Blood Money (8 page)

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Authors: Chris Ryan

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Action & Adventure, #General

BOOK: Blood Money
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Paulo gave him a look. ‘If you were trying to get away in the middle of the night, would you wear twinkly bits?’
‘I wouldn’t wear them anyway, mate,’ said Alex, ‘but you please yourself.’ He became serious as Paulo’s words struck home. ‘But you mean . . .’
‘I mean, it was Bina you saw. She went along the ditch so she wouldn’t be seen, with her sari covered up. She went out to meet the kidney man.’
Alex nodded slowly. Of course. He turned and began to stride down the road alongside the ditch. His thoughts were churning. It had to be Bina they saw; it made sense. If he’d let Hex catch her . . .
But there was no time to be angry with himself. They were bound to come to tracks soon and if he didn’t concentrate he might miss them. The mistake had been made; if he spent too much time punishing himself he might make another and that would help no one. He pushed the recriminations to the back of his mind.
Soon Alex’s vigilance paid off. A set of footprints appeared on the road. He turned to Paulo. ‘Here she is.’
They squatted down to look more closely. ‘There are some others here too,’ said Paulo. ‘These were made about the same time.’
‘A man in sandals,’ said Alex. ‘The footprints face hers as though she stopped and talked to him.’ He walked a little further, bent double, looking at the ground intently. ‘Paulo!’ he called.
He pointed at the ground. The footprints had gone haywire, scuffling and skidding. They were crossed by a line of tyre tracks. ‘What does this look like to you?’
Paulo looked at the prints. ‘I’d say there’s been a struggle. While they were getting her into the car. She didn’t want to go.’
Alex nodded. The regrets came flooding back. If only he’d let Hex get on with it. He took out his mobile and texted Amber: ‘
FOUND TRACKS. BINA TAKEN. RV
@
HSE
.’
She texted back: ‘
WANT ME
2
TELL M
?’
Alex replied: ‘
YES
.’ Then he felt like a coward. If anyone broke the news, it should be him; he was responsible for the mess. Then he thought, No, Amber’s on the scene. It’ll take us a while to get back. When we do, we need to ask some questions. The sooner Mootama is able to answer them, the sooner we can go and get Bina back.
But he sent another text to Amber: ‘
THANX
.’
Paulo followed the tyre marks to the edge of the grass. He got on his hands and knees to look at them more closely. ‘Perhaps I can see what kind of car—’
Suddenly a cobra rose out of the grass. It spread its hood and let out a vicious sound like a high-pressure air hose.
Alex realized Paulo had stopped talking rather abruptly. He turned and saw the snake, its head swaying above Paulo’s, the hood wide open like wings. The hair stood straight up on the back of his neck. He couldn’t move.
Paulo could see every scale on the snake’s body. He didn’t even dare to breathe. He closed his eyes and moved back very, very slowly.
When he opened them again, the snake was subsiding back into the pale grass. Paulo got to his feet shakily and moved further away. Sweat was running in cold rivulets down his forehead and inside his shirt.
Alex clapped him on the shoulder. ‘I think somebody doesn’t want you to look at the tyre tracks.’
‘Well, tough, I did,’ said Paulo. ‘It was a saloon car. Rather like the taxi we saw earlier. Now, I wonder who’s been visiting here in a taxi?’
10
P
RISONER
‘I’ve got her in the clinic, but I’m having to keep her doped. And we may have trouble.’ Trilok hooked the phone under his shoulder while he grappled with his breakfast, a dosa – a large crispy rice pancake – bought from a stall. He tore a piece off and put it in his mouth.
‘Trouble?’ said the voice at the other end.
Trilok swallowed. ‘When I went to see the family there were these western kids nosing about. They’re aid workers or something. You know what they can be like. They have no idea about our way of life but they think they can interfere.’ He walked across a stretch of grass, past a sign saying that the park and the white, domed building behind it had been constructed in 1913. He picked his usual bench and sat down.
