Fear of the Fathers (46 page)

“Ahem,” choked Stella involuntarily.

Kandinsky looked at her with a wry smile. “I assume you are referring to the females among my staff, Miss Jones?” He laughed. “Do not worry. Everybody on board this submarine is here because they want to be. There has been no coercion, no bullying, and certainly no death threats. I am not, nor ever have been, involved in the white-slave trade. The girls are paid extremely well – and I do mean extremely – and they are free to leave at any time they choose. I have girls queuing up to join my staff. A year on board the
Marianna
can set a young lady up for the rest of their life.”

“At what cost to their souls though?” said Stella.

“They are not selling their souls. They are earning money and having fun. Ask any of them, they will all give you the same answer. You take life too seriously.”

Jennings and Stratton grimaced at each other and braced themselves for a blistering reaction to Kandinsky's comment, but none came. Instead, Stella just shrugged it off and said, “Whatever.”

Kandinsky had his waitresses offer round cigars. Of the guests only Oggi accepted, determined to drain every last drop of decadence from his trip. Stella stuck to her cigarettes, and Stratton and Jennings amused themselves with yet more cognac.

Kandinsky clipped his cigar, rolled it gently, and lit it. In his oversized hands the huge Montecristo looked more like a slim panatella. “So Stratton,” he said. “Is it right for me to say that you can heal just about any illness?”

“Not exactly,” replied Stratton. “Well, not at the moment anyway.”

“I do not understand. What do you mean?” said Kandinsky.

“I mean at present I don't seem to be able to channel enough energy. When Titan was shot I couldn't do anything for him.”

“But he survived.”

“Yes, he did. But I think that was more to do with Oggi than myself. Something's happening to me, but I'm not sure what it is. Hopefully it's only temporary.”

“Very curious,” said Kandinsky. “I know a bit about Reiki, in fact I am attuned to level 2, and it is my understanding that once you have been attuned the power flows through you permanently.”

“Yes, that's right,” said Stratton. “And that's why it's so hard to explain. But like I said, it may only be temporary.”

“Let us hope so,” said Kandinsky. “Nevertheless, I would like to talk to you some more on the subject during your stay. You are an intriguing man, and I have many questions for you – that is if you do not object.”

“Of course not, I'll be only too happy. Not right now though, to be honest I'm feeling a little bit light-headed.”

“Good!” voiced Kandinsky. “I will not have anyone leaving this table sober!” He laughed loudly, his cheer reverberating through the room and infecting his guests with a spontaneous mirth. Even the poker-faced Anatol managed to raise a perceptible grin.

With dinner finished Kandinsky invited them to join him for drinks in his bar. Even Stella, who was slowly letting her guard down, accepted the offer. They laughed and talked into the early hours, allowing themselves respite and forgetting the dark journey ahead.

Morning broke with the sound of birdsong. Kamal opened his eyes and lay for a while staring at the ceiling, watching it lighten as the day slowly revealed itself shade by shade. His thoughts, as they had been since she left, were with Annie. He tried hard to imagine what she must be feeling, but he knew it was not possible. All he knew was that she was hurt and lost and alone and angry. Angry enough perhaps to do something from which there would be no return or redemption.

He lifted himself to a sitting position, turned on the bedside lamp, and then the television. The intense media focus on Annie appeared to be dying down, replaced by yet another political scandal involving the misappropriation of taxpayers' money. That at least was something, but it did little to alleviate Kamal's worry. Somehow he had to find her, which, in his current state, was easier said than done.

On Marvo's orders he had been confined to his bed since the shooting. That was almost a week ago now, and he felt that if he didn't start moving soon he would atrophy. So, without waiting for Marvo's assent, he drew back the covers and dipped a tentative toe to the carpet. Then, with extreme care, he held on to the bedpost and got to his feet. At first he felt fine, but after a couple of seconds his head started to swim. Summoning all his will, he gripped the bedpost fast and waited for the dizziness to pass. He staggered under the effort, but eventually his brain regained control and he eased his grasp. Finally, like a child taking his first steps, he let go and began to pace slowly around the room.

After gaining his confidence he left the room and wandered into the hallway. At the end to his left he saw a light on. He heard Marvo singing and headed on down.

“What the hell are you doing out of bed?” said Marvo calmly, as he saw Kamal enter the kitchen.

“I cannot stay there forever,” said Kamal.

“No, but you can stay there while your insides heal. Do you want to be coughing up blood?”

“I am okay,” Kamal protested. “I know my own body. Whatever you have been doing to me has worked. I need to be mobile.”

Marvo shrugged. “Well, it's your funeral old mate. But if you insist on disobeying doctor's orders then I'm not going to stop you. How about a cup of tea?”

“That would be most appreciated,” said Kamal. He sat down gingerly and looked out into the garden. “Your flowers are beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you,” said Marvo. “They've just about survived this bloody weather. Thank God.” He finished making the teas and sat down opposite Kamal. “What's this all about anyway Kamal?” he asked. “Why the sudden need to be up and about? You've had, what I can only describe as, a miracle escape from death. What's the point in tempting fate even more?”

Kamal sipped his tea. “Very good,” he said. “You make an excellent cup.”

“Don't mention it. And don't change the subject. Come on, tell me what's on your mind.”

“Annie,” he said flatly. “I need to find her before it is too late.”

“Too late for what?”

“She is hurt and confused,” said Kamal. “There is evil on her mind, I am sure of it. If I do not find her then I fear something incredibly bad will happen. She is out for revenge.”

“She may well be,” said Marvo. “But she's never going to get anywhere near the people that did this, is she? I mean, first of all she's got to find them. How's she going to do that?”

