The Delhi Deception (24 page)

Carla returned to her room while Elouise collected her daughters from school. She was emotionally exhausted. The fact that Elouise had slept with George made her feel physically ill, the jealousy undeniable. Resisting the urge to lie down, she sat on the chaise longue and dialed George’s mobile number. He picked up on the second ring. She felt a flutter in her stomach on hearing his cultivated voice.

“I was just going to call,” George said, and continued smoothly, “Let’s have dinner at home. Sunil can use the small tandoor oven in the back garden and make his famous chicken tikka with garlic naan. What do you think?”

Oh, why can’t it be so simple?
Carla thought desperately. Finding her voice, she surprised herself by answering in an even tone, “That sounds wonderful George, but I’m afraid I can’t come to your place. It would be better if we met somewhere else.”

“Is everything OK?” George asked, sounding bemused.

“We need to talk. It’s important. Any suggestions?”

“I guess we could go to Claridges; it’s close.”

“No, not there. What about the Imperial Hotel’s coffee shop?”

“Sure, I’ll pick you up at eight?”

“That’s perfect. Thanks George.”

George arrived early, but Carla was ready for once, wearing a coral linen dress. They left straightaway on Carla’s insistence, without seeing Elouise or Harry. Kamal was driving and greeted her politely. George sat quietly without touching her. He wore a contemplative expression as he looked at her. Carla studied her small mother of pearl and coral beaded purse with earnest. Acutely aware of his presence, she had to control the urge to lean against him and feel the warm comfort of his muscular chest. This feeling surprised her, considering the information she had received from Andrew and Leila.
What’s my problem, I can’t trust him and I shouldn’t? And yet all I want is to be close to him. Pull yourself together, Carla,
she reminded herself.

Arriving at the hotel, George steered her gently toward the coffee shop, his hand lightly on her waist. The hostess smiled and flirted somewhat with him when he requested a table in a quiet section. Carla refused to smile at her as they were shown to their table. George noticed and said, “Don’t you like this table?”

“It’s fine, really.”

George ordered single malt for himself, and Carla opted for mineral water.
I need a clear head
, she reasoned. They studied the menu for a few minutes. George closed his and said, “New Zealand lamb for me; what about you?”

Carla realized that she had no idea. She had looked at the menu without reading a thing. Frowning, she skimmed it and decided on the Caesar salad.

“Not hungry?” George asked.

“I had a big lunch. Kishan is quite the chef.”

His smile was tender as he took her hand in his. She tried to pull it away, but he held it firmly. “What’s bothering you, Carla?”

Her eyes were stinging and a lump formed in her throat. Swallowing hard, she tried to dispel it, but it seemed to have grown even larger. She looked at George and said simply, “Andrew, my husband, is in Delhi. He arrived this morning.”

George withdrew his hand from hers, picked up his whiskey, and took a long sip, almost finishing it. A small muscle twitched in his jaw, but his eyes and face didn’t betray any emotion. It annoyed Carla.

“Have you seen him?” he asked finally.

“Yes. He’s staying at Claridges. We met there.”

George studied her face and then with narrowed eyes asked, “Did he ask you to forgive him?”

“Yes, I suppose, in a way, but I haven’t exactly been an angel myself.”

He laughed, reached for her hand, and squeezed it. “Oh, Carla, you are so wonderfully old-fashioned.”

Carla pulled her hand out of his grip; her face was flushed as she said, “You are so insensitive. I am a married woman, after all. Cheating husband or not.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be callous.” There was a trace of remorse in his voice.

With a strained smile, she said, “I’m so confused George. I really enjoy being with you, but—”

“It’s OK. You don’t have to explain or apologize for anything. I just want you to be careful. Don’t rush back into it until you’re quite sure you want to.”

“You’re right. I’ll take my time.”

“Are you going back with him to London?”

“No, I’ll stay for another week or so. I’ve hardly spent any time with Elouise.”

“And Andrew?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t really discussed it. I’m going to continue staying with Elouise at the bungalow.”

“I see. Have you thought about your little mission?”

Carla shifted uneasily in her chair.
That’s all he cares about
. “Yes, of course. I’ll try my best, but I’m not sure if I’ll manage.”

His eyes were serious when he said, “Please try, Carla. It is very important for us to get that information.”

“Who’s us?”

Seemingly taken aback by the abruptness of her question, George hesitated before replying, “Me, Valentina, and the rest of the group trying to get to the bottom of this trafficking ring. But you knew that.” His eyes bored into hers.

“Yes, I was just wondering if there was a more ‘official’ interest.”

George frowned and said, “No, it’s exactly like I explained it to you.”

“I see.” Carla watched the waiter with relief as he served their dinner. They ate quietly. The salad was fresh and crispy, but Carla couldn’t eat much. George’s lamb looked and smelled delicious, but it appeared to her like he was struggling to finish it, too.

“Would you like to see the desert menu?” George asked her politely as the waiter cleared their plates.

“No, thanks. I’ll have an espresso with milk on the side, please.”

George ordered the same and then looked at Carla with an intense expression. “I’m going to miss you.”

She felt a physical, nagging pain somewhere inside her. Carla gazed at him and said, “Me too.”

“We’ll stay in touch. And, Carla, please…” He took her hand; holding it tightly he continued, “If you need me for anything, anything at all, you know you can depend on me. OK?”

