by Ada Haynes
Five minutes later, Watanabe arrived.
Ekbeth did not work with a lot of Japanese criminals. He had expected someone a bit like that famous yakuza actor, Takeshi Kitano. A least a few tattoos.
Toshio Watanabe was nothing like that. If he had any tattoos, his clothing covered them. Tall, thin. Very long black hair flowed down his back, with just a few white threads here and there to indicate his age. Yet, despite the long hair, the general picture was certainly not effeminate. Ekbeth thought immediately of those medieval samurai images. The armor was missing, but the effect was the same. A man of power.
Ekbeth bowed. “Watanabe-san. Glad you could receive me on such short notice.”
The man cracked a smile, returned the salutation. “My agenda is not as full as yours, Ekbeth na Duibhne. And I was curious about you.”
Matheson brought chairs around the table, then opened his suitcase and extracted a thick file, placing it in front of Watanabe, who sat and opened the folder.
“I hope you won’t mind me taking care of business while we have this conversation? I don’t see Matheson often and he always has tons of documents for me to sign. Please have a seat.”
Ekbeth took the offered chair, fighting a sudden desire to laugh at the absurd situation. This was a prison! Not a private salon!
“So, what can I do for you, Ekbeth-san?”
“Helping me find Ki… Shona McLeod would be a nice start.”
Watanabe took the pen offered by his employee and started reading the documents in front of him. He shook his head. “I’m afraid this is not possible. I understood you and your community want to harm her. I won’t let anyone do her harm. She’s under my protection.”
There was an audible threat in that calm voice. But amusement as well. Watanabe was not taking him very seriously, apparently.
Ekbeth hid his reaction and said, “Then we have a bit of a problem. She has harmed people under my protection. I take my duties as seriously as you do.”
An evasive gesture of the hand. Watanabe did not even look at him. “Matheson told me. Your cousin. I know how you feel, Ekbeth. Shona has been working for me for a long time. You’re not the first one who wants retribution. It has even happened once or twice that I wanted to hurt her myself. The girl is crazy. When on a mission, nothing can stop her. I’m often left with cleaning up her messes. You don’t want to know how many times I’ve had this conversation.”
He sighed, said something to Matheson Ekbeth could not understand, and turned a page. “Protecting her is a tiring business. Whatever she has done to you and your family, forget it. Leave her alone before she starts finding you a problem. She tends to solve her problems in a very definitive way.”
Ekbeth nodded. “I know. She almost killed my bodyguard two days ago.”
The pen stopped moving. Watanabe looked at him. Matheson looked at him. They had not been aware of that fact, Ekbeth realized. That meant they had not heard the news from Kimiel. Maybe Matheson had not lied when he had said he had no clue where the woman was.
At least, he had the two men’s attention now.
“Probably no news to you, but we know she is in Bhutan. Or at least was two days ago. My man went there. He came back with an almost fatal knife wound.”
Watanabe shrugged, resumed his reading and signing. “Almost is the key word, Ekbeth. Did he attack her by surprise?”
“I suppose. I was not there.”
“But then, if so, count her reaction as purely defensive. Not as problem solving.”
Watanabe hesitated for a second, then added, “Shona has some nasty instinctive reflexes when surprised or pushed in a corner. They have been drilled into her. My doing, I’ll admit. Corner her, she’ll fight back. Follow my advice. Forget about her.”
Ekbeth shook his head. “Not going to happen. I’m afraid we’ll continue to look for her, warnings or not. This is not only about my family and me. Matheson must have told you about the Valley, the place Shona and I are both from. She broke one of our laws there.”
Matheson growled, “That’s because that Aramalinyia of yours, whoever she is, wanted Shona to marry you! I warned you this was a terrible idea.”
For the first time, the studied polish of Watanabe’s face cracked. But not as Ekbeth had expected. The Japanese laughed heartily. “What? This is a new one. A marriage. Why haven’t you told me about this, Jeffrey?”