“She is intelligent,” said Kamal. “She has a name, and she also has money. It will be difficult, but she will find a way to punish the men who killed her family. She is burning with hatred, and that is a force not easily quelled.”

“You could be right I suppose. But even if you are, what's the point in worrying about it? These guys deserve whatever they get, don't they?”

“That is not for me to decide. And it is not for Annie to decide either. As Mr Gandhi said: ‘an eye for an eye…'”

“…leaves the whole world blind,” finished Marvo. “Yeah, I know. But look, it's out of your hands now mate. She's gone, disappeared, fucked-off without a trace. You're never going to find her anyway, so why don't you just forget about it and concentrate on getting better. If she gets them then good luck to her I say. How would you feel if it was your family that had been butchered?”

“I do not know, I have no family. All I know is that no good will come of pursuing these men. If she kills them, what then? She will spend the rest of her days behind bars.”

“Perhaps she considers that a small price,” suggested Marvo.

“Perhaps,” said Kamal. “But she is not thinking correctly at the moment. She had come so far in her life until all this happened. I cannot allow her to throw it all away in a blind fury. She is a good person, and good people should be helping the world, not languishing in prison like dogs.”

“She'll be going to prison anyway won't she?” said Marvo. “I mean, they've framed her like a goodun.”

“She will not if I can get her out of the country with me. I can take her somewhere where they will never find her.”

“Well, it's your decision,” said Marvo. “But I'm still not entirely sure why you're going to so much trouble to help her. I've known you for a long time my friend, and in all that time I've never seen you troubled like this. It's like you've suddenly grown a conscience overnight. What's it all about? Are you in love with this girl or something?”

Kamal shook his head. “No,” he said. “Well, I do not think so. Not like you mean anyway. Although I am very fond of her.”

“Then what is it?” pressed Marvo.

“It is my redemption old friend. My redemption.”

For the first time in a very long while Stella had a hangover. She woke in the dark with no idea of the time or where she was. The last clear memory she had was downing two shots of tequila. After that the evening became a haze of music and laughter. She had a vague recollection of dancing on top of Kandinsky's bar with one of his barmaids, and as the picture materialized in her head she shuddered with post-party embarrassment.

After feeling around and satisfying herself that she was alone in the bed, she shut her eyes hard and made a determined effort to get back to sleep. But after ten minutes of trying various positions she gave up and succumbed to the unwelcome nagging of insistent alcohol.

She switched on the lights, sat up, and grabbed her cigarettes from the bedside cabinet. After a couple of lung-clearing coughs she lit up and took a long drag of smoke. Without thinking, she reached down into the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer. Before she could stop herself it was open and she'd taken a hefty swig. When she realized what she'd done her first reaction was one of horror, but then, as the alcohol topped up, she felt a resurgence of carefree spirit and grinned at her uncharacteristic surrender to hedonism. “Take life too seriously,” she muttered to herself. “Hah, what do they know?”

She picked up the phone and dialled her attendant. She ordered smoked salmon, scrambled eggs, wholemeal toast, champagne and freshly-squeezed orange juice. Her food arrived within ten minutes.

Her attendant was a young Russian who couldn't have been long out of his teens. He was handsome bordering on beautiful, with both sculpted cheekbones and body. She gave him a flirtatious smile as he lay her food down. He grinned back at her with piercing eyes. A brief recklessness surged through her mind and she toyed with the idea of grabbing his collar and pulling him in for a kiss, but just as she was about to throw caution to the wind she reined herself in for being so foolish.

“Will that be all?” said the attendant.

She said it would and he left with her eyes burning holes in his firm backside.

She got out of bed and sat down at the table in her long T-shirt. The food was wonderful and she savoured every mouthful.

Halfway through there was a knock at the door. It was Stratton, and he came in and sat down on the bed. “You're starting early aren't you?” he said, nodding towards the bottle of champagne.

“I'm having it with orange juice,” she said. “To go with my food. I believe it's a combination you're not averse to yourself. Do you want a glass?”

“No thanks. I want to keep a clear head about me today.”

“Suit yourself. If you will take life too seriously…” she said pointedly.

“I never said that Stella. That was Kandinsky. You don't need to prove anything to me.”

“I'm not trying to prove anything to anyone. I'm just enjoying myself.”

“Good. I'm glad to hear it,” said Stratton. “I just came in to see how you were. I thought you might be suffering a bit after last night's exertions. But I can see I needn't have worried.”

“What do you mean by exertions?”

“You know, dancing on the bar; singing loudly – that sort of thing.”

“Oh, right,” she said. “I can't really remember to be honest. Was I that bad?”

“No. You were funny. It was good to see you let your hair down. It reminded me of…well, when we first met I guess. Back in the old days in Oxford – drinking cocktails in the afternoon, partying into the next day, that sort of thing.”

Stella smiled. “Yeah, they were good times. Sometimes I wish we could go back to them. Life's a lot simpler when you're young.”

“Isn't it,” Stratton agreed. “But things move on whether we like it or not. Suddenly you're ten years older and talking in clichés.”

“Point taken,” laughed Stella. “Come on,” she urged. “Have a glass of champagne with me – for old time's sake. We could have a bit of an all-dayer. We've got nothing else to do.”

“I'd love to,” said Stratton. “But like I said, I want to keep a clear head today. I already feel a bit heavy after last night. Kandinsky wants to talk to me about stuff, and I can't do it if I'm pissed. Why don't you finish your breakfast and find Jennings and Oggi. I'm sure they'll be up for a bit of a session. Oggi's like a kid in a candy store at the moment.”