The Mask Collectors
Page 25
“Yes, yes, coming,” the young man at the reception desk said, but Duncan noticed that his eyes slid away, not making contact. A little while ago, this same man had greeted Duncan cheerfully, looked him straight in the eye when he paid for the car, and said that a car would be ready shortly.
“Is there a problem?” Duncan said. Maybe he needed to try a different hotel. Galle was full of them.
“No, no, soon it will come. Please sit, no?” the man said, busying himself with the papers on his desk.
They sat down in cane wing chairs in the cool lobby. Janie rustled the thin plastic bag a porter had given her for her shells. Not long after, a skinny waiter arrived with a pot of tea and a plate of assorted sweet pastries that smelled fresh baked.
“On the house, sir,” he said, casting an ingratiating glance at Duncan.
When Duncan tipped him, he made a show of turning the pedestal fan on to keep flies away from the pastries, as if the ceiling fan, already spinning above them, weren’t enough.
Duncan went again to talk to the receptionist.
“Sorry, sir, car is delayed. Please enjoy the tea,” the receptionist said.
Duncan returned to where Janie was sitting. “Mmm, these are good,” she said, strawberry jam and cream from a pastry smeared on her lips. Duncan took a pastry, trying to control his impatience.
They had finished the tea and pastries when the receptionist arrived at their side. “Car is here,” he said.
The wind was whistling in the coconut trees at the side of the building when they went out to the porte cochere. A white Mercedes with tinted windows was idling there. The young driver standing by the open back door guided Janie inside. Duncan heard her say, “Hi!” To his astonishment, sitting next to her, his pale lips stretched into a smile, was Hammond Gleeson.
“Hammond! What the . . . What are you doing here?” Duncan said, stammering in his confusion.
“I thought we’d give you and Janie a ride,” Hammond said. “Get in.”
“We’re going to Colombo to see Grace’s mom and dad! And Daddy,” Janie said, rattling the shells in her plastic bag.
Hammond’s lips tightened into a thinner line. “That will have to be later, Janie,” he said as the driver got in and shut his door. “Right now, Duncan and I have to talk about something important.” He crossed his legs, and Duncan saw that a slim black leather briefcase was resting at his feet.
“Hang on, if you’re taking us, I’ll cancel the car I ordered,” Duncan said. “Wait a minute,” he said to the driver, pulling at the door handle. “Can you unlock the door?”
“No need,” Hammond said to the driver. “Let’s get going.” As the car jerked forward, he said to Duncan, “Don’t worry, the order was canceled.”
Duncan frowned. “How did you even know I was here?”
“A shop fellow,” Hammond said, pointing in the direction of the hopper shop. “Said you had made a call to Colombo. He was very impressed with your Sinhala.”
“But how . . . I didn’t even know you were in Sri Lanka,” Duncan said, trying to understand. Hammond had to have gone to the house and found that he was missing. Had Jotipala been blamed?
Hammond’s nostrils flared. Duncan could see a muscle twitching under the pallid skin of his cheek. “I had the same concerns that brought Bentley and you here.”
“The leaks? You arrived today?”
“A couple of days ago.”
They drove past the hopper shop and turned into the lane that led to the house. “Back to the Maya?” Duncan said.
Hammond was looking straight ahead, his lips still tight. “There was a reason you were asked to stay there,” he said, his voice clipped.
“Stay where?” Janie said.
“So Bent did—” Duncan started to say, but Hammond interrupted, his bony fingers raised to stop Duncan.
He patted Janie’s knee. “Karuna will play with you at the house. Duncan and I have to talk. In private.”
Duncan polished his glasses on his sleeve. What the hell was going on? Janie was talking excitedly about building another sandcastle when they arrived at the house. There was no police guard in sight. The gate was wide open, pressed against the bamboo leaves. The driver honked, and Karuna and Jotipala came into view, hurrying from the back garden. Jotipala was looking upset, his hollow cheeks sucked in. He avoided Duncan’s eyes.
