“Bye, darling. Have a good day.”
“Yes, bye, Phillip.”
He picked up his briefcase. “You know you ought to pop down to the gymkhana club one of these days, have a swim, get to know one or two of the other girls out here.”
Jane nodded.
“Right, good. I’ll get one of the chaps’ wives to ring you then, Marjorie maybe or Phyllis.” He turned and, waving without looking at her, he walked into the house, whistling as he went.
Jane rolled her eyes and plopped an ice-cold piece of melon into her mouth. The club, she thought, how awful. She listened to the noises of her husband’s departure and breathed a sigh of relief when he finally left the house and the peaceful silence was resumed. Recently, she realized, looking out at the garden, she had begun to tire of Phillip and his typically English mannerisms. Only slightly of course, she told herself firmly as she sipped her tea, and everyone tired of their spouse on occasions, didn’t they? It couldn’t be a honeymoon forever after all, could it? And she turned away from the dazzling sunshine, went on with her breakfast, enjoying every mouthful, and thinking about the day ahead—hardly aware of the fact that Phillip had completely gone from her mind.
It took Jane quite some time to cycle out to the Kali Temple, far longer than she had expected It turned out to be a fair distance from the city, something she hadn’t realized from the map, and in the heat and sun it had taken a great deal of effort. She followed the directions that Dr. Yadav had given her, coming off the main road at the crossroads after the small village of Dwalior and heading for the forest area in the distance. The landscape was flat and bordered by patches of scrub that every now and then led into clumps of forest. The dark air looked so cool and inviting there that Jane was tempted to abandon her goal and lie down for a while in the tent of the cool green. But she cycled on.
Jane had been drawing most days since she arrived in Baijur. She was unused to doing nothing and the first few days had seemed to stretch forever in front of her, leaving her feeling rather hopeless, at a loss with herself. On the third day in the bungalow on her own, she fetched her bag, took out her water-colors and set off into the city. She spent hours drawing, totally absorbed in the color and movement of Baijur, fascinated by a city that seemed perpetually in motion. And from that day on there was no going back—Jane had found herself something to do.
Finally approaching the huge area of forest, Jane jumped off her bicycle and wheeled it to a lump of stone, propping it up and leaving it there. She took her things from the basket, slung her bags over her shoulder and dug in the pocket of her skirt for Bodi’s map. The temple was half a mile into the undergrowth, it was marked by boulders of pale yellow carved sandstone and he had told her that she would find it perfectly easily if she followed these. That was exactly what she intended to do. Taking off her sunglasses, she walked forward, pushed back the branches of a jacaranda tree and started for the temple.
Fifteen minutes later, Jane found the last boulder. She had walked slowly, unnerved by the dark airlessness of the forest, frightened by its silence, punctuated every now and then by a scuttling or rustle, the sharp cry of a bird. She jumped at every sound, her heart thumping in her chest, and found herself sweating far more than she did in the heat of the sun. The trail she had followed was thin, roughly cut through the undergrowth and she had stumbled several times. Finally, when it opened out into a definite path, wide enough to walk easily, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God for that,” she murmured under her breath and, brushing back a thick, heavy palm, she stepped into a clearing. Suddenly, behind her a branch cracked underfoot. “My God!” She gripped the branch she was holding and stood frozen to the spot. She heard footsteps.
“Jane? Jane Mills?’
She swung around. “Oh my God! Rami! Thank goodness!” Jane put her hand up to her chest, her heart was pounding so hard that she could feel it through the thin cotton of her shirt. “Jesus! You scared me half to death!” She laughed nervously.
“Come,” Rami held his hand out and Jane took it. He led her into the clearing and the brilliant white sunlight. Jane covered her eyes for a moment, blinded by the light.
“Are you all right, Jane?”
“Yes! Yes of course.” She removed her hand and felt in her bag for her sunglasses, slipping them on. “Sorry, it’s just that I got a bit spooked, walking up here.”
