‘Okay, I’ll let you get on now. Do be careful!’
I called Nimmy next.
‘I watched the news too,’ he said. ‘It’s pretty awful. I hope she makes it.’
I took a deep breath. ‘I suspect it’s related to everything that happened last Thursday – the day I visited Bread Breakers’, the day I received that email threat, the day your drinks were spiked … Someone’s after everyone who’s involved in our campaign. I’m worried for your safety and Asha’s too. Can Asha take it easy at work and stay home for the next few days?’
‘Let’s discuss this at home, San. I’ve been lounging around in the house all day. I feel loads better. When are you getting back?’
‘In an hour or so.’
Nimmy’s voice rang with concern. ‘Sandy, you’re no safer. Just cab it home today, all right? I’ll take care of the fare.’
After I hung up, I took in my surroundings with conscious awareness for the first time since that morning. Students clad in jeans, sweatshirts and puffy windcheaters bustled in and out through the library’s main doors with brimming book bags and laptops. For a split second, I envied them. Their biggest source of concern was meeting course paper deadlines.
My biggest source of concern? Keisha. Nimmy. Asha. Me. All our lives were in danger.
9
Fracture
‘You seem tense, honey,’ Nimmy remarked when we were in my bedroom that night. ‘If you’re worried about me, don’t be. I’ve rested most of the day and I feel fine now. Rick, Sal and Carl called to ask how I was doing. We’ve sworn not to touch drinks for a while.’
He took me in his arms and brought his lips down on mine with a crushing force. I tossed my head back and closed my eyes, savouring the tingle of his kiss on my tongue. He pulled off my camisole, traced my collarbone with his tongue and fondled my breasts longingly.
‘Nimmy, I just want you to be safe. Asha too. I love you both too much to …’ I trailed off and leaned back with a moan as he suckled my breasts tenderly.
‘You’re gorgeous, Sandy,’ he breathed. ‘Do you know that? You would drive most men insane. And you’re beautiful inside. Oh, my sweet little one.’
Our union was slow, tender and sweet. He came inside me with a shuddering sigh that I hoped my soundproof bedroom door would ensure was out of earshot of the other Sawants.
‘Nimmy …’ I whispered as we lay spent in each other’s arms.
‘Want to go again?’ he murmured, fingering my navel with unrepressed desire.
‘I’d like to show you something.’
He sat back on his heels in bed. ‘Go on.’
I hopped off the bed, yanked a printout of Bloodfonso’s email from my bag and handed it to Nimmy.
‘Good heavens!’ he exclaimed after reading it.
‘Nimmy, I know Gary at the Holborn police station wasn’t all that helpful when we reported the spiked drinks to him. But it may be worth showing Bloodfonso’s email to him and telling him our suspicions that you were being followed yesterday. When we saw him the other day, you never did tell him what you told me: that you were being followed from your office. Did you tell him that?’
Nimmy shook his head.
‘To be fair, Gary did finally say he’ll try to get a copy of that CCTV footage from Corney and Barrow to look into who spiked your drinks,’ I went on. ‘I’m considering seeing him again, because …’
‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea,’ Nimmy said.
‘Why not?’ I protested. ‘Because, at this point, the situation is different. Charlotte has become the next victim now. No one knows whether she’ll make it. Do you think these are all coincidences? Come on, Nimmy … it’s a no-brainer. They’re all related. Someone’s afraid we’ll discover something. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. There’s something fishy going on at Bread Breakers’. And now they’re going to sterilise Asha. I’m dying to report that care home as well.’
Nimmy flew across the bed and clasped my shoulders with surprising strength for a man who was just recovering from a drug overdose.
‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ he snarled, rattling me back and forth like a poker chip. He brought his face close to mine and grit his teeth. ‘If you must go to the police, do not bring up Asha.’ He released his hold on me. In a second, his hardened expression transformed to that of a little boy who had just lost his puppy.
‘Please,’ he whispered. ‘You know why I’m not in favour of that. Our family has gone to great pains to keep what happened to Asha under wraps. If it’s ever released to the public, even the police, and if my parents find out I was party to that, they’ll blow their fuse and disown me. No holds barred. And you know how the police are. They’ll dig for information, search for witnesses, interrogate people and it’ll all come out in the open.’
