Fields of Gold

by Fiona McIntosh

  Jack was close enough for Ned to smell his hair cream. He glanced sideways to see who might be watching. No one was. ‘Let me go, Jack.’

  Jack dropped Ned’s lapels as if burned. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘What do you suggest I do? I’m no match for him.’

  ‘You’ve got Brent scared. Why do you think he’s here? He’s frightened of what you might do! Tell him he shouldn’t plan to appear at the talk tomorrow or you will too – and that you’ll be making a public claim as to his crimes.’

  ‘But you’re forgetting the most obvious point here. I have no proof.’

  ‘You’ve got to make Brent believe you know enough to jeopardise his reputation.’

  ‘How do I do this?’

  ‘Just play him at his own game. You want justice for Robbie and revenge for what Brent wanted from Bella. Well, he’s right here. You’ll never get another opportunity like this.’

  ‘For a miner you’re rather philosophical.’

  ‘Ah, there you go. Making the mistake that so many others do. I’m a miner, yes, but I was educated, Ned, possibly better than you. You don’t know me, you don’t —’

  ‘Jack, stop. I’m sorry. I know you’re right. He’s not going to stop harming others. I know he thinks he’s scared me enough to prevent me saying anything to anyone.’

  ‘Just scare him and send him packing. You’ll always regret it if you don’t take control now. No regrets, Ned. That’s what I promised myself when I left Cornwall. It’s not a bad creed.’

  ‘But you weren’t being hunted by a swine like Brent.’

  ‘Don’t be so sure of that. I wish I had my chance to set things right. Instead, it seems my father cleaned up my mess. I’ll never let that happen again. You’ve got a chance now to save some helpless children from a terrible fate.’

  ‘What should I say?’

  ‘Tell him you’ve spoken to your sister over the telephone. Tell him Bella has already been removed and that you’re going directly to the British police in Bangalore. Tell him you’ll do everything in your power to have him arrested and charged. That’s a good start.’

  ‘And then tell the authorities everything I know?’

  ‘I’ll be nearby in case he does decide to push you around. He won’t, though. This sort of man has no weapon but his cunning. Whatever happens, at least you’ll never look back with regret that you didn’t try. This way you force Brent’s hand. He is the one who has to deny the accusation.’

  ‘Yes, but I’m the one who has to come up with convincing proof.’

  ‘Not necessarily. Once your accusation is made public, no matter how much Brent denies it, the more he protests, the more guilty he’ll appear. Sow the seed of his guilt in the minds of the right people, then you’ve achieved something, and perhaps someone more powerful than you will bring about Brent’s fall. But it has to start somewhere. Think about how brave Robbie was to drink that water. That’s how badly he wanted Brent to suffer for his sins, Ned. That’s how loyal he was to you and Bella.’

  Ned cast his eyes down, looking suddenly ashamed of his previous fear. ‘Robbie had everything to lose but on the other hand he had nothing to lose.’

  ‘And in risking everything, including his life, he gained self-respect. He gained courage from his defiance. He won.’

  Ned nodded. ‘All right, I’ll do it. Room twenty-three?’

  ‘Yes. I’ll be near. You just have to call.’ Jack pushed him. ‘Now go! Don’t lose your cool but make him understand that he’s the one who should be looking over his shoulder. Tell him to get the hell out of Bangalore and to stay well clear of Madras. Remember, Brent brought the fight to you. Now you’re going to finish it.’

  23

  Ned took a deep breath, relieved that his nerves had calmed. Suddenly it felt right to confront Brent – and defy him. He knocked. And waited. He knocked again.

  The door was pulled back angrily. ‘I asked not to be distur—’ Brent looked shocked. ‘What are you doing here, Sinclair? I’ve nothing more to say to you.’

  ‘Yes, but I have something to say to you. Now, we can have our conversation in private, or we can have it out right here in the hall … or in the bar over a drink if you’d prefer,’ he said, impressed by his own daring. Jack’s nature was rubbing off, it seemed.

  Brent’s face flushed red. He opened the door wider.

