'I swear the boss was the one to mention it first. I'd never have thought of a place this wild on my own, would I, Sadi? You know the boss. I was just reminding him of his good idea.'
The carping ceased for a while when their food was brought – huge flour chapathis and a soupy gravy with pieces of goat's cheese floating in it. A few of the men smoked after the meal as they all gathered in the dim schoolhouse. Then Cornell kicked off the argument again by asking who had done the initial reconnoitre for this project; suddenly it seemed that none of them knew. Rimi looked sulky. They demanded that she produce the file. She withdrew to get it and returned looking mystified and saying it had disappeared from her bag.
She looked with suspicion at their cement dwelling. In the shadowy corners, spider's webs made glimmering curtains to soften the charcoal of the walls. Who would have stolen such a thing? Perhaps it had dropped out somewhere. She couldn't remember reading a name on it. Mystified, and more than a little intimidated, Rimi began to cry again. But Cornell persisted.
When they turned to Sadrettin to get his opinion, he was glad of the gloom. They looked expectantly at him. He waited until his heart slowed before speaking.
'We gave it another day; it rained; it's done nothing but rain since we came up here. If you all agree, tomorrow we go back. Mr. Sinbari will have to send another team up if he wishes to get an accurate picture of the situation before the end of the monsoon. Shall we vote on it?' Hands shot up in unison. 'So you all agree that we should abandon this project, at least for the present time?'
'Absolutely! I'm sick of this shit.' Taylor was feeling feverish. He wouldn't find out until their return to Delhi that he had Malaria.
'We start at first light, then; our bearers will meet us at the bottom of that hill', he pointed, 'We've got to be careful descending, they tell me, as many of the paths are flooded. Now why don't we get some rest?' No one had the energy to disagree with him.
Beds were laid, as far from the door as possible, and their single lamp was extinguished. Most of them were profoundly grateful to be leaving in the morning. When the storm broke, they were all fast asleep.
34
It was past one am; Sara was asleep on the couch. Tanya stood up. In the suite's beautifully decorated bathroom, she gulped down water and then sat down on the edge of the pearl-grey Jacuzzi-style bath to assemble her thoughts. By dawn she had eight pages of neatly scribbled notes and had even nodded off for a few moments, back wedged against the side of the bath. She'd dreamed that her mother was trying to pull out her baby with a tea towel and that her father was angry with her; he didn't want her to come home. When Sara woke at seven, Tanya was standing over her with a cup of steaming tea.
'Room Service. I hope you don't mind? I wanted to ask you a few more things.'
Tanya's flight back to Delhi was scheduled for eleven. She was in a hurry to resume her questioning.
After washing her face and pulling on a fresh t-shirt, Sara sipped her tea, looking puzzled. 'I thought I told you everything last night?'
Tanya thought for a moment. 'I'm not sure. You told me a lot about the three of you, and how you felt about each other. But there are still loose ends, see. For instance, were you worried when you didn't meet Cameron up at Saahitaal? How did you respond? Why don't I ask you again, just to go over things.' She kept her voice bright; falsely upbeat.
Sara sighed. 'Can we be quick then? I haven't a clue where Adam's got to but it’s better if you leave before he gets here.' She stared around the room and her expression took on a brooding quality, as if her thoughts were sad and bitter. 'It's not like him to stay out like this.' Tanya hastened to get her attention.
'Okay then. Why don't you just tell me what happened.'
'When I went up?'
'From when you got to India.'
Sara rubbed her face. 'When I flew to New Delhi, I went straight to the Randhor-Sinbari and presented one of the tokens Vincent had so generously sent us. He's Antonio's … Mr. Sinbari's kid. I told you, right? He sent us all some, after his trip to Scotland. So I was shown to this terrific room, facing the Plaza, with the best view, and I was allowed to stay there. According to Cam's calculations, I was supposed to set off for this place Dilghum by bus about a week after Adam went, only I got talking to people in Delhi and they told me that it was quicker to go to Saahitaal via Bhookta in the West. So I thought, why not spend a few more days in Delhi, see more of it – specially as the accommodation was free.'
'Weren't you nervous about climbing alone?' Tanya's tone was respectful.
'I've trekked a fair bit in other places, though never alone. And actually, I'd made up my mind to get a guide. Cameron had sent us really detailed instructions for the other route, the Dilghum one, but those were useless to me. One funny co-incidence was that these Indo-Italian climbers I chatted to told me that they'd met Adam too and that he'd also gone up from the West. God knows why he didn't leave a note for me. I'm just beginning to realise that he's not quite what I thought him …'
'So you got on a bus?' Tanya wanted to hear her version of the journey. 'How many days did the walking take you?'
'I'm not sure really. I fell in with a group of villagers at one point and asked directions. So days … maybe three, maybe four? I can't tell exactly because I stopped in the middle.'
'Why was that? You were tired?'
'No. Not exactly. It was Adam. He came down.'
'You met him on his way down?' Sara nodded. 'Wasn't he supposed to have left before that?'
