Dishonored (45 page)

Oliver finished combing his hair, then went through to the sitting-room of the suite to wait for the room service. They had
ordered a late breakfast, and it was due any minute. Hearing a knock on the door, he hurried across to open it. He was hungry,
looking forward to eating.

“Captain Hicks?”

“Yes?” Oliver looked at the gentleman in the passage. He was confused for a moment or two then recognized the eyes. They were
the same eyes.

“I’m John Bennet, Indu’s grandfather.” John held out his hand.

“Of course, of course!” Oliver shook it warmly. “I knew it when I saw you, the resemblance, it’s quite striking!” He jumped
back. “God, sorry, please, please come in.” He showed John into the sitting-room. “Could you wait for a moment, I’ll call
Indi.”

“Yes, of course.” John unfastened his linen jacket and glanced around him. He heard whisperings in the bedroom, then the door
quickly closed, cutting him off.

Oliver leaned against it and scowled. “For God’s sake, Indi!” he hissed. “Get out there and see him!”

Indi sat on the edge of the bed. “No.” She stared out of the window at the water. Oliver came over to her and grabbed her
arm. He pulled her.

“Stop being childish! He’s come all this way to find you, to see if you’re all right, I imagine. Go out and talk to him.”

“I said no!” Indi jerked her arm away. “And get off me!”

Oliver stomped back to the door and opened it.

“Brigadier, Indi’s in here.” He walked out of the bedroom and nodded to John. “Please go on in.” Crossing to the balcony,
he stepped out and left them both to it.

John stood in the doorway and stared at his granddaughter. She looked different, older in a way and yet vulnerable. She didn’t
glance up at him; she kept her face turned away.

“You’re angry,” he said, “I’m sorry.”

“What did you expect?” Indi twisted her fingers in her lap. “You told me lies, all my life. I shouldn’t have had to find out
like this; you must have known!”

John leaned against the door frame. “I did know but I tried very, very hard to forget it. I couldn’t face it.” He suddenly
felt very tired, very old. The anxiety had kept him going, the fear that she might be in danger. Now he was here he realized
that he shouldn’t have come; he had acted rashly, out of panic. He should have left her alone. “I didn’t think it would do
you any good, knowing,” he said, “I wanted you to be happy, not bogged down with someone else’s mistake.”

Indi finally looked up. “Would you have ever told me the truth?”

“Yes, when you were ready for it.”

“And when would that have been?” She stood and walked away from him to the sliding doors. She saw Oliver out on the balcony
and the sight of him made her feel worse, more alone than ever.

“You should go home, Gramps,” she said, glancing back at him. “I can work this out on my own.”

He nodded. “Yes, I can see that.” Turning to go, he said, “At least you’re all right. I was worried.”

“Yes, I’m all right.” She shrugged. “Relatively.”

John walked away from her and out of the room. “Oliver?” He stood in the middle of the sitting-room as Oliver hurried in from
the balcony.

“I’ll see you back to your room, Brigadier,” Oliver said.

“It’s John, by the way.”

“John then.” Oliver smiled, and opened the door of the suite just as room service arrived. “Take it in, please,” he instructed,
“I’ll be back in a while.” Letting John go first, he followed him out into the passage and together they walked back to John’s
room.

Indi was pacing the floor when he came back. She was chewing her fingernails and had eaten nothing. She stopped as he opened
the door.

“Ashok rang,” she said. “He’s found something, in Bodi Yadav’s accounts.”

Oliver perched on the edge of the sofa. He wanted her to ask about John, at least to make some reference to him.

“Apparently he made monthly payments on a house in Ghanerao,” she went on, “up in the hills north of here. Ashok asked his
aunt if they ever holidayed there and she said no, she’d never heard of this place!” Indi’s eyes were burning. “Do you see?
It must be connected! Perhaps he escaped there, perhaps he sent Ramesh Rai up there to hide. Whatever it is we have to go
there. We have to!” She hurried through to the bedroom to collect her things up. “Ashok’s hired a Land Rover,” she called.
“He’s coming over here. We’re to meet him at the jetty at half-past!” She looked behind her at Oliver in the doorway. “Oli,
get a move on!”

He continued to stand there. “What about your grandfather?” he asked at last.

Indi stopped what she was doing. “That’s my business,” she said coldly.

“No, it’s our business, after this morning!”

