A Will to Kill

by RV Raman

  What was amply clear was that the area they were driving through had recently seen copious rainfall. The ground was drenched, and puddles of water dotted the roads. Here and there, patches of earth had come loose and had slid down the hillside. Landslides, Manu had earlier said, were common at this time of the year.

  All the while, Dora continued her chatter, drawing smiles and chuckles from Athreya. From time to time, Manu butted in with his wry one-liners. Athreya found himself enjoying the company and the drive, even if he had to narrow his eyes to slits to face the cold onrush of air.

  By now, they were well away from Coonoor, and were driving along winding roads cut into the hillside, climbing and descending alternately. Traffic on the roads had reduced to the occasional car or bike. Every now and then, they passed clusters of shops and houses, which invariably sent the resident dogs barking and chasing the jeep, much to Dora’s amusement.

  As the sun began to settle down behind the hills in the west, and signs of habitation grew scarce, a thought struck Dora.

  ‘Manu,’ she gushed, ‘why don’t we take Mr Athreya to the hilltop? He can see the valley at sunset. What say you? We have lots of time.’

  ‘Yup,’ Manu agreed. ‘Good idea. You’ll have to do it quickly if you want to get there before sunset.’

  Dora swung the steering wheel to the right and turned on to a mud road, pausing only to engage the jeep’s four-wheel drive. Athreya found the jeep ascending steep inclines as she manoeuvred it through twisting mud paths. She raced against the setting sun, making for the top of the hill.

  They reached the vantage point just as the huge red sphere of the sun began to touch the distant horizon. But there was more than enough ruddy sunlight for Athreya to marvel at the vista before him. Far below was a shallow valley that was close to a kilometre wide. Meandering leisurely across the plain of the vale was a thin stream, more like a brook. From the distance, it resembled a long grey vein. Along the near side of the brook was a scattering of three or four buildings, one large and the others significantly smaller.

  ‘That’s the brook from which Greybrooke takes its name,’ Dora said in a whisper, pointing to the grey vein.

  ‘The large building is the mansion, Greybrooke Manor. The long, boomerang-shaped one closer to the brook is the annex. Uncle Bhaskar had it built a few months ago.’

  As Athreya gazed at the estate from afar, the thought uppermost in his mind was how far away it seemed from everything else. There appeared to be no other habitation close by. Except for the mud road that snaked down into the vale and ran alongside the estate, there seemed to be no access to the area, unless one trekked cross-country to get there. Among a cluster of trees, around a kilometre and a half to the right, he saw a few green-shingled rooftops that seemed to blend with the treetops around them.

  The vale itself was breathtakingly beautiful. It was as close to nature as Athreya had imagined it to be after reading Bhaskar’s letter. The three of them stood silently, taking in the stunning panorama as the sun slowly settled in the west.

  He didn’t know if he was imagining it, but, in the distance, the Greybrooke estate seemed to convey a sense of loneliness to him. There was also something secretive about the silent vale, something enigmatic.

  ‘Come,’ Manu said gently, disrupting Athreya’s thoughts. He sounded almost as if he was afraid of disturbing the tranquil air. ‘Let’s go. We should get off this hill before the light vanishes.’

  Athreya nodded silently and climbed into the jeep. Dora stole one last look at the scene and got into the driver’s seat.

  ‘Thank you,’ Athreya said quietly, as they began descending the hill. Hearing himself speak, he thought he sounded awestruck. ‘Thank you for bringing me here. It is indeed a marvellous view.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ Dora murmured equally quietly. ‘It’s always gratifying to come here with someone who appreciates it. There is something poetic about the view, something lonely.’ She smiled as Athreya shot her a surprised glance. ‘You sensed it, didn’t you? I thought you did. I always sense a suppressed loneliness in the vale when I view it from here. As if it has a secret that it cannot tell.’

  Unwittingly, Athreya found himself agreeing with her.

  ‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘I was trying to find words for what I felt. You express it perfectly.’

  Dora flushed with pleasure at the compliment and fell silent. Athreya welcomed the quietness as he revisited the vista in his mind’s eye. Soon, they returned to the point at which Dora had taken the detour to climb the hill. The mist was thicker now and all around them. The light was considerably dimmer. Greyness pervaded the landscape. A moistness enveloped them, making Athreya wish that he had worn his jacket as Dora had worn hers.

