“Yah, good. Well it all came to a head two years ago. She’d graduated from Cambridge. Done very well. Written a thesis about some socialist nonsense but it was good, apparently. Anyway, Eveline, my wife, secured her a contract at a local law firm. The perfect opportunity. Would have got her career off to a flying start. We knew she was reluctant, but thought it to be nerves, and that she’d be alright once she got started. Anyway, a couple of weeks before her graduation she just disappeared. No goodbye or anything.”
Leo said nothing. Stockwell took another sip of the whisky, his face getting redder with each swallow.
“Eveline was distraught. I thought she’d be back in a couple of weeks. Allissa had always been argumentative, as I said, but had never actually gone. We got a call a few days later to say that she was going travelling for a bit. There was a savings account with a fair amount of money in it, not that much, but I’m told it was enough to travel and live a basic lifestyle for some time.”
“Do you know where she went?” Leo asked.
“South America or Asia or somewhere equally unsavoury,” Stockwell said with a grimace.
“Do you know where she is now?”
“Well there’s been nothing for over a year. She’s over eighteen so we can’t track her accounts. But a couple of months ago she calls, quite out of the blue, and asks her sister to transfer a large sum of money from a trust fund into a Nepalese account in Kathmandu. Thirty-five grand…”
Leo’s eyes widened.
“So, Lucy, her sister, transferred the money before telling us. That was the deal Allissa made with her. She said she didn’t mind us knowing, but only after the transfer had been made.” Stockwell drained his glass. “Obviously we were relieved to know she was safe.” His voice became an angry crescendo. “But what could she possibly be doing with thirty-five grand in Kathmandu?”
Stockwell shook his glass in the air and the waiter collected it to be refilled. Leo took a sip and winced.
“How can I help you with this? Surely you can look online…”
“No, we’ve tried that, nothing. The more we look, the more worried we become. Kathmandu seems full of all sorts of unsavoury things. No telling what people do out there. They’re savages.” Stockwell knitted his fingers together, leaned on the table and looked directly at Leo. “You,” he boomed, “are to go to Kathmandu and find her.”
Chapter 14
“Mānisakō, Mānisakō,” – the man, the man – Fuli said to herself, fingers locked behind her head as she cowered beneath the stairs of the guesthouse.
Ten minutes ago, she had listened through the crack in the door to Allissa’s voice, though most of her words were a mystery.
Then she’d heard a male voice in response. Suddenly her face was alert, struck with fear.
She knew he wouldn’t just let her go. He would try to find her, to get her back.
Mānisakō.
She knew it had been foolish to run, and she knew how she’d be punished when she was caught. He’d told of the girls before that had tried to run and what happened to them, how they now had to live with the scars of their mistakes.
Mānisakō.
On her feet, Fuli crossed to the bedroom door and peered through the crack. To the right Allissa spoke to someone, but Fuli couldn’t hear what they were saying, and to the left the stairs led down and out of the building.
Opening the door, Fuli turned left, down the stairs, the way they’d come a few minutes earlier. The only way she knew. He wouldn’t be getting her back that easily.
Three flights down, Fuli reached the ground floor and the double glass doors which opened into the small square. She remembered it from the way in.
Outside a group of men walked through the square, talking, laughing, sharing a joke. They were looking for her, they had to be. They were friends of his. He’d sent them here to find her, to bring her back.
For a moment Fuli was back there, in the room behind the curtain, calloused, rough hands touching her. She was unable to stop, unable to move.
She heard footsteps on the tiled stairs behind her, echoing down the bare walls of the stairwell. She looked about, one door into the guesthouse on the ground floor, the glass door to the outside and behind her the stairs she had just descended.
Then she saw, beneath the stairs, a gap. Without waiting she ran for it, sliding out of sight moments before the legs of the man appeared on the upper steps.
Beneath the stairs, Fuli sat with her back to the wall.
Mānisakō.
At least she was safe for now.
Chapter 15
Leo’s anxiety rose at the thought. Kathmandu? Alone? A strange city on the other side of the world. Sure, he’d travelled before, but that was with Mya. She’d been already and knew where she was going. She made it easy for him. His breathing became tighter at the thought.
Breathe in.
Stockwell sat up and put his hands on the arms of the chair.
“Obviously we’d pay for your time and costs. This is very important to us.”
Breathe out.
Leo hadn’t even thought about the money, but it would be useful now he had no job.
“Shall we say ten grand up front and five more when you get to Kathmandu?”
This was all too much. That much money, who did he think Leo was? This wasn’t Leo’s thing, he couldn’t do this. Sure, looking online, he could do that, but not going to an unknown city, to find someone he didn’t know.
Leo stuttered an unintelligible answer, hand tensing around the glass, knuckles whitening.
Panic rose, tight breathing suffocating his mind.
Breathe in.
The opulent surroundings of the bar became claustrophobic as Leo sunk deeper into the chair. He was trapped under Stockwell’s unblinking gaze. Predator and prey.
Breathe out.
Got to get out – he thought, making to get up - got to stop.
Breathe in.
Focus.
Breathe out.