'No, no. We were all supposed to stay at the lake till Cam finished his work. We were going to trek back together. That was what he said in his last letter to me. I thought Adam knew that. When I saw him going down, he was in a real rush, he had his pack on and he was running, I swear it. I thought about not calling to him at first.' She frowned. 'I was anxious.'
'Why were you so anxious, Sara?'
'Jeesus!' She paused, fiddled with her hair. 'Can you imagine it? He'd stayed a week with Cameron, maybe Cam slept with him, maybe not, I don't know. They must've spent time together, don't you think? Then all of a sudden the day before I arrive he tells him, "sorry mate, I'm getting married – to Sara". How shite could it be? I thought Adam had freaked out. So …I guess I thought I wouldn't be his favourite person …' She rubbed her eyes and then, in a swift movement of hands and wrists, pulled all her hair away from her face, lifting both her arms backwards and holding the hair up in a ponytail. The gesture made her look young and sweet. But Tanya didn't pause.
'And? Did you and Adam sort it out?' There was a long silence. Tanya bit her lip. 'Sara, did you ask him why he was rushing down?'
'Well he kind of hedged it – I didn't dare talk about Cameron because I didn't know what they'd said to each other – so we kind of kept it casual … only I felt –'
'What? Did you sense something?' Tanya was hunched forward, sensing that Sara would avoid the truth.
Sara's lids were almost closed; she seemed to be in a state near enough to a trance, though the glare in her eyes might have caused her expression. The splendid hotel room was looking cluttered in the morning sunlight, their wine bottles from the previous night strewn on the plush sap-green rug. Sara spoke slowly, remembering.
'Nervous. Jumpy. That's how I felt he was. Somehow he seemed to be watching me all the time … with a weird look in his eyes.'
'Weird – how?'
'Kind of assessing and furtive … not the friend I'd known.'
'Can you specify what made you think Adam was different? You'd been friends for years after all, you knew him well. Did he seem to be in a state of shock? Did you feel threatened, perhaps?' Tanya checked the tape – it was almost at an end; she'd have to flip it unobtrusively. She was about to do so when something distracted her, a small sound perhaps, or a movement. Sara was frowning, eyes shut against the light.
She opened her eyes. She opened her mouth to answer; but a low scream came out instead. Tanya swung herself around to face the door as a mocking voi
ce drawled, 'Yeah, Sara, tell us if you felt threatened!'
*
Unable to sleep, despite hours of profane fantasies in which first one woman then another refused to share his bed, Karmel was locked into a battle with his own imagination; he felt as if he was losing his mind. Every sound he heard seemed menacing and loaded with malice. Even the irregular dripping of the rain was ominous. Reviewing the situation in which he found himself, he decided that if he stayed in the village any longer he was going to lose all interest in his work.
He could not leave without seeing Thahera once more, however, and that would have to wait until daylight. And so he tried to calm his nerves by marshalling everything he knew about the case.
All Karmel's questions about Sara and Adam had served only to convince him that they had lied, not that they were guilty of murder. Their fear had been genuine, though their tale was fabricated: the village had repelled them.
As far as he could make out, they had arrived in Saahitaal separately: Adam had stayed with Cameron in this very cabin for over a week, during which time they had been seen together by Stitching Woman and other villagers. Whether the two men were working on the same project, or were simply friends as Adam stated, he did not know. Sara had climbed by herself and approached Saahitaal on approximately the day mentioned in her statement – now nearly a month back. Maybe by design or by chance, she had met Adam along the way. They had camped out, for a day, and then reached the village together. One question still puzzled him. If Adam had not known about Cameron's death, then why had they lied to the Delhi police, effectively providing each other with an alibi and if he had known about the body then why had he allowed Sara to climb the rest of the way? Perhaps he had needed her to find it.
Sara was hungry and wanted to stay but had not received a welcoming response from the village. Thahéra's sister had fed her. Why did every track lead back to this family?
By this time, Cameron was already dead. But surely not decomposed, the way they had described? That was impossible. Whatever had happened, they had to have recognised their friend.
With deft precision, Karmel's mind felt out the contours of past events.
As she knelt to wash out the pan in the river, Sara had discovered Cameron's body and recognised it. Why hadn't she been worried about Cameron before that? Had Adam spun her a tale? Her fiancé should have been her first priority, if indeed she was the woman to whom Cameron had claimed to be engaged. Wouldn't she have been more eager to see Cameron, who had left her months before, than she was to see her friend whom she had been with only a few weeks before in Britain?
They had panicked. The body was bad … oh yes, it was worse than bad for those who had rarely seen a corpse before: its smell, its patches of decay and overlay of mud, the whiteness of bone a grim decoration; maybe there was still dried blood to be seen when they found it. And then, recognising the face must have been worse still – heart-wrenching, incapacitating, destructive.
But something else must have happened to deepen their terror. Perhaps they had witnessed something; perhaps they had been threatened. If he did not take note, he too might end up dead.
He still wasn't clear why the foreign architect had died but he was becoming certain of one thing: the murderer or murderers hailed from this village and would not hesitate to kill again if threatened.
He would pack as soon as it grew light.