  ‘Careful, Dora,’ Manu said softly, as Dora picked up speed. ‘The soil for the next kilometre or two seems to be loose. Small rocks and loose earth have been sliding down. Turn on the headlights.’

  Two shafts of brilliance pierced the gathering gloom, and a milky aura sprang up around the jeep. The beams of the headlights partly illuminated the mist as they cut through a thickening haze. He could see no other points of light, near or far. The croaking of frogs and chirping of crickets were gradually becoming louder.

  With her entire attention focused on the road in front of them, Dora had stopped talking. Manu’s keen face was tight as he too peered forward, scanning the road ahead. For some reason, Athreya felt a chill touch him. But only for a moment. Immediately, his pragmatic nature reasserted itself.

  They had been going along for about ten minutes when a sudden noise from behind shattered their concentration. Instinctively, Dora slowed the jeep down to a crawl.

  ‘What was that?’ she demanded without taking her eyes off the road. There was a distinct edge of anxiety in her voice.

  Manu had swung around to face the rear from where the noise had come. In his hand was a powerful torch, the kind forest rangers carry, which he had switched on. The next moment the beam illuminated a huge mound of earth and foliage under a cloud of dust, around thirty yards behind them.

  It was a landslide. A mass of loose soil had come crashing down, into the space they had vacated just a few seconds earlier. Even as Athreya watched, another rumble shook the ground. More soil and rocks slammed down on top of the existing heap. The new mass engulfed the road and poured down the hillside beyond. Two tall trees tumbled down into the gloom and crashed on to the road a dozen yards behind them.

  ‘Move!’ Manu hissed. ‘Move, Dora.’

  Even in his urgency, Manu had possessed the presence of mind to not shout. Raised voices and loud sounds, Athreya recalled reading somewhere, were best avoided around avalanches and landslides.

  ‘It is dangerous to hang around a fresh landslide,’ Manu explained as the jeep leapt forward. ‘There is no telling when it will widen and take you with it. Every landslide unsettles the soil around it, making the area vulnerable. Until it settles down, it’s best not to go near the site.’

  ‘How bad is it, Manu?’ Dora asked without turning her head. They were pulling away from the devastation. ‘The noise was deafening.’

  ‘It’s a big one, Dora. The largest I’ve seen in a while. It’s going to take a couple of days at least to clear it up and reopen the road. Thank God it missed us.’

  ‘Yes, thank God it came down after we passed the spot. Greybrooke Manor is going to be cut off for a few days. But at least all of us will be there.’

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, they turned off of the tar-topped road on to a mud road that led into the valley they had seen from the hilltop. Darkness had all but descended upon the hills, and the valley looked all the greyer for it. Everywhere around them was mist, which seemed to have thickened with the onset of dusk. The nip in the air reminded Athreya of his jacket again.

  Presently, a huge iron gate loomed ahead of them, its black-painted bars gleaming with dew. With surprise, Athreya noted the total absence of light at t
he gate and the gatehouse beyond, and wondered why that was so. On either side were tall eucalyptus trees, standing like silent sentinels in the night. Beyond the gate was a gravel driveway, which vanished into the misty gloom, past the reach of the jeep’s headlights.

  A Gurkha guard materialized in the spill of light from the jeep and opened one of the gates. He cracked a crooked grin and threw them a salute as the vehicle rolled up to him, shouting, ‘Namaskar, saab! Namaskar, madam!’

  Dora stopped the jeep briefly as Manu told the guard about the landslide and enquired if everyone else was home. Satisfied that everyone was, Dora let in the clutch. The guard, who had answered to the name of Bahadur, shut the gate behind them with a heavy clang.

  The gravel driveway, now hemmed in by trees on both sides, curved to the left. Lamp posts bordering the driveway stood dark, making Athreya wonder again at the absence of lighting.

  ‘Power cut,’ Manu explained, as if reading his mind. ‘A couple of power lines snapped in the deluge we had last week. They are yet to restore them. We have been having long power cuts and low voltage for a week.’

