by Linda Welch
I typed in Nagka and Expedition, which immediately brought up a result: a listing of a library book, “The Nagka Expedition,” written in 1951 by Hans Stadelmann. No information on the content of the book, just a listing.
“I told you so!” Jack crowed, almost in my lap.
With feigned excitement, I leaned closer the screen. “Wow! You’re right, Jack.” I jerked back, swung my chair and he hopped out the way. “Absolutely right! That there tells me everything I need to know about that little ol’ journal.”
“You wouldn’t have that much if not for me,” he grumbled.
Not a title to grab one’s interest, unless you were specifically searching for it. The nearest copy resided in the Clark County Library, in Las Vegas.
A search for Hans Stadelmann found several entries, but they only told me he wrote The Nagka Expedition in 1951, after which he returned to Myanmar to continue his research. What research?
Could I have Stadelmann’s book sent to my local library?
Before I made a decision, I tabbed up another screen and logged on one of Royal’s search engines, and looked for phone numbers and addresses for Hulme and Stadelmann. Of course, I got a zillion for both. But a Janine Hulme lived in Las Vegas.
Dare I phone her? Why not? I made cold calls all the time. If she knew nothing of young Elizabeth, no harm done.
I should be devoting everything I had to the Borrego case, but Elizabeth’s narration called to me.
The phone rang twice before a woman answered, identifying herself as Janine.
I plunged right in. “Ms. Hulme? My name is Tiff Banks. I’m a private investigator working out of Clarion, Utah. I’ve also worked as a consultant for Clarion Police Department. What might be evidence in a case has come into our possession and I’m looking for the descendant of Elizabeth Hulme, a fifteen-year-old who was part of an expedition to Burma in the eighteen-hundreds.”
See, I didn’t tell a lie, not even a tiny one.
“But that’s me!” the voice gushed. She sounded real excited. Jackpot! I looked up at Jack and grinned.
“What. . . . How. . . ? How can Elizabeth be involved in a police case?” she continued, exclamation marks in her voice.
I winked at Mel. “All I can tell you is I have one of Elizabeth’s journals, which may be pertinent to our case.”
“A journal? I can’t imagine how,” she replied in a calmer voice.
“I’m on my way to Vegas,” I said impulsively. Locals don’t like you abbreviating the name of their city, but it slipped out. “To the Clark County Library in fact, to look at Hans Stadelmann’s book on the expedition. Have you read it?”
“Naturally. I have a copy.”
Should I skip the library and read her copy? No. The more I knew before I met her, the better.
“I’d like to come by and talk to you while I’m there.” I dropped my tone conspiratorially. “I’d rather not discuss this over the phone.”
I paused to let it sink in. I don’t know what she thought, but if you let them, it’s surprising what people come up with in their heads.
“But can you tell me which of Elizabeth’s journals you have?”
I narrowed my eyes at the little book. “Um, it begins when she first arrives in Burma. She writes about traveling to Nagka and what she sees in the city.”
Her voice came over hushed. “Oh, my goodness! Miss Banks, I must have it! And I think it belongs to me, her only living relative. If you can - ”
“You’ll get it when we’ve finished with it and I trust that won’t be long. So, you don’t mind if I come by your place?”
“I don’t mind at all, although I still can’t - ”
I interrupted again. “I’ll be there tomorrow morning. Will that be convenient?”
“I’ll be home all day. My address is - ”
“It’s okay, Ms. Hulme, I got it.” And I hung up.
“You’re going to Vegas?” Mel asked.
Peering at the monitor, I jotted Janine’s address on a scrap of paper, tabbed up the second screen and wrote down the address of the library. “Why not?” I got to my feet. “I’m for the shower and an early night. See you guys in the morning.”
“You’re not going to call that hunky Royal?”
I paused and pretended to think about it. I hadn’t heard from Royal since our meeting with Gia and Daven. They were so all-fired busy with their case, they didn’t need to know about my obsession with an old journal. With luck, I could get to Vegas and back before he knew. But to be on the safe side, I would not call him till the morning. From Salt Lake City Airport.
