Death of a Financier

by John Francis Kinsella

  *****

  Chapter 54

  Dr Swami wiped the transpiration from his brow as he seated himself in one of the comfortable armchairs set out in the spacious reception room of the Chief Medical Officer's home, he fumbled an excuse that was dismissed with the wave of a hand by the mayor who commenced with the business at hand.

  'Gentlemen, I have invited you to this off the record meeting following a report from the health department that a case of cholera has been confirmed in Kovalam.'

  There was no surprise, they had already been briefed whilst waiting for Swami, the surprise, which the mayor had been holding back was to come.

  'The person infected is a foreign tourist and an important man at that!' the mayor announced turning towards Chief Medical Officer.

  There was a movement of consternation in the room as those present realised the consequences of the news.

  'That is correct Sir,' replied the medical officer. 'Following Dr Swami's examination of the infected person, tests were carried out in the pathology department at the General Hospital and after the germ was identified it was reported to the officer responsible for infectious disease who immediately informed me.'

  'I see, you are absolutely sure it's cholera?'

  'Yes Sir.'

  'I don't have to remind you all of the importance of our tourist industry, it is one of our economy's most important contributors. Trivandrum has become a key arrivals centre for overseas' chartered flights, not to mention the all the efforts and investments we have made for developing medical tourism.'

  The importance of the meeting, called so late in the evening, was now beginning to sink in and those present who had been annoyed at being dragged from their homes were now alarmed, as like many high level state government officials in India they had vested business interests.

  'An outbreak of cholera would be a catastrophe for our tourist season. If this is true we will have tourists wanting to get out and cancellations everywhere, not to speak of the bad press for the state,' said the head of tourism who looked seriously alarmed.

  'Quite so,' said the mayor. 'The question is how do we handle this?'

  'There are procedures in the case of a cholera outbreak Sir,' said the medical officer.

  'Of course,' the mayor retorted testily. 'Have any other cases been reported?' he asked the chief medical officer, who in turn looked at Dr Swami.'

  'No?I'm not sure Sir.'

  'Well let's find out and quickly. That's the first thing we need to know, we have to be prepared in case of the worst. This could be a most serious crisis and the best thing we can do for the moment is make preparations to limit the damage.'

  They all nodded in agreement.

  'We shall meet here at midday tomorrow sharp for an up to date report and review the situation, and if necessary organise ourselves in case we have an epidemic on our hands, God forbid! Lastly gentlemen, I must insist this is all confidential.

  'In the meantime,' he said looking to the Chief Medical Officer, 'I suggest you inform the National Institute, as is the usual procedure I believe in this kind of situation, though for the moment do not mention Kovalam.'

  The National Institute of Cholera and Enteric Diseases, based in Calcutta, received hundreds of such notifications each day, it was a common event in India, where six to seven hundred thousand children died every year from acute diarrhoeal diseases including different forms of Cholera.

  The meeting came to an end and the officials filed out bidding the mayor good night and leaving him with the Chief Medical Officer.

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  Chapter 55

  Ryan switched on his laptop and plugged the cable into the telephone socket, the connection was slow, very slow, but after some patience he found a list of local hospitals. He was surprised to discover there were just 14 district hospitals in Kerala State, but another 124 were described as Ayurvedic hospitals. With a little more time and patience he found the address of the General Hospital in Thiruvananthapuram, situated at General Hospital Junction near the city centre.

  He scribbled it down and hurried to the hotel main entrance where he jumped into a waiting taxi and instructed the driver to take him to the hospital.

  Trivandrum was a city with a population of over 800,000 - full of crowds and traffic like all cities, but there the similarities stopped, it was totally unlike any other city Ryan had ever visited, it was an Indian city.

  As the taxi approached the city centre the traffic came to a grinding halt, the crowd flowed all around them, made worse by the presence of what the driver told him were pilgrims. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of men, half naked, their bodies painted blue, their faces white, orange and other colours, wove their way through the streets without any apparent direction, banging drums, chanting, some on them delirious others fanatical.