  Ned stepped across the threshold, resisting the desire to throw a glance back at Jack, who was watching from a distance.

  ‘Very well. Speak if you must. But quickly. I have better things to do with my evening than to listen to a pathetic squib like you.’

  Ned forced himself to keep his voice even and low. ‘You found us because you could and because we left tracks, but there are no more tracks to Bell. I’ve seen to it with a single telephone call to Madras. As for you, you’ll find it pretty hard to achieve anything from a stinking prison cell.’

  ‘You think you can call my bluff, young man? You have nothing! Do you suppose the Walkers will believe your stupid story? Where is your evidence? Your only proof is now bloated fodder for the fish, lying cold and dead on the ocean floor.’ Brent smiled to see Ned’s expression turn pinched. ‘You haven’t got another card up your sleeve, Sinclair. I can see that. You’re pathetic. Your whole family’s pathetic!’

  Ned began to clench and unclench his fists. A clammy, invisible hand seemed to be squeezing his lungs. His breath came shallowly as Brent raged on, clearly delighting in his tirade.

  ‘Your no-good father left you all, and then your weak-willed, good-for-nothing mother also abandoned her children, indulging herself in the ultimate cowardly act. Both dead. Both useless parents.’

  Ned knew his lips were moving but wasn’t sure whether any sound was coming out. He could hear nothing but the angry rush of blood through his ears and a howl of rage that was so loud within himself it disoriented him.

  Suddenly Brent was looming, his meaty finger jabbing Ned’s sternum, his ugly face leering far too close … so close that Ned could smell his sour breath of old garlic and neat whisky. It offended him. Everything about Brent was offensive. Ned could feel a new ringing in his ears. It felt as though he was losing control of himself, his eyes narrowing and his mouth twisting into a bitter snarl.

  ‘You don’t come from good, strong stock, Sinclair. No, you’ll follow form, and just like your weak, poverty-stricken parents before you, you’ll —’

  Ned watched as surprise and confusion ghosted across Brent’s face. Then the man staggered once, before crumpling to the tiled floor, flopping onto his back.

  Ned dropped beside him and heard Brent murmur something unintelligible before he convulsed, his bulky body twitching as though an electrical current was being passed through him. That rapid spasm changed into a sort of flopping. Ned, half fascinated, mostly horrified, watched the man’s fists ball – his final throe – before his body relaxed into the death pose, his face palled into a mask, eyes staring upwards to the ceiling fan that continued its soft whirr of activity, oblivious to the shocking scene below.

  Ned crouched alongside Brent’s corpse for what felt an eternity, but he could see from the man’s wristwatch that barely two minutes had ticked by. He shook his head and raised his eyes to once again look upon Brent’s lifeless face, stained by sweat and a dribble of saliva making its way to his shirt collar.

  He didn’t need to reach for a pulse; it was clear Brent was dead. Stunned, Ned finally pulled his gaze from Brent’s slack face and looked with disbelief and shock at what he was holding – a large glass paperweight. The weapon he had slammed into Brent’s head was as big as an apple and on it was etched a map of the world. He half expected to see blood smeared across its continents but the globe glinted clean in the soft light. Absently, instinctively, he rubbed it across his soft shirt as if to rid it of any taint of death.

  Still dazed, but his thoughts gradually clearing, Ned reached over to Brent’s head, unmarked, its skin unbroken, and felt around the scalp. Sure enough,
on his left temple was a small depression in the skull where the paperweight had killed him instantly.

  Ned put the paperweight down and stood slowly, wiping his clammy hands self-consciously down the front of his suit jacket. Looking around, he caught sight of himself in a mirror and his suddenly haunted reflection had near bloodless lips. He barely recognised himself for his face had also seemed to sag. It was the face, he realised, of a killer … a murderer.

  He began to gag and turned first towards the closet but knew he wouldn’t make it. Instead he took two steps to pull open the shutters, grateful that the window was open. He had the presence of mind to keep his retches silent but the acid in his throat burned with accusation.