“Spooked?”
“Yes! Nervous. It was so dark and creepy.”
“You shouldn’t really be here on your own, you know.”
“Oh?”
“It’s not dangerous or anything but it’s…” Rami shrugged.
“It’s what?”
“It’s very isolated, too far away.”
Jane smiled; he looked so concerned. “I didn’t realize when I cycled here. I thought it was much nearer.” She dropped her bags down on the ground. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
Rami turned away and walked across to where he had spread a rug and some of his things. He knelt and began packing them into a bag.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosy.”
He glanced up at her and smiled. “No, really. I, erm…” He held up a cloth-covered book. “I come here sometimes, for the solitude. I write my verse here.”
“Verse? You write poetry?”
Rami laughed. “Don’t look so shocked, Jane Mills!” He came across to her. “It’s nothing special, just a bit of relaxation.”
“I see.”
“What about you? Are you sightseeing? This is one of Bodi’s favorite places, I expect he told you to come here.”
“Yes! Yes, he did! Do you know Dr. Yadav?”
“I know Dr. Yadav very well, all my life in fact He has been…” Rami stopped. Jane looked up at him. “He has been the half of my grandfather that Shiva is not,” he finished and Jane frowned.
“I don’t understand.”
“No.” Rami tucked his book into the pocket of his churidar. “Nor do I.” He sighed. “My grandfather finds it very hard to treat me as a grandson, Jane. Bodi has loved me unconditionally since the day I was born.” He didn’t feel any need to explain, but he wanted to. “He’s my mother’s uncle and he’s been like a father to me.”
The small frown across Jane’s forehead disappeared and she smiled. “You’re very lucky.”
“Yes, I think I am.” Rami could not resist her smile. It was a clear, honest smile, not coy or calculating; it showed her happiness, as simple as that. He smiled back. He had never said anything so intimate about his family before but he didn’t regret it. “So why are you here? You didn’t answer me.
“I came to sketch.”
He glanced down at the bags. “Hence the luggage.”
“Yes, hence the luggage.”
“Well…” Rami shrugged and walked back to his spot. “I shall leave you alone, then.” He began rolling the rug.
“Rami, please.” Jane took off her sunglasses. “Please don’t let me drive you away.” She walked over to him. “Can you work with me here?”
He stared up at her. She was so tall, almost his height, and the shape of her long slim thighs was visible through the cotton of her skirt with the sun behind her. Rami looked away, suddenly surprised at his response to her. “I don’t think… ”
“Oh please!” she interrupted. “I shall feel awful if you leave because of me.”
He let go of the rug and it unraveled itself. “All right. I will stay.”
Jane grinned. “And I will sit miles away from you and not say a word.” She went to her bags and began to unpack her paints.
Within minutes she had set up her easel and small stool and, adjusting her hat, she sat down to start.
“Not a word,” Rami called. “You promised!”
She dipped her brush into her water and flicked it across the space at him. “Not a word,” she replied and they both laughed.
Toward the end of the morning, Jane sat back and looked at what she had done. She always painted very c
lose to the paper and found she could only properly judge if she stood and took several paces back. She got to her feet, her legs aching, and stepped back. She had taken a corner of the temple, set against the backdrop of the forest, and painted the carvings in exquisite detail. The colors were pinks and greens and azure blue, the sandstone, the trees and the sky.
“Have you finished?”
Jane started. True to her word, she had not said a thing for nearly three hours. She had been so absorbed in the work that she had forgotten Rami was there. She glanced over her shoulder at him.
“May I see?”
“Yes, of course.” Jane turned away and busied herself washing her brushes and tidying her paints as Rami came across to the painting.
He stood and stared for quite some time. Then he said, “Jane, it’s beautiful.”
She looked up and smiled. For some peculiar reason his opinion was tremendously important to her. “Thank you.” She straightened and wiped her hands on her apron. “I have some lunch,” she said. “Would you like to share it?”
