My Brother’s Keeper

- 14 -

Cuttack to Calcutta : 205 miles as the crow flies, 300 by road. The Indian traffic police apparently all went off duty at dusk. On the empty highways I pushed the car up to over a hundred, gritting my teeth at the scream of the over-revved engine. Even then I was passed a couple of times, once by a lunatic in a Ferrari and once by an old Rolls-Royce Silver Wraith that breathed past me like a moonlit ghost.

I reached the suburbs of Calcutta in less than four hours, then was slowed to a crawl by dawn traffic. As the sun came up like a smoky red ball, great lines of carts and bicycles crept out to clog the roads ahead.

Before I reached Howrah I had faint hopes of arriving before the night train. That prospect disappeared as I merged into the sluggish sea of commuters. It was seven o’clock and full light before I jerked the Toyota to a halt by the old double gates of the house and hobbled inside. Running on sharp gravel and six hours of driving without shoes had left my right foot raw and blistered.

No sign of Chandra’s car — but perhaps he had received my message and come over by taxi.

And no mustachioed guard in the little sentry box. That was the first oddity. He was always there, unless he was sent on some errand.

I resisted the urge to run straight into the house. Leo’s training was at work, as it had been working for me during our escape from Belur’s house. At the open front door I forced myself to stand still for several minutes, listening.

Had I beaten Zan and Ameera in the trip from Cuttack ? Surely not — the train would make the trip in little more than three hours. So perhaps they had not headed here at all. Maybe Zan had gone to meet Scouse and taken Ameera with her.

Dead silence. In my days there the house had never been empty, never silent. It would be quiet like this only if all the servants had been sent away.

I stole inside, shaking with tension and fatigue. The house was peaceful and spotlessly clean in the morning sunlight. Everything normal — except for that unprecedented and uncanny quiet. At the foot of the stairs I paused, uncertain where to go next. The silence was broken for the first time. A soft, spine-chilling noise came faintly from above me. Someone was crying — not crying, it was more like an animal moaning, faint and broken.

Ameera.

I ran up the stairs, forgetting the need for caution. She lay spreadeagled on the big bed in my room, face down and near naked. As I came closer to her I saw that she was tied, hands and feet, and that bandages covered her mouth.

I bent to remove the gag and felt the first moment of relief. She was here, she was alive, and she seemed to be unharmed. The strips of cloth that stretched her arms and legs towards the corners of the bed were tight-knotted and cut deep into her wrists, but her face and body were unmarked. When I struggled to undo the bonds she turned a tear-streaked face towards me.

“Lee-yo-nel?”

“I’m here. It’s all right.”

I finally had her wrists free, slid my hand reassuringly along her bare back, and moved down to tackle the ankles. Before I could touch her legs and feet she writhed and gave a warning cry.

In my haste to remove the gag I had not bothered to look closely at her legs. The curtains of the room were drawn, and in the dim light she had seemed to be wearing a pair of light slippers, purple-red in color and extending upwards only an inch or so from the bottom of her feet. Now I was seeing them more closely.

No slippers; her feet were bare. The skin had been flayed from the soles in neat half-inch strips. I could see how the first shallow cut had been made on the hard skin of the heel, before a uniform band was peeled off and run across the exquisitely tender area on the ball of the foot, all the way to the delicate toes. The operation had been carried out with diabolical skill. Zan must have taken several hours to do it. By now the bleeding had stopped, but a clear lymph was seeping from the stripped surfaces and oozing onto the bed sheet. As I touched her ankle, Ameera cried out in anticipation.

“Lee-yo-nel! No!”

I put my hand lightly on the back of her head. “It’s all right, Ameera. I see it. I won’t touch your feet.”

As I bent to work on the knots my fatigue was washed away by an enormous and overwhelming rage. Much of it was directed toward myself. My curiosity about Leo’s past had led directly to Ameera’s torture. If I had been content to lie low in England , there were a dozen places where Scouse would never have found me…

A noise downstairs jerked me upright. Leo took over. I spun around, ready to kill without warning if it was Xantippe coming back for Ameera. When soft footsteps came up the stairs I moved silently to the doorway, poised for action.

One hard chop to the side of the neck…

A sleek head poked in through the door. I pulled back my hand at the last moment.

“Chandra!”

