The more he spoke, the more Greeves reminded her of a blood-sucking leech, growing bloated on the spoils of his career. Kal put aside her camera and all pretence they were here for ScottBioTec. All three of them knew there was another agenda.
She gave Greeves a straight look. “That's an intriguing comment.”
“Yes, isn't it?” Greeves said.
The calculating side of her mind inspected and turned over each phrase of their conversation. If she were to speculate, she’d say Greeves was leading up to making an offer to a minion. He’d try to broker a deal.
“I never met your mother but she has a formidable reputation as a seeker of the truth. I'm sure when some people think of her name it makes them shudder,” Greeves said, “and quite rightly too.”
Scott pushed away his cup. “Alesha was a champion of justice, not so different from yourself, Randall.”
“Quite right, quite right,” Greeves said wiping a dark drop of coffee from his second chin. “However, in my experience it’s always prudent to consider if sometimes...” he gave her an oily look, “we should put our own needs before justice for the many. Particularly those of us that start out…” here Greeves scanned her shalwar kameez again, “with a disadvantage.”
“That reminds me Randall, didn't you tell me a friend of yours is on the lookout for new talent? That's why I thought to introduce you to Kal,” Scott said.
Her skin crawled.
“Ah yes, you must be thinking of Terrence Humphries, he's always hunting for bright, new recruits. At our Gentleman's Club, he mentioned to me the other day how lacking he finds his top creative team. The poor fellow.”
“Terrence Humphries, you mean the head of PrizM with media supremacy in Europe and the prime provider in Hong Kong, Malaysia and Japan?” she said.
Both Scott and Greeves studied her as if she were an insect under the magnifying glass. Kal allowed her fingers to play with the strap of her camera. She licked her lips and made her eyes a little wider as if she were impressed and a bit over-awed and yet tried to hide it.
“Why yes, as I said, contacts are everything,” Greeves replied. He took another sip from his cup. “In exchange for a little matter of information, well, the world could be one's oyster.”
And there she had it. The very reason she'd been brought here in the first place. The idea she'd floated at the Gala had struck home and Scott suspected Alesha had left evidence. That perhaps evidence had been gathered too at the research institute, and they were willing to trade for it. It was logical they’d attempt a bribe before giving themselves the difficulty of disposing of another dead body.
She licked her lips. “Well, I don't know what to say,” she said, as if they'd de-railed her. As if she might really be tempted by the lure of help up the ladder and the possibility of success and opportunities for the rest of her life.
“Early in one's career is such an important stage, isn't it Richard?” Greeves said. “One tiny misjudgement at such a sensitive time can mean one never achieves one’s full potential.”
Greeves’ tone had changed slightly. Not so oily. A bit tighter.
“We agreed not to be impatient didn’t we, Randall? I always believe in giving a person time to reflect on important decisions,” Scott said, “and to understand the good intent of her benefactors.”
As perceptible as the wind shifting to a northerly direction, she felt Scott's energy change, much as she’d experienced during his recounts of her past at the Gala.
She resisted the urge to wrap her arms across her chest. The leather settee creaked as she uncrossed and recrossed her legs and when she tried to read Scott’s intentions, she had a dreadful, chilling premonition. A sudden perspiration flecked her top lip.
The very shelves of the library seemed to inch forward, hemming her in. Scott placed his coffee cup on the table, the spoon rattling in the saucer. He stared straight at her.
“I suppose you've always had questions about David Khan.”
Her presentiment had been correct. At the mention of her father's name, a cold sweat broke out on her back.
Scott's lips formed into a slow smile.
On her other side, Greeves' inspection bored into her. On entering the room, she'd tried not to be positioned between them, however it had been impossible to avoid. Now she felt sandwiched. To control an overwhelming desire to flee, she bit the inside of her mouth.
Scott leaned back in his chair. “I thought that would get your attention.”
Scott spoke every word deliberately and she was sure he relished each one.
“Khan was an interesting man. I watched his activities for years. Tell me, Kal, did he ever tell you he wasn’t really a journalist? That he worked for the main heroin cartel in Pakistan? That he foiled anti-drug offensives for them? That he succeeded in infiltrating the highest levels of American intelligence services? That he was highly skilled in his field and rose up the echelons to become the cartel’s top expert?”
Blood thundered in Kal’s ears.
“… as I recall, he was complicit in numerous deaths of anti-drug trade personnel…”
The books behind Scott’s head blurred, their titles swimming together.
“… and lethal hits on their families.”
She pressed her lips together to stop herself from screaming.
“You must have been consumed since childhood by unanswered questions about his activities. Of course, I don’t expect you to take my word for it. Rather, as a token of our goodwill, Judge Greeves and I have decided to offer you the answers you’ve been seeking.”
Scott placed a slip of paper on the coffee table. It was folded in two, so she couldn't see the contents.
“It's the name of a contact. You'll find him in Soho and I think you'll find what he has to say most illuminating,” Scott said.
She sat unmoving, staring at the paper. She understood that she should never touch it. That she should resist the temptation with every fibre of her being.
