Death in Kashmir (40 page)

‘Since he does not live in Srinagar—his main shop is in Baramulla—he sent this line of verse by a sure hand (whose owner is also now in jail!) to Ghulam Kadir's shop, concealed in a matchbox inside a papier mâché cover, with instructions that it must be passed to Creed-sahib whom he knew would be visiting the shop on a certain day. The man who took delivery of it had the bright idea of presenting similar boxes to any customer who happened to be in the shop at the time, to cover this simple transaction. And as a result of trying to be too clever fell a victim to chance, because your box happened to be too like Hugo's.'

‘And I suppose Ahamdoo saw the message?' said Sarah slowly.

‘That is the assumption. It wouldn't have been too difficult, since he was one of the assistants in the shop, which—as you saw—has plenty of hiding-places. And he had sharp ears and excellent eyesight! He'd already overheard enough to let us know that a message was to be passed to a
feringhi,
a foreigner, who would come to the shop on that particular day, ostensibly to buy papier mâché, and he suspected either Lady Candera, or her niece Meril, whom he thought might be working for her as a spy. Presumably he managed to take a look at the message—a glance would have been enough!—and when you interrupted us at the hotel, and he saw both Lady Candera and Meril Forbes there, he fell into a pond of panic, and decided to meet me on that island instead, because he thought it would be safer.

‘He'd worked with Mrs Matthews, and he too had seen the bead curtain that Janet was making. He had also, on our behalf, searched both their boats after they were dead. So when he read that line of
Farsi
(Persian)—which it seems he must have done—he too would have begun to puzzle over it. And when he set out for the island he took a blue bead with him, presumably to illustrate a theory that the blue china beads could have been stops at the end of words. Though that, of course, is something else we shall never know…'

‘Is that all?' asked Sarah. ‘I mean all that was in Janet's curtain? Just–just about the money and jewels … to pay the agitators and saboteurs?'

‘No,' said Charles slowly. ‘No, there was something else.'

‘I thought there must be. You needn't tell me if you don't want to, you know.'

‘If I didn't, it would be because I still can't quite make myself believe it. You see it was a plan, a very well worked-out plan, to take over Kashmir as soon as the British moved out, and turn it into a Communist State.'

‘But what ever for? What would be the point of that?'

‘The point would be that with a Communist Government in power the President or the Dictator, or whatever he liked to call himself, would, in the name of the new Government, call upon Russia for help if either India or the Muslim tribes of the Border country tried to move against them.'

‘But what
for?
' repeated Sarah.

‘Come on, Sarah, use your head! For a bridgehead, of course! For a base from which, in due time, Russian troops could move against Afghanistan or the North-West Frontier, or India herself, eventually. Just take a look at the map. Any of the nearby territories could be knocked off one by one by anyone who was strongly entrenched in Kashmir, if Kashmir itself was a fully paid-up member of the USSR.'

‘I don't believe it. It couldn't be done!'

‘No? Think again. On the day of the transfer of power—and probably for some weeks before—the communal hatreds that have been so carefully fostered by the paid agitators will be given their head. And if the country is
really
partitioned, there will be riots and killing and terrible disturbances. Under cover of that, and while everyone's eyes are elsewhere, Kashmir was to have been cut off from the world. Believe me, it would have been quite easy! Far easier than anyone thinks possible. There are not many ways into this country, and those ways are through high mountains and easy to block: and there is only one aerodrome—not a very good one, either! With riot and bloodshed breaking out all over India, it would not be considered so very extraordinary if no news came out of Kashmir for several days. And by the time anything was done about it, it would have been too late…'

Sarah said: ‘Do you really believe it would have been possible?'

‘Yes. I think so. The ownership of the State is already in dispute, so there would be a well-built façade for agitators to shelter behind. The battle cry would be: “We are neither Indians nor Pakistanis! We are Kashmiris!—
Kashmir for the Kashmiris!
” And with the troubles that the new Government will have upon its hands, a
fait accompli
in Kashmir might have proved very difficult to deal with.