He turned swiftly to stare at me. “What is all this, Lionel? Messages in the middle of the night, frightening my man out of his negligible wits. What has become of that famous English sangfroid? What is happening here?”

As he spoke he turned to stare at Ameera on the bed. She had moved to bring her tortured feet clear of the sheet. Chandra’s eyes, quicker than mine, saw at once what had been done to her. He went across to the window and drew back the curtains with one rapid and angry motion.

“Who did this?”

“The same people who have been pursuing me. They were waiting for us in Cuttack .”

“And they followed you here?”

“My fault.” I nodded my head towards Ameera. “We have to get her to a hospital.” At Chandra’s voice she had tried to wrap the bedsheet around her, but the pain from her feet was too great to permit the movement. Chandra questioned her briefly in Bengali, his voice calm and reassuring, and she made a brave attempt to smile before she replied. He asked her another question, then nodded at me.

“No hospital. We are agreed on that. The care she would get for this injury is no better there than we can bring to her here, and she would like to be among friends.”

“But she must have a doctor.” I looked at the raw wounds, and shuddered again.

“Of course. I will arrange for that immediately.” Chandra was already moving towards the door, his smooth face determined and angry. “Leave all those arrangements to me. You stay here with Ameera. Do you think that they might come back here?”

Ameera gave a frightened little cry, and I moved to take her hand in both of mine.

“I don’t know. If they do, then God help them.”

He paused in the doorway. “God is fickle. Sometimes he chooses to help the wrong group. You are not Superman, Lionel. And you are exhausted. I think a little help from the Calcutta police would not be out of place here. I will call them.”

He seemed to be taking over, and that felt like a good idea to me. He was right, I was worn out and running on nerves. I went downstairs with him and locked the doors of the house as he left. We wanted fair warning of visitors, welcome or unwelcome.

Ameera was lying flat on the bed when I went back upstairs. She shivered as I came into the room.

“Lee-yo-nel?”

“Try and lie quiet. Chandra will be here soon with the doctor.”

“Will she come back?”

“She will not dare. Ameera, I am sorry. I should not have left you alone in the car. It was my fault.”

There was no reply for several minutes, and I wondered if after her ordeal a natural emotional exhaustion had taken over. Finally she sighed and turned towards me as I sat on the edge of the bed.

“Lee-yo-nel, it was my fault. All of it. I am afraid to tell you this, but I did not speak the truth to you. About Lee-yo, and where he went.”

“You told me he went to Cuttack — that was true.” My brain was too dulled to go beyond the obvious. I wriggled my stiff and aching shoulders. “I should not have taken you there with me. Even when you wanted to go, I should have refused.”

“Not Cuttack , Lee-yo-nel.” Her voice was trembling. “I knew he had been there, and come back safely. It was the other place, the place that he was afraid to go. The place that he did not come back from.”

I grunted and sat up straighter. “After Cuttack ? You said that you did not know anywhere else that he went.”

“I was lying to you.” The tears came rolling down the dark cheeks. “I was afraid that you would be hurt, too. If we went to Cuttack , I thought that would be safe. Lee-yo went to see Belur there, and he was all right. But he never came back from Riyadh .”

” Riyadh ?” A flash of ocher sands and cool green dimness skimmed through my mind, a level below conscious memory. “Ameera, why did he go there? Was that the ‘R-I’ that I saw in his notes?”

“I do not know.” The tears were coming faster now. “After he came from Cuttack , he left again at once. I do not know why he went to Riyadh — but I think that she knows. Lee-yo-nel, I did not want to tell her. But the hurt was so much, and she said she would keep hurting until I told. I had to tell. I said he went to Riyadh .”

I looked down at her flayed and naked feet. “Ameera, anyone would have told. I am proud of you that you took so much hurt before you spoke.”

“But I did not.” She rubbed a knuckle at her tearstained eyes and sat up a little on the sheet. “I am not brave. I told her quickly, as soon as the hurt was bad. I thought she would stop then, but she kept on for a long time. Lee-yo-nel, why would she do that to me? I had told her everything.”

I knew, but I did not want Ameera to know. Zan had been seeking information; when she had it she should logically have left the house at once. If she stayed, it was only for the pleasure of tormenting a helpless victim. Sadism is not rare, but it is unusual to find it given full leash.

