Dishonored (38 page)

“No, it’s all right, I’m in his office now, he can hear what’s going on. If you could just ring my grandfather please.”

“Right, I’ll do that straight away and I’ll call you right back.” Again it wasn’t his job but that wasn’t important now. “Hang
on there and don’t worry, things will be fine.”

The girl had started to cry again and Oliver’s heart went out to her. “It’s OK,” he said. “Please don’t worry, we’ll get this
sorted out.” He heard her blow her nose again.

“Thanks,” she said.

“I’ll ring you back, OK?” Oliver replied. “Bye for now.” Without waiting for her answer, he hung up. Scrabbling in his desk
drawer for the UK telephone list, he yanked it out, scattering the mess that was in there with it and ran his finger down
the codes. He found the code for West Sommerton and wrote it next to Brigadier Bennet’s number. Then he picked up the receiver
again and dialled the switchboard operator.

“Can I have an outside line, please?” He waited, heard the dialing tone then dialled Great Britain. Seconds later, he was
through to Sussex and waiting for his call to be answered.

John woke with a start at the sound of the phone ringing down in the hall. He hurried out of bed, thinking, it must be Indi,
pulled on his dressing-gown and, unable to find his slippers in the faint dawn light, went downstairs in his bare feet. He
picked up the receiver and bent to switch on the lamp as he did so. It was six forty-five.

“Hello?” The line was bad, he heard a crackle then nothing for several seconds. “Hello?”

“Hello, Brigadier Bennet?”

“Yes, speaking.” He felt the sudden thumping of his heart in panic.

“Good morning, my name’s Captain Oliver Hicks, I work for the British consulate at the High Commission in Delhi and I’m calling
about your granddaughter, sir, Indu Bennet.”

“Yes?” John gripped the receiver. “What’s happened? What is it?”

“She’s quite all right, sir, but I’m ringing because she’s had her passport and money stolen in Baijur. Would it be possible
to wire some money to a bank in Baijur today to tide her over while we get on with processing some travel documents for her?”

“Yes, yes of course! I’ll go down to my bank as soon as it opens. She is all right, is she? She’s not harmed in any way?”
John slumped down onto the bottom stair, the sudden shock made him momentarily weak.

“No, not as far as I know.” There was a pause then the young man suddenly said, “I am going down to Baijur this afternoon,
sir, to see that she’s all right.”

“You are?” John was surprised.

“Yes.” Hesitation again. “Yes I am!”

“That’s terribly good of you! I didn’t catch your name.”

“Captain Oliver Hicks, sir, of the Ninth Cavalry Division.”

“I see.” John felt enormous relief, his regiment. He felt as if he knew this young man. “Thank you, captain,” he said, “I
greatly appreciate your help.”

“That’s quite all right, sir, I had some leave coming up. Can I give you some bank details?”

“Yes, yes please. Could you hold on for a moment while I fetch a pen?” John stood and reached to the hall table. He took the
notepad and pen off it and sat down again. “Right, captain, fire away!” he said. And scribbling in his slightly arthritic
scrawl, he wrote down the name of the bank and all its details.

Oliver hung up and thumped the desk with his fist.

“Oh shit!” he cursed. “Damn, damn and shit!” Then he smacked his palm against his forehead. Why? Why did he do it? Why did
he have to go and open his big mouth? He had to interfere, he had to impress, didn’t he? It had just popped out, he’d been
so zealous in trying to help that he’d gone and offered his three days’ hard-earned holiday to go to Baijur and sort this
silly girl out! Why couldn’t he keep his big mouth shut? He always did it, always!

He stood up and paced the room. He’d have to cancel his night out with Rob Jones, he’d have to book a flight, or a train if
the planes were busy. Oh God! He slumped down into his chair. He was so bloody impulsive, that was his trouble, university
and five years in the army should have taught him to think before he acted. Instead he was still the same old Oli, jump in
head first and think about it afterward, think about it when you’ve either cracked your head on the bottom or caught a nasty
bout of flu because the water’s too cold!

He sighed heavily and reached for the telephone. He’d better dial the ticket agency, then ring the Lake Palace Hotel. He’d
committed himself now and, whether it was a good idea or not, he had to bloody well go through with it.