Behind Leo, two women walked through the rectangle of daylight, both glamorous, tall, striking silhouettes. Stockwell’s eyes darted after them, giving Leo a second to breathe and think. He paused. Took a sip of whiskey.
And breathe in.
The tension started to pass.
As the women walked out into the sunlight, Stockwell’s eyes returned to Leo. Leo took another deep breath and exhaled slowly, letting more of the tension go.
“You know, Lord Stockwell. Blake,” Leo corrected. “I’d love to help you, but I’m not a private detective. I’m just someone who’s lost someone too. I do try to help other people in any way I can.” He paused. “But I’ve never gone and actually looked for them.”
“I think you’ve misinterpreted me… Leo,” Stockwell said, pronouncing the name as though it might break. “I may not agree with all the decisions my daughter has made, but I am her father and I am concerned for her safety. I cannot rest thinking she might be involved in something horrible over there, in Kathmandu.” His face contorted at the word. “I, we, my wife and I, our whole family just want her home, or at least to know she’s safe.”
Leo knew what it was like to be in that position, wanting so badly to find someone. He also knew that if it was Mya, he’d go in an instant. But he didn’t know this man, he didn’t know what dangers might be waiting in unchartered Kathmandu. Most importantly, he didn’t know anything about finding people in the real world.
There was another part of him though, a small part, like a virus, that wanted to go. It had started a fire of willingness that Leo felt was quickly winning ground. The cards were stacking in its favour. He had just lost his job and needed the money, he was helping a father find his missing daughter and he would be going somewhere new. He remembered Mya’s hungry, dark eyes every time she looked at an unknown horizon. Her thirst for adventure, her want for the new.
“If you’ll do it,” Stockwell said, watching Leo’s conflict, “that would be great, I’d really like you to
. But if you can’t I’ll find someone else who will.” His voice quivered and he took a deep swig of the whiskey.
Leo sensed his advantage, possibly due to the alcohol, the stress of the last few days, or Stockwell’s defeatist tone.
“Alright, I’ll help you, but I’ll need fifteen grand upfront and ten more when I get there.”
Stockwell looked up at Leo and paused to give the illusion of thought. He’d spent twenty-five grand on a bottle of wine two weeks ago.
Then, attempting a warm smile, he agreed.
Chapter 16
Crossing the small square, skeletal trees forming long shadows in the late afternoon sun, Chimini looked up at the building. The building which had, over the last few weeks, become her home.
Closing the last few metres, she took a key from her pocket. This was the first time she’d ever had a key to something, the cold metal in her hand felt important and hopeful. Slotting it into the discoloured metal of the double doors, she shoved the left one open and stepped inside.
The last few weeks had been a whirlwind. Finding the place, negotiating with the owner, and finally getting the keys. Now all they needed was the furniture and the place could support them and anyone else in need.
It wasn’t until she closed the door, the rumble of the city shrinking behind the glass, that she heard the unusual noise. She stopped and listened.
“Mānisakō, Mānisakō, Mānisakō.”
It came from nearby.
“Mānisakō.”
A female voice, nothing more than a whisper, but close.
Chimini tried the only door on the ground floor. It was locked. The voice can’t have been coming from there.
Then she saw movement under the stairs.
“Mānisakō.”
The voice became closer, clearer.
Squatting down, Chimini looked into the gap beneath the stairs, used to keep the mops, buckets and brushes. In front of these, a girl sat against the wall, hands behind her head.
“Mānisakō,” she whispered to herself.
Chapter 17
Stockwell grinned, showing small, sharp, yellowed teeth as he sat opposite Leo in the bar of the Grand Hotel.
Leaning over, he lifted a concealed briefcase from the floor next to his chair. Placing it on the table between Leo and himself, he unlocked and opened it. For a few moments his face was hidden from Leo’s view as he bent to rummage through the papers before sliding a yellow folder on the table between them.
“In here is everything you’ll need. Copies of recent photographs. A description of her. Details of her interests.” He closed the briefcase and returned it to the floor.
Leo opened the folder, which contained four typed sheets of A4 paper and two photographs. He thought about how sad it was that a young lady’s life could be summarised in such a way.
Scanning through the first sheet of notes, Leo saw the details Stockwell had discussed. Allissa Marie Stockwell, currently 28 years old. Some information about university life and her interests. He would read that in detail later.
Turning over the page, Leo saw the picture of a woman. A beautiful woman; she had a bright smile, radiant eyes and in contrast to the large man sat in front of him, dark skin.
Leo’s eyes flicked between the photograph and Stockwell a number of times. Looking closely he could see similarities, but her complexion must be from her mother’s side. As though reading Leo’s thoughts, Stockwell grimaced.
Leo could see why Stockwell chose this photograph. This was the mental image he had of his daughter. Walking in the countryside, Hunter and Barbour, horses and dinner parties. The picture was clearly professionally shot, single strands of dark hair visible in the wind. Leo wondered what photo Allissa would have chosen for herself. Stockwell’s disappointment at her rejection of this life was not surprising.
“How many daughters have you got?” Leo asked, partly to fill the silence as he flicked to the second picture, partly because he felt he needed to get to know the family. Stockwell’s expression showed he hadn’t expected questions.