I smiled to myself. I would not call his cell. I’d leave a message on his home answering machine. Tit for tat.
***
Propped on one elbow, I lounged on my bed with just the table lamp casting light over Elizabeth’s journal.
“I can not forget him. The days pass in tedium and I remain in the Tent I share with Nester trying to read or write herein or mend the rents which appear daily in the Mens clothing. My Mind bursts with strange thoughts.
“I picture his Face and his Body and the ripple of muscles as he stretched his hand to me. I wonder what his Hair would feel like on my Face.
“I confess Dear Journal I have never seen an Englishmans body. One does not even in the marriage bed not an English Gentlemans body. The nearest to that was when Cynthia Moore and I peeked through holes in the Fence separating the Mens and Womens bathing areas at Brighton Beach. The Men wore decent combination garments so I did not see any actual Skin but I think that an Englishman is rather narrow and flat straight up and down with narrow Shoulders and thin Arms and no Waist or Bottom to speak of. Certainly their Musculature is feeble when compared to our Native Boys. Bulging muscles indicate manual Labor something only Peasants do.
“Mister Trencham is somewhat muscular but Jimmy although quite handsome with his shock of rich red brown Hair and rugged features is no taller than I and as slim. Balding Ernest is a narrow whip of a Man.
“One is allowed to look at almost naked Native Men here in India because they are uncivilized therefore to an Englishmans way of thinking not quite Human. Their Bodies are quite brawny and sinuous. His Body was like that although he was much taller than the Natives and his Face was not theirs with only a hint of their predominant features.
“Daddy would be both embarrassed and angry if he read my musings herein.
I wonder what Physical love with a Man is like. Why should I not. Many of the Girls I know are already wed or will do so within two years.
“They call it love but Mothers description made it seem like nothing resembling love. Men and Women copulate to bring Babies into the world and a Woman submits to her husband from duty alone. But obviously there is much more for the Man. Why else do young Men have illicit affairs or seek out prostitutes if the sexual act is only to produce Children. The last thing they want from their liaisons is a Child. Surely the answer must be that they enjoy sexual congress. And if a Man finds pleasure in the act why not a Woman. Are we not made to find pleasure in the act of procreation.”
Chapter Fourteen
I don’t like the heat in Las Vegas, it sucks the moisture right out your body. I like the Strip’s solution even less. Jets of air suffused with water shoot out from the facades of many casinos at ground level. It’s like being stuck in a giant swamp cooler. I believe I mentioned how much I like swamp coolers.
The cab to the library cost me a bundle. The librarian would not let a non-member see the book, and I couldn’t get membership unless I lived in the area. I had to show them my consultant’s badge and claim I worked for Clarion PD. Lord help me if word got back to Mike Warren.
The faint smell of paper, card and old leather surrounded me as I sat at a plastic table in the corner of the main reading room near the Reference section, where many of the older books reside in their towering shelves. The bank of tall glass windows in the outer wall filtered the bright daylight, but unrestrained golden beams shot through
smaller windows up near the ceiling, making pools and halos on the wood tables at the center of the room.
I love the peace of a library, unbroken but for a page turned here and there, a soft footfall, the occasional low murmur. There is an atmosphere close to hallowed in a library. The air-conditioning vent under which I sat sent a wonderfully cool stream of air over me as I opened the small hardcover book.
Stadelmann went to Nagka in 1947 and stayed two years, exploring the area and talking to the locals. Therefore, what he learned came from them. It could be the truth, but equally could be embellishment or myth.