‘Oh believe me, it may sound wild and improbable, but it was perfectly possible! A handful of men could close the airfield and cut every road into this country—and defend it against an Army. Besides, possession is still nine points of the law! Then later on, when India was ready to turn her serious attention to re-taking Kashmir, the new junta and its boss would yell for help to the Kremlin, who would hurry to assist a defector from the tyranny of capitalist countries, and rush in troops and bombers and fighters and Uncle Tom Cobley and all. Yes, I think they could do it all right.'

Sarah moved restlessly, her fingers pulling off the heads of the daisies that starred the grass. ‘But you were in time?'

‘Yes, we were in time. We've rounded up a good many people, and some of them have talked, so that we have been able to fill in the gaps in the knowledge Janet Rushton recorded. We've been able to make raids and we have found scores of documents and blueprints. It has been like a net pulled in from the sea. At first you do not even know where the net is, for the marking corks are small and the sea rough. Then you find the first mark and begin to pull the net in, foot by foot. To begin with you pull in only net and water and bits of weeds. But when the last bit of the net comes up it is heavy with fish who can't escape. That's how it's been with us.'

Sarah shivered suddenly, as though the evening air had become cold. ‘Were they going to use that–that gas?'

‘What gas? Oh, you mean that gun of Hugo's? No, that was just one of the many nasty little inventions that scientists of every nation like to come up with. Hugo thought this one would be useful, and got his friends to make that little gun for him. He used it to stupefy his victims, thereby making it easier for him to polish them off in a way that could be made to look like an accident, and probably the only person to be actually killed by it was himself! It had one bad drawback: that smell. That's why he couldn't store refills on his own boat, and kept a few stashed away in that shop.

‘I'm inclined to think that Ahamdoo must have found one and brought it along to show me, because the amount that was used on him to prevent him yelling and running ought to have been dispersed by the night air, as it was used in the open. But his clothes smelt strongly of it; as if he'd carried some hidden under the folds of that smock. They'd have found it when they took his gun, of course. That was missing; and so was his own knife. He wouldn't have come out unarmed.'

Charles flipped the stub of his cigarette into the lake where it broke the reflections with a little hiss and sent a tiny ripple out across the quiet water.

‘What about Mir Khan?' asked Sarah. ‘Did he know, all the time?'

‘Know what?'

‘That Janet was an agent; and Mrs Matthews. And you.'

‘That I was, yes. The others, no. We don't all know each other: as I told you once, it isn't considered necessary, and often it only adds to the risks. Mir had been on a job in Gilgit and was in Gulmarg only by chance, and because he likes to ski.'

‘And Reggie Craddock?'

‘He's not one of us. But it seems that he was more than halfway in love with Janet Rushton, and he didn't believe her death was an accident. Also, because he was interested in her, he noticed what no one else did and what you yourself only discovered by accident. That she was very much afraid of something. People in love often do not need words to tell them things … You ought to know that!'

Sarah flushed faintly and turned her attention to the daisies once more, and Charles said slowly: ‘Reggie watched Janet Rushton, and he knew. It was he who stood in the shadows of the ski-hut and watched her go away across the snow. It was he whom you heard close the door.'

‘Was it Reggie who made those footsteps on the verandah?' interrupted Sarah. ‘I suppose he——No, of course it wasn't … They were too small.'

‘Helen,' said Charles. ‘She told us about that. The Warrenders had the end room on that block, and the reason for that surreptitious bit of snooping was nothing more than curiosity. She happened to be suffering from an attack of insomnia, and remembering that George McKay was a doctor, decided, Helen-like, to wake him up and demand a sleeping-draught. By chance she opened her door at the exact moment that you started scratching at Janet's; and retreating hastily, she watched you through a crack and saw you let in and the light go on. It stayed on for a long time, and then suddenly went off again—that was when Janet looked out!—and when it came on once more she couldn't resist sneaking along to see if she could find out what on earth was going on. However, by the time she got there Janet had put the radio on, so she couldn't hear a thing and retreated, baffled. Thereby letting George enjoy uninterrupted slumbers, as I gather she'd forgotten all about the insomnia by then!'