  The heat in the taxi, which had been supportable on the open road, had become stiffling. They inched their way forward in stops and starts as the driver gave Ryan a flow of incomprehensible explanations, he was not interested, he was not there for sightseeing.

  Looking at the dense crowd Ryan came to the conclusion he was perhaps the only European in Trivandrum, which in any case was not a tourist centre, most visitors continued their journey after a quick stop at its temple.

  It was bewildering, the traffic chaotic, new SUVs mixed with Ambassadors, smaller cars, tuk-tuks and motorbikes, there were goats, dogs, open drains, small shops, garishly colourful hoardings advertising gory horror films and Bollywood musicals. There was the ubiquitous Indian dirt and litter, a continuous cacophony of horns, honking, tooting, beeping and rickshaw wallahs' bells ringing. Police officers in their smartly pressed uniforms stood at intersections waving their arms to no avail in their hopeless efforts to direct the traffic on the city centre's one way system.

  Finally, the taxi driver, after announcing he would wait for him, dropped Ryan at the entrance to the General Hospital where he became the immediate target of a crowd of beggars and hawkers. Back in Kovalam, like most of its other tourists, he had been spared the experience of the real India with its misery, it crowds, chaos and heat. He forced his way into the lobby, where fortunately most of the signs were in both Malayalam and English, and found his way to the enquiries.

  The waiting area was packed to overflowing, stiflinglying hot with poor lighting, there seemed to be as many mosquitoes inside as outside. A panel ordered the visitors to 'Keep Quiet', but to little avail, the air was filled with the shouts, demands, protestations, gossiping, coughing, children sniffing and babies crying, all oblivious to the imperative. Ryan had entered another world, not the world of medical tourism, but the reality of India.

  He joined the crowd at the window and after what seemed a never ending wait in an exasperating confusion he finally got the attention of one of the authoritative receptionists. Announcing he was a doctor, which had not the hoped for effect, he enquired as to whether a Mr Parkly, suffering from intestinal disorders, had been admitted to the hospital. The receptionist took a note and asked him to be seated, a useless invitation, given there was not a vacant seat in sight amongst the waiting crowd of third world humanity, and he was not about to join those sitting or stretched out on the floor.

  It seemed like an eternity before the receptionist rapping at the window, informed him that there was no one of that name registered at the hospital, suggesting he try the Old Fort Hospital, a private clinic nearby. Ryan had difficulty in finding the driver, another Indian in a dense crowd of Indians; finally it was the driver who found him. The taxi took a side street and was soon in a woody though poorly lit residential area, a few moments later they pulled into the gardens of what appeared to be a large house, then he saw the lights of a low, modern, building behind it. The house had been transformed into the clinic's administrative offices and reception area, where the taxi dropped him at a flight of broad steps leading up to a pair of heavy glass doors with highly polished bronze handles.

  The Old Fort Hospital was a private hos
pital for wealthy Indians and foreigners. As he waited to be attended to Ryan picked up a brochure and started to read it, the clinic offered forty beds and several specialised medical services, he was encouraged by its appearance, that of a small well maintained and seriously managed establishment.

  It was a world apart from the sweltering overburdened, underfinanced, general hospital he had just left, typical of so many overloaded public hospitals in India, where as many as forty beds were squeezed into a single ward supervised by a single overworked nurse, in a country where only three percent of the population had medical cover or insurance.

  The Old Fort Hospital evidently catered for upper class Indians as well as passing foreigners. The waiting area was bright and modern, the reception staff alert and businesslike.

  He announced he was a doctor seeking a sick friend and within a few moments the duty supervisor appeared, who introduced himself as Dr. Patil. Ryan explained his problem, but after a quick check Patil informed him that no person with the name of Parkly had been admitted.

  'What exactly is your friend's problem Dr Kavanagh?'