James Westerland and two native guides hacked a trail through the jungle in Upper Burma and found the city of Nagka in 1885. He likened its architecture to Angkor Thom in northern Cambodia, uncovered by the French naturalist Henri Mouhot in 1860. This both puzzled and elated him. He judged Nagka unlike any other ruin in the province, in the entire country as far as he knew. Also unlike them in that it appeared untouched. The natives had not taken the stones of Nagka to build their homes and walls, which indicated they saw Nagka as a place of great holiness, or great evil. Not that the native folk would talk about Nagka. They refused, to the extent they physically turned their backs on any inquiry. What ancient civilization built eerily beautiful Nagka? Had its people, like those of Angkor Thom, fled the onslaught of invading barbarians more than four hundred years before?
Two years later, Westerland returned to Nagka with renowned archeologist Edward Hulme, his assistant Ernest Beecher, and the American archeologist Matthew Trencham. Edward Hulme’s young daughter Elizabeth and her governess Nester Carlin accompanied them.
It got a bit dry from then on, with details on architecture and guesswork on the origins of Nagka. I skipped to the last page and worked my way backward, jumping from page to page, quickly scanning down each.
Problems with the natives bearers arose, those Elizabeth called Boys. They seemed to esteem Nagka as a holy place, yet at the same time were scared to be there, particularly after dark. They were superstitious and believed vengeful guardian spirits protected the city. They became increasingly agitated as the weeks passed, claiming the spirits had “taken possession” of some of the party, naming Nestor Carlin, Matthew Trencham, and finally, Elizabeth.
During the night of their last day, as they slept, the bearers tied up the members of the expedition, carried them out of Nagka and planted their explosives throughout the city. The explosives must have been old, or faulty, or got damp, because only the main temple blew up. According to them, Nagka’s evil inhabitants were inside at the time, as was Elizabeth. They told Edward there was no hope for her. She died with her consort, Dagka Shan, the king, the ruler of a demon horde.
Again, whew!
Stadelmann pointed out that although the natives spoke of spirits when the expedition first arrived in Nagka, they later called them demons. He studied the engravings smothering Nagka’s walls, and those common in other ancient Burmese cities, and decided those in Nagka were unique. He admitted he could be wrong, because the entire city was anomalous to Burma.
But Hans Stadelmann’s book didn’t clue me to the reason someone sent the journal to the agency. I hoped I hadn’t wasted my time coming to Vegas.
I handed in the book and walked out the library. Roasting in the heat, I stood on the curb, waving, and eventually got a cab. I had it take me to the nearest restaurant. Inside Wendy’s, I munched on a burger and read the rest of Elizabeth’s journal.
“A Sickness has Nester in its grasp that much is obvious. She has a pallor and is lethargic much of the day. At Night she seems to come awake and wanders Nagka in the dark and I can not dissuade her.
“Now Jimmy too has the sickness. Like Nester he has lost interest in his work and the day to day life of the Expedition. His deep tan is faded and he rarely eats and has lost weight.
“Today Nester invited me to a picnic in the shade of Nagkas high wall. We sat on a jumble of fallen lichen covered Masonry just outside the one entrance to the city in deep dark shade cast by a jutting overhang like a huge Porch. As Nester opened the Basket and laid the Cloth Jimmy came out of the Gateway and joined us. Neither spoke to me. I went more to humour Nester who was strangely insistent and anxious that I not refuse the Invitation and the ensuing odd silence unnerved me.
“The Jungle is very close to the Wall its boundary a mere twenty feet away. Gigantic fern sprout ten feet high at the edges and Plants I can not identify spread huge spatulate leaves which cast their own deep shade mingling with the mangrove and rubber trees. Beneath such a Plant a Man squatted. I saw a lightly tanned Face and dark dark Hair the white of his Sarong and the whites of his Eyes and my Heart stopped beating.
“I pointed him out to Nester and Jimmy. Nesters face wore a strangely gentle smile.
“I could not prevent myself. I went slowly with my eyes glued to the Man beneath the leaves. I waited for Nester or Jimmy to call out and warn me back but they did not. When I looked back over my shoulder they were sitting on the rubble watching me and smiling. Nester nodded as if in encouragement.
