A Walk Across the Sun (25 page)

“The prosecutor told Adrian that she is going to recommend against bail,” Greer said, “but she isn't hopeful. Chances are, Suchir and his people are going to walk.”

“Will they skip town?” Thomas asked.

“Doubt it,” Nigel answered. “They know nothing but the sex business. The girls will be given small fines and they'll open up the brothel again in no time.”

“Even when they were prostituting minors a couple of days ago?”

Nigel laughed. “Hard to believe, isn't it?”

After the meeting, Thomas approached Samantha Penderhook, CASE's legal director, and asked if he could accompany Adrian to the bail hearing.

Samantha hesitated. “It's not that I don't want you to go. It's just that a white face in a Bombay courtroom can cause a stir. These people are very sensitive about anything that looks like foreign interference in their system.”

“What if I sit in the back? I can be a fly on the wall.”

Samantha drummed her fingers on her desk. “Okay. But do exactly what Adrian says. And if the lawyer for the other side tries to make an issue, have the good sense to step out into the hallway.”

Thomas thanked her and went to find Adrian. The young advocate wasn't enthusiastic about Samantha's decision, but he nodded cooperatively.

“Are you ready?” he said. “We need to leave in ten minutes.”

“I'm ready now,” Thomas replied.

On the way there, Thomas peppered Adrian with questions about courtroom practice in Bombay. He learned that the public prosecutor assigned to handle the bail hearing was one of the best in the city but that her competence was irrelevant to the outcome. The jail at Arthur Road was beyond overcrowded, and some of the trial judges tended not to regard trafficking cases with much seriousness. If the defense lawyer presented a thoughtful argument for release, it was likely the judge would buy it.

“Will Suchir offer the judge a bribe?”

Adrian shrugged. “Probably not. The judges aren't as corrupt as the police. But the gangs still have a lot of power in this town. It might not take a bribe to sway the court's decision.”

When the train arrived at the station, they made their way to the Sessions Court. Although built in the grand Gothic style of the Raj, the building was a model of urban neglect. Its decor was spare and its walls and stairwells were dingy with grime. Adrian and Thomas took the stairs to the third floor. Adrian checked the docket outside the courtroom and nodded.

“Sit in the back,” he instructed Thomas. “Try not to be seen. The advocate is aware that CASE was involved in the raid. Any white face he will affiliate with us.”

They entered the courtroom together, and Thomas found a seat in the corner. The courtroom had an elevated bench for the judge and clerk and a long table facing the bench where members of the bar waited their turn at the podium. A middle-aged woman dressed in a black and white sari—Thomas guessed she was the public prosecutor—sat at the far left of the table near a group of police officers. Adrian took a seat beside her.

Like the rest of the Sessions Court, the courtroom was long past its glory days. The wood trim was scuffed and fading, the paint on the walls drab and worn. The windows were arched in the Gothic style and grated to keep out the birds. Eight ceiling fans were spinning at high speed, creating a downdraft and an incessant whir.

The judge was a grizzled, expressionless man with reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He looked either chronically bored or ready to fall asleep. An overweight advocate was examining a witness in the dock. Thomas wondered if the judge could hear any of the testimony over the muffled roar of the ceiling fans.

Eventually, the advocate and witness finished their exchange. The judge dismissed the advocate with a flick of his hand and turned to the next lawyer in line. After two more cases, Adrian glanced back at Thomas and nodded. He stood with the public prosecutor while defense counsel took his place at the podium.

The prosecutor made an impassioned plea for the judge to deny bail for Suchir, Sumeera, and Prasad. She told the court that Ahalya was a minor and that three of the legal-aged girls in the brothel had requested care from the CWC. Adrian whispered a number of additional points to the prosecutor, and she conveyed them to the judge.

At the end of her argument, the judge turned to the defense counsel. The man was short, with a thick crop of black hair. He spoke at some length about the unfairness of the raid, the involvement of “imperialist interests from the United States,” and the incompetence of the Nagpada police. He pointed out that none of the girls had been age-verified and that the evidence that Ahalya was under eighteen was merely anecdotal. He also contended that Suchir's confession about Sita's disappearance had been extracted from the brothel owner under duress. The man had a golden tongue and spun such a suggestive web of doubts and veiled accusations that the judge glanced at the prosecutor with visible irritation.

Thomas's heart sank. He knew at once that Suchir would walk.

Sure enough, the judge set bail at ten thousand rupees for Suchir and five thousand each for Sumeera and Prasad.