‘Don’t worry, Trilok. I’ll be on the lookout.’ There was a pause. ‘Enjoy your breakfast.’
Trilok cut the call. The past twelve hours had been exhausting. Finally, things seemed to be going in the right direction. He’d spent a gruelling afternoon talking to Mootama and Naresh, patiently explaining that all was not lost. All they had to do, he said, was send someone in Mootama’s place. Did she have a sister, a brother? Another blood relative? He didn’t mention the children but the couple understood. They’d been upset; Naresh had shouted at him. But Trilok had expected that. He was used to it. He had continued, patiently, to explain how the deal could still be done, they could still earn the money; $700 – 32,000 rupees – could still be theirs, if they could send somebody who would be the same tissue type as Mootama. Think of your daughters, he told them. This will be their dowries.
Of course, the price Gopal was actually paying Trilok for the kidney was $8000 – 365,000 rupees. And today he felt like he’d earned it.
He’d almost been back in Chennai when he got the call. It was from a number he didn’t recognize. He said hello cautiously; you never knew who could be calling or why. A hesitant voice replied: young, female and nervous. Probably it had never used a phone before. ‘This is Bina from Nayla,’ it said. ‘I want to earn my dowry.’
He told her to meet him just outside the village. No point in turning up in the taxi to find the parents waiting for him with sticks.
When she turned up she’d looked so young he almost sent her back home again. She had big eyes like a frightened animal, and was wearing a dark shawl thing so she wouldn’t be seen. But the really young donors did get scared sometimes. He’d seen it before. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We’ll take you to the clinic and get your tests done.’
That was a mistake. It spooked her. He tried a different tack. ‘There’s a nice bed waiting for you – clean sheets – lots of friends, too.’ That usually worked.
That was when she said: ‘I don’t want to go right away. I just wanted to talk about it first.’
He’d got hold of her arm by now; good thing too or she might have run away there and then. He tried reasoning with her. ‘What is there to talk about? Think of your sisters, your dowry.’
But the silly girl had panicked. She had put up quite a fight before he’d got her into the cab and given her something to calm her down.
Trilok finished his breakfast and wiped his fingers on a tissue. He’d still got her drugged, but the important thing was that he’d got her. And he wasn’t going to let her go.
11
O
N THE
T
RAIL
Mootama sat in the big rocking chair, her knees pulled up to her chest. She looked much older than her thirty years; worry had etched lines into her face and her eyes were red with crying. But now she was calm. She felt comforted talking to the teenagers; they were not very much older than Bina, but they seemed so grown-up, so in control.
The two girls had broken the news to her – that it looked as though Bina had gone to meet the kidney man but had been taken against her will. The boy who had the little computer had said they would try to find her, as though it was the kind of thing they did all the time and it would be easy. Then the other two boys had come back and the questions started in earnest.
‘I was taken to a clinic,’ said Mootama. ‘There were lots of people there with kidney trouble – on machines, or waiting for tests, or seeing doctors. There was a house behind the clinic, through a locked door. I was taken there and told that was where I would live. There were other women there who were selling kidneys. They were very friendly. It was nice and clean, although there were bars on the windows. I was told the tests would take forty-eight hours, then the operation could be done. But as soon as they saw I’d already had a kidney removed, they threw me out.’
‘Do you know who was going to have your kidney?’ said Amber.
‘He was a rich man who’d had a transplant before. It had gone bad. He wanted another from a live donor because they last longer than transplants from dead people.’
Mootama got up. She went through to the kitchen and began to sort through the washing up in the sink. Even though her daughter had gone, there was still the rest of the family to look after.
Hex said: ‘I wonder if the client is holding her?’
Alex was shaking his head. ‘No. She’s no good to him there. She’ll be having tests. If we turn up at the clinic I bet she’ll be there.’