“As I neared the jungle perimeter a strange idea came into my head. I knew the Man waited just for me for clearly he was waiting. The closer I went the more disbelieving of the idea I tried to be yet I became more positive I was correct. My Legs felt weak and my Heart pounded so.
“When finally I stood over him I suddenly felt so wobbly I had to sit down. I whispered It is you.
“He stood up. He took my Hand and led me into the Jungle. I did not think to refuse. I was not afraid to be alone in the Jungle with a stranger who not only was Male but also not British. I did not feel at all threatened not by Him nor by the hostile Environment around us. Contrarily I felt safe and extremely contented.
“I spoke to him but he did not reply. He did not know our Language but I imagined he liked the sound of my Voice so I continued with my prattling.
“A snarl sounded far too near for my peace of mind. As if emerging from a pleasant dream into reality I looked about. Jungle growth huge and threatening crowded us. Large savage Beasts prowled nearby. What did I there. How far had we gone. What time was it. He smiled and stroked one finger down my Cheek and my Heart palpitated. I wanted to fall against him and have his Arms hold and support me. Only by a supreme effort did I hold my ground.
“He turned and led me back the way we had come. I realised we did not walk alone. Through small breaks in the undergrowth I saw sleek forms and speckled fur and rounded Ears and black velvet Noses.
“He squeezed my hand and smiled down on me. I was going to speak when his smile stilled. A young Boy emerged from the undergrowth. He looked twelve or thirteen years of age therefore not many years younger than I and although his features resembled the young Man his Skin was paler and his Hair fell in fat twisting yellow ropes to his shoulders. Black outlined his Eyes of startlingly clear emerald and jade powder tinged his lids. A red caste mark shone from his Forehead. His Feet and Chest were bare but red and black embroidery and jet beads made his loincloth a rich creation. He smiled at me and his Teeth had been filed to points like those of the Indians of the Amazon. I smiled back but then his Face fell. My companions Hand tightened on my own and I glanced up to see a frown on his Face as if he were not pleased to see the Boy. When I looked back the Boy was gone. We walked again and I hurried to keep up with his long now rapid strides.
“Abruptly we stopped and I found myself with my back against the wide bole of a Tree. He moved closer and for the first time I became afraid. His gaze was so penetrating I felt that he looked deep inside me. Elizabeth he said inside my head. I opened my Mouth in astonishment and his Lips swooped and fastened on my own. I drowned in my first kiss and it seemed to suck the strength from my Body.
“I can not tell even you Dear Journal what transpired between us. What occurred was that which only wedded Women or Wantons experience. If not for Daddys voice calling through the Jungle I would have lost my Virtue and I would have done so willingly.
“I have lost what little respect I first bore Nester. The woman is after all just two years my senior and quite incompetent as a Governess. When she told me the young Man is Dagka Shan and is a King and I his chosen Consort I told her she spoke nonsense. I told her she was ill and imagining things. Her speech became erratic. She claimed His Subjects are all around us and reminded me of the Boy in the Jungle although I do not know how she knew of him. She called him Teo-Papek and said the boy is Dagka Shans son and Heir. How ridiculous. He is much too young to father a boy of that age. This I told Nester. She said you do not know. You do not know in a maniacal manner and tittered into her Hands. She told me I would understand soon.”
And that was it, the last page in the book. The rest had been torn out, traces of ink on the ragged edges.
Did Elizabeth tear out those last few pages? Was she hiding something? Did she regret what she wrote, so destroyed it? Or did she spoil the pages with messy handwriting? Did another person rip out the pages?
I banked on Janine Hulme having family records or family lore which could tell me more of Elizabeth and the expedition. And if she didn’t, it wasn’t as if a return ticket to Vegas and lunch at Wendy’s would go on the expense account.
Come to think of it, how would I pay for the trip?
Chapter Fifteen
“You have a lovely home.”
“Thank you,” Janine Hulme said. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Thank you thank you thank you! “I’d kill for a diet cola, if you have one.”
