Dishonored (28 page)

Jane ran toward him, along the main road, covered in blood. Her face was streaked with it, her hair matted with it. She was
crying as she ran.

“My God… Jane…” His voice died on his lips. Jumping down from the cab, he ran toward her, his heart pounding with
fear. He caught her in his arms and held her sobbing figure close to him, shielding her from the road, from the stares of
the passing traffic. As soon as she calmed, he pulled back.

“Are you hurt? Jane? Are you injured?”

She managed to shake her head. She was shivering with the shock, her whole body trembling uncontrollably. Rami hurried her
to the jeep and helped her up. He jumped in beside her and slamming the car into reverse, he spun around and tore up the drive
to the house.

Inside, he carried her to the bathroom and ran the taps in the bath. He ripped the wet, bloody clothes from her body and helped
her down into the water, looking away, painfully remembering that one time they had made love. He fetched some towels, thankful
that his mother and sisters were out and found a
shalwar kameez
and some pajamas for her to wear. Back in the bathroom, he held the towel for her and wrapped her in it as she stood helpless,
shaking so violently she could hardly move. He cradled her body into his and whispered to her, lying next to her on the floor,
trying to soothe her and trying to warm her cold shocked body.

Some time later, she was still. She laid her head against his shoulder and he stroked her hair. Her breathing evened.

“Jane?” His voice was no more than a faint whisper. “What happened?”

Jane opened her eyes and lifted her head. She looked at him. “Phillip’s dead,” she said blankly.

Rami started. He jerked back. “Dead!” He couldn’t believe it. “How? My God, Jane! How?” He gripped her shoulder and sat up.

“Murdered,” she said dully. It was as if she still didn’t quite understand it. “Suzanna’s dead too,” she said, shaking her
head. “I held her.” It was a murmur. “I tried to help her… I…” She broke off and Rami pulled her up to him, holding
her so tightly she could hardly breathe. He released her and stood, pulling her to her feet.

“Jane.” He faced her and held her shoulders. “Jane, listen to me. This is bad, very bad, all right?” He spoke to her as he
would a child. “You have to get dressed now and we have to talk to the police. You found them dead, is that right?” She nodded.
“Where?” He looked at her face, her blank eyes. “Can you tell me where?”

Jane shook her head. “You know,” she murmured, “you know where…”

Rami turned away. She was in shock, incoherent. He quickly unfolded the small pile of clothes and helped her to dress, all
the time his brain reeling, the panic tight in his chest. He didn’t know what the hell had happened and all he could think
was please God, don’t let Jane be involved.

Leaving her alone for a few moments, Rami hurried along the passage and called to the head bearer to dismiss the servants
for the rest of the day; he didn’t want anyone else implicated in this. Then he went back to Jane, took her hand and led her
down to Shiva’s study, taking the key from his grandfather’s suite and letting them both into the private hallowed room. He
sat her on the divan and crossed to the window, standing in a shaft of sunlight, suspended in agonizing indecision. Until
he had found out exactly what had happened, he didn’t know what to do. He turned as Jane got up and walked across to Shiva’s
desk.

“Jane?”

She stood in front of a neat pile of papers and held the paperweight in her hand. It was a small, heavy jeweled bird, exquisitely
set with diamonds, emeralds and rubies, the work of Rami’s great, great grandfather. It was Shiva’s, the bird of fate, he
had often called it, and Rami looked at her as she turned it over and over in her palm, the way that his grandfather did.

“Jane? Are you all right?” For one terrible moment he thought that the shock had deranged her mind, that perhaps she had done
something that had sent her over the edge. Then she looked at him.

“There was a man, Colonel Reginald Mills,” she said, “the Commanding officer of the Fourth Battalion of the Dragoon Guards
up at Moraphur in 1857, the year of the Mutiny.”

Rami stood still. He knew the name Moraphur, it was where his family came from, and he knew the story of the Mutiny, of Jagat
Rai. He looked at Jane’s face. The confusion had cleared, the blankness had gone from her eyes. She held the bird out to him
and it caught the light, the stones glittered. He felt his chest constrict.