Xantippe had known I might be on the way here, or have telephoned from Cuttack . Only a consuming urge to torture and torment had kept her so long at the house.

And if time had not been short, so that she could linger as long as she chose with Ameera?…

I went to the window and stared out. Instead of Calcutta , the city of Riyadh now seemed to spread its towers and minarets before me, the jewel of the Arabian Peninsula , a modern miracle of science that bloomed in the desert. I had been there many times, to play in the pinnacled concert hall and underwater theaters, making music for the idlest rich of the world.

Now I had to go there again; in pursuit of an unknown goal, following a woman who frightened me more than any wicked witch of childhood stories.

For Ameera’s sake, I would be on the first airplane that could take me.

A gigantic bookcase, and beyond it the chair of a Titan. I blinked, blinked again, and screwed up my eyes against the sunlight. In the distance, over at the limit of vision, a dark-edged monster crouched forward over a colossal bed. There were sounds, the pizzicato plucking of strings over unresolving harmonies. An automatic filing system in my head identified the Bhairava raga, with its symbolism of waking dawn and reverence for the new day. The vina played on, its notes clean and soothing. My eyes closed.

And opened, to a room filled with uniformed figures, shrilling and gesturing to each other with insectoid precision and rapidity of movement. They were gathered around a bed, and I heard the sforzando command of a single voice demanding silence for the sleeper there.

I blinked once more. When my eyes opened again the group of figures had suddenly shrunk to two. They were wearing the uniform of the Calcutta police, standing solemn guard by the bed where Ameera lay. She was silent, her face open and innocent in sleep. Heavy bandages swaddled her feet.

“Any better now?” It was Chandra, sitting quietly by my side.

I shivered and took a deep breath. “I’m all right. How’s Ameera? I guess I fell asleep for a while. Boy.” I shivered. “Weird dreams.”

“You have a right to them. Ameera told me what the two of you went through in Cuttack . Her condition?” He shrugged. “As well as can be expected. There is mental injury as well as physical. The woman — Xantippe? — said she was helping you. Ameera trusted her, they came back here, Ameera sent the servants away. Then—” he shrugged. “You know what she did next.”

I shuddered from head to foot and looked more closely at Ameera. “At least she is sleeping. When I first arrived she was hysterical.”

“It is more shock than sleep. When you passed out—”

“Me?” I stared at him.

“You do not remember it? You let me in, came up here, and fell over into that chair. That was four hours ago.” He stared at me as I turned away from him. “Now then, what do you think you are up to?”

He grabbed me by the arm as I began to stagger off towards the door. I shook off his grip.

“Got to get to Riyadh .” My voice was a thick-tongued mumble. “Next plane.”

“Not yet.” Chandra had taken my arm again, and this time his grip was firmer, holding hard enough to hurt. “You want to pursue Ameera’s tormentors? Very good; I commend the intention. But before you think of doing that, you must know of some other matters. You realize that they are murderers?”

“They killed Rustum Belur, and I think they killed a woman called Valnora Warren.”

“It comes closer to home than that. When Ameera told the servants here to leave, one of them refused to go. Xantippe asked to speak with him privately, downstairs.” Chandra lowered his voice to a whisper, glancing at Ameera. “When the police arrived they searched the whole house as part of their routine work. Mr. Chatterji was found in the pantry. Dead. He had been stabbed, many times.”

He followed my look. “She does not know. There will be a time for such news. Not yet. It was enough effort, after the treatment of her injuries and after the police were finished here, to ease her into sleep. We talked about many things. We have surprisingly much in common, and Ameera has an excellent mind. But she could not rest, for all our talk, until we came to music. It worked where words could not.”

“That was you? Playing the ragas?”

Chandra smiled, and there was a flash of the old, superconfident prodigy. “For my sins. The instrument was not in great condition, and the technique is rusty — but she did not complain. I know the music of Bihar , the folk tunes and the festival dances of her native area. I think that I played well. Perhaps there is still more to life than jute.”

“But your fingers — I saw them last week. They were not in shape to play.”

“Indeed?” This time the smile was different, a sad glint of oriental resignation. “Now you mention it, I think I noticed.”

He held up his left hand. The soft fingertips were bloodied and torn from the pressure of the vina’s seven thin strings.

“It was in a good cause. My suffering was nothing compared to hers. And now she is asleep, peacefully, without drugs.”

