The ape-man smirked. The look in his eyes made her skin crawl. ‘Ah, the doctor lady.’ He raised his hand to her in a salute. ‘Madam—’ He looked at Sunil with a leer. ‘She is pretty. Well done, Machan.’ Somehow, it sounded more threat than compliment.
Sunil shut the door. He swung round on her. ‘Annie, what the heck do you think you are playing at? I told you to stay in the room.’
‘I thought you might like me to serve some tea or cold drinks to your friends.’ She walked up to him and placed her fingers on his arm. ‘Anyway, what were those guys talking about? What is this business you should be informing me about? What was that sleaze bag implying when he congratulated you?’
Sunil turned towards her. His fingers curled on her arms. His eyes narrowed. ‘Business matters are not your concern, Annie.’
‘Really?’ She stepped back. His fingers tightened. ‘I thought you said we had no secrets. Your friend, Charlie, said I would be involved in the business, whatever it is, when we are married. What was he talking about, Sunil?’
‘Forget what you saw and heard today, Annie.’ His fingers trembled, and his nails cut into her flesh. His eyes slid away from hers. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead. ‘You are my wife. You deal with your doctoring. Let me handle the business side of our finances. I need you to trust me on this, please, Annie. I will do what is best for us. For our future.’
She took a deep breath and called on all her professional training to keep calm. ‘Sunil,’ she began, reaching up to cup his face in her hands, ‘what is it? Are you in financial trouble? Is there a problem in the business? Talk to me, please. We shared everything growing up. We can deal with it together.’
He loosened his grasp on her arms and placed his palms over hers. His fingers trembled over hers. For a fleeting moment, his eyes took on a look of ensnared desperation. She was reminded of the eyes of a tiger she had seen in the zoo in Sydney. Trapped, aware of being a captive, but helpless to escape.
‘Sunil, please talk to me,’ she repeated in a whisper. ‘We will be husband and wife soon. You promised that we would not have secrets. If there is some problem, please let me help.’
‘Nothing to talk about, darling.’ Chameleon-like, he draped his arm over her shoulder. ‘Don’t worry your pretty head about business deals. Just go home, get some rest and put on your pretty face. I’ll pick you up at seven thirty for dinner. Just the two of us.’ He kissed her on her lips. ‘We’ll have dinner and dance.’ He glanced at the choux pastry on the dining table. ‘Later, we can come back here for some dessert.’
‘Sunil —’
‘Discussion closed, Annie, darling. Leave business to me. Concentrate on looking lovely.’ He kissed the corner of her lips. ‘By the way, my parents called. They want us to spend a few days in the plantation before the wedding. I talked to your mum. We’ll drive up there tomorrow.’
‘Sunil. How can you make these arrangements without consulting me?’
He shrugged and hugged her. ‘Just looking after my wife, Annie. As I always will.’
Annie drove away from Sunil’s apartment furious—at him, his attitude and at whatever he was involved in.
The images she had seen chilled her mind. The possible implications of it made her feel sick. Educational tourism he had called it—she could find other names for it.
She needed to talk to someone. Sunil was politically connected. His father was a cousin of the current president of Sri Lanka. This was Sri Lanka—not Australia, the police wouldn’t take any action against him for fear of reprisals. In addition, one of the guys she had met at the Blue Leopard was a Junior Minister in the Sri Lankan parliament.
Her mother wouldn’t believe her either, and would say Annie was worrying unnecessarily. She thought of Charlie and the other man. The thug had the intimidating look of a standover man. Maybe Sunil was in financial trouble.
There was only one person she could discuss this with. She turned her car towards uncle HJ’s house. Harold Jayasekera was an ex special-operations superintendent with the police force, and a cousin of her mothers. He would advise her.
What she was about to do was a serious betrayal of her fiancé Sunil.
But, from what she had seen, he had already betrayed himself—and her.
Chapter 7
The photographs were downloaded from her phone onto Uncle HJ’s computer. He sat with his chin in his palm looking through the pictures one by one.