  Fortunately, Brent’s room backed onto a small garden and his window was well concealed. No one could have seen Ned and outside looked deserted. He wiped his mouth and dragged a shaking hand across his clammy forehead.

  He turned around, half hoping to see Brent twitch again, or give some sign of life that Ned could raise the alarm for. But Brent’s body remained treacherously still and silent.

  The chaotic blur of the previous minutes cleared slightly to allow the first rational thought through. Jack! He rushed to the door but then took a deep breath. He should not be broadcasting the events that had unfolded in this room to other guests or any of the servants. Not yet. Not until he’d spoken to Jack.

  Smoothing his hair and adjusting his collar, Ned blinked angrily and opened the door.

  Jack had long ago lost interest in the newspaper. He had folded it, risen and strolled up and down the hallway, looking away as two servants passed by.

  In the end he had walked around the garden area behind Brent’s room, but he couldn’t see anything. He made his way back inside, strolling aimlessly, cigarette in hand. He even wandered past his own room and was tempted to go in and wait but he passed it by, walking as slowly as he could, finishing his smoke and finally ending up back at his reading nook and his newspaper. Just as he was resigning himself to staring at the familiar pages again, the door opened and Ned looked out.

  Jack stood and smiled as Ned approached. ‘All right?’ he said softly, expecting Ned to close the door and walk towards him.

  But Ned didn’t. He beckoned instead. He looked pale, urgent.

  Jack frowned, hurried his step. ‘What’s going on?’ he murmured as he got closer, noticing that Ned was looking around nervously now, as though checking that they weren’t being seen.

  ‘Come in.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Just come in!’

  Jack noticed a tremor in Ned’s voice and his friend definitely looked rattled. He didn’t say anything but stepped inside as Ned closed the door behind him.

  ‘What’s happ—’ Jack’s words died in his throat. Sprawled on the floor was Brent. Jack leapt to the man’s side. ‘Ned! What the fuck happened?’

  Ned inclined his head towards the glass paperweight beside the body. ‘I hit him.’

  ‘Hit …?’ Jack looked back at Brent, speechless. He shook his head from the barrage of questions that leapt to mind. ‘But … how? Why?’

  It was Ned’s turn to shake his head. ‘I … I didn’t even know it had happened until he dropped. I lost control, Jack. He was cursing me and threatening me. I just … felt this rage. Actually, I didn’t feel anything. I just reacted, I think.’

  ‘He didn’t slip or stumble or —’

  ‘I hit him, Jack! I picked up this paperweight,’ Ned said, marching over and picking up the orb again, ‘and smashed it down on his head!’

  Jack stood, both hands raised in a defensive fashion. ‘All right, Ned, all right. Shhh now. Let me think.’

  ‘Yes, think! This is your fault! You made me do this.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You made me confront him. Look what happened.’

  ‘I didn’t say murder him!’

  Ned pointed angrily. ‘And look where talk got me. I’ll get life in prison. In a stinking, rat-infested jail in India, rotting, and for what? For Brent? All because you forced me to defy him.’

  Jack grabbed his friend by the lapels for the second time that evening. ‘Be quiet, now. Let me think!’ He let go and Ned flopped back like a rag doll.

  ‘What have I done? What possessed me?’

  ‘Indeed,’ Jack murmured softly to himself. ‘Be still, Ned, I mean it.’

  Mercifully, Ned became silent, his shoulders hunched over, face in his hands. Jack took a deep breath and stared down at the body. It was unmarked. He checked Brent’s skull. The skin was miraculously unbroken. Further scrutiny into the man’s greasy hair revealed there was no sign of blood.

  ‘All right,’ Jack began slowly as he stood again. ‘Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to call the cantonment police,’ he pulled out his handkerchief and reached for the paperweight. ‘And then,’ he carefully rubbed the glass clean of all fingermarks or smudges, ‘I’m going to tell them I found him like this.’

  ‘What?’ Ned said, startled out of his shock.

  ‘Did you touch anything else in the room?’

  ‘No, what? No. Yes!’

