food joints of every kind scattered around.

This side of Accra never fails to be busy, and that Thursday afternoon was no different.

Romeo was clad in a normal orange shirt and ripped jeans, standing around the entrance to the inner market that led to the Odawna lorry station behind. With his dark-tinted glasses on, he looked calm and in control.

And ready to lead an unsuspecting lamb to the slaughterhouse.

“Romeo!” Koni’s voice came through on his AirPod.

“Koni!”

“Target is headed in your direction. Grey T-shirt, ugly-ass jean shorts, black loafers. Should arrive at your location in the next two minutes and thirteen seconds. Watch out for his ugly ass walk, too; nigga be moving like he got a blade stuck in between his ass.”

Romeo had to stifle a laugh. Coupled with that American accent of his, Koni’s lack of filter could sometimes make for some hilarious comments. He did not want to laugh out loud, however, lest Koni take it the wrong way. He recomposed himself quickly and replied, “Got it. Will revert when he’s in sight.”

“Sure.”

It was hard to ignore the sarcasm dripping in that response from Koni. He knew Basilisk Garrison’s intelligence hub had not forgotten that last screw-up and had already concluded he was a hopeless dud. Just like everyone else.

Well, in a few minutes, that negative impression of him would have to change, whether he liked it or not.

He continued to wait, his eyes scanning the crowd as he sought to lock his target.

Big man in a grey T-shirt and jean shorts… big man in a grey T-shirt and jean shorts…

About half a minute later, he saw him.

As Koni had stated, Gilbert Addison was in a grey T-shirt and horrible-looking denim shorts.

Koni sure wasn’t lying about his walk looking horrible. What kind of diarrhoea-struck frog walk is that? Romeo thought scornfully as he watched him draw closer. Well, not that I care. It’s time to make moves!

He immediately tapped the AirPod.

“Koni! Target is approaching. Will be approaching him in the next ten sec-“

His update was cut short by a strange feeling. Romeo froze as he felt something come off him.

Almost as if something had been taken out of his pocket.

His hand quickly rushed to his left pocket, where his wallet was.

It was gone!

“What the fuck?”

He turned, and there was a young boy, wearing a yellow Borussia Dortmund jersey, with a sly grin.

Holding his wallet.

As he began to flee from the scene of his crime.

“Herh! Herh, come here!” Romeo roared as he watched the youngster speed off.

No way was the young boy going to turn back and hand his wallet back to him, obviously.

So he immediately sprinted in the boy’s direction, moving as fast as he could to ensure the kid’s Dortmund jersey would not disappear from his sight.

With a little thief in flight and his victim in fierce pursuit, the inner market’s normal day was bound to have an interruption in the status quo. And it did.

In less than five seconds, the aim changed. From being a deadly pickpocket to being pickpocketed.

The young pickpocket, seeking to storm through to freedom and a wallet with some cash, pushed and shoved many a buyer and seller. Romeo, fuelled by wrath, was not any gentler as he pursued, unperturbed by the shouts around him. Jumping over upturned olonka tins of gari and tomatoes the pickpocket deliberately scattered to slow him down, he remained steadfast in speed.

The young boy’s antics, aside from inciting the fury of many of the market women, actually happened to give Romeo the chance to get closer to him. Looking behind him, his eyes grew wide as she noticed how effortlessly his victim jumped over the obstacles meant to slow him down.

As he sped out of the inner market to the Odawna trotro station, it took another brief look from behind to realize that he had messed up. If only he had concentrated solely on running…

Now his victim was about 3 seconds away from grabbing his collar, and with the look in his eyes, he was not going to be gentle with him.

Indeed, within three seconds, Romeo grabbed the young man by the shirt and wrestled him to the ground.

Turning him over so that he was staring up at him, Romeo proceeded to dish out some ruthless punishment, jabbing his face repeatedly with sharp hooks. Any attempt to plead for mercy was snuffed out the moment Romeo’s fist made contact with his nose.

A crowd had started to gather, and some women, stunned by the pounding ongoing before them, screamed at Romeo to leave the young man alone.

“Oh, Bra, why?”

“Ah, Bra, can’t you see he’s a small boy?”

“Oh, forgive him, we beg you!”

“Oh, let him go, he won’t do it again!”

None of these calls for grace touched the earlobes of Romeo. Too angry to heed any plea for mercy, he continued to hit harder and harder, unleashing every tint of rage upon the young thief.

He hit, and punched, and struck, until every drop of anger within had been poured out on the youngster.

Upon seeing the boy’s face terribly bloodied and swollen, with his breathing rather laboured, he let him go, reaching into his pocket and taking out his wallet.

The crowd drawing closer, with some trotro drivers and their mates having restrained others from interfering, he stood to his feet, and with a sneer on his face, looked down at the boy and said in Ga, “You picked the wrong guy to mess with. You better thank your Creator I didn’t beat you to death. Bloody fool.”

Stuffing the wallet back into his pocket, he walked away, ignoring the questions and admonishments some of the bystanders tried to give him, whilst some others rushed to attend to the almost unconscious boy.

Well, Romeo flopped again. But is this really his fault? Was this plan even a good idea? What’s Rex gonna do?