Sarah laughed, and felt the better for it: she had been wondering if she would ever laugh again after the shock of that appalling night. Remembering that she had interrupted Charles when he had been telling her about Reggie, she said hastily: ‘Go on with what you were saying about Major Craddock. How much did he hear when he was listening to Janet and I talking outside the ski-hut?'

‘Very little; he says you were both whispering. But that wasn't what worried him. You see, he is a skier: possibly one of the best who have ever come to Kashmir. So he did not accept the explanation of Janet Rushton's death, because she too was a good skier; and a good skier would not have fallen in that particular way. He suggested as much to Major McKay, but George was no skier and paid little attention. They had a difference of opinion about it, and McKay was angry.

‘Reggie is not very clever, but he's stubborn. And it is surprising how much information a stubborn and dogged man can ferret out if he really sets his mind to it. Reggie set his mind to it and decided to carry out some investigations of his own. At one time he suspected you.'

‘
Me!
Good heavens!' Sarah sat bolt upright.

‘Only because he had seen you talking to Janet outside the ski-hut that night, and you had never mentioned it. Later he became convinced that there was something on the boat—Janet's boat—that you were after. When he found he couldn't get you off it, he watched it.'

‘Oh he did, did he!' said Sarah, stormily.

Charles noted the fact, and smiled. ‘You owe your life to him, all the same! To him, and to your dog.'

‘To
Reggie?
How? It was you——'

‘Not entirely me, I'm afraid. I didn't suspect Hugo. But Reggie had been secretly watching the boat, and he had seen Hugo searching it. He had also seen Hugo put down, very carefully, a piece of meat among the roots of the chenar tree on the night that Lager was drugged.'

‘
Hugo
did that?'

‘Of course. Who else?'

‘The beast!' said Sarah wrathfully. ‘The
beast!
And he always pretended to be so fond of Lager! I have had moments of feeling I could almost be sorry for Hugo, but I shan't have them again!'

Charles leant back and laughed delightedly. ‘Oh the inconsistency of the British! How is it that we will always be able to feel “almost sorry” for a murderer, but have no mercy for anyone who ill-treats an animal? I'm sorry, Sarah. It was rude of me to laugh.'

Sarah was compelled to laugh with him. ‘You're quite right of course. Oh dear, it's disconcerting to find out how childish and unreliable one's reactions can be! I suppose Hugo meant to come on board that night, and didn't because of the storm. Or else he saw that there was a light on and thought it meant that I was awake. Poor Lager! Go on about Reggie, please.'

‘Reggie didn't fully understand what he'd seen. But then he had never liked Hugo——You knew that?' for Sarah had nodded. Now she said: ‘Well … Hugo was always very friendly to him, but I did sometimes think that Reggie seemed to find him irritating. That's all.'

‘Reggie began to wonder if it were not possible that Hugo had an affair with Janet Rushton. If perhaps she had become too demanding, and a threat to his marriage and reputation: even that he might have killed her to rid himself of that threat. It's curious that his romantic imaginings should have led him so near to the turth! He thought that there could be letters hidden on the boat—love letters from Hugo to Janet—and he went away and brooded on this. Do you remember that when I left you that night I spoke first to one of the watchers?'

‘Yes. Why?'

‘I asked him if anyone had been near the boat, and the man replied that no one had, except the
mānji,
who had returned to the cookboat and was now asleep, and the big sahib who had brought back your dog. He didn't add
“and who is still on the boat”,
because it didn't occur to him to do so; any more than it occurred to me to notice that although the man had mentioned that the
mānji
had gone back to his cookboat, he had not said that Hugo had returned to his boat. You see Hugo was above suspicion. The watcher, seeing Hugo go on board, supposed later that you and I had been talking to him. But what more natural, if there was danger to the Miss-sahib, that Creed-sahib should remain when Mallory-sahib left?'