East of the Sun (23 page)

‘Probably a working diary which Ratna managed, but I . . .’

‘What?’

‘I just remembered that there were some personal books and papers the embassy would’ve packed up when I left. I didn’t have time. They were just some personal papers, photos and books, but I guess I could see if I can locate them and go through them.’

‘Good idea. I think it’s worth trying to see if the file that was shown to you was in fact the complete version.’

‘You mean?’

‘You never know, maybe there’s a piece of evidence somewhere that will help us find the answer. Or perhaps people have things in their heads. Even things that seem insignificant could help us look in the right places.’

Amelia nodded, immediately doubtful that she would achieve much, but at least Nick’s suggestion was a sensible one that gave her direction.

‘In the meantime, we need to find out more about the negotiations. Do you have any idea who was involved?’

‘The Russian CEO, Bruce Jennings and probably Carl Riverton, his head of operations, lawyers, Robert, Popov, I believe another supposedly independent Russian consultant or dealmaker – I don’t know who he was – and I think Patrick and some other embassy counsellors helped out on smaller issues from time to time.’

‘All right. Maybe you should see if Patrick can give us names and I’ll dig around to see if I can’t find out something about the dealmaker, not to mention that elusive geologist.’

It was a new caretaker who led Amelia to the embassy’s basement where the remaining possessions she and Robert had accumulated during their time in Moscow were stored. The woman unlocked the door and gestured for Amelia to enter first. As she followed behind her, she flipped a switch on the wall inside the door to illuminate the flight of stairs that disappeared down into the basement.

Below, once they’d entered through another unlocked door, they encountered a row of boxes neatly stacked in one corner of the spacious but ill-lit room. The heating was less powerful down here and there was a hint of cold moisture hanging in the air.

The woman cleared her throat and when Amelia turned around, simply gestured that she was going upstairs again.

‘
Spasiba
,’ Amelia said, and then thought of something. She gestured to the number of light bulbs that hung uselessly from their chords, hoping the woman understood the need for more light. ‘
Spasiba
,’ she thanked her again and turned her attention to the boxes as she listened to the fading footsteps going back up. She heard a door close at the top of the stairs.

Someone seemed to have done a proper job of packing and labelling the boxes. She could see labels for ornaments, papers, books, even a few bottles of wine. The papers were the obvious place to start. She pulled the first of three boxes containing ‘personal papers’ to the opposite side of the wall where the light was best. Inside she found a stack of folders marked clearly in Robert’s hand.

It was tedious work going through each box, having to contemplate the details of a life that no longer felt like it could ever have been hers. There were a few printed e-mails from friends, bank statements, Canadian tax records, articles about noteworthy foreign affairs, but nothing of real interest. She finished with the three boxes, stretched her arms above her head and wondered how long it would take to work through everything.

‘What are you looking for?’ someone spoke suddenly from the doorway.

Amelia spun around, clutching her chest with one hand, flinging her other out in front of her in a defensive gesture. Ratna stood in the doorway, her expression first puzzled, and then amused.

‘Scaredy cat,’ she said with a grin. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.’ She took a step into the room as Amelia gathered herself. In her hands were a few light bulbs still in their wrapping. ‘I ran into the caretaker outside,’ Ratna explained. ‘What on earth are you looking for?’ she asked again, glancing at the open boxes.

Amelia exhaled heavily. ‘Oh, just looking through things. I need to see if there’s anything I need to take with me before I ship the rest.’

‘Makes sense. Do you want some help?’ She was entirely different from the woman who’d exploded in the restaurant a few days earlier.

‘I think I’m okay, thanks,’ Amelia replied as she too surveyed the boxes she still needed to go through. ‘No wait, actually there is something, or rather two things.’ Amelia looked at Ratna’s inscrutable face, wondering how to interpret the other woman’s apparently variable attitude towards her. She was still unsure of the right approach, but this was something she had to ask Ratna.