‘Mootama, can you tell us where the clinic was?’ asked Li.
Mootama sighed. ‘I don’t know Chennai. I’ve never been there before. They drove me in the taxi. When I left, they gave me the bus fare and I didn’t take in where I was – I just wanted to get home as soon as possible. I couldn’t find my way back there.’
‘You wouldn’t need to go there again,’ said Amber. ‘We’ll go. If you come too somebody might recognize you and hide Bina.’
Li asked, ‘Did you notice anything about the neighbourhood once you were there? The name of a shop . . . ?’
Mootama had a turquoise shawl in her hands. She looked at it for a long moment, thinking. Alex recognized it as Bina’s. That little voice spoke up inside him:
You should have let Hex stop her
. He forced it down and pressed Mootama gently for an answer: ‘Anything you can tell us will help us find the clinic. Anything . . .’
After a long moment, Mootama nodded. ‘Yes, I looked out of the barred window of the room I shared with the other women. There was a cinema, and next to it, a chemist’s.’
‘A cinema, great,’ said Hex. He took his palmtop out of its carrying case. ‘There can’t be many cinemas in Chennai. Let’s see where they are.’ In no time he had a list. ‘OK, there are nine cinemas in Chennai. Mootama, can you remember what film was showing?’
Mootama thought and then shook her head.
‘No worries,’ said Hex. ‘I’ve got a list here. Have a look and see if you recognize any.’ He handed her the palmtop, the screen facing towards her.
She shook her head and handed it straight back. ‘Bad eyes. You read them.’
Hex took the palmtop back from her and looked at the list. And swallowed. The first title was
Kucch Rishtey Kachche Dhaagon Ke.
If he tried to get his tongue around that he’d never be understood, and Mootama might be insulted by his attempt. He looked further down:
Kuthu; Lakshya
– they weren’t too bad.
Aparichithan
– getting worse. Then
Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi
.
Amber peered at the screen. ‘So come on, tell us what’s on.’
Hex deleted the link before she could get a good look. His fingers raced over the keys, looking for another site. ‘Aha!’ He waited for the screen to finish loading and took it to Mootama. He had found a site that included graphics of the posters for each film. ‘Just nod when you want to see the next one.’
Mootama looked at the screen over his shoulder, her brow furrowed in concentration. Hex cursored to the next poster, and the next. Then she nodded. ‘This one.
Aparichithan
.’
‘And that, my friends,’ said Hex, ‘is showing at the Regal in Victoria Road. Next question: how do we get there?’
Paulo looked at his watch. ‘Pradesh is going to be here any minute now with fixtures and fittings for the school, and he said he’d have to go into Chennai for more. If we help him unload in double-quick time, we can hitch a ride into town.’
Alpha Force didn’t need telling twice. In an instant, they were on their feet and heading for the door. Mootama looked a little bewildered at the sudden activity.
Li put her hand on the woman’s shoulder. ‘We’ll find her, don’t worry. We’ll bring her back safe and sound.’ Mootama nodded. Then Li followed the others outside.
They made their way towards Pradesh’s truck, which was pulling to a halt next to the building site. ‘Mootama said the tests take forty-eight hours.’
‘So that’s our deadline,’ said Paulo.
‘Probably less,’ said Alex. ‘She went in the middle of the night.’
Hex looked at Alex pointedly. ‘Did she?’
Alex met his eye. ‘Yeah. I mucked up. I should have let you catch her.’
12
C
HENNAI
‘Hey, nerdboy,’ said Amber, ‘look at the real world.’
Hex looked up from his palmtop and out of the window. When they set off, it was down a rough road between the flooded paddy fields. On each side men ploughed the water with teams of black buffaloes. Small villages nestled between the meadows. Now, barely thirty kilometres away, they were on a wide tarmac carriageway. The fields had turned into a sprawl of buildings stuccoed with peeling plaster the colour of ice cream and stained from years of monsoon.

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