“Tell them to look after the child. Outside,” Hammond commanded the driver. The wind was whipping the fronds of the coconut trees, and Duncan could hear the hoarse warnings of the waves down below. Five crows were watching from the balustrade, crouched against the wind. While the driver was talking to Karuna and Jotipala, Hammond led the way into the house, his briefcase held close to his side, his small feet, in expensive-looking loafers, tapping on the cement floor. His pale-yellow short-sleeved shirt had gone limp in the humidity, but his gray trousers were still impeccably creased.
“Something isn’t making sense,” Duncan said, when he was seated in the sitting room. He clenched his toes in his sandals, which were still gritty with sand from the beach. “I was told . . .” But Jotipala had told him something he wasn’t supposed to say, he remembered. “Why was this gate being guarded?”
“There are people who will go to any length to get information,” Hammond said, taking a seat by the coffee table.
“So Bent—”
“Leave Bentley out of this,” Hammond snapped. “What is important is that you left here, endangering the company.”
“Endangering how? How did you know I had left? You were already in Galle?”
“I came here after I found out your wife was being misled,” Hammond said.
“Grace? What does she have to do . . . what . . . misled how?” What the hell was he talking about?
“There’s no time to go into details,” Hammond said. “She’s already here in Sri Lanka. As you know from your mother-in-law,” he added.
Had the shopkeeper reported his whole conversation? “Where is Grace? I need to talk to her,” Duncan said.
“We all do,” Hammond said, and when Duncan looked at him, puzzled, he said, “Presumably she’s on the way to her parents’ house. We need you to call there. If she isn’t there yet, tell your mother-in-law to tell Grace that everything she has found out is a lie. That Grace should not, under any circumstance”—Hammond jabbed a finger into the air—“talk to anyone about what she has found out. It is all false. She is being misled. If she talks to a reporter or the police, there could be severe consequences.”
“What consequences? The police? Is this about the intern who died? What is going on, Hammond?”
“I don’t have time to go into details. Grace is . . . Grace may be with a journalist right now. We need you to make this call immediately.” Duncan did a double take, just noticing the phone on the side table by the entertainment center. It was a black modern one, with an array of buttons.
“How . . . ? I thought there wasn’t phone access,” Duncan said, but seeing Hammond’s expression, he knew the answer.
“The phone was put away for a good reason,” Hammond said.
Something was very wrong here, but what?
“Maybe we should all just go to Colombo, to Grace’s parents’ house, and explain everything,” Duncan said.
“That will be too late,” Hammond said. “If we could get Grace here, that would . . . but we don’t know where she is.”
How did he have such detailed information about Grace? Then he remembered Bent saying that Grace would be watched for her safety. But even here?
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll call. Then we can ask Grace what she’s found out.”
Hammond shook his head. “That won’t be possible,” he said, his voice pressured. “You will need to be very specific, and say only that everything Grace has been told is a lie, and that she should not under any circumstances say anything to anyone. Say that you will see her soon, and that you and Janie are fine. You can say you don’t have time to say more.”
“Absolutely not,” Hammond said. When Duncan looked sharply at him, he said, “For the company’s security.” Then he added, “She is under the illusion that you are in danger. You need to reassure her that you are not.” He sighed. It was an exaggerated, impatient sigh. “In fact, you will be in danger only if she is not reassured of that.”
“What? What do you mean?”
Hammond looked at his watch impatiently. “I thought we could make this cordial, but time is passing. This has to get done. Let me be plain. If you don’t make this call now, if you don’t reassure her that her information is wrong, and that you are fine, you—and Janie—will not be safe.” He said it with a cold finality that Duncan found alarming.
“Are you threatening me?” Duncan said, incredulous. “I’m not going to say anything without knowing more.”
Hammond bent toward the briefcase he’d laid on the coffee table. Two quick snaps and it was open. He reached inside, his eyes on Duncan. When he straightened, his hand held a dull black pistol. Duncan jumped back involuntarily, emitting a shocked yell. “What the fuck!”