“Two daughters and one son,” he answered.
Leo asked a few more questions, each time resulting in the same, uncomfortable answer.
“The more I know,” Leo said, looking up from the photograph, “the better understanding I’ll have of Allissa.”
The other photo of Allissa, Leo imagined, was much truer to who she was. She sat on a beach, looking over her right shoulder at the person taking the photo. She looked healthy, happy and free. Behind her a deserted beach rolled into palm groves. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders in great sandy curls and her skin was clear and glowing.
“She sent this one to her sister about a year ago,” Stockwell said, watching Leo myopically. “It’s the most recent photograph we have. I wasn’t going to include it, but Eveline said I ought.”
“She looks happy in it, it’s a nice picture,” Leo said, unthinking. It was true, she looked far happier than in the professionally-shot countryside picture, which could have been for a horse magazine or great British days out.
Stockwell grumbled something inaudible to himself, looked at his watch and pulled a cheque book and pen from his jacket pocket.
“Fifteen thousand pounds,” Stockwell said, holding out the cheque, the gold embossed letters of the bank’s unusual logo glimmering. “Text me your account details and I’ll wire you the ten when you get to Kathmandu. I want updates every two days. Don’t think you can sit on your arse and have me pay you.” His grey eyes looked harsh as Leo reached for the cheque.
“I’ll be out there looking for your daughter,” said Leo. “But do be aware, I may not find her, and I’ll need to be paid either way.”
Stockwell held on the cheque for a moment and considered Leo. His eyes appeared to narrow.
“You will,” Stockwell said finally. “You will.”
Chapter 18
“You’ll be safe here,” Chimini said in Nepalese, helping the girl from beneath the stairs back on to her feet.
“What are you doing here?” she asked when they both stood.
The girl said nothing, just looked at her with large, dark eyes.
“Let’s go up,” Chimini said, starting towards the stairs, “we will sit down and see if we can help you.”
“Mānisako?” the girl asked, looking directly at her.
“No, there’s no men there. Just Allissa and me.”
“Allissa?” Fuli questioned, taking a step towards Chimini. “I have met Allissa.”
“That’s great then, you already know what to expect, come on.”
* * *
Having checked the rooms, the bathrooms, storage cupboards and even started to check the smaller places around the guesthouse that a person might hide, Allissa was running out of ideas. If the girl had left, gone outside, run away, there wasn’t much she could do. She would be a few streets away now.
Allissa crouched down to look beneath the final bed. Nothing. Empty.
With a grumble she sat – she knew first hand that for vulnerable women Kathmandu could be a dangerous place. Putting her hands over her eyes, Allissa hoped the girl found somewhere safe to go.
That’s what she wanted to create with the guesthouse, somewhere safe for people who desperately needed it. Allissa knew that it would be simply impossible for them to help everyone, though.
Uncovering her face, Allissa heard voices in the reception area. Chimini coming home. She was talking to someone in the tonal rhythms of Nepalese, but who?
“Allissa?” Chimini called out.
“In here,” Allissa called back.
“I found this young lady downstairs,” Chimini said, appearing at the door. Behind her the thin, vulnerable figure of the girl. Allissa couldn’t help but smile.
A few minutes later, the three women sat around the small table in the kitchen.
“This is our guesthouse,” Allissa explained, Chimini translating. “Chimini and me live here. There used to be another girl, but she got
her own place last week. She’ll be coming back to help us when we get the place up and running.”
Fuli nodded in understanding.
“How long have you been in Kathmandu?” Allissa asked.
“I don’t know,” Fuli said, staring blankly at the wall, her face a window into the abject turmoil which raged behind her eyes.
Allissa reached across the table and touched her hand; Fuli’s eyes focused on her. “You are going to be safe here,” Allissa said, “and you can stay as long as you need.”
Chapter 19
One of the wonderful things about living by the sea is the sunset. Particularly on the white-fronted terraces that line Brighton’s streets. The buildings reflect every strand of pink and orange and turquoise that the falling sun projects as it drags itself into the ocean.
On an occasional evening, when the banks of clouds have congealed across the rambling city, you think there’ll be no sunset at all. That the sun will dissolve in a wet haze between the grey sky and the grey ocean. Sometimes on these evenings, something special happens. At the last minute, the flailing sun passes a tear in the cloud and pours light through, bouncing over the ocean and across the white-fronted buildings with their closed windows and wet slate tiles. Anyone standing on the sea front or at their window at that time will marvel for a few moments as the light floods in, disappearing again as quickly as it came.
Mya and Leo sit on the ledge of his lounge window. The sash is pulled to the top, their faces in the bracing, salty evening air. Looking to the left they see the grey, unassuming sea. Heavy banks of clouds on all sides have taken a break from their soaking of the city. Gulls swoop and chat on the currents.
Mya takes two cigarettes from a packet, lights one, passes it to Leo and then lights the second. Their smoke disappears quickly in the turbulent air.
“But you’ve never travelled anywhere!” Mya says, taking a deep drag of smoke, continuing the conversation which has raged between them for weeks.
Kathmandu Page 4