His wife, Aunty Malini came in with mugs of tea and sandwiches. ‘Annie, I called your mother. I told her you stopped for a visit with us and I’d give you lunch.’
Uncle HJ closed the file of pictures on her phone. ‘I’ll clear these off your phone first,’ he mumbled. After a minute, he handed her the phone and flicked open another file on his desktop. Full frontal and side views of men and women—police mug shots—filled the screen.
‘Annie, anyone here look like the men you saw today?’
She reached for the mouse, and scrolled through. The leer on the face of the thug who had recognised her as the lady doctor was identifiable in one of the picture. ‘That one,’ she said, pointing. ‘He was one of them. I remember the tattoo. The guy who calls himself Charlie could be this one.’ She placed her index finger on the face of another picture on the screen. ‘I can’t be sure, though. His hair is longer now.’
Aunty Malini and Uncle HJ exchanged looks. ‘Come, child.’ Aunty Malini took her hand and drew her into the sitting room. ‘Tell me about Australia.’ Annie picked up her mug and followed her. She heard Uncle HJ talking on his mobile phone. He sounded agitated, even angry.
They had been chatting for about half an hour, when Uncle HJ came out of the study. He sat down opposite her and took her hands in his.
‘Annie,’ he said with heavy eyes, ‘listen to me carefully, darling. I know how much you care for Sunil. This is going to be hard for you to hear.’ His hands tightened on hers. ‘Sunil is involved in something big. We have followed the men you identified and some others for some time. We have evidence, but not enough to act on. We knew they had a connection with political influence—one which gave them protection, even immunity.’
‘Sunil always said his uncle would protect him. I—I assumed he was joking,’ she responded. ‘What exactly is it they—’
‘No, Annie, the less you know, the safer it is for you. From what you have seen, you have an inkling of what it is.’
Annie felt sick to the pit of her stomach. ‘Uncle,’ she stammered. ‘Sunil can’t be involved in what I—I think I saw in those pictures. He likes the high life, but he isn’t a crook, Uncle. He isn’t immoral. Those girls in the pictures—Sunil wouldn’t—’ tears filled her eyes.
Uncle HJ shook his head, ‘I am sorry, darling. From the pictures, the passports, his friends, Sunil is embroiled in it, right up to his eyeballs.’
She shut her eyes, her suspicions of his motives in marrying her, the unease she felt with him—it was all true. He was entangled in this horrendous activity. Marriage to him would have made her an accomplice. Anger at his duplicity overcame her sadness at his situation.
‘Uncle, what has our marriage got to do with all of this?’
‘Darling, Annie,’ Uncle HJ repeated, ‘I am so sorry. The gang want a base in Australia. We’ve suspected this for a while. Married to you, Sunil can work in Sydney for them and be above suspicion.’
Annie shivered. She was a pawn in a crooked evil game. ‘What do I do now?’ she asked.
‘Annie, I assume you don’t want to go on with the wedding?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Okay, we have two options. The safest for you right now is to leave for Australia immediately—’
‘Without any explanation to Sunil? Wouldn’t it look awfully suspicious?’
He nodded. ‘Yes, it would, they would suspect you had seen or heard something. They would clamp down
on their activities and get rid of the evidence.’
‘Your investigation would be wrecked. What about what I brought you?’
‘We will act on it, what you have given us is good, but it is not enough, Annie. We need more information, concrete evidence. That will take time.’
‘Uncle, you said two options. What is the second?’
‘The other option is risky, even dangerous, but it would give us time to dig, to find more information to nail them.’
‘How much time would you need?’
‘Hard to say, at least a week to follow the leads and get some preliminary evidence.’
‘A week.’ Her laughter had an edge of hysteria.
Aunty Malini rushed over and placed her hands on Annie’s shoulders. ‘HJ, don’t get her involved.’
‘No, Aunty. I had given myself a week to decide if I wanted to marry Sunil. Now, it seems like the decision has been made for me. Uncle HJ, what do you want me to do for the week?’