“Thanks, George, I know.” For some reason she didn’t fully comprehend, Carla meant what she said.

On the drive home, George held her hand gently in his lap. It felt so natural Carla hardly noticed. It was only when they arrived at the bungalow that she pulled it away somewhat self-consciously.

George walked her to the door and said, “Good night, Carla. I really hope this is not the end of something special.”

Tears were threatening Carla, so she kept her eyes downturned. After a second or two, she looked up at him, stood slightly on her tippy toes, and pecked him hastily on his cheek. It was smooth and cool, smelling of his aftershave. The familiar scent and texture of his skin caused a slight tremor to run through her. Fighting the urge to touch him again, she turned on her heels and hurried into the house, almost bumping the slight frame of Kishan in her rush. She apologized quickly and, refusing his offer of tea, locked herself in her bedroom.

She lay fully clothed on her bed for a long time, trying to clear her mind. When her eyes started to scratch from fatigue, she changed into her nightgown, falling asleep moments after her head touched the pillow. A large, flesh-colored gecko lost his footing while trying to catch a mosquito, and fell heavily onto Carla’s pillow. Her nose twitched, but she slept on.

.

CHAPTER 17

H
arry was still in his study working on his computer when Elouise heard Carla’s return. She couldn’t dispel the images of Carla’s ordeal from her mind. Harry couldn’t possibly be involved. He had two daughters. What kind of father could possibly condone the kidnapping and trafficking of young girls?

She tried once more to focus on the novel she was reading but to no avail: the words were scrambled with no resemblance to any language known to her. With a sigh, she switched off the table lamp and lay down, facing the adjoining study. She could see Harry through the blinds, working with a deep frown creasing his brow. Impulsively she got up and walked barefoot toward the study, not making a sound. Leaning against the frame of the door, she watched him as he placed a folder in the bottom drawer of his desk, locking the drawer. He opened a gray hardcover textbook and placed the key inside a small cut out compartment. Closing it, he pushed back his office chair, scraping the wooden floor loudly. With her heart skipping a couple of beats, Elouise dashed back to her bed, lying down on her side facing away from him.

Harry switched off the study lights and walked toward the bed. He asked softly, “Elouise. Are you sleeping?”

She closed her eyes tightly and tried to breathe slowly and evenly, not answering him. When she heard him in the bathroom, she opened her eyes and wondered what could possibly be in that bottom drawer.

Harry slept while Elouise struggled to fall asleep. Eventually, as the faint coral of the early dawn painted the walls of the white bungalow, she succumbed.

Harry volunteered to take the girls to school while Elouise complained of a headache and remained in bed. “Are you coming back or going straight to the office?” Elouise asked him.

“I’ll go to the office. A young Caltech graduate is coming for an assessment this morning.”

“And lunch?”

“Not sure, but please go ahead without me.”

“Dad. Let’s go. We’ll be late,” Sara shouted from the passage.

Harry kissed Elouise on the top of her head. “Get better,” he said, rushing out.

Elouise called Kishan and asked him whether Carla had woken up. He replied, “Yes, Memsahibji. Madam Carla already drink tea and eat fruit. You want breakfast now?”

“No thanks, Kishan, just another cup of tea, and please ask Carla Madam to come here if she’s dressed.”

Elouise heard a knock on the half-open door soon after Kishan left, and Carla’s voice asking, “Are you decent?”

“Of course, come in.”

“I saw Harry taking the girls to school this morning.”

“Yes, I pretended I had a headache.”

“Why?”

“I want to poke around his study this morning.”

“Don’t get caught.”

“He won’t be home before lunch. In any event you’ll be sitting on the front veranda as my lookout, OK?”

“Sure, when do you want to do it?”

“Now.”

Carla widened her eyes in what seemed to Elouise to be surprise and said, “OK. I’ll read the paper there. How will I alert you?”

“Put my phone number on speed dial, then let it ring once.”

“I’ll just get it from my room. Give me five minutes.” She hurried out.

Drinking her tea, Elouise kept an eye on the Waterford crystal alarm clock on her bedside table. After precisely five minutes, she entered Harry’s study. She couldn’t see the hardcover book on the desk, so she turned toward the bookshelves behind it. Her heart sank as she saw hundreds of gray hardcover books lining the shelves. Resigning herself to the fact that she would have to open them all one by one, she started systematically on the far left-hand corner.

A fine layer of dust covered the first book she took out, making her sneeze. It had no compartment. Studying the top of the books, she noticed a dust layer on most of them. She quickly scanned the top shelf. On the second shelf, she found a gray hardcover with less dust on it. With trepidation, she removed and opened it. The small steel key lay on the bottom of the cut-out compartment. She smiled with relief as she placed the book on the desk, making a mental note of where its place on the bookshelf was. She went down on her haunches to unlock and open the bottom drawer of the desk. A blue cardboard file closed with an elastic band lay on top of a book. She removed both and, sitting down on Harry’s, chair she looked at them. The book was an old-looking, leather-bound Koran in dark green. The gold-embossed Islamic pattern on its cover was dull and faded from use. Elouise frowned as she opened it and realized that she had opened it left from right as opposed to right from left. She opened it correctly and saw a faded name written on the first yellowed page of the holy book. It read: