Different Senses

by Ann Somerville

  “Why would he lie?” I said. “Is it possible the water is clean and the contamination is in the soil or something?”

  “The water is dirty and so are the officials in that area. Your officials,” Ekanga said to my father. “The mining company has been paying them off ever since they started work there three years ago.”

  “That’s a serious claim,” my father said. “One I don’t believe.”

  Ekanga glanced at him, more weary than angry. “I don’t care what you believe, governor. All I want is the truth to be heard. This ceremony is being shown outside. I want people to know the lies being told.”

  Denge’s face flushed. “The broadcast should be stopped! This is outrageous, being tried by a man forcing his way into the room like this.”

  “Seems to me the easiest way to prove this is to have someone test the water independently,” I said. “Maybe one of the news channels already has reporters doing it. Which village are you from, Ekanga?”

  He jerked, surprised. Obviously there were parts of this plan he hadn’t thought through carefully enough. “You want my people harassed, don’t you? But they don’t know I’m doing this. I lied to my wife. I said I was coming to see Sri Denge, but not how. I took some of our savings to buy enough drugs to keep me going. I am sorry, beloved,” he said to where I guessed he thought the cameras were. “I am sorry I lied.”

  “I can order no one is to detain or harass your family,” Dad said. “I can order more water testing. But you have to let us go.”

  “I can’t do that. You will have me arrested, and then it will all be covered up again. We are powerless. This is my only chance to make people listen. We have tried for so long.” He sat down abruptly and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Please, forgive me. I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Governor, perhaps you could show good faith and order the tests anyway,” Shardul said. “He’s at your mercy as much as we are at his. He knows this.”

  “Dad, I think you should.”

  “And if I don’t? Will I be forced to?” Dad’s eyes drilled into me.

  “No,” I answered quietly. “It’s up to you.”

  “Does anyone have a phone I can use? I left mine with my office.” Shardul drew his out and gave it to my father. Dad punched in a number while I held my breath. “Yes, the governor here. Are you following the situation? Very well. Take a selection of reporters as observers and go to the Parleng mountains, to a village called....” He looked at Ekanga. “I need the name.”

  “Jutela. I live in Jutela.”

  “Right. A village called Jutela. I want the water supply tested for loteja. I also want you to offer the wife and child of a man called Ekanga testing for loteja poisoning. Make sure they know it’s voluntary. No, don’t tell them what’s happening. Just say I’ve been alerted to a potential problem. Thank you.” He handed the phone back to Shardul. “There. That’s been done on the record, with any number of witnesses to see I wasn’t forced to do it. Now let us go.”

  Ekanga shook his head. “Not yet.” He gestured to Denge. “Not until he admits his fault.”

  “Preposterous,” Denge spluttered. “I know nothing about this.”

  My father turned to him. “Kaushik, if that’s not true, we’ll find out. If the water supply is contaminated, then someone has to be covering it up. And if I find out it’s your company, I’ll hold you responsible, because I know nothing happens in Denge Consortium that you don’t find out about. Did you receive a letter from that community’s head?”

  “I receive hundreds of letters, Rajan. That one was almost certainly dealt with by a secretary.”

  “That’s crap,” I said. He snarled at my rudeness but I ploughed on. “Are you telling me someone writes to you saying your mines are killing people and your secretary tells them thanks, then takes no action on something that important? Either you have a seriously lousy secretary or you’re lying through your teeth.”

  He scowled at me. “You're a very disrespectful young man.”

  “Yes, he is,” my father said, “and I assure you he was raised better. But Kaushik? You are lying through your teeth.”

  “I won’t tolerate being defamed!”

  “How about being sued?” Shardul said politely. “Because I would be happy to investigate assisting the village of Jutela in a class action against Denge Consortium. Pro bono, naturally. I could do with something to stretch me after winning in the High Court on the discrimination cases. That was my firm, you see. We’re very good lawyers.”

  I covered my mouth to hide my smirk. Shardul’s expression of calm helpfulness was perfectly judged.

  “You’re in league with him!”

  Shardul wagged his finger. “Careful, Sri Denge, what you said about defamation holds for me too. I’ve never met Sri Ekanga before today.”

  “He’s telling the truth,” I said. “And I’ll offer my services as investigator for free. I’m very good at that too.”

  “Yes, you are,” Shardul said, smiling at me. “Sri Denge? It would be better for all concerned if you were frank.”

  “I have nothing to say.”

  “Then I guess we’re going to be here a while,” I said. “How long to get to Jutela, Ekanga?”

  “Five hours by auto. I came by bus. Takes longer.”

  “And the water testing? Anyone know?”

  “At least another six,” my father said.

  Before turning to politics, Dad had been a medical researcher. Long time ago or not, he knew what he was talking about. “Okay, then everyone should get comfortable. Ekanga, have you got enough drugs to last another twelve hours? I’d hate to be blown up just because you passed out.”

  He gave me a weak smile. “I will be fine, Sri Javen. I am sorry. I only wanted to make the governor and Sri Denge listen.”

  “I understand. The thing is, Sri Denge’s good name hangs on all this, and the reputation of my dad’s officials, so we need this to play out, unless you want to walk out now and take your chances?”

  “Will the truth be heard then?”

  My father looked my way, but let me answer. “I don't know. The longer you make the cops outside wait, the jumpier they’ll get. You walk out now, they’ll arrest you. If you walk out in twelve hours, they might shoot you.”

  “I came here to die. I cannot work or help my family. I even had to steal from them for this. But if I can stop the deaths, then it will be worth it.”

  “I don’t understand,” my father said. “Why not leave Jutela?”

  Shardul laughed. “Oh, Sri Ythen, how ignorant you rich Kelons are. Go where? Your people already own the best property. If Denge Consortium won’t even admit they are doing this, how can Ekanga’s village afford to buy elsewhere, when good farming land is sold at a premium?”

  “But even if we prove loteja contamination, it can’t be removed quickly. They’ll have to move.”

  “We can’t. We are very poor. Those who could leave, did, but the rest of us cannot.”

  “So this is about money,” Dad said.

  Ekanga didn’t bother pointing the gun at him. “How much is your son’s life worth, Governor Ythen? I lost two children, one just after birth, one at six months. I watched them die miserably. My son is in pain constantly, and I can’t help him. My death here is the only thing left I can give him.”

  “Dad, shut up,” I said.

  My father opened his mouth, then saw my expression. “You’re right, Javen. I apologise, Sri Ekanga.”

  “These dramatics are unnecessary,” Denge said. “Let me go and we can discuss this in a civilised fashion. I won’t talk at the point of a gun.” He started to get to his feet, but my father pulled him back down with more force than politeness. Dad jerked his head at Ekanga and indicated with an angry frown that Denge should sit down and shut up too.

  “Well, they already tried talking to you and you ignored what they had to say,” I said. “Or your secretary did. And if you’ll act before being forced to, I’ll eat his g
un. Ekanga, mind if I sit on the floor? These chairs suck.”

  He shook his head, so I climbed off the chair and stretched out on the floor. “Everyone may as well do the same.”

  Dad tilted his head towards me. “Javen, what about Tara?”

  Damn it, I’d forgotten about her and Yashi. They’d be going crazy watching all this on the feed.

  “Your wife?” Ekanga asked.

  “No, my sister-in-law, in hospital with a placenta praevia. She’s pregnant. If my father could call my brother....”

  “Perhaps we could all call those who will be worrying about us. Ekanga could speak to his wife,” Shardul said.

  “The phones don’t work in our village. We have to use radio. But call who you wish. The police, will they want to speak to me? Should I speak to them?”

  Every siege should have a gunman this cooperative. “Let me call them,” I said. “I, uh, used to work for them.” Fortunately, this didn’t alarm him.