  Jack gave Ned a stern look. ‘Remember everything you touched. Your fingerprints could lead to a lot of questions we don’t want.’

  ‘The door handle.’

  ‘That’s fine. What else?’

  ‘The windowsill.’

  Jack walked over and went through his routine of cleaning down the sill. Henry had already told him that all prisoners in India were fingerprinted and many used their fingerprints as signatures. At last Henry’s seemingly useless information was coming in handy. It could save Ned a prison sentence or even a death sentence. He shuddered inwardly at the thought.

  Ned watched Jack deliberately touch the sill himself and the handles of the shutters. He frowned, said nothing.

  ‘Now, you’re sure,’ Jack persisted, looking around the room, avoiding glancing at Brent. ‘You touched nothing else?’

  Ned shook his head. ‘What’s going on, Jack?’

  ‘I’m giving you an alibi.’

  ‘You don’t have to. I’ll tell the truth.’

  ‘And go to jail for manslaughter.’ Jack decided not to mention what else could happen should Ned be found guilty of murder.

  Even so, Ned took a step back as if Jack had just slapped him. ‘People will understand. I’ll tell them everything … the orphanage, Robbie, Brent’s threats, and I’ll —’

  ‘Still be a killer. You will go to jail, Ned. They’re very strict here, apparently. And yes, Walker and even your friends in Madras can speak on your behalf, but the fact is you’ve killed a man. And the law interprets that as murder and not self-defence. A court will hear that you came to his room and, no matter what transpired, you used a weapon and killed him,’ Jack urged, his voice a growl now and so low that even Ned was straining to hear him. ‘We have to act now. People may have seen our shadows moving around in here. We must raise the alarm immediately. But you must go – get out of here. Stay calm, walk briskly but don’t run. If you run, you’ll be noticed. Move through the gardens and use the trees for shadow and cover. Leave by the back entrance but don’t forget the bikes. Speak to no one. Go home and continue the night as normally as you can. Don’t go out again, and try to be seen by others, Ned, do you understand? You must create an alibi for yourself.’

  Ned nodded, but only because Jack’s stern gaze was insisting he did.

  Jack continued. ‘We ended up not having dinner because we’d had a big lunch. I’ll do the talking. I’ll wait here with him another hour, just in case you’re seen.’

  ‘Jack, I don’t think this is —’

  Jack shook his head with irritation. ‘No time now, Ned. Move!’

  ‘Why are you doing this?’

  ‘God only knows! Because you’re so helpless, I suppose. I hate all the bad things that have happened to you, and there was so much to look forward to. Brent was a pig, by all accounts, and a criminal. I’ll be doing the orphans
of Rangoon a service if I cover for you. They can’t pin anything on me. But you have to do exactly as I say and perhaps you’ll be able to put this behind you.’ He pointed at the corpse. ‘You’ve stopped him. If people only knew, they’d quietly thank you.’

  ‘I should answer for the crime, Jack. I’m thinking more clearly now.’

  ‘You’d give up your life for this piece of slime? You’ll give up your future? Bell? Your life’s only just beginning. Brent had no remorse for the hardships and pain he caused. You’ve done the world a favour, Ned. And now the world owes you a chance to leave this behind. I’m giving you that chance.’

  Ned stared again at Brent. ‘All right.’ He turned. ‘I’ll never forget this.’

  ‘Our secret,’ Jack said softly.

  ‘Secrets bind, my mother always said.’

  ‘Then we’re bound in friendship.’

  Ned offered a hand. ‘I owe you.’

  Jack shook. ‘One day you’ll help me when I need you to.’ He pointed to the window. ‘Go the back way. Take care not to be seen.’

  Jack assumed that army officers and certainly someone who knew the Superintendent of Police would be in and around the club, and he was right. Within minutes various senior people had crowded into guest room twenty-three, including the military police, but now there was only a senior officer from the Indian Police and his offsider, the club’s manager, a man from the morgue assisting the doctor in charge of Brent’s corpse, plus Jack. Everyone but the doctor and his assistant had their backs to the dead man.