Good Girl Bad Girl

by Ann Girdharry

“Are the children ready?” asked Mr Singh.

  The woman bobbed her head in reply. “Shall I bring them out?”

  “I hope you impressed on them what an honour this is,” Mr Singh said, “Dr Scott wishes to be discreet. He doesn't want the other children to know or they'll be jealous they haven't been chosen. Nobody is to know about this, you understand? That is our Founder’s prime concern.”

  “Of course sir, I didn’t tell anyone, and they've been dressed exactly as you asked. They're very excited and a little nervous.” The nurse spoke rapidly, barely lifting her eyes from the ground.

  “Excellent. They'll be well taken care of and as it's likely the evening will end late, I've arranged for them to spend the night in the children’s home. Matron will make all the arrangements. Now please bring them to the office building straightaway. Oh, and as a thank you for your help, Dr Scott has agreed for you to take time off to visit your family. They live some way from here I understand, and you have leave to travel to visit them first thing in the morning, Dr Scott will fund your fare.”

  “Th... that's most generous of him,” the woman stammered.

  “Not at all,” said Mr Singh, “now please escort the children.”

  Clever. If any questions were asked the nurse would be off-site. Probably her family lived several day's journey away, which meant the woman would stay three or four weeks. The cost of travel demanded it. The assistant disappeared inside. Mr Singh checked around him, then headed back the way he'd come.

  Kal itched so much to get inside the fire door that a muscle in her calf began twitching. Mr Singh passed her hiding place and kept going. She forced herself to count to four and she managed to get to two and a half before she took her chance and ran for the open door. Mr Singh's stride didn't miss a beat - his mind already occupied.

  Inside the hospital, she followed the sounds of excitement and found three children clustered around the assistant in a therapy room. There were two girls and one boy and the woman was fussing with the hair of one of the girls. All three children were dressed in lavish silk, shalwar kameez tunics and close-fitting matching leggings. One of the girls was dressed in red and the other girl and boy in pale blue. The girl in red Kal recognised as Amita, whom she’d watched threading the beads. The colours of the silk were lovely and all three children had shining brown eyes, and it was the children's radiant expressions which most caught at Kal because it was like they believed they were going to a party.

  She stood firm and solid in the doorway and crossed her arms. “Dr Scott has changed his mind.”

  The assistant stopped, holding the hair-brush in mid-air. Surprise and nervousness played across her face. “What do you mean?”

  “Dr Scott wants you to leave the compound immediately to visit your family.”

  The woman looked astonished.

  “Your family lives some days away, so the sooner you leave the sooner you'll arrive.”

  “That's impossible.”

  Kal produced a fat wad of rupee notes. “Go to the entrance and instruct the guard to call you a taxi and you can wait at the train depot until the morning. I'm sure your train will leave at an early hour and you can take advantage to queue for your ticket.”

  Many poor families stayed overnight at the depot and lots of passengers slept in the queue outside the ticket office, otherwise the wait to get a ticket could take hours.

  The nurse’s eyes fixed on the wad of money and Kal waved it backwards and forwards. Perhaps the woman had never been offered so much cash in her life. Probably she earned a paltry wage and normally saw her family once a year, saving solicitously for that one trip. Most likely she'd pocket the offering and borrow a bicycle to pedal into town, then she could share all her good fortune with her family.

  Kal saw the last hurdle arising in the woman's mind and pre-empted it. “Don't worry about the children. I've been instructed to take them over to Dr Scott. Quickly now, we mustn't keep him waiting and give me your tunic, I'll put it in the laundry for you. Now go!”

  By injecting urgency, she panicked the woman. She thrust the wad of notes into the nurse’s hand and hustled her out the door. The three children stood in awe. At their round, innocent eyes Kal almost backed out. Almost grabbed them and ran for it, knowing that if she did the abuse would carry on, not with these children but with others. She had no way of knowing how many children had been taken over to the suite in the past. A thought like that could pull her down. Make her useless. No. She must fight. Do what she did best. Do everything in her power to make sure this stopped. With corrupt police prepared to overlook a murder she had no other way of closing down the operation except with concrete evidence. She must get her own proof and find out who kept the master record. Kal dug deep. She must keep her nerve.

  She spoke her promise out loud. “Don't worry. I'm not going to let any harm come to you.”