  I called the emergency number and after a bit of fiddle-faddle, was connected to a Captain Sarmin managing the scene outside the hall. “Is everyone safe and is anyone in need of medical assistance?” he asked

  “Yes we’re safe, and no one needs medical help. We’re fine, and I believe Sri Ekanga is reasonable. We’re just waiting for the results from the water testing.”

  “That won’t be back until well after nightfall.”

  “That’s okay. We’d like you to reassure our families, though.”

  “What about this bomb, Sri Ythen?”

  “Under control for now, captain. Like I said, Sri Ekanga is a reasonable man.”

  “We’re prepared to enter the building by force. The deputy governor authorised it.”

  “I think that’s a really bad idea, captain. A really bad idea. Please...sit tight. Give us twelve hours.”

  “I’ll have to speak to the higher-ups.”

  “The governor can talk to you. Hang on.” I took the phone to Dad. “Ask him to tell you what he told me. I said he shouldn’t do it.”

  Somewhat puzzled, Dad took the phone, but his confusion disappeared when he listened to the captain. “No. I am telling you absolutely not. Twelve hours minimum. We’re not in danger here, except of dying of boredom.” Ekanga gave him a sickly smile. “Understood? Thank you.” He gave me the phone back, then looked at our captor. “I’ve just told them not to come in by force. I’m going out on a considerable limb for you. What if the results aren’t to your liking?”

  “Then I will accept I am wrong, and whatever punishment you offer. This is what the Seeker teaches.”

  Dad harrumphed but kept his views to himself. Shardul stretched out beside me. “Do you honestly believe,” he said in a low voice, barely moving his lips, “he would shoot us if we made a run for it?”

  “Nope.”

  “Want to see Denge swing?”

  “Yep.”

  “Your father does too?”

  “Yep.”

  He snorted. “Like father, like son.”

  Maybe so, but Dad’s collusion in this surprised me more than I could admit to Shardul. Dad had no love for the indigenous, so what was he up to? He was on first name terms with Denge, which implied some kind of friendship, but yet he had gone along with my fairly blatant baiting, not to mention patiently waiting for these tests.

  As if he knew I was thinking of him, he looked my way. I ventured a slight smile, and he nodded. My father confused me.

  The only one of us not accepting the situation was Denge. The man was furious—and worried as all hell. I had a good idea why, and the main question in my mind was why he continued to lie. Fear of looking like a fool in front of lesser beings? I couldn’t figure it out, especially when the result would be the same whatever he did, except we could all walk out of here now rather than in a few hours’ time. I decided to poke him again. “Ekanga, tell me about what happened to your children. I mean, if you can bear it.”

  “Why are you interested in the children of a criminal, Sri Javen?”

  “Your children aren’t criminals, nor is your wife. Have many children died in your village?”

  “Last year, every pregnancy in our village ended with a dead child. That’s twelve women.”

  “Beloved sanity,” my father breathed. “So many. I can’t believe this could be covered up.”

  “Trust me, Governor, it’s all too easy,” Shardul said. “Remote areas, poor communications, poor support from officials, even when corruption isn’t a factor. Infant mortality among Nihan outside the city is nearly three times what it is for Kelons. It came up in the court cases, remember?”

  “I don’t concern myself with every facet of the legal department’s activities,” Dad said, glaring at me. “Three times?”

  “Yes. I can give you references.”

  “I believe you. Twelve dead babies. Terrible.” He had to be thinking of Tara. I was.

  “Some born without brains, others with hearts too small to work, others apparently perfect but dead on delivery,” Ekanga said. “My second son was born alive, but he died four hours later, struggling to breathe. I will never forget my wife’s face when I told her. We lost our daughter the year before. Her kidneys failed, and her liver suddenly enlarged, then failed too. The doctors had no treatment, they said.”

  “But there are transplants and organ clones, and chelation treatment is effective against loteja poisoning. We can treat such things here.”

  Ekanga shrugged, sorrow pouring from him. “Not in our clinic, and not with our doctors. There was no money to go anywhere else. No one can afford such things.”

  “But—”

  “Governor, there is much about this region you have no damn idea about,” Shardul said suddenly. “Why don’t you listen instead of talking for a change?”