‘Would the embassy’s file on Robert’s disappearance be the complete one?

Ratna frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

Amelia hesitated. ‘I mean, would it have been sanitised in any way? Would a more comprehensive record exist somewhere?’

Ratna raised her eyebrows, but didn’t answer immediately. ‘In theory, it was the complete record, yes.’

Amelia waited, sensing Ratna’s hesitation. ‘But it’s possible that there is information never released by the embassy. If it did exist, however, you wouldn’t be able to see it. Very few people would have access to it. It would be classified and even . . .’ Ratna flushed slightly, ‘. . . even given your circumstances, they would probably not release it to you. Sorry.’

Amelia shrugged. ‘I suppose that’s to be expected. It was worth asking. Thanks.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Yes, did Robert have a diary?’

‘A diary? You mean something he made notes in?’ Ratna frowned, rubbing her cheekbone thoughtfully. ‘No, I don’t think so. Only his appointment book, which I managed, but he did occasionally add things. Comments, reminders, those kinds of things.’

‘Do you still have it?’ Amelia asked, hoping she didn’t sound too eager. ‘I’d really like to get it back. I don’t know if it makes sense, but it’s something, some sort of connection to the last year in his life.’ She felt a stab of guilt about not confessing the real reason why she wanted the diary, but since she couldn’t fathom what was going on in Ratna’s mind, she wanted to keep disclosure to a minimum. Until she understood what was troubling her, she couldn’t trust her with the truth.

Ratna nodded slowly. ‘Okay. I think I still have it in a drawer somewhere. I’ll look for it.’

‘Thank you. I’d appreciate that.’

They considered each other, suddenly awkward after the practicalities were out of the way.

Ratna spoke first. ‘Amelia, about the other night. I’m really sorry, I feel very bad about what happened.’

‘Forget it,’ Amelia said, looking down at the boxes briefly before she met Ratna’s eyes again.

‘No, I’m really sorry,’ Ratna insisted. ‘I don’t know why I was so aggressive towards you. Perhaps I let my own difficulties surface and I guess I took it out on you.’

Amelia nodded, not sure what else to say. She sat down on a box, gave Ratna a tentative smile, but couldn’t help but wonder about the difficulties she was talking about.

‘We all have bad days.’

‘Yes, we sure do. Thank you for understanding,’ Ratna said, sounding grateful at being given an easy way out. ‘Well, if you’re sure you don’t need my help here . . .’

‘Thank you, I’m fine. The sooner I finish with all this, the better,’ Amelia said, hoping that Ratna would take the hint and leave her to get on with things.

Ratna nodded, still a little awkward. She started moving away only to turn around and come towards Amelia again. ‘Before I forget, the ambassador has asked me to make sure you’re invited to the end-of-year party this Saturday.’

Amelia frowned, and Ratna went on to explain. ‘It’s a new thing they’ve decided to do now before everyone goes back home for the holidays. It won’t be a formal party, just a buffet lunch for all the Canadian families, but a little bigger than the drinks evenings on Fridays. It’ll be held next door, in the ambassador’s residence.’

‘Oh, okay. Thank you, I should be able to make it,’ Amelia replied tentatively.

‘Good, I’ll see you there then. It starts at eleven-thirty, twelve.’ This time Ratna did leave and Amelia was alone again.

Once she’d replaced the dead light bulbs, she worked through the remaining boxes, but found only papers that had to do with the various accounts she and Robert had held throughout their marriage, investments and other administrative matters. She also went through the small personal wine collection and selected two bottles to take with her to Nick’s friend’s apartment. She was tired and dusty and her back was aching from bending over small print in bad light. There were only a few remaining boxes. Time for a break.

As she went up the stairs, she wondered where Robert would have jotted down any personal thoughts if he ever did feel the need to express any. He had always been the epitome of discretion and had an excellent memory, so her search might yield nothing more than painful reminders.

As she reached for the door handle at the top of the stairs, it suddenly swung open towards her and Cathy stared down at her.

‘There you are,’ she said. ‘Did I scare you?’

‘No, I’m fine, don’t worry,’ Amelia laughed at her jitteriness, but didn’t miss the flatness in Cathy’s voice. ‘You just surprised me. Spooky cellars tend to make you jumpy.’

‘What are you doing down there?’

‘Just going through some old papers and things of ours. And you? What brings you to the embassy?’

‘I had to drop off something for Patrick. Ratna told me you were here, so I wanted to say hello and see if I can help you down there.’

‘I’m almost done, actually, but what you can do, is take a break with me. Do you have time for a cup of tea?’

‘Sure.’

Together they walked down the passage to the staff room where she found two clean cups and Cathy immediately set about preparing tea. She didn’t speak, so Amelia took in the familiar surroundings: the counter littered with cups and plates, the walls adorned with countless photographs of embassy activities. She turned to look at them, instinctively searching for Robert’s face.

‘Remember the volleyball wars?’ Cathy asked and pointed to a photo Amelia didn’t recognise. Robert wasn’t in it, which meant it must have been taken after his disappearance.

‘How they all enjoyed those vicious matches,’ she said, trying to keep the mood light despite the pang in her chest. ‘Oh boy, I love that bandana Patrick is wearing! I don’t remember it. Quite a fashion statement!’

Cathy laughed. ‘Definitely not, he looks ridiculous. I have no idea what made him wear it, but it started last year, lasted for two or three matches only and then, to my great relief, it disappeared.’ Cathy moved back to the opposite counter where their tea was brewing. ‘Men and their weird vanities. Don’t tell him I told you.’

They smiled at one another, the fondness of their memories forging a brief connection.

‘I wanted to apologise,’ Cathy said, glancing over her shoulder at Amelia, who’d sat down at small table. ‘For the other day.’

‘Why in the world do you feel you need to apologise? All of us go through rough spots,’ Amelia said, not for the first time that day.

‘No, it was very selfish of me. It must be so hard for you to be back here, delving into the past, and I went on to burden you with silly things.’

‘I’m hardly delving and you’re hardly burdening me,’ Amelia reassured her, attempting to keep her voice casual. ‘Besides, it didn’t sound like they were silly things at all. They sounded rather important and I’m glad you talked to me. I hope you’re feeling better?’

Cathy’s shoulders slumped. She turned away, ostensibly to pick up the two cups, but when she came over to the table, Amelia saw that her eyes were very bright and that two pink spots stained her pale cheeks.

‘It’s more than just a rough spot, isn’t it?’ she said gently.

Cathy nodded, unable to meet Amelia’s eyes immediately. When she spoke her voice was soft. ‘I don’t know what to do anymore. There seems to be an irreversible change between Patrick and me. When I try to voice my concerns, he says I’m imagining things, that life here is difficult for me and that I project my negativity onto our relationship, but . . .’

‘Go on,’ Amelia prompted.

‘I don’t think it’s my imagination. He’s always been ambitious, but his eye is so firmly on the prize right now, he seems to have forgotten about me and the girls. It’s as if we don’t matter anymore, as if we’re a hindrance to him now.’

Amelia was puzzled. She’d always known Patrick to be an achiever, but had never seen him put ambition so high above the needs of his family. ‘What exactly is the prize, do you think?’

Cathy sighed deeply. ‘I don’t even know anymore. I always assumed it was to become ambassador one day, but I’m no longer sure. All I know is that he’s restless, driven, irritable, almost feverish at times.’ She pointed at the photo of a bandana-wearing Patrick again. ‘I’ve even wondered if he was having an affair or was infatuated with some young thing.’

Before Cathy could continue, there was movement at the door.

‘Hello!’ Patrick said, apparently surprised to see them. For a moment he simply looked from one to the other before his eyes rested on Cathy’s upset face. He didn’t speak to her, however, but addressed Amelia. ‘How are you doing? How did things go with Popov?’