“I would love to share it but I am afraid that I have lunch with my grandfather, Jane.” He remained standing in front of the picture. “Jane?” He turned. “I hope you don’t mind me asking but would you be interested in selling this painting?”
Jane came to stand next to him. “I don’t mind you asking but I’m sorry, I don’t sell my paintings.”
He smiled. “No, I didn’t think you would.” He walked back to the rug. “Ah well.” He shrugged. “I must go,” he said and bending, he packed everything away. “Perhaps you might like to come sightseeing with me one afternoon, Jane,” he said as he strapped his things together, ready to attach to his bicycle. “I did call a few times but I seem to have…”
“I know,” Jane interrupted. “I’ve been out a lot, drawing.” She imagined Phillip’s tutting disapproval. “I’m very busy,” she said.
“Yes, of course.”
Rami walked back to her and held out his hand. “It was nice to see you, Jane.”
Jane took his hand, the long, smooth, brown fingers cool to touch. Phillip wasn’t the only reason for her excuse, she knew that. “It was nice to see you too, Rami,” she answered. “Cycle carefully.”
He smiled and hitched his things up on to his shoulder. “Goodbye!” he called as he strode off. He glanced over his shoulder at her and waved, then he disappeared off into the undergrowth.
* * *
An hour later, Shiva and Ramesh Rai stood on the intricate and delicate mosaic floor of the anteroom in the Lake Palace and waited for Vikram Singh, the Maharajah of Baijur. A cool breeze blew across the water and in through the open fretwork of the windows; in the lily pools it gently rocked the flowers and sent tiny ripples across the still, calm ponds. Ramesh thought about Jane, about how much she would love the beauty of this palace; he wondered what she was sketching now at the Kali Temple and what she was having for her lunch. He heard his grandfather cough and glanced up.
“You are someplace else, I think, Ramesh,” Shiva said.
“I am sorry,” Rami looked away from his grandfather’s harsh, penetrating stare.
“No matter, here is the maharajah!” Rami turned back in time to see his grandfather’s face change, the smile, the warmth that suddenly appeared and he resented it.
“Shivaji! And Rami!” The maharajah, smartly dressed and relaxed, broke off talking with one of the royal officials and walked toward them. He was smiling broadly.
“You are well, Shivaji?” Shiva folded his palms and bowed his head. Viki turned to Rami who did the same.
“You missed a good ride last week, eh, Rami?” The advisor leaned in toward the maharajah and whispered something, Viki nodded and then dismissed the man. “No matter,” he said, continuing where he had left off, “we must arrange for you to try out these ponies soon! In the next week, eh? I want your opinion, Ramesh!” He turned toward the garden. “Come, we are lunching on the terrace today, there is a good breeze to cool us!” He led the way out through the water garden and onto the far terrace.
“Shiva, how is business?”
“Very good thank you, sir. We are about to open an office and showrooms in New York.”
Surprised, Rami turned to his grandfather. He had heard nothing of this before.
“Excellent, excellent!” They had crossed the terrace and the maharajah nodded to the bearer as they approached the table. “Please, Shiva, Rami, be seated.”
Two uniformed servants stepped forward and both men took their places.
“So,” Viki said, “we shall have a drink and then we must talk.” He clicked his fingers and a servant stepped forward to pour the nimbupani. “We have important things to discuss.”
Rami took a sip and glanced sidelong at his grandfather while Shiva drank and chatted to Viki. He felt that Shiva knew what this lunch was for but hadn’t told him and it made him uneasy.
“Well, Rami,” Viki crossed his long legs and the silk tie of his brocade cummerbund fell to the side. He waved his hand casually in the air and dismissed the servants with one sweep. Then he leaned forward and Rami saw that the buttons on his kurta were set with tiny rubies in an intricate pattern; he recognized Shiva’s work. He felt the atmosphere change.