  My father’s lips thinned in a horribly familiar way. “I thought you were a rude little bastard when I first met you. Clearly I was right.”

  “Clearly.”

  “Doesn’t make him wrong,” I said to Dad. “You don’t even know indigenous kids are dying at a greater rate than Kelon children. I thought you governed for all.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. Denge relaxed, thinking the attention had come off him.

  “Maybe if you didn’t come across as so uninterested in Nihan matters, Ekanga’s clan head would have written to you instead. Though whether he’d have got any better response—”

  “He would have. You know he would. What do you think of me, Javen, that you believe I would let people die when I could stop it?”

  “We know someone in this room did.”

  Everyone looked at Denge. “I never saw the letter,” he muttered.

  “If you had?” I pressed.

  “I, uh....”

  “You realise that some enterprising reporter is even now locating your staff to ask them about this, don’t you? And I guarantee no underling is going to carry the blame for the deaths of twelve babies and more, when it’s you who gave the orders to bin the letter. I wonder what the shareholders will think of a company president who’s set them up for a legal suit which will undoubtedly run into millions of dolar.”

  “Tens of millions,” Shardul corrected helpfully. “After all, there’s the sick and permanently invalided to consider, not to mention relocation and resettlement costs, and cleaning up the environment. Share prices will suffer quite badly, I should think.”

  “You’re all forgetting something,” my father said. We turned to look at him. “It’s not just the financial cost. If I discover you had the slightest hand in covering this up or suborning government employees, I’ll not rest until you’re prosecuted for murder, Kaushik.”

  “That’s ridiculous!”

  “Not at all,” Shardul said. “Though I believe there hasn’t been a prosecution for corporate murder here in Medele, there’s strong precedent on Kelon. The penalties are...quite severe.” I thought the polite smile he sent Denge at the end of that was a nice touch myself. “Certainly prison would be una
voidable.”

  Denge paled. “I haven’t killed anyone.”

  Ekanga roused himself. “Not with your own hands, but you killed them.” He began to cough. This time, the fit went on, and he couldn’t control it. Shardul leapt up to help him, and I didn’t think I imagined him briefly holding Ekanga’s gun while Ekanga fought the spasms. I suspected my father could also see, but Shardul blocked the cameras from recording it. Moments later, he stepped back, Ekanga flushed but quieter. Ekanga wiped his mouth, and came away with blood on his hand.

  “You need medical attention,” I said.

  “No. I said I would die here.”

  “If you die, we’ll be blown to pieces!” Denge shouted. “Rajan, order medics in, now.”

  Ekanga lifted his gun. “No. You are in no danger, I promise. I just need to....” He fumbled in his pockets again for the injector, and after the dose, seemed stronger. “This is a painkiller and stimulant. Ultimately, it would kill me too. But I will live until the results come, and you all leave. I promise that on the spirits of my babies.”

  Shardul sketched a symbol in the air and murmured something in Nihani. “Prayer for the departed,” he explained quietly to me.

  “Look, Denge,” I snapped. “You could end this now. Just admit the truth. Let the poor sod die in peace. What can this possibly gain you?”

  “What have I got to lose?” he shot back.

  He couldn’t bear to admit he was wrong—or to accept defeat. I ground my teeth at the stupidity of some people.

  My phone went. Ekanga didn’t tell me not to answer it, so I did. “Yashi?”

  “Javen, it’s Tara. They’re delivering her early. Sanity, the baby’s in distress, and they think.... I can’t get hold of Dad.”

  He didn’t know what was going on. “He’s here, just busy. I, um, can’t get away either just yet. Where are you?”

  “On the way to the hospital. They say Tara’s in trouble too. What if I lose her—both of them?”

  “Yashi, stay calm. You can’t go charging into the hospital like this. Where are the boys?”

  “Hita still has them. She said she’ll look after them tonight. Javen, I wish you were here.”

  “I’ll get there as soon as I can. You can call me, talk to me. Let me know what’s happening, okay?”