‘I …’ I was at a loss for words. ‘Well, I don’t know how receptive the police will be, but we must at least try and alert them for our own safety, if not anything else. I won’t bring Asha up. But I do think I must report what I saw at Bread Breakers’. I don’t know how safe those kids are or where the hell they’re taken when they get older.’
‘If you must,’ Nimmy sulked, drawing his legs to his chin as he sat back on the bed.
I reached out for his hand. ‘I’d like you to come along.’
He swatted my hand away. We both sat silently for a few moments.
‘I suppose it does make sense to tell Gary that someone was on my heels the other day,’ he agreed at last.
‘Thanks, Nimmy.’ I slid off the bed and slipped into my camisole. ‘What did Rick and Sal say when they called you today?’
The question caught Nimmy off-guard. ‘Huh? Why?’
‘Well, I’m wondering what they said to you after leaving you alone in a cab when you were in that state.’
‘What are you suggesting?’
I walked up to him and held his face in my hands. ‘Be careful,’ I pleaded.
‘Rick called and apologised over and over again for leaving early and not being around,’ Nimmy admitted. ‘But it isn’t his fault anyway. He was completely shocked when he heard about it from Carl. Sal and Carl said they were pretty high themselves. Carl had brought some E from a house party he’d attended last week. And he and Sal downed one each with their drink. So, they couldn’t think clearly enough to understand that I might’ve had to have someone with me.’ He sighed. ‘Anyway, I’m feeling sleepy. I’ll head back to my room now. Nighty night.’
Feeling high on E, were they? I thought as Nimmy slipped out of my room. Carl didn’t tell me that.
13 March
At the Holborn police station next morning, Gary Thompson glanced at a copy of Bloodfonso’s email on the desk before him and scratched his chin thoughtfully.
‘I can have the tech guys trace the IP address,’ he suggested. ‘Since there’s no actual crime involved, I can’t say how much attention it will receive though. That note could just be an inane prank.’
There we go again.
Well – at least, I was trying to see if he would be more serious about my case after what had happened to Charlotte.
‘This could lead to a crime. A big one. Especially since it seems to be related to the Corney and Barrow incident,’ I said aloud.
Nimmy, who had just revealed his suspicion that he had been followed to Corney and Barrow, looked exhausted.
‘We don’t have solid evidence of that,’ Gary said. ‘But I’ll see what I can do.’
‘What about Charlotte Hale’s car crash?’ I began.
‘The Westminster police are working on it,’ Gary cut in tersely. ‘We have Ms Blue’s testimony. The security guards played back CCTV clippings of the car crash. The traffic police have seen it in-situ. They’re tracing the owner of the vehicle that rammed into Ms Hale’s car. I’ll have an officer contact that pub for CCTV footage. That should take about two-three weeks.’
‘Thank you, Officer,’ I said. The possibility of foul play hammered into my t
houghts with renewed persistence. ‘I think it’s all related. The death threat, the spiking incident and Charlotte’s car crash,’ I added.
Gary rose from his seat and shook our hands crisply. ‘We’ll find out.’
14 March
The despondence in the air belied the colourful décor in Topaz’s office lobby when I stepped in next day at noon. Paintings of Rembrandt, Raphael and Hans von Aachen dotted the bright yellow walls, and a mini-fig scale desk, designed like a Lego set, sat across the entrance. A stocky receptionist ushered me into Megan’s cubicle.
‘Charlotte has stabilised but her condition may remain unchanged for weeks,’ Megan reported.
‘How are things at the office?’ I inquired.
‘Not pretty. Our co-director, Becka is handling most of Charlotte’s affairs now.’
‘You remember what that doc said when we were outside the ICU on Monday? He said Char was mumbling something that sounds like “horse” – when she was wheeled into the emergency ward,’ I mentioned gently.
Megan nodded.
‘Well, the doc asked if we knew what Char may have been trying to say. Did you figure out what she may have meant?’
Megan raised a brow querulously. ‘How will that help anything?’
