Different Senses (55 page)

“So what do you want? What’s
your name?” I asked, keeping my voice pleasant. Hostage rule number
one. Be polite to the man in charge.

“My name is—” He stopped to
cough harshly, and it took a few moments for him to recover his
composure. “I am Ekanga.”

“Ekanga, I’m Javen, and this is
Shardul. We don’t want anyone hurt, so why don’t you tell us what
you want?”

He straightened, his
mouth thinning in his over-pale face. “I want justice for my
family, and my village. I want it from
him
.” He gestured towards
Denge with the gun. “I want justice for two dead children, and my
wife who is sick, and my son who is dying.”

I kept smiling.
Fuck
. A
gunman with a mission was likely to be a lot more driven than one
looking for a fat ransom. “That’s a big task,” I said. “You want to
sit? You look a little unwell.”

“Thank you, but I will stand.”
He switched the gun over to his other hand, holding it awkwardly
with the switch—every eye in the room focussed on the trigger until
he had the weapon safe—and brought out a hypoinjector from his
pocket with the other. He injected himself in the neck, shuddering.
Great, a junkie with a gun.

“You can’t possibly escape,” my
father said to him.

Shut up,
Dad
. “I think he knows that,” I said to
my father, who glared at me for my impertinence. “Let Ekanga tell
us what he wants us to do, and then we can all go home, right?
You’re not here to kill anyone, are you, Ekanga?”

He shook his head. “I don’t
want to kill,” he said, before coughing. “The Seeker forbids it and
there have been too many dead.”

“This is ridiculous,” Denge
said. “I haven’t killed or hurt anyone. You’ve got the wrong
man.”

The gun swung towards him.
Ekanga radiated hate and his nostrils flared. “No, I don’t think
so. Your company owns the mines in the Parleng mountains, yes?”

“A subsidiary does. They’re run
according to the law.”

Ekanga sneered.
“The
law
that you and your people buy off and cheat whenever you
want, so you can poison the water and the land and let us die like
insects.”

“Nonsense. He’s insane.” Denge
appealed to us all with spread hands. No one offered him any
comfort.

Oh good work,
Denge
.
Call the man with a gun crazy to his face.
“So what is it you want Sri Denge to do? You
want compensation?” I asked.

Ekanga stared at me, then spat
on the floor, loathing pouring off him. “Money. That’s all you
Kelon think about. Money won’t bring my children back, or save the
lives of my wife and child.”

“Or you,” Shardul said quietly.
“Ekanga, I’m not Kelon, as you see. May I stand and come closer? I
want to see something.”

Ekanga frowned. “Why?”

“Trust me. I am your brother in
the Spirit.”

What the hell was he up to? I
didn’t want him going near this guy. But Ekanga nodded and Shardul
stood, walking slowly over to him, hands raised. “I am going to
look at the injector in your pocket, and then your arms.”

“I have a bomb,” Ekanga said,
moving back a little.

“Yes. I won’t interfere.” He
reached into the inner pocket and drew out not only the
hypoinjector but also a bottle of pills. “Your arm?”

Ekanga allowed him to push up
his sleeve. Even from this distance, I could make out the livid
purple marks on his pale skin. “Thank you,” Shardul said, putting
the drugs back into Ekanga’s jacket. “You’re also dying, aren’t
you?”

“All that matters is to stop it
happening to anyone else.”

Shardul nodded, and
turned to us. “He has
lojeta
poisoning.”

Denge suddenly went very still.
I had no idea what Shardul was talking about, so I asked the
obvious question. “What’s that?”

“
Lojeta
is a rare mineral found
here and there through this continent, in association with
nixum
and
other ores. When our people first settled here, there were deaths
among those collecting clay and minerals for pottery and beadwork
in certain regions. Left undisturbed, the deposits are not a
hazard, and the land can be farmed. But when it leaches into the
water supply, the poison builds up in those drinking it and causes
organ failure, abortions, deformities and other
illness.”

“
We have no other water
supply,” Ekanga said. “Even the rain water, which isn’t enough, is
polluted by the mine dust. The officials investigated and measured,
but then said there was no measurable amount of
lojeta
in the water.”
He shook his blotchy arm at us. “This is imaginary, is it? My sons
died of natural causes?”

“The mines caused this?” my
father asked, then turned to Denge. “You must have known about
this.”

Denge folded his arms. His
expression was angry, but I sensed more fear than anger. “No report
reached me, and if it was investigated, then the mineral must be
present elsewhere than in the water.”

“
You’re
lying,
”
Ekanga said, advancing a little, gun in his shaking hand pointed at
Denge. “The head of my village wrote to you personally to plead for
help. He received a note thanking him for bringing the matter to
your attention.” He pulled a piece of paper from his outside jacket
pocket, and threw it on the floor. “There.”

Shardul bent and retrieved it.
“It’s a letter from Sri Denge’s office as he said,” he confirmed
after scanning it. He walked over and showed it to my father.
“Doesn’t prove the original letter said what he claims but....”

“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.