Just as he reached his conclusion and decided to flee Saahitaal, a cloaked figure approached his door. Karmel's nerves were strung so tight that when, having knocked and failed to get an answer, the figure began to push the door inwards, he jerked upright with such force that he knocked over and extinguished his lamp.
35
'Go on Sara, tell us all about Adam's state of mind!'
Across an expanse of land and ocean, in the Super-Deluxe suite by the picturesque Aguada beach, Tanya and her companion froze.
Adam was leaning against an inlaid stone pillar at the entrance to the suite. His fine hair straggled lankly around his face. His trousers were crumpled and streaked with grime.
Sara and Tanya had been talking animatedly a moment before; now they watched him without moving. He picked at a scab on his chin and watched them back, his eyes red and watery from lack of sleep or drinking, his mouth moving slightly, the sarcasm in his voice overshadowed on his face by some grim purpose.
Tiny sounds became audible and significant: their immediate neighbours waking up and flushing their toilet, birds in the palm trees outside, the splash of a body diving into the pool. It was usually a serene resort: there was little violence here, little need for protection or fear.
Adam's words circled the room and perched themselves precariously on its silence. Finally Tanya stirred. Her stomach was clenched with tension but she raised her arms above her head and stretched. Then she leaned forward and dug around inside her handbag. Sara watched, eyes large with anxiety.
Tanya's husky voice covered the clicking of the tape-recorder. 'Okay, Sara. Do as Adam says. Finish your story. Oh and before I forget – there's still loads you haven't told me about Mr. Antonio Sinbari.
Although Tanya did not know it, Sinbari's scheduled meeting with the Scottish police was only a few hours away; dawn was already approaching. He had hardly given a thought to this situation in the past few days, so busy had been with other business matters, phones ringing off the hook, faxes the length of boa constrictors trailing across his ante-room; huge sums in cash being transferred in and out of his various accounts and, since his press conference, a constant stream of Indian dignitaries coming to offer their assurances about what he would be allowed to do should he agree to retain his stake in the Randhor-Sinbari chain. Now, without Sadrettin to handle all the unpleasant formalities, he was faced with the annoying possibility that he might have some explaining to do.
Sitting up in bed, he scratched his chin. When Sara and Adam had presented themselves at his door and poured out their story, he had thought only of himself, of how their information could affect his scheme. His capital was still committed to the Konali project; he had not had time to lobby for his site in the mountains or to ensure that a fully equipped team went into the hills. Adam and Sara's recital had given him an idea: if he could delay revelations about Croft's demise from hitting the papers for a few weeks, he could turn the information to his own advantage.
With characteristic guile he had persuaded his young guests that they would be in personal danger if they admitted to recognising the corpse. Having terrified them, he had then promised Adam a month's free stay at his Goa resort in order to lie low after giving their initial statements. When he told Hàrélal that the tourists had left the country, he had never intended to goad the foolish man to anger. Yes, it had been amusing at the time to listen to him squirm; but now he needed to pour oil on the waters.
Perhaps he should ring Hàrélal and offer him a deal. Everyone in India could be bought – for the right price. That was what made the country so exciting! Just as he reached towards the phone, it rang.
By the time he replaced the receiver, he had changed his mind. An associate in Baltimore had just assured him of the interest his new Himalayan project was generating amongst in the tourist industry in the States. His mind felt vibrant with excitement at the thought of all the money he was going to make, despite his current financial outlay.
He had paid out literally hundreds of thousands of rupees in bribes in the past two days, smoothing the way for his most ambitious venture yet; more significantly, he had been in touch with Jensen Horst, the famed German architect, retaining him on a tremendous fee. Cameron Croft had suggested initial designs for the Truth Lake complex – but he hadn't lived to see them through. Now Horst would bring them all to fruition. After this project there'd be investors queuing up to put their name at the bottom of cheques made out to the Randhor-Sinbari Corporation. He could not allow anything to come between him and success.
Yet still he had that single niggling doubt: the Deputy Chief
of Police, whom he had hooked like a fish, was now tugging on the line and threatening to break the rod.
Hàrélal would have been elated had he known that his name had become a cause for concern to the man he now regarded as a mortal enemy. Instead, however, he was thinking about his daughter. Her aunt had rung to say that she'd cancelled her visit to the palm-shaded bungalow in Goa. So where the hell was she this time? Perhaps she had got wind of the abortion business and taken off again. Ab-or-shun. What an ugly word.
He'd known in his heart that his wife was wrong to have arranged such a thing without telling the girl. For some reason Tanya seemed attached to the thought of this baby even while she admitted to despising its father. Blast and damn. Bloody moody women. Hormonal. All of them. And now he had to start looking for the child all over again just when he was about to get somewhere with what he had come to call the 'Sinbari Corruption Case': he had a crucial meeting scheduled for the morrow, with the Scottish police and members of the British Consulate in Delhi.
On his lap, as he sat up in bed, he had two flawless pieces of evidence: a fax from a woman inspector in Goa briefly relaying the fact that Sara McMeckan had made a new statement identifying the body she'd stumbled on in the hills; and Kailash Karmel's interim report, which had been miraculously delivered to him that afternoon.
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