“Time!” Hammond tapped his watch with the gun. “I’ll explain after you make the call. You can call it a threat or a warning. But this is simply a fact. You and Janie will not be safe unless this message is communicated. Immediately.” He strode to the side table and pushed the phone forward.
“What, you’re going to shoot me if I don’t call?” Duncan’s voice wobbled. It was incredible that he was even saying this, he thought.
Hammond pointed the gun at him, his arm steady.
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
I could just grab the gun, Duncan thought. Hammond was a small man. He would be easily overpowered.
Hammond stepped back and braced himself against the entertainment center, the gun still pointed. “In case you’re getting any ideas . . . If you make a move, I’ll shoot. Whether or not I hit you, the gunshot will be a signal to Jotipala. He will know what to do with Janie.”
Duncan rose slowly to his feet. He could see Janie with Karuna and Jotipala at the overlook point, where the tops of the screw pines were whipping around in the wind. Karuna was holding Janie’s hand. Jotipala was gazing at the house, although Duncan doubted he could see inside with the windows half-closed.
“What are you, crazy?” Duncan said. “He’s going to do what? Fucking kill Janie? Jotipala would never—”
“You think they’re your friends? That is why they kept the gate padlocked? That is why they told you there was no phone while they were keeping this”—Hammond jerked his head at the phone on the side table—“hidden in a box in their room?”
Duncan thought about the number of times he’d asked about making a phone call. Jotipala had lied all those times? He’d felt he knew Jotipala.
“Jotipala and Karuna are employees,” Hammond said, his lip curled. “With a livelihood to protect. They do as they are told.”
“What are you talking about?” Duncan had seen how Jotipala and Karuna treated Janie. “They would never hurt Janie.”
“One person has already died here,” Hammond said, his face contorted with anger. “Frank Salgado.”
Duncan felt the air leave his chest in a great gasp.
“What do you think their role was in that? If they didn’t care about a venerable Sinhalese elder, you think they would care about a foreign kid they barely know?”
“Frank Salgado?” Duncan said. His voice came out in a whisper. He was having difficulty breathing. Had Jotipala been responsible for Salgado’s death? Was that why he’d seemed upset when he’d said that someone had died recently? Had that been guilt that Duncan had seen on Jotipala’s face? “But Salgado wasn’t shot.”
“He drowned,” Hammond said. “You get thrown on those rocks, you don’t survive.”
Duncan found he was covering his mouth with his hand. “My God. Why? What the fuck . . . ?”
“Time,” Hammond snapped. “We can discuss all that after you make the call.”
Duncan could feel the wrongness of the situation deep in the churning of his belly. He twisted the ring on his finger, trying to keep his face impassive as he racked his brain.
“Janie’s safety is in your hands,” Hammond said. “Pick up the phone and move back, away from the base.” He put the phone on speaker and poised himself by it, watching Duncan closely, the gun pointed at his chest.
44
GRACE
Tuesday
Grace started when a voice called out, “Hello, miss? Can I help you?” The receptionist who had spoken was leaning across the desk, her face curious.
She needed to call home, Grace thought, and find out what Bent had said to her parents. She paid for a Colombo call and dialed her parents’ number, moving as far away from the receptionist as the phone cord allowed.
Her mother picked up during the first ring.
“Grace! There you are! Aney, darling, I’ve been waiting by the phone for you to call,” Nalini said. “Are you calling from the airport?”
Grace frowned. “You knew I was coming?”
“Yes, yes, your friend Mohammed called me last night. He said Marla had told him. I was so surprised to hear you were on the way,” Nalini said. “But he didn’t know which flight, so I didn’t know when to come to pick you up. Why didn’t you call ahead, darling?”
“Ma. Ma. Never mind that. Why was Mo calling you?”
“He had to get in touch with you urgently, he said. He wanted you to call him as soon as you got in.”
“Is this about Duncan? Ma, did he say anything about Duncan?”