‘It could,’ I said uncertainly. ‘Maybe the guy who ran her down is a horse-rider, you know …’
Megan’s eyes widened. ‘I haven’t the foggiest,’ she admitted finally. ‘And she won’t talk anytime soon either. Not as long as she remains in a coma.’
‘All right, let me know if you need anything,’ I managed, hoping I hadn’t sounded like an idiot.
‘Thanks, San.’ She saw me out.
I walked across the Southwark pier, staring absently at a mariner mooring a boat on the banks of the Thames. A deadly thought struck me. I spun on my heel and retraced my steps to the Topaz building. The receptionist looked on, puzzled, as I mumbled a hurried apology at the desk and hustled back into Megan’s cubicle.
‘We need police security at Kings,’ I said. ‘Charlotte might still be on the attacker’s radar.’
‘We have a police liaison officer and some security folks patrolling Charlotte’s ward at Kings,’ I updated Keisha on the phone later that evening.
‘Blimey,’ Keisha mumbled.
‘Have we begun work on the exposé yet?’ I prodded, glancing around me at the steady flow of traffic on Kingsway as I proceeded towards the Holborn Underground after classes at LSE.
‘We’re starting next Monday. Nineteenth March. By the way, I’m just came back from a meeting with Jeff Stuart from SIGNAL. He’s cheesed off that we’re delaying the tour for a bit.’
‘All well with Jeff?’
‘I guess he needs some pacifying,’ Keisha replied.
‘About what? Did we tell Jeff about Char’s accident or the Bread Breakers’ incident?’
‘I don’t see how or why the Bread Breakers’ incident is relevant,’ Keisha pointed out. ‘Anyway – Alfred wants me to step into Charlotte’s shoes and run the show now.’
‘Wow. You don’t sound too happy about that though. What’s eating you?’
Keisha sighed. ‘I don’t know. Charlotte is the face of Streetsmart. I’m not sure how the public will respond to a new person … even if it’s my own show.’
I approached the Holborn station. I ducked into an adjacent confectionary store to carry on our conversation in case the phone reception waned when I stepped underground.
‘Don’t be silly, Kiki,’ I chided.
‘If I’d had my way, I would’ve jumped in on the Bread Breakers’ story right away,’ Keisha said. ‘But this film I’ve been busy with was keeping that on hold for a few days. We wrapped up the final shoot this morning. It goes on air next week. The Bread Breakers’ story is my highest priority now. I’m done playing the role of a minion and pandering to people’s egos.’
I didn’t know what to say. The fact that she had just concluded a major documentary should have given her a reason to celebrate. Instead, she sounded overworked, jaded and dejected.
‘Kiki, are you safe?’ I began, but Keisha cut in.
‘I’m getting away for a bit. Ken and I are leaving for Cornwall tomorrow morning. We’ll be back Sunday night. Might do me good to clear my head for a while.’
‘Ken? Your boyfriend?’ I didn’t mean to pry, but she didn’t sound like herself.
‘Hell, no. He’s a guy I just met.’
‘Whoa, where did you both meet?’
‘At The Globe. He’s an investor relations manager at IBM,’ Keisha said, sounding relaxed for the first time since her call. ‘Some school kids were attending a special performance of Macbeth. We were doing a short feature on it for the BBC. IBM sponsored it.’
A pang of uneasiness engulfed the pleasant sensation of being a part of Keisha’s fantasy story. ‘Why’re you going away with him for a weekend when you’ve barely known him for a few weeks?’ I spluttered.
‘I think you should mind your own business, San,’ Keisha said coolly.
‘I’m concerned about you, Kiki,’ I said, taken aback. ‘Does he know anything about Lionheart, Bread Breakers’ and whatever else?’ I cringed when I realised that it was I who sounded like the boss now.
‘Just this and that about Lionheart …’ Keisha said dismissively. ‘If Jeff emails, mention that some unexpected contingencies are causing a mild delay in the tour. I’ll handle the rest when I return from Cornwall.’
Asha Sawant’s hysterectomy was scheduled at 3.00 p.m. on Twenty-ninth March.
‘She’s made up her mind,’ Nimmy said sadly when we were in my bedroom that night.
Shailaja had herself told Nimmy about it after he returned home from work this evening. He had tried to dissuade his mother from putting Asha through the surgery and proposed alternatives. But Shailaja threatened to disown him if he kicked up a racket about it.
