oil rig is a part of the crime scene. How can I visit the rig?”
“That might be difficult,” Sarbah said, after a short pause.
“Why is that?”
“A lot of regulations. For example, there can only be a certain number of people on the rig at one time. If you come on, we have to pull someone off.”
“I see.”
“And also, you have to get underwater training before you can step foot on the rig.”
Dawson frowned. “Underwater training?”
“One goes to the rig by helicopter, so everyone has to go through HUET-Helicopter Underwater Escape Training.”
Dawson felt a little faint. “Oh.”
“Can you swim?”
Dawson’s hearing had shut down as he broke into a cold sweat. “Pardon?”
“Do you swim?”
“Not very well. Well, not at all, really.”
“You will have a life vest on, but you will still be required to know how to escape in the case of a submersion. If you want to proceed with it, I’ll arrange a session for you and after you are certified, we can set up a date to fly you to the rig.”
Dawson cleared his throat nervously. “Yes, all right. I suppose… I suppose I’ll have to do it. Thank you, Mr. Sarbah.”
He ended the call in near terror. Underwater training?
AS PLANNED, BAAH dropped Dawson off at Takoradi Technical Institute and continued on with Chikata. The buildings of the spotless campus were red with yellow trim on the end walls, and yellow with green trim along the classroom verandas. Dawson went upstairs to the main office on the second story of the administrative block and asked to see someone in charge of staffing.
“That’s Mrs. Chinebuah,” a receptionist said, and led him to an adjoining office. She knocked, opened the door, and looked in.
“Please, this gentleman has a question for you.”
Chinebuah was a hefty woman in her early forties in a trouser suit with a short-style wig framing her round face. Densely packed into her outfit, she looked like she could take down two grown men.
Dawson entered. “Good morning, Mrs. Chinebuah.”
“Good morning,” she said pleasantly. “May I help you?”
“Inspector Dawson, CID. I’m making some inquiries.”
She smiled. “Am I in trouble, Inspector?”
He smiled too. “Not as far as I know. I’m investigating the death of Mr. and Mrs. Smith-Aidoo.”
“Ah,” she said, shaking her head. “Sad.” She took out several sheets of papers from the copy machine and straightened them on the counter.
“Did you know them?” Dawson asked.
“The man, yes. Not so much his wife. He was a strong supporter of TTI, both morally and financially.”