Suddenly Indi snapped. Seeing John, Ashok’s phone call, Oliver, that morning, everything together had unhinged her and she
lost her temper. “Our business!” she cried. “After this morning!” She didn’t care what she said, she just wanted to be out
of there, on her way! “Please, it was only sex, Oliver! Don’t read anything more into it than there is!”

Oliver shook his head, incredulous. After everything, all that had happened between them the past week, after what they had
felt that morning, it was none of his business, it was only sex! He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Forget it, Oliver,
he told himself, again and again, willing his self control. Forget it, cool it! Nothing means anything to her anymore. He
snapped his eyes open and crossed to the bed to get his things together. Trouble was, he couldn’t let her go alone and he
knew that, even if he did just want to walk out now and leave her to it. He had a responsibility to the brigadier, to himself,
and he had to look after her, though God knows why! He grabbed his bag and followed her out into the sitting-room.

“So you’re coming,” she said from the doorway of the suite.

“Yes,” he answered. “Looks that way, doesn’t it!”

She stared at him for a moment. “Why?” she asked, unable to stop herself.

“Because this whole thing is beginning to look bloody dangerous if you ask me, and I don’t want your death on my hands!” He
scowled across at her. “OK?”

Indi cursed herself for asking. Despite all she’d said, all she had decided, she wanted him to say something different. She
shrugged and bit her lip. “OK,” she replied. “Come on. Let’s go.”

John had seen them go. He was drinking tea on the terrace and had watched them from a distance. God, he hoped Hicks knew how
to take care of her! He finished his tea and held up his hand to attract the waiter’s attention. As he did so he caught a
glimpse of the Indian he’d run into earlier.

Leaving several rupee notes on the table, John stood and walked into reception. There was a boat leaving from the jetty and
he could see the Indian outside waiting to board it. He watched him for a few minutes, then turned back toward the terrace.
He was being paranoid, he told himself; the man could be anyone. Only John knew eyes like that; he’d seen men who liked to
kill many times before.

“Excuse me? Mr. Bennet, sir?” He looked around. “I have a message for you, sir.”

John walked over to the desk and took the slip of paper handed to him. He opened it and read it quickly. It said, “Have gone
to Ghanerao with Ashok, it could be difficult. We may need help.” It was signed Oliver Hicks. Looking out at the jetty, John
saw the boat move off. The Indian was on it and he carried a bag; he was headed on a journey, that was obvious.

“Can you get me a guide?” he asked the clerk. “Someone who knows the northern country, the hills nearer the border? And a
jeep, I’ll need to hire a jeep.”

The clerk nodded and suddenly smiled. “Oh yes, Mr. Bennet, sir,” he said, “I have a brother-in-law who is a mountain guide,
sir, he will be most pleased to help, I am sure.”

John nodded and folded the paper away in his pocket. “Good,” he said. “I’ll leave you to arrange that for, say,” he glanced
at his watch, “an hour’s time?”

“Oh yes, sir, it is no problem at all.” The clerk frowned for a moment. John stopped.

“Yes? What is it?”

“It is very short notice, Mr. Bennet, sir, it might be costing a bit more money for you.”

John sighed irritably. “Just get it organized, please, I will pay what is required.” And, glancing quickly at the water, seeing
the boat almost at the far side, he hurried back to his room to pack a bag and get himself ready for any eventuality.

I
NDI LEANED AGAINST THE
L
AND
R
OVER AND PUT THE WATER
bottle up to her mouth. She took a long drink, then passed it over to Ashok.

“I don’t understand it,” she said, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. “Do you think perhaps that my father and Bodi
Yadav planned all this months in advance?” Ashok shook his head. “Well why rent that house for months before the theft occurred?
It doesn’t make sense.”

He finished drinking and put the bottle back in the bag. “I am certain that my uncle would not have done that,” he answered.
“If he had planned to steal from the maharajah he would have taken care of his family first, I am sure of this. He would not
have left my mother, his own mother without a man in the family.”

Indi sighed heavily and looked toward the telephone exchange. “What on earth is Oliver doing?” she said crossly. “He’s been
in there almost an hour now!”

Ashok touched her arm. “He will be here soon.” He had guessed several days ago what they felt about each other; he was only
sorry that neither of them had the sense to admit it.

Indi opened the door of the jeep and took the map off the front seat. “Well, when Oliver gets back, if he ever gets back,
I vote that we go up to the house, have another look there and then think again.” They were in Ghanerao, they had been up
to the house, seen it, then come down to the small town again. It was a summerhouse, rented to the richer residents of Delhi
when the city became too hot to bear, and it held little interest for them. Indi studied the map again for a few moments then
said, “For God’s sake! Where on earth is Oliver?”