  The children nodded in unison, totally out of their depth. Kal wanted to hear their voices, perhaps she wanted to reassure herself that everything would be all right.

  “How do I look?” she asked.

  “You look lovely,” Amita said.

  With a tug, Kal tightened the knot of her Muslim-style, head-covering. Her hands shook.

  Back at the dormitory, she’d barely recognised herself. She'd tucked every strand of hair inside the headscarf and folded the fabric so low down her forehead it almost met her eyebrows. And those eyebrows, for the first time in her life, Kal had plucked mercilessly to the thinnest of lines. With just her eyes, nose and mouth prominent and her features so Indian, it offered the perfect camouflage, and she’d delved into Jasodra's wardrobe and borrowed a plain, cotton shalwar kameez, somewhat dull. Only her voice and accent would give her away. Over the top of her disguise, Kal donned the blue nurse’s tunic. Perfect.

  The children watched in silence.

  “Wait here a few minutes you three. I'll be back in a moment,” she said.

  Kal went outside and waited at the fire exit. How long would it take for Scott to get impatient and send Mr Singh to speed things up? Not long, she'd guess. She waited - four minutes, five. Mr Singh came hurrying across the compound and Kal placed her body in the shadow, leaving only the bottom part of her leg and foot trailing in the pool of light.

  Mr Singh wasn’t happy. “What on earth is going on? What’s the delay?”

  He stopped short when it wasn't the person he expected. Kal saw him double-take, trying to place her. No recognition registered on his face. Good. Her cover was sound.

  Stepping forward, she knocked him out with one swift blow. Mr Singh fell like a log. “There's been a change of plan,” she said.

  ***

  On her way past the office, Kal clocked one bodyguard sitting at matron's desk, bored, with his two feet resting on the desk. The second guard lounged at the steel door. He could be more of a problem.

  As Kal approached the private suite with the children, his eyes tracked her and he licked his lips.

  “Hello, sweetie, what’ve we got here then?”

  He wore a white t-shirt which displayed his biceps. With a London accent and sharp eyes, unlike his colleague he was alert. He flicked the loose end of her head scarf with his finger. She noticed his powerful neck and thickset hands. Certainly he was someone who’d invested in years of sweat down the gym. Bench presses might be his speciality.

  “Why the modesty? What have you got you want to cover up?” His eyes trailed down her body.

  She considered decking him then and there. It would be possible only the children would be spooked. One of them might scream, and if she didn’t get the body guard in one, he’d retaliate. Sounds could filter to the suite or back to the office.

  “It's the children for Dr Scott and his guest,” she said. No fears about him recognising her, he'd never met her.

  “In you go then,” he said.

  The man reached out and brushed his hand over her breast. Kal stamped down her violent reaction and kept walking. The guard snickered. That punk
is dead meat, she thought.

  To prevent the children from bunching up behind, she held the hand of the little boy as they entered the lounge. Before walking across the floor, she took off her long shawl and pulled a chair out, draping the shawl over its back so that the fringe trailed to the ground.

  Then Kal walked across the first Persian rug, Tommy's phone bumping against her leg. She hadn't risked telling Tommy why she needed it, just said it was urgent. It had a camera and a limited video capacity and it would be enough. All she needed to do was find a way to conceal herself in the suite.

  Scott reclined on the couch and Boris in one of the armchairs, an empty glass in his hand.

  “Come in children and don't be shy. Come and sit on the rug,” Scott said. He indicated for the children to make themselves comfortable on the carpet in front of him.

  “Where's that Mr Singh got to? I want a clean glass. You,” Boris pointed a bejewelled finger in Kal’s direction, “get me four glasses.”

  Leaving the children kneeling on the rug, she walked to the rear of the lounge to the kitchen door. Neither of the men had so far even looked at her. Lowly staff clearly didn't command any attention. Perfect. She opened the cabinets, listening to the conversation in the lounge.

  “I like the one in the red costume,” Boris said.

  Kal almost dropped a glass in the sink. The one in red was Amita.

  “Sit next to me and tell me your name.” said Boris. ”Well, Richard, as I’ve told you before, this is an amazing set-up.”

  “There are no birth records, the children have no identity, in the eyes of the Indian government they don't even exist. The communication between the hospital and the home is kept deliberately poor. If anyone bothers to wonder, which they won’t, they'll think the children stayed at the home.” Scott sounded smug. “It can be left indefinitely because nobody cares or wants to ask questions. On top of that, Christina's got her head buried in her research so none of her team want to cause a problem and Mark's having an affair with an Indian doctor, so they're all more than fully occupied.”

  So Mark and Christina weren't aware of the existence of the suite. That meant two targets less. Kal placed the glasses on a tray.

  “Only the old matron put the dots together and poked around and it was easy to dispose of her. I guarantee you Boris, for the rest of them, their narrow imaginations and tedious pre-occupations won't allow them to even consider the possibility and that's our safety. Denial and stupidity will preside,” Scott said.

  Careful to walk modestly and not stride, Kal went back into the lounge and placed the tray on a coffee table beside Boris. Boris lifted the decanter and poured spirits into four glasses. He wore a smart suit and had removed his jacket and tie, so that his pale skin revealed itself through the open neck of his shirt. From her position at the side, she could see a fat, purple vein worming its way down his neck towards his chest, where it joined a tracery of blue lines. The veins suggested he was either too hot in the air conditioned room or he was in an aroused state. In contrast, Scott appeared stone cold sober. Totally in control. As she stared at the back of Boris’ head, Kal had to work hard not to clench her teeth – she must be careful to maintain herself as insignificant and as nondescript as possible in every way.

  She loitered out of their direct line of sight and, more importantly, out of range of the two-way mirror and the recording equipment hidden behind it. Even given her position away from the couch, with a swift and accurate action she knew she could reach and take the life from Boris and not be caught on camera. He'd struggle. He was large but he had little fight in him. He'd go down. Scott most likely would intervene and certainly he'd alert the bodyguard. But she wasn't a killer. Or was she?

  “Boris, my private jet is on standby to take you back to London, so leave whenever you wish and Mr Singh will look after all your needs. I've business in New Delhi so you can return without me,” Scott said.

  As Boris grunted in response, Kal registered a sudden tension in Scott's upper shoulders. On some subliminal level, he'd picked up a danger signal and his eyes swivelled in her direction. She controlled her breathing and trained her gaze on the children, pretending not to notice his stare.

  Meanwhile Boris handed a glass to each child. “Drink up,” he said.

  Scott's eyes remained on her. Kal could imagine them - grey, dispassionate, icy. The tension mounted as she waited for Scott’s brain to work through the permutations. She concentrated on maintaining a low demeanour, letting her chest and shoulders cave in a subservient fashion, keeping any tightness from her features and ready at any moment to respond with violence. Amita raised a glass and looked at her and Kal gave the girl a slight smile, coyly inclining her head. After that, Scott turned away.

  “There's only one piece of equipment you may not be familiar with,” Scott said, rising to his feet.

  Whilst she had the opportunity, Kal mimed a tipping movement with her hand, indicating to the children to spill their drinks on the carpet. Now Scott returned with the black control unit on his palm.

  “I won't spoil the surprise for you, Boris, but if you press this switch it will give a whole new dimension to the word 'helpless'. I think you'll find it most enjoyable.”

  The room offered few opportunities for a hiding place. The most convenient would be the spy cubicle though she was betting that's where Scott would be heading. He'd put a hard drive in place and remove it later. Maybe he'd stay to watch. She could take Scott out but that would complicate matters and warn him of a threat. Kal quickly considered the other options. Kitchen - no. Entrance hallway - yes. She'd have to take out the snickering guard and that would be a pleasure.

  Scott clicked his fingers in her direction. “You, girl, what are you hanging around for? Get back to the hospital.”

  Kal bowed her head just as the assistant had done in deference to Mr Singh, and she shuffled from the room. In a few steps she was back at the threshold of the corridor.

  “Finished already?” asked the guard and he put his leg out to prevent her going any further.

  The man had tone and strength. If he'd been less of an arrogant asshole, he'd have been able to use his combat skills too. As it was, Kal had all the advantages - surprise, preparation and a mountain of motivation. She went for his kidneys. His weak spot. Possibly a genetic tendency and given away by his puffy, blotchy complexion and sagging, purple circles under his eyes. Organ weaknesses and other physiological problems could often be identified by a facial diagnosis. She got in two full power strikes, right on target. The guard doubled, and she could almost hear the squelch of damaged tissue from his internal organs. She followed with an elbow strike up under his jaw, hearing the satisfying crunch of the cervicals at the base of his neck as the small joints whipped out of line. One more strike to the temple and he was down. That would keep him out for the count.