Matheson mumbled something in Chinese, or something similar. Watanabe considered Ekbeth with attention. “Is this the true reason why you are looking for her? You’re still planning to marry her?”
Ekbeth shook his head. “No. She’s broken the law. I have to bring her back to the Valley for punishment. And yes, Matheson, this time it’s a death sentence.”
Watanabe put the pen on the table. He was done with the signing. Matheson put the documents away. There was almost pity in Watanabe’s voice when he said, “Maybe better for you, Ekbeth. Her last husband’s life ended with her knife across his throat.”
Matheson started protesting but Watanabe stopped him with a hand. His tone turned serious. “I am not joking on this, Ekbeth. Once she’s decided to get rid of someone, she does it. No second thoughts. And she’s terribly efficient.”
He looked at Matheson. “Maybe Jeffrey should send you some examples of what I mean. Not about the husband. A few copies of some police reports we happen to have in our house. Don’t ask why. And don’t involve any official authorities in this. My friends at the Hong Kong police department would not be amused—the police and a few of my current friends.”
Ekbeth absently nodded his agreement, ignoring the threat. He was still absorbing the news of Kimiel knifing her husband. He only managed to say, “Your little trick with my bank won’t succeed a second time, Watanabe. I have taken precautions against it by now.”
“I would expect you to, Ekbeth. But worse things can happen. Shona will only be part of your problem if you persist in this. I suppose that you’ve discovered why I’m here?”
Ekbeth nodded. Watanabe looked at his nails absently. “I told you I protect what is mine. In case you wonder why, the two men I killed harmed Shona through me. I could not let them live. And I won’t hesitate to do it again if needed.”
“You’re in jail.”
Watanabe smiled, in a way that sent chills down Ekbeth’s spine.
Someone banged on the door at that moment. Watanabe rose from his chair. “I have to leave, I’m afraid. It was nice to speak to you.”
With those last words, the Japanese left the room.
On the ride back to the airport, Ekbeth admitted to himself that the meeting had not gone well. Of course he had not really expected help. But at least some answers. Instead, he had only received warnings and now had more unsolved puzzles than when he arrived.
He turned to Matheson. “Did she really kill her husband?”
Matheson nodded. He obviously wanted to add something, but his boss’s influence kept Matheson’s mouth shut. Ekbeth knew he was not going to get any information there either.
He had only one more thing to do. Sally’s idea. “Will you at least give Shona a message if she contacts you?”
After a moment of hesitation, Matheson nodded. Ekbeth took the envelop out of his pocket. Matheson shook his head. “I won’t be able to give her a written message, Ekbeth. I don’t know where she is.”
“It is really important, Matheson. Telling it is not enough.”
The man sighed and took the letter, put it neatly in his pocket. “As you wish. I’m sorry it has come to that, Ekbeth. Please listen to Mr. Watanabe. Forget about us.”
Ekbeth shook his head. “Too late for that.”
A short moment later, he and Najeb exited the limousine. Within ten minutes they were back in Zurich. Only then did Najeb relax. Ekbeth managed a smile. “I told you it would go well. Yes, what we heard is worrying, but at least they did not try to kill us.”
“And I’m glad you were right, Akeneires’el. Now, do you think this trick with
the oracle stone will work?”
“Only one way to know, Najeb. Now we wait.”
39
Shona had not managed to reach Lhuentse. It was just too dark, and muddy. She had slipped twice on the dangerous road, and the second time had almost fallen into the river. So, as soon as she’d recognized the form of a house along the way, she’d gone there, no matter that it was late and no light was visible.
There were a few cows settled in the lower part of the house. This was a good sign. But the people lived upstairs, on the first floor, and the ladder to reach it was nowhere in sight. She screamed “hello” a few times, hoping to wake the inhabitants, if they could hear her with that pouring rain. The alternative was to sleep with the cattle. Something she’d rather not. The stench down there was sickening.
