Truth Lake (22 page)

The tape clicked off, interrupting her reverie. Sara's cheeks were wet; ambushed by compassion, Tanya embraced her and listened to her whisper about how much she missed her man, his tenderness and caresses, his devilish smile.

Shaking with emotion Sara murmured, 'He was my soul-mate. I am
nothing
without him. But oh ….if only he had felt the same way about me!' For no particular reason the image of Karmel as he'd looked a few years ago rushed through Tanya's mind.

Why yes, I've been in love
, she thought fiercely.
Been too much in love to show it.  And now the man whom I've craved more than anything in this life is somewhere in those mountains – the same sinister mountains that claimed the life of Sara's lover
.

When Chand left, the darkness around Karmel was complete. He guessed that he was close to Thahéra's cabin. The idea of going in, eating with her and watching her work by the fire was so appealing that for a moment it even repelled his fear. But memories of the sinister figure on the path, of his near confrontation with Thahéra's dour stepson, of the pain from the wound to his head, soon returned to sever all thoughts about seeking shelter in that household. Tense with nerves, he resumed his cautious walk.

Once inside his 'own' cabin, he opened his pack and removed some of the food he'd been saving for the return trek. He cooked it swiftly and ate it in gigantic gulps, barely chewing, watching water seep under his door and the floor become a muddy soup. The walls began to glisten. Thunder rolled over the village, followed by the clacking of hailstones. It was a mighty storm. 

At seven, the rain had not abated; he settled himself on the cot feeling angry and wretched; he had determined to stop thinking about the case, at least for a few hours. Sleep seemed the only option; but sleep would not come, so he lay wrapped in several layers of clothing, staring at the glistening walls. 

His lamp was low on oil and Thahéra had not filled it; he had only the light of the fire to see by. Every now and then a gust would smash the rain against his abode and everything would tremble, once, as if swayed by a divine force. All the bits of paper and the charts, which he had brought to fool the villagers into thinking him a soil analyst and which he'd tacked to the wall several days previously, were now bedraggled and limp with moisture. When the waterworld around him became too oppressive, Karmel allowed visions of Thahéra to float towards him and into his arms.

*

That morning, when Karmel did not visit her, Thahéra had not been prepared for the anguish that oozed steadily through her veins. They had parted on such bad terms the previous day that she did not risk going to his cabin. She had hoped that he would come in search of food, or in search of her, but he had not. He was seen leaving the village with Sahusingh and, despite her curiosity to know where he was going, she could not bring herself to send anyone after them. Instead news had come that her father was approaching the village. Her sister stood outside the door and shouted to her in a voice taut with anxiety to make the place presentable. She would not set foot inside. The old man would be with them by nightfall. 

As she dragged bedding around the confines of her cabin, spread fresh soil over the damp floor, milked the goats and built up the fire, she thought only of Karmel. 
Where was he? What was Sahusingh telling him? Could he be trusted with the truth?
  She was on her knees before the stove when her father stepped through the door. 

              She did not glance up or greet him and so only felt the splash as he shook his dripping cap out over her freshly brushed floor and heard the thwack when he threw it against a wall. His stick followed, flung from him and crashing into a corner. A neighbour poked her head through the doorway, saw the old man and fled, biting her lip as she went.

              Their meal was consumed in grim quiet. The children ate nothing but flour chapathis, as was their wont when food was scarce, and passed each dish to their grandfather. He spooned food into his mouth without looking at them and chewed loudly. The children knew his disposition too well to attempt conversation. Each was thinking of all the meals that had been swallowed in a similar manner. When, after an extended repast, he called for his pipe and his stick, both children started to shake. When Thahéra told them to go study with their cousins, they left reluctantly, looking back at their mother framed in the doorway until rain and darkness hid her from their eyes.

*

              The same watery darkness masked Sadrettin's expression from his colleagues. Their day had passed in a blur of disappointment and recrimination. Rimi had started to cry when Taylor accused her of having planted the stupid idea of this mountain hideaway in the boss's head. No one, he asserted, would be brain-dead enough to believe that this would make a good location for a resort. There was nothing to look at and nothing to do. The weather was foul – by any standards – and the facilities were abominable. If this place Malundi was merely a day's walk from Saahitaal and Saahitaal was the model village in their plans then this was an absurd mission, doomed to failure. He would hand in his notice rather than sign his name to a proposal for a hotel at such a site. Narayan urged him to go easy on the woman and earned a hiss from Rimi.

'I swear the boss was the one to mention it first. I'd never have thought of a place this wild on my own, would I, Sadi? You know the boss. I was just reminding him of his good idea.'