‘Before I tell you, I want you to promise that you will be honest with me if you feel you can’t do it. Also, you can’t tell anyone about what you have seen—what you have brought to me today, not even your mother.’
She thought of the faces of the girls in the pictures. If it was what she suspected, God help her, she would do whatever was needed to help bring the men to justice. Yes, even if it included Sunil.
She took a deep breath. ‘I’ll do it.’
‘Are you sure?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, I am sure. What do you want me to do?’
‘We need you to act normal with Sunil and his friends for the week.’
‘I can do that.’ She paused. ‘Except, Sunil wants me to go with him to the plantation for a few days before the—the wedding.’
A frown creased his forehead. ‘The plantation, of course.’
‘Of course what, Uncle?’
He raised his right hand to stroke his chin. ‘Maybe one of the missing links,’ he murmured to himself. ‘Okay, let’s play it. Go with him. Act normal, watch and listen.’
‘What if anything happens?’
‘You will have cover. We will be with you all the time.’
‘Do you want me to call the boys, HJ?’ Aunty Malini walked across the room to the telephone.
He raised his hand palm forward. ‘Not yet.’
‘It’s best you don’t know who, but there will be a person with you. We will have a plan of action to get you out, if necessary.’
‘And all I have to do is act natural and watch.’
‘Yes.’
‘How will I know who your person is?’
‘He will call you “Piya”.’
Annie knew that was the name her mother called herself as a little girl. It was a curious choice. ‘Mum said only you continue to call her “Piya” since daddy died—’
The ping of an incoming message on Annie’s phone interrupted her train of thought.
She pulled her phone from her bag and glanced at the screen. ‘It’s Sunil.’ She thumbed the “view message” button.
‘Like to leave today for plantation. Be ready by 3. Can be there by 8. Pack for five days. Return few days before wedding,’ she read out loud.
‘He has been instructed to get you away from Colombo.’
‘What should I say?’
Uncle HJ waved his hands in the air, ‘Answer it and say you’ll be ready. Then go home and pack. Go with him. Don’t try to call me. We will contact you if we need to. Meanwhile, we’ll ramp up the investigation.’
She picked up her phone, ‘Out shopping,’ she texted back to Sunil. ‘Heading home. Will be ready by 3.’
She hit send.
She stood up and looked up at uncle HJ and Aunty Malini. ‘Done.’
She was deceiving her fiancé and actively involved in a police operation. She had been so naïve to think everything would work out with Sunil. In her mind she heard a whisper from the past, ‘You’re Australian. You don’t need an arranged marriage with a man you hardly know.’ If only she had listened to him and her friends.
***
Her mother was excited at the trip. ‘You can get to know him. You know how much his parents love you. Don’t worry about the wedding. Everything is under control here.’ She bustled around the bedroom. ‘Take some saris also, Kunju,’
‘Mum, please, Sunil said it will be just family. No parties or dinners.’
She snapped her bag shut as Sunil’s car purred into their yard. ‘Anyone home?’ he called out. Soon they were in the car and driving away from Colombo.
The sky was an eye-dazzling, brilliant, cloudless blue. The sun was warm on her face. The coconut plantations, paddy fields and the myriad roadside flowering plants were a cacophony of colour.
Only a tropical island like her mother-land could turn on such beauty. She concentrated on the passing scenery, pulling on her mindfulness training to calm her mind.
Homagama, Hanwalla, Puwakpitiya—she read off the names of the villages as they wound their way along the two lane road which passed as the main highway to the hill country.
‘Look, Sunil—’ she tugged at his sleeve— ‘nowhere else in the world do roadside stalls sell the whole shebang, from banana and Thambili to slippers and broomsticks. Look how they display them — strung up in chains.’
‘Spoken like a true expat.’ Sunil was trying to look happy, but his eyes were pensive. He swerved to avoid a cyclist with a woman and two children seated on the cross bar. ‘Idiot villagers,’ he cursed. His hands tightened on the steering wheel.
‘Are you okay?’ Annie touched his arm.