Someone suddenly appeared above her. A woman by the sound of it, though Shona was not so sure.
“Who are you?”
“A lost traveler. I was hoping to get to Lhuentse tonight but the weather is really too bad and my flashlight is dead. Can I please stay tonight? I don’t want to be a bother but the road is dangerous.”
She had to wait for the answer. A powerful light projected in her face suddenly blinded her. “You’re a foreigner! Where is your guide?”
Shona gritted her teeth. She was not really in the mood for questions. “I’m not a tourist. I am staying with Dorje the Weaver in Khoma. He’s my brother-in-law.”
“Then you should know better than to venture on the roads so late.”
“I do know. But I have urgent business in Lhuentse. I was hoping to make it before nightfall. My mistake. Can I please come in?”
“What is your business that it can’t wait until tomorrow?”
Maybe she should just go on with her walking. That woman was probably alone in there and rightfully suspicious. There had been some strange incidents lately with some gangsters, or at least the Bhutanese version of it, Dorje had told her.
One last try. She needed a convincing lie. “I just heard there’s a truck going to Thimphu tomorrow morning. I wanted to give the driver something for one of my friends there. I will leave with daybreak. With a bit of chance, I’ll still get to the driver on time.”
More silence. But the light finally was turned away from her face and, after some time, pointed instead at the wooden ladder, finally lowered.
Shona climbed it with precaution. The woman had already disappeared inside. Shona entered the main room and started taking her sopping clothes from her equally drenched body.
“Here.” The woman was offering her something dry to put on. Shona took it with many thanks. She probably had nothing dry right now among her belongings.
“You are shivering. Do you want some soup? Or Chang?”
The alcohol was really tempting, but she knew the soup would be more beneficial.
She followed her host to the kitchen corner. The woman put on some light, enough that Shona was able to have a good look at her.
Her host was older than Shona had expected. “Have we met before?” she asked. “I spent the past few months in Khoma.”
The woman looked at her attentively, then offered her a bowl of soup with rice and chunks of meat, and sat between Shona and the stove. “Maybe. I don’t go out much nowadays. Not since my husband died four years ago.”
Shona knew what was expected from her. “Died? I’m sorry for your loss.”
The woman sighed. “A couple of foreigners came here, unexpectedly, on a night like this one. Some Chinese. My husband tried to prevent them from entering the house. The younger one shot him. I had no choice—I gave them some food and drinks. Then they left. My husband was dead when I got to him.”
Shona could not believe her ears. She must have walked past that house at least ten times since her return to Bhutan. Dorje had never told her of this woman. She had forgotten that the Chinese soldiers had stopped on their way out of the country. All that part was a blur. Maybe that awful rain tonight was a blessing, after all. Another witness.
She had to ask. And as the old woman apparently did not recognize her, she tried to remember how she’d looked then. “Was there a woman with these Chinese? A westerner? With long hair? Probably very dirty.”
The woman shook her head. “No. But there was a child. A very small one. The poor thing was crying and the soldiers were hitting him. I could not do anything to help him. I was too afraid. He was crying for his mother.” She made a small hand sign to ward off demons. “I remember him in my nightmares sometimes. Still now. He had the strangest eyes. Very clear, like yours. But he was Bhutanese. Most strange.”
Shona put her soup bowl very slowly on the ground. She did not trust her hands anymore. They were shaking badly. “His name. Do you know this little boy’s name?”
Something in her voice alerted the Bhutanese. She was suddenly suspicious again.
“Why?”
“It may have been my son. Sonam.” She thought furiously. She needed a story. A plausible story. “My husband and I were living in a remote valley near Singye Dzong. The boy was always exploring the surroundings, as soon as he was able to walk. One day, he did not come back. We looked and looked but we never found him. We thought he was dead.”
A photo. She had a photo of them in her bag! She hurried to it and looked into it frantically. The leather satchel in which she kept her passport and other important belongings was almost dry. She emptied the contents of it onto the floor and found the photo almost immediately. She picked it up and showed it to the woman, pointing to the child.