  'Well it's a bit complicated,' said Ryan fearing a defensive reaction. 'I believe he is suffering from a severe intestinal infection.'

  'Can you be more precise?'

  'Well?' he hesitated, remembering the words of the police superintendent, 'something serious, perhaps Salmonella typhi.'

  'Typhi! Are you sure of that Doctor?'

  'Yes, at least that was the information I was given by Dr. Swami in Kovalam.'

  'In Kovalam?hmm,' he said absorbing the information. 'It's unusual?I mean typhi in Kovalam.'

  'Perhaps, I don't know.'

  'Look, perhaps you wouldn't mind waiting whilst I check around, I have a good friend at the centre for contagious diseases at the General Hospital, I'll call him to see what he knows.'

  Fifteen minutes later he returned.

  'You said your friend's name is Parkly?'

  'Yes.'

  'Staying at the Maharaja Palace?'

  'Yes.'

  'Well I'm sorry no person of that name has been registered at the General Hospital and they have no reports of typhi in Kovalam. You know the General Hospital is a public hospital, it has certain limitations, a lack of funds and staff shortages. I would be surprised your friend was brought there.'

  'I see, I thought perhaps it was related to procedures for infectious diseases.'

  'Are you sure it was Salmonella typhi?' he said feigning disbelief.

  'Not one hundred percent.'

  'Perhaps your friend is in another clinic.'

  'I don't know.'

  'I'm sorry Doctor. Since you're staying at the Maharaja Palace I'll call you if I get any information.'

  'Thank you.'

  An hour later Ryan was back at the Maharaja Palace where he found his mother and Sarah sitting in the bar.

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  Chapter 56

  Ryan ordered his mother and sister to his room. Given his grim face and clenched jaw they followed him asking no questions. He had little choice but to inform them of the situation. He could not allow his family to remain in a hotel where Parkly had possibly been infected.

  'Cholera!'

  'Yes.'

  'What does it mean?'

  Neither Nicole not Sarah, like most people, had the least idea what precisely Cholera was or what the consequences of an outbreak were, of course they vaguely knew it was a deadly disease, something that happened in distant places - like India.

  'Cholera is an enteric disease?'

  'Ryan, speak clearly!' said Nicole abruptly, knowing that he was about to say something important and wanting to hear his words in plain English. Her son often considered them as medical students whenever he stooped to offer them an explanation.

  'Okay mum,' he said smiling and lifting his hands. 'Cholera is a highly contagious and dangerous disease, and our friend Parkly has got it!'

  Nicole looked at Sarah who looked at Ryan.

  'Can we catch it?'

  'It's a possibility.'

  'Jesus fucking Christ Ryan?how do you know if you've got it?'

  'Easy, it a nutshell you have extreme loss of bodily fluids through diarrhoea and vomiting followed by death in extreme cases.'

  Nicole starred at him agape.

  'How do you catch it?'

  'It's rarely transmitted from person to person. Contamination is typically transmitted by people in contact with those infected by the disease?'

  'You just said it's not transmitted from person to person!'

  'Let me finish mum,' Ryan said calmly, he was never flustered.

  'It's when their diarrhoea enters waterways and drinking water supplies. Any infected water and any foods washed in water carrying the germ can cause infection.'

  'So it could be in the hotel water!'

  'It's a possibility, or in the hotel food supply.'

  'Did Parkly catch it here?'

  'That I don't know, but he was sick in his hotel room for a couple of days and the germ may have spread?'

  'To the kitchens?'

  'Or elsewhere, who knows.'

  'So what should we do?'

  'Leave, now,' he said bluntly.

  'When?

  'This evening. Call the airport, book a flight, most of them leave late in the night. In the meantime take one of these,' he said producing an aluminium blister pack of tetracycline. 'With bottled water.'

  'Sarah call the airport and book three tickets home,' ordered her mother.

  'Two,' said Ryan. 'I'm staying.'

  'Why,' said his mother.