“In revenge for the murder of the Europeans, among whom was his wife, Colonel Mills executed many Indians, threw many more
into jail. The story goes, so Phillip has told me, that he blamed one family in particular, I don’t know who, but two men,
a father and a son. He ruined them, confiscated their lands, businesses, wealth.” Jane stopped and glanced down at the bird.
“He stole a small keepsake from this family for himself; they were jewelers, and he took a piece of their work. It is in the
British Museum, I’ve seen it myself, donated by Phillip’s father…” Her voice faltered and she broke off for a moment.
“It is a small jeweled bird,” she said, “one of a pair.” She looked up at Rami. “It is the partner of this one here, I would
stake my life on it.” Her hand closed over the bird and she held it tightly in her fist. “The father died in prison—”

“And the son swore to honor his father’s death,” Rami finished for her, “and to pass this oath on down through the generations.”
He repeated the words he had heard so often from Shiva. “It is a matter of great family honor, the man who revenges Indrajit
Rai’s death will be a god among gods.”

Jane began to tremble. She squeezed her fist tighter and the skin on her hand stretched taut and white over her knuckles.
“Major Phillip Reginald Mills,” she whispered, “great, great grandson of Colonel Reginald Mills…” A sob caught in her
throat.

“No, Jane, no!” Rami moved toward her but she backed away. “It’s impossible! Why now? Why not years ago? Why let this vengeance
wait for so long?”

“Because there has never been a Mills in India, not until now! There has never been the chance before.”

“No, Jane!” Rami cried. “It cannot be…” He shook his head, he didn’t believe it, he couldn’t believe it. This sort of
thing died with the birth of the New India, it was crazy, superstitious, ridiculous! “No,” he said, turning away from her,
“no, Jane, I simply do not believe it.”

“But, Rami, you must! Don’t you see? How could it have happened without a Mills in India? How could it have been done until
now? My God! Your grandfather may even have influenced Phillip’s job here… you said he was instrumental in many of the
maharajah’s decisions, you said…”

“No! Jane, stop this! This is folly, this talk of vengeance! Stop please!” Jane stared at him across the room, then she glanced
down at her hand and opened the fist. A thought so terrible struck her that for a moment it took her breath away.

“Perhaps you knew this already,” she said, “you sent me there, you arranged to meet me…”

Rami spun around. “I what?” He moved so fast across the room and grabbed her shoulders with such force that Jane cried out.

“I did what, Jane?” He shook her, not realizing what he was doing. “What address?”

Jane’s teeth rattled inside her head and her vision blurred. She dropped the bird. “Stop it!” she shrieked. “Stop it!” Rami
abruptly let her go and she slumped down, holding her head. He stared down at her. “I got a message,” she cried. “You told
me to go to that address! I got a message last night, to meet you there!”

She started to sob and Rami sunk to his knees, pulling her in close to him. “Oh God, Jane, please don’t cry. I’m so sorry,
darling Jane, please…” He kissed her hair, pressed her face close to his chest. “Shiva,” he murmured. The name went round
and round in his head. Shiva. Shiva invited him to the lunch yesterday, Shiva knew Jane trusted him, Shiva knew she would
go where he asked her to. I should be there now, he thought, I should be out of Baijur, up at Viki’s lodge and Jane would
have no one, Phillip is dead, his mistress is dead and Jane was seen covered with their blood. He swallowed down the intense
fear that rose suddenly in his throat and squeezed his eyes shut tight. When he opened them again, he saw the bird lying on
the floor, the stones glinting in the light, like tiny darts of evil. He pulled back from Jane and said, “Who saw you, Jane?
Who and where?”

Jane shook her head. “I don’t know, I…” She closed her eyes, trying to think back. “Lots of people saw me!” she cried.
“I took a taxi, jumped out near your house, I ran from the bungalow into the street!” She caught her breath. “Oh God, Rami!
They’ll think I…” She leaped up, darting across to the window. “Can anyone see me here? Does anyone know I’m with you?”
She began to panic again, her whole body pounding with fear. “The servants? Where are they?” She ran over to the desk and
grabbed the phone. “I’ve got to get away! I’ll phone the airport, I have to leave now!” She dropped her hands down on to the
desk and hung her head, momentarily paralyzed by anxiety. Then, frantically, she started to rifle through the papers on the
desk. “There must be a number for the airport here! There must be—”

Hurrying across to her, Rami put his hand over hers and stopped it. “Jane, don’t!” He picked it up and held it tight. “Don’t
panic, please! I’m here, we’ll think this through.” He replaced the receiver and glanced down at the pad by the phone as he
did so. He saw the address Shiva had written the night before.

