The Atlas Murders (16 page)

 Henry downed a good swallow.
“Every bit as good as any pint I’ve ever drank.” They were on their second pint
when the girls began to arrive. The Russian lads welcomed the young girls
sitting them on their knees, throwing money to buy more drink and cavorting and
fondling them shamelessly. More customers began to arrive. One party were
definitely English and from the Blue Funnel ship docked not far from the
Rangoon. Henry saw what he believed was the madam standing at a doorway talking
to two young girls. She was directing them; one girl came to Henry’s table and asked
if she could she sit down. Gary Conrad pulled out a chair and seated her. “What
will you have to drink?”

 She ignored his offer and introduced
herself. “Me Harini.”

“I’m Gary and this is Henry.”

She gave a little nod, “please
meet you English boys.”

 Henry took out some rupees
and handed them to her. ”Will you get us a round of drinks two pints and whatever
you‘re drinking yourself.”

When she had gone to the
counter Conrad watched her walking across the floor, he turned to Henry with a
lecherous grin. “Well, do you fancy it? Because I have a hard on here just
watching her.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m
sure they’ll be more coming along, although she is a little beauty. You do your
business with her.”

Conrad was fiddling in his
pocket and took out a few packs of condoms and then put them back again.
Licking his lips he said, “Just checking.”

 Harini came back with the drinks.
She was no more than sixteen years old. Her dark shoulder length hair framed a
beautiful innocent face, her eyes were dark liquid like a dying fawn, her every
movement graceful. She spoke reasonably clear Pidgin English and when she leaned
over to say something her large earrings and necklace made a soft tinkling
sound like the whisper of a wind chime. After a short while they began to
ignore Henry and he was left alone to his thoughts. He scrutinized the
customers and couldn’t see anyone who might resemble a threat. He was nearing
the end of his third pint and thought it could be a long night and he would
need to have all his faculties intact if he was confronted - he was taking
Vera’s warning seriously. Gary Conrad finished his drink and stood up to leave
with Harini.

She leaned over and held
Henry by the hand. “You come me too. I show you nice young girl.”

He followed them through a
door leading along a dimly lit, narrow passageway. Harini showed Henry into a
room where six women were sitting around on low sofa type lounge chairs and
some on cushions on the floor. Two of them stood up to pull Henry into their
harem. Conrad had gone into another room with Harini. The women were dressed in
cheap gaudy saris and brass bangles, their lips and gums stained bloody crimson
from chewing betel nuts. They smelled of spices and patchouli oil. He turned to
leave when the matronly one he noticed in the bar earlier came and took his
arm.

“You Henry?”

 “Yes I’m he.”

“Your friend he say me to
look after you, come this way.”

She escorted him farther down
the hallway and they entered a room tastefully decorated and smelling of
incense.

“You like to use telephone
your friend says.”

“Yes please, I would very
much like to use a phone,” he said, wondering what she meant by ‘your friend’.
Then he remembered the big grinning Indian man with the turban on the ship and
the number he had given him.

She opened a desk and took
out an ancient looking telephone - one that you had to crank the handle for the
operator.

“You use. I come back again,
nice surprise for you.”

Henry was put through to the
number he had memorized. It was answered by someone with a distinctive old Etonian
accent who he discovered, was his contact, Wolff. He was instructed to go to
the Taj Mahal Hotel in the Chowpatty area of the city.

Henry had arranged to have
his half day off the next day so he decided to meet there at three that
afternoon. Then his contact hung up.

He sat admiring the décor of
the room and enjoying the sweet smell of perfume and incense from the lighted
candles dotted around. There were erotic pictures like ones he had seen in the
Kama Sutra.

The matron appeared at the
door with a beautiful young girl, whom she ushered in before her. “Here is
Nilima, especially for you, new country girl. She want to make you so happy. Everything
she will do for you.”

Henry was astonished at the
youth and beauty of the shy young girl. She was dressed in a flowing dress of
green and aqua marine chiffon, and like a water nymph it was softly shimmering
on her perfect body. She stood her eyes the color of obsidian, beautifully
proud, masking her tremulous timidity.

He followed the matron
outside into the hallway. “Thank you for the use of the phone, and how did you
know my name?”

“My friend, he go your ship
and ask you come here. He detective. Very good man. He maybe come here tonight.
I tell him you phone and enjoy pretty young girl Nilima.” She pushed him back
into the room. ”You go now. Not keep sweet soft bamba waiting,” she chuckled to
herself as she walked away.

Nilima was standing waiting
for him and when he closed the door she came and pushed a bolt across to lock
it. “People maybe come look us.” She smiled and leaning into Henry she stood on
her toes and kissed him full on the lips. Her breath smelled of scented orchid,
she pushed her firm nubile body against him and he became immediately aroused.
She opened the buttons of his shirt and kissed his nipples. “You so strong,
make plenty love me.” She dropped the chiffon to the floor and stood naked
before him; her skin was translucent amber with perfect rounded breasts and
pert nipples. Henry undressed and was unashamedly aroused. He could contain
himself no longer and he carried her to the bed and laid her gently across the
cool linen. Her appetite amazed him and her inexperience was amply compensated
for by her enthusiasm. Her orgasms were loud convulsive and breathless. He lay
exhausted after how long, he couldn’t remember and she held him against her. Eventually
he stirred his body and kissed her softly on her forehead.

“I will have to go now.”

 “So soon Henry,” she
whispered.

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“You come tomorrow Henry?”

 “Yes Nilima, I will come see
you again?”

He left a wad of rupees which
seemed to embarrass her.