  ‘Don’t worry, we have a generator,’ Dora interposed, as if to mitigate the shortcoming. ‘But it can’t take the load of the entire estate. We just have to be selective about what lights we turn on. Outdoor lights are the first to get the axe.’

  As the jeep took the curve in the path, a massive grey edifice loomed ahead. Greybrooke Manor turned out to be a two-storey mansion of stone, topped by a sloping shingled roof. The nearest outer wall, which was one of the shorter sides of the rectangular mansion, was covered with dark-green ivy that looked almost black in the diffused light from the jeep. Neat rectangular openings in the ivy marked the windows and doors.

  Light spilled out from a pair of wide French windows on the ground floor and a smaller window. A solitary figure stood behind the French windows, peering out at the jeep. On the floor above, three curtained windows remained dark. To the left of the windows was a wide porch that housed the front door to the mansion.

  The porch lights came on as the jeep approached the mansion, and the wide front door swung open to let out a patch of light into the night. A man appeared at the doorway and stood silhouetted against the glow.

  ‘Welcome to Greybrooke Manor, Mr. Athreya,’ Dora said lightly as she brought the jeep to a halt. ‘It may not look like much in the dark, but it is a comfortable place. It’s actually quite lovely in the day.’

  She jumped out of her seat as Manu unwound himself at the rear of the vehicle. Athreya took a moment to stir, then stepped out cautiously on to the gravel. As the silhouette at the doorway came down the front steps to greet them, a boy darted out from behind him to take Athreya’s bag and some other packages from the jeep.

  The silhouette that had come down the steps turned out to be that of a straight-spined, sharp-featured, middle- aged man of quiet bearing. He was dressed simply in a pair of dark trousers and a light-coloured shirt.

  ‘Welcome to Greybrooke Manor, sir,’ he said genially, with a welcoming smile and a slight, old-fashioned bow.

  ‘I hope you had a comfortable journey?’

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ Athreya replied, noting that the man hadn’t offered a handshake. He reasoned that this was perhaps Sebastian, Bhaskar Fernandez’s caregiver, secretary and majordomo.

  ‘My name is Sebastian,’ the man confirmed as he ushered Athreya through the porch and up the front steps.

  ‘Your room is two doors away, and is ready. Would you like a drink now, or would you rather freshen up first?’

  ‘I’m sufficiently refreshed after riding in an open jeep late in the evening.’

  ‘Very good. Shall I take you to Mr. Fernandez?’’

  ‘Have a heart, Sebastian,’ Dora cut in before Athreya could answer. She put her arm through Athreya’s, leading him through a wide double-door to their right and into the drawing room, which was dimly lit. ‘Let Mr Athreya grab a drink first. I’ll take him to see Uncle after that,’ she called over her shoulder. Manu busied himself with some letters lying on a table in the hall.

  ‘Mr. Fernandez is in the study, Dora,’ Sebastian called out after her. ‘I’ll tell him that Mr. Athreya is here.’

  As Dora poured out his preferred drink at the bar counter, Athreya suddenly realized that there was another person in the dimly lit room. A lady of the same willowy and athletic build as Dora and Manu, but a shade heavier and a few years older than Dora, was watching him intently from near the French windows.

  Just as Athreya was about to greet her, Dora let out a hiss of frustration.

  ‘No ice!’ she griped. ‘Half a minute, Mr. Athreya, I’ll get some.’ She caught sight of the other lady and waved as she strode to the door. ‘Oh, hi Michelle. I didn’t see you there. Mr. Athreya, this is Michelle, my cousin. Just keep chatting with her while I find us some ice.’

  As soon as Dora left the room, Michelle strode forward purposefully.

  ‘Good evening,’ said Athreya pleasantly.

  ‘Good evening,’ Michelle replied, acknowledging his greeting with only a flicker of a smile. She came up very close and asked in a low voice, ‘Are you a lawyer, Mr Athreya?’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Athreya shook his head. ‘Not at all.’

  ‘Are you…’ She hesitated for a moment. ‘Are you a policeman?’

  ‘Not any longer.’

  A perplexed frown darkened Michelle’s face. ‘Then why are you here?’ she asked in a whisper.