“Ah!” Ashok waved to the figure in the distance. “Here he is!”

Both he and Indi walked across the dusty town square toward him.

“D’you two want a drink?” Oliver called as he got closer. “There’s a small shop around the corner selling bottled drinks.”

Indi frowned; she didn’t want to waste any more time. She glanced across at Ashok and he shrugged. Oliver reached them.

“Well I could do with a break,” he said, “I’m bloody thirsty and I’ve got quite a bit to say as well.”

“All right,” Indi looked back at the jeep. “I’ll go and lock the Land Rover,” she said.

“Get your bag, will you?” Oliver called. She held up her hand in acknowledgment and walked off. Minutes later she was back,
and they set off for the small shop.

“So? What is it you have to tell us?” Indi asked.

They were sitting on the pavement and Oliver had the book open on his lap, making furious notes on a sheet of paper. He glanced
up momentarily. “Hang on for a moment longer,” he said, going back to what he was doing. “I’ll be with you in a sec.”

Indi tutted and sipped her yogurt drink. Ashok looked down the street. The place was deserted, it was midday and there was
hardly a soul around. He noticed an Indian he thought he’d seen earlier but the man disappeared down a side street, and he
didn’t have a chance to get a good look.

“Right!” Oliver sat up straight and Ashok turned to him, instantly forgetting the man.

“This is what I’ve got,” Oliver said, holding out his notes. “But it’s different from what we originally thought, I’m guessing
quite a lot and I don’t think it is at all connected to the Tiberis Fort.” Both Indi and Ashok looked surprised. “I think
it was supposed to be,” he went on, “but then things changed; Rai decided to alter his puzzle. He added the verse, and that’s
the clue we were supposed to follow. It is a completely separate thing from the fort.”

Indi put down her drink. “The verse?”

“Gerard Manley Hopkins.” Oliver looked down at the first page of his notes. “I kept having this odd feeling that it was familiar,
I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t at all sure. Anyway, the verse wasn’t familiar, but the style was. It’s so unique,
that’s why.” He smiled briefly. “So I rang my friend Rob Jones in Delhi, just now. On the way here, in the jeep, I kept going
over and over the words and thought the only person it might possibly be, that I could think of anyway, was Gerard Manley
Hopkins.” He was excited and he was speaking so quickly that Ashok was having trouble keeping up with him. “Anyway, that’s
why I’ve been so long! Rob had to go to the library to get a copy of the poetry out, then come back and ring me here at the
exchange.”

Oliver shifted and crossed his legs in the lotus position. “It had to be a first verse, that’s what I thought, and so he flicked
through the collection that he had, skimming every first verse and bingo! He got it! Here.” Oliver lifted a sheet of notes
and began to read.

“As a dare-gale skylark scanted in a dull cage

Man’s mourning spirit in his bone-house, mean house, dwells—

That bird beyond the remembering his free fells;

This in drudgery, day-labouring-out life’s age.”

He stopped and looked up at them. “It’s called ‘The Caged Skylark’! It was the second line that did it, ‘Man’s mourning spirit
in his bone-house, mean house, dwells—’ It’s so typical of Gerard Manley Hopkins and I kept thinking…” He broke off and
flushed. Neither Indi nor Ashok were following him. “Anyway,” he said, “the poem goes on to say, ‘Yet both do droop deadly
sometimes in their cells/ Or wring their barriers in bursts of fear or rage.’ Then in the third verse, there’s the word prison.”
Again he looked up, they were both still blank-faced. “So I got to thinking, once I’d written this all down, that it must
have meant something, the cage business, the prison, the words “fear” and “anger,” and I started to go through the book again.”
He turned to the page he wanted and held the book up. “This page is about conception, creation, love. It was the first time
that Jane Mills and Ramesh Rai made love.” He glanced sidelong at Indi’s face and saw her swallow hard and look down. “We’re
assuming anyway. It’s dated twenty-fourth July, 1965. The puzzle goes on, right up until October. Then it stops. The Tiberis
Fort was painted on the twenty-ninth of September.” Oliver shook his head, it seemed to make such clear sense now he wondered
why he’d never thought of it before. “The murder of Phillip Mills and mistress was the beginning of October,” he continued.
“The verse is dated October.” He took a breath. “Now I’m assuming, OK?”