He looked at his watch, and I realized that it was late afternoon. He had spent the whole day here. “Chandra, what about your work? I’ve already taken more of your time than a friend should ask.”

“Assume that I do this for Ameera — not for a feringhee with no sense. Do you still talk of running off to Riyadh , now that you know what may face you there? Your enemies have more knowledge and more resources, and they are ruthless. How will you know what to do there?”

“How did I know what to do in Calcutta ?” Despite the logic of his argument, my resolve was strengthening. “Chandra, there are other factors involved here. Earlier today, you were playing the Bhairava raga for Ameera. Correct?”

“True enough. What of it?”

“I recognized that piece.”

“So? It is famous enough.”

I shook my head. “To you. But I don’t know Hindu music at all. Yet I recognized it. Don’t you see what that means? I’m getting some of Leo’s memories. I was told this would happen, and it has started.”

He pouted and shrugged his chubby shoulders. “That is excellent. But if you stay here longer, you will receive more memories. Why not wait until you know exactly where to go, and what you are doing? There will be risks in Riyadh , but here you will be safe.”

“That’s not the whole story.” I was stammering, and cursed myself for my lack of control. “I’m getting Leo’s memories, and they will help — that’s the good news. But I’m also getting flashes of sensory distortion. When I was first waking up here everything seemed out of proportion and the time scale went crazy. If I’m going to follow Scouse and Xantippe to Riyadh , I’ll have to do it soon. The doctors warned me to watch for those symptoms. A few days from now I’ll be in no condition to chase Zan, Scouse, the Belur Package or anything else.”

I paused. My manner was much too emotional to persuade Chandra. Perhaps it was the sight of Ameera, a tiny child-figure with her bandaged feet and rope-cut wrists, that upset me so.

“I must go now,” I said at last. “Time is short. If I can find a charter jet at Dum-Dum Airport and leave tonight, there’s a chance that I can be in Riyadh before Zan or Scouse.”

Chandra was behaving oddly, too. At my last sentence his face had twisted into a scowl, and now he was shaking his head violently.

“Before you think of going within a thousand miles of that — that woman, you must know one other thing. She expects you to follow. Can you not see the danger? She plans to trap you in Riyadh . Look at this, and then tell me if you wish to be in that city when she is there.”

He had gone over to the window sill and picked up a sheet of paper. “Here.” He held it forward. “A message, Lionel — for you alone.”

I stared down at the thick, creamy notepaper. A white rose from the front garden had been pinned in the middle of the sheet. Above it sat an imprint in lipstick, a vermilion mouth shaped to kiss, and written beside those full lips were six words in dark red ink: durch Blut und Eisen, te inveniam.

Chandra was watching me closely. “There is no doubt who the message is intended for, and I assume that there is no need for me to translate it. Do you know why she did this?”

“Durch Blut und Eisen, te inveniam — through blood and iron, I’ll seek you out.” I muttered the words, while the full red lips seemed to glow at me from the paper. I struggled to control my voice. “It’s Zan, following Scouse’s orders. I’m sure he wants to make sure I don’t follow them. Psychological pressure. He wants me too frightened to go on to Riyadh .”

And he’s doing pretty damned well, I felt like adding.

Chandra nodded over to the bed, where Ameera was still sleeping soundly. “So why didn’t Xantippe kill Ameera, as well as Chatterji? Then you could not have followed.”

“She couldn’t be sure I didn’t know it anyway.” I thought of Ameera, and a chill certainty grinned within my mind. “And she wants me to follow — never mind what Scouse wants, Zan has her own desires. I know how she looked at me in Belur’s house. Ameera has just whetted her appetite. She missed her chance with me twice now, once in London and once in Cuttack . Third time lucky.”

Chandra gave a nod of relief. “It is settled then. You will stay here.”

“No.” The red lips were smiling at me above the rose. “I’m going. Chandra, I’m going tonight. I won’t let those bastards win. If they get away with this, Ameera suffered and Chatterji died for nothing.”

He was staring at me, wide-eyed. “But Ameera—” he began, then paused. “You are right. Revenge is a universal emotion. It should be ours.”

He was heading for the door. “Be ready quickly. Let me take care of Ameera, and do not worry about this house. If there is a charter jet of any kind at the airport tonight, you have my word that it will be yours.”