Gary Conrad was in the bar
and Harini was entertaining a young man at another table. Henry brought two
pints to the table. Gary looked up surprised.

 “What took you so long? How
many times did you ride her?”

 “As many time as was
required,” came Henry’s evasive reply.

 Henry turned to look at
Harini.

“I see your girl has a new
client.”

 “Yeah, one of the crew from
that Russian ship.”

 “I reckon they could be
rough lads too.”

 “You can say that again. I
saw some Russians in action in a beer joint in Hong Kong and they literally
wrecked the place. These people are not to be messed with. I hear they can be fairly
handy with the knife too.”

 “Here’s some of our crew
now.”

 Gary
Conrad turned round to see
four of the deck hands come into the bar. Henry thought this might be a good
time to cut loose from
Conrad. He’d had five pints so had to be careful going
back alone. He noticed Tukola wasn’t among the new arrivals. He decided to go
back on board and see who was ashore and maybe he might get a chance to search
Tukola’s or Oswyn’s cabin if they were ashore.

 Henry slipped unnoticed by
his shipmates out into the night. He walked along the dimly lit road. Trying to
throw off the attention of pimps and prostitutes, he noticed a man walk out of
a bar across the road from him. It was Tukola and he was alone. Henry watched
him walk on and throw off the attentions of a prostitute before he disappeared
down a side street. That’s good, he thought, I might get to search his cabin if
his roommate is also ashore, but then again, the cabin would surely be locked.

He hailed a rickshaw and told
the miserable, undernourished boy to take him to the dock. The traffic was
still busy and the nearer they got to the docks the less street lighting there
was. The rickshaw stopped about half a mile from the ship and no persuading
would get the boy to go any further. He paid the fare and stood on the dusty
road, it was very quiet along the waterfront and he began to feel vulnerable;
so he took a small knife from his pocket and held it in his hand. It wasn’t
much of a weapon but it was all he had.

His eyes were accustomed to
the dark and he could see the ships masts outlined against the night sky over
the dock warehouse. He was approaching the warehouse when he thought he heard
footsteps behind him. He stopped and listened, the warehouse was dark and full
of bales of jute piled thirty feet high, with passageways through them. This
was the cargo they were going to load for some Japanese port. He walked on
slowly keeping close to the stacked bales, it was very dark now. He heard a
rustling above him and then a bale of jute came crashing down missing him by a
few feet. He leant back against the wall of jute and saw a figure come out of
the blackness. The figure stopped by the fallen bale to check if he’d hit his
target. Henry pounced, his fist striking bone just under the ear. The man cried
out as he fell then an accomplice above jumped down landing on the bale. Henry
could see the accomplice’s blade flash as he lunged forward; Henry side-stepped
and put out his leg catching the attacker below the knees, then lashed out with
the small knife and felt contact as the man fell.

Before he could follow up, a
blinding flash of light lit up the scene and he saw the two scruffily dressed
Indian assailants scramble to their feet and run for their lives. The light
went out and he could hear the running footsteps disappearing into the dark. He
wondered who had saved him by turning on the warehouse lights, then moved back
into the shadow of the jute when he heard footsteps approaching. The figure was
unmistakable, even in the dim light - it was the big Indian man.

“Henry, are you ok?”

“Yes, thanks to you Tutul, turning
on those lights saved my life. How come you were here?.”

 “I was tailing the native
fellow Tukola, when I saw you leaving The Blue Orchid on your own. If you had
stayed with the other crewmen I think you’re would-be assassins would not have
dared to attack two or three of you. And by the way, my real name is not Tutul,
that’s just an alias I sometimes use. My name is Fokir.”

“I see, but how did you know
there might be an attempt on my life?”

“I didn’t really know; I was
just being extra cautious. We’ve been briefed about the whole story and as only
one party knows you are on board and a danger to their son, there was a slight
chance they might try something like this. It was only a hunch by the way, and
I’m glad I acted on it.”

 “And so am I, but it’s a pity
you didn’t catch my attackers - you might have gotten some information on who
they were working for.”

 “No, even if I did they
would know nothing. They are working for a third party - half pay now and half
when you are dead. They may not ever see the person who gave them the first
half of the money and the second half would be left somewhere convenient for
them to pick up.”

 “Well Fokir, can I call you
that?”

 “But yes of course, that’s
my name.”

 “You speak perfect English
now. On board ship you only spoke broken English.”

 “I had to put on that
charade. It was part of my cover. Actually, I was educated in England and
trained by your police force at Scotland Yard. I spent twelve years of my life
in England and loved every day of it. There are still times when I miss dear
old England with her rain, gloomy skies and winter fog. I will return there
again someday.”

 “When you do you will have
to look me up and come and be my guest.”

 “Thank you for your kind
invitation, I will certainly visit you. Did you call the number I gave you and make
arrangements to meet your contact?”

 “Yes, I’m meeting him
tomorrow at the Taj Mahal Hotel at three o’clock.”

 “Good, will you be going
ashore alone? If so, I can meet you outside the dock area and take you there?”

 “That would be a great help,
I will leave the ship at two o’clock.”

 “Good, until tomorrow then.”

 Gary Conrad was suffering from a severe morning after, hangover and like many
sailors after a heavy night ashore, said very little about the previous night.

After spending most of the morning writing letters, at
five minutes to two, Henry left the ship, walked a safe distance and waited for
his lift to arrive.  

A minute or so later a small yellow
car drove up and stopped.

. “Jump in,” said Fokir.

They drove on through the
throngs of chaotic traffic and eventually arrived at the Taj Mahal.