‘I always have been, and will continue to be okay with you by my side, Annie.’ He was making an attempt to sound relaxed, but his voice was laced with anxiety.
She stayed quiet, feathered her fingers on his knee, and prayed he would trust her, that she could help him extricate himself from the evil web of intrigue he was enmeshed in.
They passed Hatton and the road climbed. The grand vista of a wide valley backed by a broad-shouldered mountain range stretched before them. The lower regions were swathed with brilliant green tea bushes. From the upper flanks, dark, ominous rock faces clawed upwards towards the sky. Distant waterfalls cascaded down the rocks, and persistent trees and bushes clung valiantly to them.
The car wound up the mountain range.
Sunil navigated the hairpin bends, and turned at the sign ‘Watakälé’; the tea plantation her parents and his had purchased together when the Sri Lankan government nationalised the tea industry and expelled the British from the country; the place where the two of them had grown up, sharing their dreams and hopes for the future.
Surely, here, Sunil would open up and tell her what he was involved in. She would help him, as she had done when they were kids.
Chapter 8
December 2009, Watakälé, Sri Lanka
Annie jumped out of bed, woken by the joyful crowing of a rooster in Aunty Sirima’s chicken coop. She threw open the window of the bedroom she had always claimed as hers and leant out. The cool crisp mountain air and fingers of morning mist crept around her and swept into the room. The soft lace curtains caressed her cheeks.
The sights and smells of her childhood invaded her senses. The aroma of fresh picked tea leaves blended with the fragrance of fermenting tea tickled her nose. Dotted on the hillside were Indian tea plucker women with their cotton saris, the bright colours of the cloth in sharp contrast to the brilliant green of the fresh flush on the tea bushes. She heard their chatter, and the harsh shouted commands of the male supervisor. Their voices mingled with birdcalls from the shady eucalyptus trees and the distant hum of the machinery in the factory down in the valley.
This was the tea plantation as it had been during the colonial reign, and would continue—maybe forever.
She absorbed i
t all—remembering the many times she had stood like this. First as an innocent child ready for a day of games with her playmate, later a teenager eager to start the day of exploring and sharing with her best mate. She remembered the day by the waterfall, when as a fifteen-year-old, she had shared her first kiss with Sunil.
Her heart filled with foreboding and sadness for what she had to do. She dug deep, searching for a way to save Sunil while still stopping the evil plans of the group.
Maybe she could get Sunil to talk to uncle HJ? Maybe there was a way to get Sunil free of the web of intrigue he was caught in? Maybe she could still help him?
After a hot shower and a quick change into jeans and a long sleeved woollen sweater, she was ready for the day. Questions swirling in her brain, she walked down the corridor from the bedrooms to the living area.
‘Nice thing to happen today of all days!’ Aunty Sirima’s voice rumbled out of the kitchen. ‘No warning at all. Before the sunrising, the stupid Cook-Appu says his mother is sick and he has to go back to the village. Now, I have to make the breakfast kiribath.’
‘Sirima,’ Sunil’s father, Uncle Raja, responded, ‘Annie has been here two days and had her fill of Appu’s cooking. I am sure she will not mind some egg and toast for breakfast today. I can get some nice lamb biriyani from the shop for lunch.’
‘Are you mad?’ Aunty Sirima’s voice rose several decibels. ‘The child is here as our only son’s bride and you want to feed her bread?’
Annie paused at the foot of the staircase.
‘Sirima—’ Annie giggled at the easy-going tone of Uncle Raja’s voice— ‘this is Annie, not someone who doesn’t know us. She is like a daughter.’
They thought of her as a daughter. All the more reason she had to get through to Sunil. Find out what he was involved in. Get him away from those criminals he associated with.
She walked across the dining room and into the kitchen. ‘Aunty Sirima,’ she said, reaching over to kiss her on the cheek, ‘you’re making kiribath. With red raw rice, how lovely. I have so missed cooking this.’ She took the pan out of Aunty Sirima’s hands. ‘Let me help.’
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