“Go on, take it,” Scott said, “and then I hope we can get all this unpleasantness out of the way. You can give us what we want and we can all carry on as if nothing happened.”
Even Greeves seemed to crane forward. Kal fought her own desire, her own longing to quell the agony of not knowing, to finally have the answers. A silence fell in the library. Then with a trembling arm and as if on automatic, her hand reached out and grasped the white slip of paper.
Chapter Thirty-eight
In another couple of weeks, the bluebells at the Royal Botanical Gardens at Kew would be in full bloom. Then the grove would be a sweeping haze of purple-blue, just like on her mother’s postcard. Now, the mass of dark green, ankle-deep leaves spread out in front of her. Alesha always loved this place. Away from the more popular hot houses, tucked on the western side of the gardens, the grove was a haven. Kal pushed her hands deeper into her pockets.
She'd left Scott and Greeves in the library. On her way out, the butler kindly offered her a yellow rose and Kal had the impression he guessed she’d been deeply shaken. Walking out of the quiet crescent and into busy Marylebone Road, she’d found comfort in the everyday crowds with everybody going about their normal business, rushing here and there, life carrying on. Not grinding to a halt under the crushing weight of black news.
Tucked in a corner, a solitary bench offered the perfect spot. The wooden slats creaked as she sat down.
Crisp and clear, the air spoke of early spring. Kal took a deep breath. David Khan had loved her and she him. That’s why she’d never questioned any of his tutoring. She’d been a willing student because she adored him.
She withdrew the slip of paper. Yes, she had plenty to fear. In finding the truth about her father she must face the truth about herself. Kal looked up at the sun, savouring its warmth. She wondered if the world would ever look the same again. Then she unfolded the slip of paper.
Chapter Thirty-nine
A deafening inferno crackled around her. Towering flames seared her body, meltin
g her flesh to her bones. Kal fought on, endlessly, always unable to reach the child. The scene shifted - fierce heat charred her forearms to charcoal as she struggled to free her mother, who slumped lifeless in her seat, trapped behind the steering wheel, a perfect round hole in her forehead as the car was consumed by flames.
Kal bolted upright, fumbling for the light switch. With a crash, her mug fell to the floor and shattered. She threw aside the sweat-soaked sheets.
Checking her hands and forearms, she found them intact, not two charred stumps crumbling to black dust. Kal bent her head to her knees and sobbed.
Chapter Forty
I made my leap Christmas night. Young, at thirty-six, you’d say, but I’d been hungering for it. Hungering for so long.
I’d carried out my small experiments. The appetisers. But the first time it made me weep – with gratitude for my father’s legacy. With ecstasy. I soared to the skies as I’d seen him do through the crack in those old, mahogany doors. The exhilaration, the power – I was a god.
Once tasted, never forgotten. I became a connoisseur. And I kept a catalogue, re-playing those last sweet moments. Relishing. Enjoying again and again. And inventing new procedures to wring out my pleasure just as he had done.
Chapter Forty-one
Kal met Detective Inspector Spinks in St James Park.
“You must keep me up to date with whatever Scott and Greeves suggest,” Spinks said, “don’t presume they will do as they say, they’re likely to have several strategies in action at the same time. Now, please prepare yourself, I’ve disturbing news regarding your father and grandfather's deaths.”
She still felt raw and exposed by Scott’s revelations; like an animal that needs time alone and peace to heal its wounds. Of course, she could take no time nor attention for herself. She must carry on. She must break the syndicate at all costs. She must face the past. Save those young, tender children, even if she couldn’t save herself. She shifted to face the Inspector, the yellow of the daffodils dancing in the background.
“I can see you’re not prepared for this, but I feel it’s wise to update you on all the facts.” The Inspector gave a small smile of sympathy. “A note in your grandfather's file alerted me to the fact his death may not, after all, have been due to natural causes. The coroner found traces of a foreign substance. This substance could have been a residue from the breakdown of your grandfather's medication, however, the rate of decay was slower than the coroner would have anticipated. Given the lack of any additional evidence, he concluded your grandfather's cardiac arrest, though it came at the early age of fifty, was due to his diagnosed heart disease.”
“Then his original conclusion is still valid.”
“Let me finish, Ms Medi. It took a while to track the Coroner down since he moved to Canada some years ago and yesterday, I discussed the case with him by phone. We can draw no conclusions other than those he originally came to, though he commented that in a current case we’d have the means to detect whether the said substance was deliberately and malevolently introduced.”
Part of her wanted to walk away and never come back. Break into a run and keep going. Another part felt glued to the bench.
“Meaning the Coroner had suspicions about Grandad Sunni’s death?”
“Precisely, and this is significant because probing into your father's death also revealed questions of a serious nature.”
She wanted to cover her ears. Or scream at him to stop. Instead, she dug further into her reserves. Leaned on her own mental strength.
“The officer in charge of investigating David Khan’s death has since retired. I tracked him down and he was more than happy to discuss the case because, as he told me, it was one which always troubled him. What stuck with him was the picture-perfect accident scene - precision tyre tracks, expected blood stains and no contamination. The only problem being that David Khan's helmet had been removed and was found intact by his side.”
Spinks words hit her like a relentless stream. She wanted to cower.
“Your father skidded out of control and impacted at high speed. He was mortally wounded and experts stated the helmet would not have come off as a result of the crash and, given the extent of his injuries, it was impossible Khan removed it himself. To repeat what I said, and as was emphasised by the investigating officer, they found zero contamination of the scene. There was no evidence of any other person or vehicle. So how can we explain the placing of the helmet?”
Something inside her broke. Something she would never be able to repair. Like she’d been living in a dream and the final barrier to reality had been breached. As if it had been her who’d been in a mortal accident, but somehow she stood up and continued living. Ripped open.
“You mean, don’t you, my father was murdered?”
“We have only circumstantial and anecdotal information, Ms Medi. What we can conclude is that if your father or your grandfather were murdered then whoever is responsible in each case was highly skilled and experienced.”
Kal could hear ducks quacking in the background. Spinks didn’t demand a response for which she felt grateful. In fact, he looked away, allowing her precious, private moments. A woman walked past pushing a stroller, bright and happy on a spring day as Kal felt she’d never be again.
“There’s vital information missing. If you can supply any further details, Ms Medi, it may greatly help us.”
Could she take a risk? Or should she keep it all inside just as she’d always done, where it festered and ate away at her, leaving the path open for the syndicate to bring her down.
“I don’t know who killed my grandfather, nor who killed my father,” Kal felt herself take one tiny step into a no-man’s land. “Though I can’t give you any facts, I think the marksman’s shot in India had a connection to my father.”
Spinks considered before he replied. “The signature on your father’s death suggests whoever carried it out had the highest level of expertise. For your father to attract that type of attention, his activities must have been, to say the least, interesting. Why are you making a connection between the marksman’s shot and your father? Can you provide me with more details?”
Inside her pocket, Kal’s hand closed around the slip of paper. “I’m sorry, no. If I had something concrete to tell, I would. I’m as much in the dark as you.”
“I see.”
Spinks sat beside her like a hawk, noticing everything. And he was solid. Made resilient by his experiences, many of them, she was sure, harrowing and illustrating the worst aspects. Yet he remained accessible, human, and she liked him.
“Should the situation change, Ms Medi, don’t hesitate to contact me.”
He knew there was something, he must do, and yet he didn’t push and probe.
“Of course, Inspector, well, there is one thing and I feel ridiculous saying it, but… have you ever felt like a fool?”
“Life throws up events we can never predict, Ms Medi. Everyone faces those moments and that’s nothing to be ashamed about. If you’d accept my opinion, you are far from being a fool.”
Everyone had such a high opinion of her. Whereas her own self-assessment was sinking lower and lower. “You’re too generous, Inspector. I only wish I felt worthy of the compliment.”
Chapter Forty-two
Later that day, as Kal walked across Nannie’s room, she read determination in her grandmother's expression. She felt weak inside only she must be strong. For Nannie.
“Kal, I've been waiting and waiting for you to visit. What happened with the ambush, did you catch them?”
Her grandmother sat in the bay of the window, her customary light shawl draped around her shoulders, hair gleaming and neat. Kal gave her grandmother a kiss and pulled up a chair.
“No, we didn't catch them. The police are informed and they seem to have scared the stalker off. Things have moved on - I’m sure Mum's disappearance is connected with her investigations.”
“Don’t pussyfoot with me, darling. Investigations of wha
t?”
If Kal’s mood had not been so heavy, she’d have smiled. Her grandmother was on good form today. “Of paedophilia, Nannie. More than that, the people she was following might have been on to her.”
“Do you think they got her?”
It was a straight question and Nannie didn't explain whether she meant captured or killed. Kal hesitated, not wanting to say too much. The less Nannie knew the better.
“All I know is those involved are capable of great violence to protect their interests. How close Mum got to them, I can't say.”
“Do you still think there's a connection to the letters?”
“Well Nannie, you tell me.”
“I’ve been thinking about it long and hard and I’ve an apology to make,” Nannie said, “I should have trusted you. You see, I was scared, and even though you're more than capable, I hesitated and that was wrong of me. I had a bellyful of people treating me as weak in my life without passing the same misjudgement onto my own granddaughter.” Nannie put her hand on Kal’s arm. “It used to make me so mad to always be assessed as lacking - the ignorant, female immigrant to be pitied or dismissed.”
“Nannie, you’re one of the most capable people I know, and I realised you wanted to protect me.”
She placed her hand over Nannie's and in response, her grandmother gripped her with a steel force.
“Your grandfather was a wonderful person and highly principled. Grandfather Sunni wouldn't hurt a fly and it's important you know that.”
“I never doubted it for a second.”
“The thing is, before I met your grandfather something bad happened in his life and it’s time I told you the story. Sunni was employed as caretaker of a private school. Of course, the school was in India, the first of its kind in the province of Bengal and owned by a man named Henderson…”
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