“This was my son. Was it the boy you saw?”
The woman observed the picture for a long time, before giving it back to her. “I’m not sure. It is a long time ago. But maybe. He has the same eye color as you. But what were the Chinese doing in this region? Why would they abduct little boys?”
Why, indeed?
Shona could only think of the worst things. She firmly shut her mind against those thoughts. She took back the picture and replaced it in the satchel with the rest.
“Your husband?” the woman asked.
“He’s dead, like yours. I went back to my own country after his death, but decided to hold a puja to his memory and came back for the first time since then. I’m staying with his family.”
The woman suddenly touched her. She had carefully avoided any contact till now.
“We’ve both lost a husband and a child, though mine never lived more than a couple of hours. You can stay here tonight.”
*
Shona could not sleep. It was already difficult to feel comfortable on the thin mattress her host had offered her, but it was her thoughts that kept her wide awake. Sonam was alive! All this time! And she had abandoned him to those monsters!
She should have come sooner. She had to find him!
Sadly, the woman had not been able to describe the two Chinese she had fed—only that there was a young one and an old one. This was too little to go on. She needed Toshio. He had the high-placed connections she needed to follow the link from Kellerman to the soldiers, the butchers who had killed her family. The link to her son.
Toshio had refused to help till now. Find ten Chinese soldiers, or mercenaries, who had ever gone for a secret mission in Bhutan? Too little to go on. Too many possibilities. And Toshio did not believe Kellerman was responsible for the massacre of her family.
But he would help her this time, if she managed to convince him Sonam was alive.
Her head was spinning with everything she wanted to do. She had no clue how she was going to convince Toshio without physical evidence, but surely something would come up. Talking to him face to face would help. That meant going back to the UK. Facing the risk of finding another of those damned As’mirin in her way.
She tried to think. It was difficult. She was confused. Elated. Afraid.
She needed some more info on those new technologies. How to send a secured message to Jeffrey. She would probably manage to do that as soon as she got to India. Wit
h all those IT students, there must be some tech wizards among them.
Then, get Toshio out of jail. She knew he had killed the two former owners of the pharmaceutical company because of her. And that he was staying in prison as a personal punishment for what he considered his betrayal of her. Of all countries, he had to kill the two bastards in England. Hong Kong, or even China, would have been much simpler for everyone.
But maybe Jeffrey would think of something. She rolled to the other side of the thin mattress.
One of her babies was alive. It was going to take time to find him, but she was not going to let him down. She did not want to think about any more grim alternatives. He was her son. He would find a way to survive. Sonam was alive.
So the astrologer was right in the end.
Very good news indeed.
40
Jeffrey Matheson was undeniably efficient. A very thick package was personally delivered to Ekbeth the morning following his interview with Watanabe. That this had not happened in his Zurich office or home, but in his New York office where he had meetings for the whole day, was proof enough he was not the only one spying on the other party.
Najeb frowned. “How did Matheson know where to find you?”
“Excellent question. Maybe you should have a little discussion with our network administrator in Zurich. The man is supposed to be the best on the market, and he costs me a fortune in refresher courses to keep him at the top—or so he keeps telling me every time we negotiate his salary raise. He thinks he is a good hacker? Clearly, he has found his match.”
“Or someone else is leaking the info.”
The boy was just as paranoid as his father! He might lack the experience and a real liking for the job, but no doubt he had been well trained. And Ekbeth knew better than to try to persuade Najeb that his staff was above suspicion. His new bodyguard was just doing his job.
“I leave the details to you.” He handed the package to Najeb. “Keep this out of sight for the moment. The next meeting is about to start, and I don’t want anyone in the room to wonder about it.”
Najeb smiled and put the package in the chained suitcase that always accompanied him. The package was the perfect dimension for it. Another detail which had apparently not escaped Matheson’s attention.