“Do you remember the place you went to?” he asked quietly, hanging his head.

“No! I…” Jane took a deep breath to calm herself. “All I remember is that it was near the Bazaar, on the other side of
the Chawlor district.” Rami ripped the corner off the paper and screwed it up into a tight little ball.

“Rami, what? What are you doing?”

He turned away for a moment, then he faced her. “Nothing, Jane,” he answered. He kissed the hand he held and Jane looked up
at him. His eyes were filled with infinite sadness.

“You are right,” he said. “You must get away to safety. We have to make plans.” He released her hand and picked up the telephone.
“I will call Bodi.” He registered the fear in Jane’s eyes. “It is all right,” he reassured her, “we can trust him, I promise.”
He looked at her, at the clear honest face he loved so much, and said, “I am sorry, Jane, for all this.” He knew now that
Shiva had used him, used them both. “If I had not loved you, if you had not loved me…”

Jane put her finger up to his mouth and silenced him. “I would never have lived a true life,” she said and she moved away
from him while he rang Dr. Yadav and spoke quickly and quietly in order to save her life.

It was almost dusk by the time the arrangements had been made and Jane stood by the window in Shiva’s study, watching for
the last time the sun go down over Baijur. She had her back to the room and heard the murmur of conversation behind her as
Bodi explained the final details of her flight to Rami. She didn’t turn around though; she didn’t want to know what would
happen when she had gone, or hear the lies that would be told. It was too eerie; it was as if she had already disappeared.

She shivered as she heard an eagle cry and felt a movement behind her. Rami placed his arms gently around her and laid his
cheek close to hers. “You must leave,” he whispered. “It is the signal.” She closed her eyes to remember his soft, warm breath
on her cheek and they stayed like that for as long as they could. “We must go,” Bodi said behind them.

Jane opened her eyes again. “I am ready,” she answered. She turned into the room and took the shawl and cloak Bodi held out
for her. Rami helped her on with them and tucked the shawl over her face, securing it. All he could see were her eyes, the
clear, pale gray eyes. Bodi opened the door of the study.

“When we have gone,” he said to Rami, “you are to wait thirty minutes then raise the alarm as I said.” Rami nodded. Jane followed
Bodi along the passage, out of the back door of the bungalow and down the steps into the garden. It was quiet and dark; only
the sound of the
tiddi
could be heard. Turning toward the clump of trees at the far end of Shiva Rai’s land, Bodi saw the flash of a torchlight,
and said, “Come, they are waiting for us.” He quickly embraced Rami. “He will not trust you, my son,” he said hurriedly. “You
must be strong, tell him again and again that you know nothing, that she fled from the house when you went to get help.” Bodi
released him. “You do understand that, do you not?”

“Yes, I understand.” Rami moved to embrace Jane but she put her hands out to stop him. She couldn’t bear it to have to tear
herself away from his body, from his arms. She stood and looked at him for a few moments, then quickly she reached up and
brushed his lips with her own. She said nothing.

“I will come for you,” Rami whispered urgently. “I promise you…” But she had turned away, waiting for Bodi’s signal to
run.

The eagle cried a second time and Jane felt a hand on her back.

“Now! Run!” She took Bodi’s cue and together they darted out of the cover of the house and across the open space toward the
trees, two dark figures running under the shadow of the clouds.

“Go on, go!” Rami cried silently after them. “Go like the wind!” And he stood and watched them until the darkness of the trees
engulfed them and all he was left with was their fleeting image and the echo of the eagle’s cry.

M
ITCHELL
H
ARVEY STEPPED OFF THE PLANE AT
D
ELHI
A
IRPORT
and on to Indian soil for the first time. The warmth hit him, a rush of humid air that made him sweat on contact, the smell
of it peculiar to India. He walked down the steps and on to the tarmac, carrying a briefcase loaded with US dollars, and boarded
the bus. He spoke to no one, made no eye contact. He was in a filthy temper and had been since he’d left Dubai. He would negotiate
the final price, deliver the cash then fuck off out of this God-forsaken place. Two days he’d give it, two miserable stinking
days, that was all.