  Kal spotted the hilt of a handgun sticking from the back of his belt. She yanked it out in disgust. Now she listened carefully. No movement came from inside the apartment, nor from the direction of the office. Good.

  It took longer than she liked to haul the body into the stationery supplies store. After, she returned to crouch by the door of the suite.

  “I'll leave you to entertain yourself, my friend.”

  Scott sounded close, almost on top of her. Damn. Had she miscalculated? Was he leaving the apartment? She'd have to take him down. But no, Scott didn’t exit. Of course, he was pretending to leave for Boris' benefit. Instead of coming out into the corridor, she heard Scott open the door to the bathroom. He was heading for the spy cubicle. The gamble would be how long he'd stay there but she'd have to take the risk.

  Neutralise all your opponents, commanded the voice of her father. This time, Kal ignored David Khan. Returning to the office to deal with the second guard would take too much time. Most likely he was snoring by now, burning off his dinner and she'd left the children alone for too long.

  Kal crept across the hallway and approached the lounge. Sh
e took out Tommy's phone and got down on her belly. Using her elbows and propelling herself with her toes, she crawled inside. She knew exactly where she'd have cover from the observation mirror and where not. As she inched forward, the trailing ends of her headscarf kept snagging under her forearms, holding her up. Her clothing felt restrictive and far too hot. She was taking too long. Take it steady, she told herself, you can do this. Salty sweat began running down, stinging her eyes. Once well inside the lounge, from her position on the floor, she took a shot of the bed, the iron rings and the steel cabinet. Damn. What she lacked was a clear shot of Boris.

  Over on the couch, Boris was talking to Amita, telling her not to be frightened. If Boris so much as touched Amita, she swore she’d finish him. Meanwhile, Kal realised the chair she'd positioned with the shawl shielding the view to the mirror, had been pushed aside. If she moved further into the room she'd have no cover to hide her from Scott's view. An edge of panic crept in. She’d over-stretched. She wasn’t going to make it. Stay focused, she commanded herself, make it work.

  She'd have to take out Scott after all, then come back to deal with Boris. As Kal wriggled back towards the door, one of the children gave a frightened squeal. She scooted backwards faster and just as she regained the hallway, something hard jammed into the back of her rib-cage. A gun.

  “Get up. Quietly.”

  The voice had an eastern European accent. It must be the second bodyguard, the one from the office.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.

  Had he seen the phone in her hand? Did he know she'd been taking pictures? No, she'd concealed it fast. She stood up and turned around. Made her eyes large and scared, made her lip tremble as she spoke.

  “I... I'm sorry, I was searching for the bathroom.”

  “On your hands and knees, yeah, tell me about it sweet cheeks.”

  As he leered close, she saw the cracked skin on his bottom lip. Smelt his fetid breath. But the gun had dipped.

  Kal grabbed his arm and drove his firing hand diagonally across his body and down. Struck him direct to his face then up under the ribs. He fell off balance though he kept an iron grasp on the weapon. It fired. The explosion resounded deafening in the hallway. She kept her grip on the man’s firing arm and smashed his hand against the wall. He dropped the gun. He wasn't in as good a shape as his partner. He'd put on a bit of weight. As he made to push upright she went straight for his stomach. Pam, pam, pam. He swung at her with a vicious upper-cut. He must be a boxer. She should watch out. His strikes would come like lightning and full power. Likely he’d go for her head. He struck again and the edge of it caught her temple. Kal snaked her upper body away so that his follow up missed by a fraction. She felt the air on her cheek as his fist sped past. At the same time, a tiny part of her sensed a change in the environment - she anticipated the bathroom door opening and fired a kick behind her at the floor lamp and it smashed to the ground, plunging the hallway into darkness. Then she flew low at the bodyguard’s legs, pinning his knees together and the two of them crashed to the floor. As Scott entered the hallway, there was a rapid triangle of light and then the lights inside the bathroom automatically shut off. Scott practically fell over them as he staggered through the chaos of limbs.