‘I don’t think I can do much more without incurring their wrath,’ Nimmy added.
‘Are they—are they, you know …’ I spluttered for the right words. ‘Is it a surgery where they’re removing her uterus, ovaries, and fallopian tubes?’
Nimmy nodded ‘As far as I understand it, that appears to be the case, yes. All we can do is pray that her surgery goes well and hope she gets better after it.’
‘What does that mean?’ I demanded sternly. ‘Did you read up on the effects of such a hysterectomy?’
‘I did,’ Nimmy said, curling his toes uncomfortably.
‘Then?’ I demanded. ‘Are you saying you’re going to let them go ahead with that plan? Do you think they’re doing this so that Asha gets better? Don’t kid yourself, Nimmy. If menstrual hygiene is really their biggest concern, there are other alternatives to manage that. They probably give a tinker’s damn if she gets raped or not, so long as no one screams blue murder. But they’re certainly afraid their honour will be tarnished if she gets pregnant again. So, of course – they’d rather have “all of it out”, if that also means not having to deal with her period in the process. It’s no different from an honour killing.’
Nimmy jumped up from the bed and stood before me, glowering furiously. I scrambled to the other side of the bed. ‘Are you calling my parents murderers?’ he snarled, hauling me towards him. I struggled to pull myself away, but he gripped my arm tightly. I dissolved into a bout of coughs. ‘Nimmy, I-I’m asthmatic …’ I gasped, straining across the bed to reach for my inhaler.
‘I don’t care!’ he said coldly, but he let go of me.
I massaged my chest and grabbed my inhaler. ‘You—you had no right to grab my arm like that, no goddamn right,’ I wheezed in between puffs. ‘How dare you? I’m trying to say a hysterectomy for … for someone who’s already suffering so much … without her consent and awareness … that’s a human rights violation. I didn’t call your parents murderers.’
Nimmy glared at me. ‘You just did. And you do know Asha is in no position to take informed decisions.’
‘That doesn�
�t matter. No licensed gynaecologist would recommend such a surgery for Asha. Even in a genuine case where such a surgery is required for a person who can’t provide an informed consent, a court approval is required.’
‘Are you a lawyer?’ Nimmy jeered.
‘Well, you lead M&A advisory in some lousy sector at Deutsche. Don’t you know anything about your own country? I’ve been here less than a year, I’m not even out of my teens yet, and I’m a freaking student. And I seem to know much more about these things than you do. Are you mentally retarded?’
A searing blow stung my jaw. I flew backwards and slammed against the wall behind me. A pile of books and CDs on top of the bookshelf next to me crashed down, missing my head by inches. A flurry of stars danced before my eyes. I remembered the blazing resolve with which Ritchie had held me in his arms in the LSE library after we read that email from Bloodfonso. And here Nimmy was, pummeling the daylights out of me when all I was trying to do was convince him that a hysterectomy wouldn’t be in Asha’s best interests or the Sawants’. Both events were unrelated, but my recollection of Ritchie’s courage and reassurance kindled a violent pang for him. I lay rumpled on the floor and sobbed. Nimmy knelt beside me and stroked my hair, mumbling apologies. I swatted his hand away and edged along the wall tremulously.
‘What can I do, Sandy?’ Nimmy wailed. ‘I feel like I’m being stretched taut between you and my family. And my love for Asha is the line that’s being stretched to its limits. Everything you say makes sense … but I’m afraid to break the yardsticks my parents have put up to preserve their bloody honour. I’ll lose their love if I go to the cops or raise a hue and cry about Asha’s surgery!’
I rose unsteadily to my feet. ‘You hit me. Do you realise that?’
‘Good heavens, I didn’t mean to,’ Nimmy spluttered.
I slid out of my camisole and shrugged into my jumper. ‘I’ve a good mind to report you to the police too, for what you just did.’
‘Gosh, Sandy.’
‘I’d bloody slap you myself, but I just won’t stoop down to that level. You’re fucking pathetic. A person who can’t face himself. A coward. Now, that stings, doesn’t it?’
Victims for Sale Page 14