Indi sat on the terrace in the shade of a striped awning and read an old copy of
The Times
. She was thirsty but she had no money for a drink and she was tired; the trauma and the weeping had exhausted her. She kept
one eye on the hotel lobby as she read, for sight of the man from the high commission, and tried to ignore the intrusive glances
from several of the hotel’s male guests. She was agitated, she felt vulnerable and, glancing briefly up at the lobby, she
saw a tall young man staring at her, his light brown hair cut short, the slight curl in it cropped and his tanned face set
in a determined expression. She thought he might be about to approach her and lifted up her paper to hide her face. If she
hadn’t been so anxious, if she hadn’t been so depressed, she might have considered his look appealing. As it was, his stare
thoroughly annoyed her. She rustled
The Times
and sighed irritably, crossed her legs and clenched her jaw. When she heard footsteps, she got ready to pounce.

“Erm, excuse me?” Oliver stood in front of
The Times
and glanced briefly down at the long slim legs that came out from under it, the shape of the thighs clearly visible through
the thin cotton of the long Indian skirt. They were nice but he wasn’t here for pleasure. He ignored them and glanced up at
the paper again. Damn! England were a hundred and twenty-six for seven against Australia. Damn, damn damn! He shook himself.
“Hello?” he tried again. “I’m looking for—”

“Whatever it is,” Indi snapped, dropping her paper, “I’m sure that I can’t help you!” She glared at him and noticed that his
eyes were green, a vivid intense green. “Sorry,” she said sarcastically. “Now, if you don’t mind.” She lifted the paper again
and tutted behind it.

Oliver moved away. He was in a rotten mood, the flight had been terrible, he was hot, tired and the last place on earth he
wanted to be was Baijur. Rude young woman! He had a good mind to say something pertinent back, only he didn’t want the aggravation
of an argument. The sooner he found Indu Bennet, sorted her out and left on the next flight out the better! He walked back
into the hotel and across to reception. He would ask the manager where she was, better that than risk upsetting some other
stroppy holidaymaker.

Five minutes later, he stood in front of the same young woman. He coughed politely and waited for her to lower her paper.
He had seen her hurriedly lift it to hide behind as he approached and it annoyed him. As if he’d be interested in someone
as arrogant as that! He liked his women soft, and attractive as she may be, he couldn’t stand aggression.

“Excuse me,” he said coolly, “but I was looking for a young woman called Indu Bennet. I’m from the High Commission in Delhi.
You wouldn’t know where I could find her, would you?” He stared at the paper and saw the hand holding it tremble slightly.
He coughed again. Moments later the paper was lowered.

“You’ve found her,” Indi said in a small voice. “I’m Indu Bennet.” She glanced briefly at him, then she avoided his eye and
flushed deep red.

“Ah, I see.” Oliver was enjoying the moment. “Captain Oliver Hicks,” he said. “We spoke on the telephone.”

“Yes, yes of course.” Indi still hadn’t looked up. She tangled her fingers in her lap and her face continued to burn. Oliver
pulled out a chair and sat down. At least she has the grace to be embarrassed, he thought. He reached for his briefcase and
placed it on his knees. “I have some forms here, Miss Bennet, for your travel documents,” he announced, unbuckling the satchel.
“We need to go through them and then I can take them back to be processed in Delhi. All right?”

Indi looked up. “Yes, fine.” She met Oliver’s eye and he saw for the first time the shape of her face, her dark honey-colored
skin and her eyes, brown with specks of green that caught the light and looked strangely unreal. She bit her lip and the dark
red color drained from it where her tooth held the flesh. His stomach flipped and he had to shift on the hard wrought-iron
seat to cover his erection. He looked away, down at the forms and completely forgot for an instant what he was doing here.
He swallowed, then glanced up again. “Would you like a drink?” he asked. “While we do these?”

Indi smiled. She put her hand up to her hair and tucked a stray curl back behind her ear. “Yes please, I’d love one. I’ve
been dying of thirst here but I spent my last rupee on the telephone call to the commission. I literally don’t have a penny!”

Oliver laughed, rather stupidly he thought, and for no particular reason. He clicked for the waiter. “What d’you want?”

“An orange juice, please.”

He gave their order to the boy, then took a pen out of his pocket to fill in the forms. “Talking of last rupees, did the draft
arrive at the bank by the way?”

Indi glanced down. “I, erm, I don’t know, I’m afraid. I didn’t have the money to get into the city from here.” She looked
back up at him. “I hope you don’t mind but I was waiting for you to arrive. I hoped we might go together.”

Oliver dragged his eyes away from her face. “No, not at all.” He fiddled with the papers for a few minutes. He was cross with
himself, he didn’t want to be here, he had promised Rob Jones that he’d be back just as soon as he’d filled in the forms and
that they would have their boys’ night out. There was a flight leaving that evening and he had booked a seat on it. Now he
was saying yes to gallivanting all over Baijur because he’d fallen for the face and the legs. He looked up and saw her watching
him. God, she really was beautiful!

“It is all right, is it?” she asked nervously.

“Yes, yes fine!” he blurted. Damn, he’d missed his chance now! Stacking the forms, he slipped them back in his case and fastened
it. “Shall we head off now, then?”

Indi nodded. She bent for her rucksack, her shirt gaped and Oli glimpsed the curve of her breast just visible above black
lace. He stood quickly and looked out across the terrace to the lake beyond. The last thing he needed was a crush on Brigadier
Bennet’s granddaughter! Jeeze! “Ready?” he asked, abruptly turning around.

“Yup! Ready,” Indi answered.

And together they walked toward the lobby of the hotel, both thinking about something else and neither of them seeing the
figure who stood and, some way behind, followed them out.

The bank clerk shook his head. He had been shaking it for the past five minutes despite Oliver’s protestations. The draft
had to be processed, like anything else, at the bank in Delhi, forms had to be filled out, signatures obtained, it had to
be cleared at the bank here in Baijur, more forms filled out and then, only then, could it be cashed. No, he didn’t know when
it would be ready for collection, it might be tomorrow, it might be three days. These things took time, even urgent things
took time, in India.

Oliver smacked his fist down on the counter in frustration and the bank clerk looked blankly at him. He shook his head and
shrugged. He was about to utter the same excuses when Oliver interrupted him. “Don’t bother!” he snapped. “I understand the
problem!” He walked over to Indi who was sitting miserably on the complimentary seat and looking on in silent agony.

“No money,” he said. “Sorry.”

She jumped up angrily. Yanking open the door of the bank, she stormed out into the street, close to tears and stood, her hands
over her face, counting to a hundred.

“Hey!” Oliver came out after her. He touched her shoulder from behind. “Hey, it’s not that bad!”

“Not that bad!” Indi swung around. “How can you say that? She threw her hands up in the air. “I’ve got no money, I’m stuck
here until my banker’s draft manages to get through the bloody Indian bureaucracy and I’ve got nowhere to stay!” A sob caught
in the back of her throat. “And you say it’s not that bad!”

“Whoa! Hang on a minute.” Oliver’s patience was also frayed. He’d spent two fruitless hours in the bank, he had undoubtedly
missed his flight, he now had a responsibility thrust on him that he didn’t need and, to cap it all, here she was shouting
at him in the middle of the street! As if any of it was his fault! He took a deep breath and said, “Look, I’m sorry and all
that but it’s really not that bad…”

“How would you know?” Indi cried. “What do you know about it anyway?”

“Nothing!” Oliver suddenly shouted back. “But I am here to help and the least you can do is be a little more grateful!”

“Grateful? Ha! I didn’t ask you to come, did I?” Indi had lost all sense of perspective. The stress and frustration of the
day suddenly erupted and poured out, like burning molten lava. “Let’s get one thing straight,” she shouted. “You came here
off your own bat. I didn’t ask you, OK?”

“No! But where the hell would you be if I hadn’t, eh?” Oliver yelled back. He had had enough as well. He’d made one hell of
a mistake coming here, him and his bloody impulsive decisions. He wished he’d never set eyes on her, arrogant little cow!
“If it hadn’t been for your grandfather then I would never have bothered.” He glared at her. “And, frankly, I wish I hadn’t!”

Indi’s face was burning with indignation, her chest heaved but she’d calmed down a bit. “No,” she snapped, “I wish you hadn’t
either!”

“Good! We’re agreed then.”

“Yes, we’re agreed!”

They each stood their ground for a minute or so, then Oliver said angrily, “I suggest that we go back to the hotel, pick up
your bags, then find somewhere for you to stay. Is that all right?”

Indi resented his sarcasm. “Yes,” she said icily, “that’s quite all right.”