  Before a surprised Athreya could respond, Michelle’s hand flew up to her face in embarrassment, and she flushed red.

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. It came out all wrong. I am so rude! Please forgive me, Mr Athreya.’

  But Athreya was all smiles in return.

  ‘There is nothing to forgive,’ he said comfortingly.

  ‘Don’t give it another thought. Please.’

  In the low light, he studied the overwrought lady’s face, now partly hidden by her hand. Along with the embarrassment was a palpable tension. He was now sure that she had watched his arrival through the French windows. Some unknown anxiety was gnawing at her, and her disquiet seemed to have something to do with his arrival. At an unguarded moment, when Dora’s stepping out had providentially presented her with a brief opportunity to find out who he was, she had unthinkingly blurted out the question foremost in her mind.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Athreya,’ Michelle repeated earnestly. ‘I am not usually like this.’

  ‘I can well imagine,’ he said softly. ‘No harm done anyway, and I take no offence. But allow me to respond to your question. As you probably know, your uncle invited me here.’

  ‘You know Uncle Bhaskar, then?’ Her wide brown eyes were searching his.

  Athreya shook his head slowly. ‘Never met him in my life. A common friend connected us. I’m looking forward to meeting him today.’

  ‘Oh.’ Michelle was at a loss for words. Her mouth remained open for a couple of seconds. ‘Then how…why…’ she trailed off, a look of utter confusion clouding her face.

  Just then, Dora returned with an ice bucket, and Michelle took the opportunity to beat a retreat.

  ‘I need to run,’ she said aloud. ‘I’ll see you in a little while, Mr. Athreya.’

  Just as she turned away, she added in an undertone, ‘Thank you.’

  Chapter 4

  Athreya ambled over to the bar, where Dora was struggling with the lid of the ice bucket. After a brief tussle and a muttered curse, the young lady prevailed and the lid came loose in her left hand. She dropped it and picked up a pair of tongs to add two ice cubes to Athreya’s drink.

  ‘Some more?’ she asked, glancing at Athreya.

  ‘No, thanks. Two is fine,’ Athreya replied, watching her wield the tongs expertly with her left hand. ‘Left-handed? I didn’t notice it in the jeep. But then there is little to distinguish a left-hander from a right-hander as far as driving is concerned. You hav
e to operate the controls, whichever side they are.’

  ‘They say lefties are creative,’ Dora said, mixing herself a mild drink with lots of ice. ‘Do you buy into that?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but my personal experience–entirely anecdotal, of course–suggests so. The left-handers I’ve known have been more creative on the average than the rest of us. Especially in the arts.’

  ‘Really? Mr. Phillip is right-handed. He is the best artist I’ve ever seen—by a mile.’

  ‘Mr. Phillip?’ The name was new to Athreya.

  ‘A neighbour. He stays a kilometre or two down the vale. You’ll meet him. Uncle has invited him for the do that starts tomorrow. Do you know many artists–’

  She broke off and turned towards the door of the drawing room, through which a whirring sound was now coming.

  ‘Here we go. Brace yourself!’

  Athreya followed her gaze in time to witness a wheelchair barrel into the room at high speed. The pitch of the whirr dropped a notch as the wheelchair slowed down slightly, and veered towards Dora and him. In it was a bearded man with powerful shoulders and a grizzled mane. He wore a bright checked shirt that had alternating squares of red and white. His left hand gripped a joystick, while the right rested lightly on a touchscreen console mounted on to the chair. A red-and-green woollen blanket was draped over his legs. Despite his being seated with his legs covered, the willowy build of the Fernandez clan could not be missed.

  Bhaskar Fernandez had entered the drawing room considerably faster than a walking man might have. He had hurtled in at the speed of a sprinting boy.

  The wheelchair was still moving swiftly as it approached Athreya. Athreya did what he would have done had overexcited children burst into the room and begun scampering around recklessly with little regard to their safety or that of the others around them–he stayed rooted to the spot. Dora too had frozen where she stood.

  ‘Mr. Athreya!’ Bhaskar boomed in a gravelly baritone as he yanked the joystick to stop the missile he was riding.