“Rami, I have asked you here today because I have something important that I would like to talk with you about.” Viki glanced over his shoulder and saw one of the servants lingering by the drinks table. He clapped his hands and motioned for the boy to leave them. He waited several minutes, then, sure they were alone, he said, “Your grandfather and I have been discussing the problems with Pakistan, Rami, and the implications for Baijur, being so close to the border.” He reached for a gold cigarette case and flipped it open, offering a cigarette to Rami. “It is a difficult subject,” he said, “a delicate one.” He lit up and smoked for a few moments. “We are vulnerable here, Rami; the state is stable insomuch as the house of Singh stays in power. And power is wealth.” He sat back and looked at the young man in front of him as if weighing him up. “I have a job for you,” he said, “an obscure job but one that I am positive is vital to the security of my position here.” He glanced over his shoulder again before he leaned in close to the table. “Your grandfather has told you that there have been threats to my life?”
“No!” Rami stopped and lowered his voice. “I don’t believe it!” He hissed. “Who? And why?”
“This business with Pakistan, the Muslims everywhere are unhappy, here in Baijur even.” He shrugged. “I don’t know who, I can only guess that it is political, religious.” Viki was silent for a few moments, then he said, “I need to protect myself, Rami, take precautions. If something should happen to me I need to be sure that Aeysha, the new maha-rani, would be safe.” He stubbed out his cigarette and Rami noticed that his face changed when he spoke of his wife-to-be. “This is where you can help,” he said. “You have a part to play. I have discussed it at great length with your grandfather and we were decided many months ago on the course of action.” Viki paused. “Shiva and RJ International started work for me at the beginning of the year. They have been making copies of every item of jewelry that we own; part of it is already finished. They are making a counterfeit of the entire wealth of the Singh house.”
“My God!” Rami shook his head; it was almost unbelievable. The work involved was incredible, the collection of the old maharani alone was said to be worth millions.
“The work has been carried out overseas, Rami,” Shiva said. “In my workshops in Paris and London. It is a matter of utmost secrecy.”
“But I don’t understand, I—”
Viki held up his hands to interrupt Rami. “I have done it for safety, Rami,” he said. “I intend to hide the originals, at least until I know it is safe in Baijur.” He sat back and again looked at Rami as if weighing him up. He was silent for some time, then he said: “I have chosen you to carry out this task.”
“Me?”
“Yes. I would like you to take care of
it, to, how can I put it, to plan a route for the originals. It is not a simple case of hiding, there is too much at stake to take the risk of that. What I had envisaged is a serious and complicated procedure, Ramesh, something that you will have designed, using your skills, your knowledge of the land here, your verse perhaps, your intellect, something that only you know the answer to.”
Viki stopped talking and Rami sat motionless for a moment He was dumbfounded. “I’m not sure if I really understand you,” he said. “You mean that you want me to set up some sort of maze, a puzzle of some kind, to where I decide to hide the wealth?’
The maharajah nodded.
Rami sat back. It was ludicrous, he couldn’t possibly do it. He shook his head. “It is far too great a responsibility, Viki, I can’t…” He broke off and looked at his grandfather.
“You are trusted, Ramesh, with the life of the maharajah, and you think of refusing?” His dark eyes were like granite, cold and hard, impenetrable.
“No, it’s not that, it’s…” Again he stopped. “How could you possibly trust me with all of this? What if something went wrong? What if someone found out what I was doing?’
Viki lit another cigarette and looked at Rami over the trail of smoke. “You would have to ensure that these things didn’t happen, Rami.”
“I don’t know, I don’t know if I can do it!” He shook his head again helplessly and sat silent for a while. Then, looking up, he said, “How long would I have, if I were to do it?”
“I want it settled by the date of my wedding,” Viki answered. “It is a big event, dangerous to some degree.”
Rami nodded. “And if only I know the answer?”
“You will have prepared a text for me.”
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