“No, but Duncan called this morning,” Nalini said. “Twice. First around seven. Why, you didn’t even tell him you were coming . . .”
“Wait! Ma? Duncan called you? What did he say?”
“He was calling from Galle,” Nalini said. “He didn’t have a phone number he could be reached at—probably he is traveling. He said he would call back soon.”
“Did he say anything else? Was he with Janie? Bent’s little girl?”
“Yes, yes. He called back a second time just now. He was in a rush, so I didn’t get to talk much. He said something about you getting wrong information? What information is he talking about?”
“What do you mean, Ma? What exactly did he say?”
“That all the information you found is wrong. He said you shouldn’t tell anyone, because it’s not true. Very important that you not tell anyone, he said. I asked him what he was talking about, but he said he didn’t have time to talk. He said to tell you he and Janie were fine. Not to worry, he said. He told you to tell Ms. Logan that he and Janie would come to see her soon.”
Grace froze, clenching her hand around the phone cord. “What? Are you sure that’s the name he said? Ms. Logan?”
“Yes,” Nalini said. “Who is that? I was going to ask him, but the line got cut off.”
Grace could feel her heart pounding. She tried to keep her voice calm. “Did he say where he was calling from?”
“No, but he would see you soon, he said. Where are you? Are you calling from the airport?”
“No, Ma. I’m in a hotel.” She was wondering whether to tell her mother more when she saw Shalini emerging from the corridor, running, her sari held off her feet with one hand.
“Grace! Come on!” she called.
“Ma, I’ll call you soon and tell you when I’ll be there. I’m with a friend,” Grace said. She thrust the phone down, ignoring the receptionist’s stare, and hurried toward Shalini.
Shalini grabbed her arm. “Hurry up. This way!”
They ran past the courtyard and entered a restaurant whose green walls were striped with sunlight filtering through the window blinds. Diners were crowding the breakfast buffet, leaning hungrily over the open aluminum serving dishes. Grace barely noticed the plates of steaming food,
the noise of clinking cutlery, and the mingled smells of bacon, hoppers, and curry as she hurried after Shalini, who had slowed her pace to a fast walk. They passed through to a side door and exited into the parking lot. Shalini started running again, her slippered feet scattering gravel, and Grace followed, her purse slapping against her side. Shalini started the engine as soon as they were in the car.
As they sped through the driveway, Grace saw the van driver turn, openmouthed, then run toward the parking lot, shouting something to the woman.
“Go faster, they’re going to catch up,” Grace said, but Shalini laughed gleefully.
“Not a bloody chance, men,” she said. “Going to take a while to change the tire.”
Grace felt her mouth drop open. “My God, you slashed it?”
Shalini rummaged in her purse with one hand and showed her a pocket knife with a pockmarked wooden handle. “Not bad, no?” Her grin was triumphant. “Now we can decide what to do.” She looked over at Grace, and her eyes widened. “What? Did something happen? Who did you call?”
“My mother.” Grace recounted the conversation. “The thing is, that’s impossible. Ms. Logan was one of Duncan’s high school teachers. Someone he was close to. She’s dead. Why would he say that? I was trying to think whether my mother could have mistaken it for some other name . . . but no. There wasn’t anyone he and Janie had been planning to see. Why Ms. Logan? Was he trying to say that he’s afraid they’re going to die? My God.”
“Maybe someone was forcing him to tell you that everything you’ve found is wrong. Maybe that means you’ve really found out something incriminating,” Shalini said, frowning.
“I don’t know,” Grace said. “What are we going to do about Duncan and Janie? We have to go to the police.”
Shalini shook her head. “We don’t know who to trust,” she said. “We should go to Galle. He might be at the Cinasat house. Or someone there might know where he is.”
“What Cinasat house?”
“I know an address,” Shalini said. “From some documents I got recently.” She shook her head. “I think a Cinasat consultant might have died there. Or near there.” At Grace’s confused look, she said, “A professor from Peradeniya who worked—”