  'I'm a doctor.'

  'This has got sod all to do with you Ryan,' retorted Nicole. 'Let the Indians look after themselves.'

  'No, it's not the Indians, it's Emma.'

  'Sod Emma,' said Nicole. 'If Parkly is as important as Sarah says then they can look after themselves, we're not going to hang around and catch the bloody thing.'

  'But?'

  'Forget the but, you don't even know where they are, probably in some bloody private clinic, it's not your problem, we're your problem.

  'You're right. Let's get out of here.'

  Two hours later they had checked out and were heading for the airport where they were told they were wait listed on the next flight to Mumbai. Nicole slipped the flight check-in supervisor a fifty dollar bill and they were promptly handed confirmed boarding passes. From Mumbai they would be able to find a flight to London the following day.

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  Chapter 57

  Though the signs that had warned Europeans Only were gone and Cochin had become Kochi, the Kovalam tourist police kept Indian day trippers from wandering onto the south end of Hawah Beach - strictly reserved for tourists.

  The once privileged British entrepreneurs were replaced by a hotchpotch of different nationalities, who sensing a coming boom had set out to make their fortune under the sun and in a country where the prices were still extraordinarily low compared to many other of the world's tourist other destinations. They set up businesses ranging from hotels to restaurants and estate agents to travel agents, but not only in tourism, they invested in language schools, fisheries, sporting activities, furniture, handicrafts and textiles, encouraged in the name of development by the Kerala state authorities.

  They, together with European retirees, vied for choice residential property, causing local house prices to rocket in and around Kovalam and more precisely near to or within a very short ride from the beach.

  The boom profited India's burgeoning middle classes, fifty or one hundred million people depending on the definition of middle class, as much as twice the population of Spain. However, in general, the middle class did not buy in Kovalam, their ambition was an apartment in the new high rise condominiums that were springing up around every large Indian city, and Trivandrum was no exception.

  Speculation was rife in Kovalam with land and property owners sitting on a gold mine, and they knew it. European expatriates cou
ld build a palace for the tenth of the price they would have had to pay on the Costa del Sol, not to mind the suburbs of London, Stockholm or D?sseldorf.

  The boom was not entirely limited to foreigners, a certain number of middle class Indians were attracted to Kovalam, just a half an hours drive from Trivandrum, acquiring property a little further inland, between their places of work and the coast. The beach area was favoured by a growing number of the privileged younger generation who had long abandoned traditional dhotis and sherwanis for designer jeans and Armani tee shirts.

  Johnny carefully cultivated customers who showed any sign of interest in property in Kovalam and had befriended Sid Judge, who had landed at the Moonlight. Sid jokingly called Johnny his pal and Johnny liked the description, to him it was a compliment, then Sid confided to his new pal he was looking to invest a little money in Kovalam. Sid looked wealthy to Johnny, he sported a Rolex, not that Johnny knew what a Rolex was, but it sparkled in the sunlight and looked expensive, however, it was more the way Sid talked that had drawn Johnny towards him.

  Sid spoke like a man of the world, moreover he treated Johnny like a businessman, which was not the case with all tourists, many seeing him as little better than a waiter in an Indian restaurant, and when Johnny suggested Sid needed a partner he was not met with a no.

  Sid having made some serious added value on his BTL properties had decided to get out, however, it was not just a timely decision, some months previously one or two of his more shady East End acquaintances, noting his evident prosperity, had started to manifest an unhealthy interest in his business.

  Serious mortgage fraud was a fast growing business in the UK as criminal interests muscled in on property deals with losses to lenders running into hundreds of millions of pounds a year. False property evaluation applications were the key to big money attracting a new kind of criminal, who abetted by corrupt surveyors obtained loans with grossly inflated valuations. Certain fraudsters raked in millions of pounds of profits with the help of crooked brokers and an inherently poor system of individual identification because of the country's traditional refusal to the introduction of a secure ID card system.