Adrian shook his head and motioned for Thomas to join him in the crowded hallway. They stood close together beside an open window.

“They'll pay the money this afternoon,” Adrian said with a scowl. “This judge is contemptible. He never listens to the public prosecutor.”

“What happens next?” Thomas asked.

Adrian looked out the window just as a flock of pigeons took flight. “We'll push for an early hearing and try to get Ahalya's testimony into evidence.”

“How long will that take?”

Adrian shrugged. “With this defense lawyer, it could be months.”

On Saturday morning, Thomas ate breakfast with Dinesh on the terrace, overlooking the gray-blue ocean. After his meeting with Priya at the Hanging Garden, he had told his friend the truth about Mohini's death and Priya's departure for Bombay. Dinesh listened with his typical sangfroid and gave Thomas a hug, waving off his apology.

“Now I understand why you didn't e-mail me during the fall,” he said.

“I was in a fog,” Thomas replied, and with that they put the matter to rest.

Thomas reached out and took a bunch of grapes from a bowl on the table. He broke off a grape and chewed it thoughtfully, wondering when he would hear from Priya. Three and a half days had passed without word, and he had begun to worry. Her assessment of their situation had been accurate. They were in a tangled mess. The past was immutable, the pain of it was indelible, and Priya wanted her father's forgiveness. Beyond that, there was the problem of his lies. He had no intention of staying in India more than a year or of giving up his dream of the bench, but he had led her to believe otherwise. And then there was Tera.

“What do you want to do today?” Dinesh asked, leaning back in his chair.

“I'll probably read for a while on the Bandstand,” he said. “After that, I don't know.”

Dinesh studied his face. “You still haven't heard from her.”

Thomas shook his head.

“Well, cheer up. She said she'd think about it. I'm sure she's busy.”

Thomas was about to reply when he heard his BlackBerry ring. It was inside on the kitchen counter. He stood up quickly and collected the phone. Warmth spread through him when he saw her number on the screen.

“It's Priya,” he said, and Dinesh gave a thumbs-up.

Thomas placed the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Thomas,” she replied. She let his name linger in the air for a few seconds and then put her words together in an uncharacteristic rush.

“I've been thinking, as I promised to do, and I want to see you again.”

He began to smile. In all the years he had known her, she had been nervous only when something significant was at stake.

“Okay,” he said. “How do you want to do this?”

She took an audible breath. “My second cousin is getting married tomorrow. The
mendhi ki rasam
will be held this afternoon at my grandfather's bungalow. My father should be in a festive mood. And there will be many witnesses so he will have to be kind to you.”

Thomas closed his eyes. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked. He was elated that she wanted to see him, but the notion of confronting her father at a gathering of her entire family terrified him.

“Are you having second thoughts?”

“No, no. I just … never mind. Tell me how to get there.”

“Meet me at the entrance to Priyadarshini Park at five thirty. The taxi-wallas at Churghgate know the way.”

“What should I wear?”

“Did you bring a suit?”

“Just one.”

“One is enough. And Thomas?”

“Yes?”

“Don't forget to bring your sense of humor. You're going to need it.”

He arrived at Priyadarshini Park five minutes ahead of schedule. The sun was low on the horizon and the sky was tinged with blush. He called Priya and she picked up on the first ring. She sounded nervous again.

“Stay where you are,” she said. “I'll find you.”

He stood at the side of the road, watching for her. After a minute, she emerged from a rickshaw and walked toward him. She was dressed in a salwar kameez the color of a tropical sea. The neckline of the dress was low-cut but tasteful, complimenting her almond skin. She wore minimal makeup. She didn't need it.

She stopped five feet from him and smiled shyly like a schoolgirl. She had given him the same look the first time they met in Fellows Garden.

“Do you like my outfit?” she asked. “I can't wear this in the West.”

“It's our loss,” he said.

“You look nice.”

“I feel like a stiff in a suit.”

Her laughter was spontaneous. “You'll be right at home, then. My family is full of them.”

“I have something for you,” he said, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out the book of poetry his mother had given him. “My mom bought it for you for Christmas.”

Priya looked at him with surprise. She took the book and admired it. “How did she know I love Naidu?”

“She must have guessed.”

“Please tell her thank you,” she said, clutching the book tightly. “It is a precious gift.” She paused. “Did you … ?”

He nodded. “I told them.”

“I'm sorry. It must have hurt.”

Thomas shrugged. “They're grown-ups.”

She looked away and recovered her composure.

“So where in the world is this party of yours?” he asked.