The carping ceased for a while when their food was brought – huge flour chapathis and a soupy gravy with pieces of goat's cheese floating in it. A few of the men smoked after the meal as they all gathered in the dim schoolhouse. Then Cornell kicked off the argument again by asking who had done the initial reconnoitre for this project; suddenly it seemed that none of them knew. Rimi looked sulky. They demanded that she produce the file. She withdrew to get it and returned looking mystified and saying it had disappeared from her bag.

She looked with suspicion at their cement dwelling. In the shadowy corners, spider's webs made glimmering curtains to soften the charcoal of the walls. Who would have stolen such a thing? Perhaps it had dropped out somewhere. She couldn't remember reading a name on it. Mystified, and more than a little intimidated, Rimi began to cry again. But Cornell persisted. 

When they turned to Sadrettin to get his opinion, he was glad of the gloom.  They looked expectantly at him. He waited until his heart slowed before speaking.

              'We gave it another day; it rained; it's done nothing but rain since we came up here. If you all agree, tomorrow we go back. Mr. Sinbari will have to send another team up if he wishes to get an accurate picture of the situation before the end of the monsoon.  Shall we vote on it?' Hands shot up in unison. 'So you all agree that we should abandon this project, at least for the present time?'

              'Absolutely! I'm sick of this shit.' Taylor was feeling feverish. He wouldn't find out until their return to Delhi that he had Malaria. 

              'We start at first light, then; our bearers will meet us at the bottom of that hill', he pointed, 'We've got to be careful descending, they tell me, as many of the paths are flooded. Now why don't we get some rest?' No one had the energy to disagree with him. 

Beds were laid, as far from the door as possible, and their single lamp was extinguished. Most of them were profoundly grateful to be leaving in the morning. When the storm broke, they were all fast asleep.

              It was past one am; Sara was asleep on the couch. Tanya stood up. In the suite's beautifully decorated bathroom, she gulped down water and then sat down on the edge of the pearl-grey Jacuzzi-style bath to assemble her thoughts. By dawn she had eight pages of neatly scribbled notes and had even nodded off for a few moments, back wedged against the side of the bath. She'd dreamed that her mother was trying to pull out her baby with a tea towel and that her father was angry with her; he didn't want her to come home. When Sara woke at seven, Tanya was standing over her with a cup of steaming tea.

'Room Service. I hope you don't mind? I wanted to ask you a few more things.'

Tanya's flight back to Delhi was scheduled for eleven. She was in a hurry to resume her questioning.

After washing her face and pulling on a fresh t-shirt, Sara sipped her tea, looking puzzled. 'I thought I told you everything last night?' 

Tanya thought for a moment. 'I'm not sure. You told me a lot about the three of you, and how you felt about each other. But there are still loose ends, see. For instance, were you worried when you didn't meet Cameron up at Saahitaal? How did you respond? Why don't I ask you again, just to go over things.' She kept her voice bright; falsely upbeat.

Sara sighed. 'Can we be quick then? I haven't a clue where Adam's got to but it’s better if you leave before he gets here.' She stared around the room and her expression took on a brooding quality, as if her thoughts were sad and bitter. 'It's not like him to stay out like this.' Tanya hastened to get her attention.

'Okay then. Why don't you just tell me what happened.'

'When I went up?'

'From when you got to India.'

Sara rubbed her face. 'When I flew to New Delhi, I went straight to the Randhor-Sinbari and presented one of the tokens Vincent had so generously sent us. He's Antonio's … Mr. Sinbari's kid. I told you, right? He sent us all some, after his trip to Scotland. So I was shown to this terrific room, facing the Plaza, with the best view, and I was allowed to stay there. According to Cam's calculations, I was supposed to set off for this place Dilghum by bus about a week after Adam went, only I got talking to people in Delhi and they told me that it was quicker to go to Saahitaal via Bhookta in the West. So I thought, why not spend a few more days in Delhi, see more of it – specially as the accommodation was free.'

'Weren't you nervous about climbing alone?' Tanya's tone was respectful.

'I've trekked a fair bit in other places, though never alone. And actually, I'd made up my mind to get a guide. Cameron had sent us really detailed instructions for the other route, the Dilghum one, but those were useless to me. One funny co-incidence was that these Indo-Italian climbers I chatted to told me that they'd met Adam too and that he'd also gone up from the West. God knows why he didn't leave a note for me. I'm just beginning to realise that he's not quite what I thought him …'

'So you got on a bus?' Tanya wanted to hear her version of the journey. 'How many days did the walking take you?'

'I'm not sure really. I fell in with a group of villagers at one point and asked directions. So days … maybe three, maybe four? I can't tell exactly because I stopped in the middle.'

'Why was that? You were tired?'

'No. Not exactly. It was Adam. He came down.'

'You met him on his way down?' Sara nodded. 'Wasn't he supposed to have left before that?'

'No, no. We were all supposed to stay at the lake till Cam finished his work. We were going to trek back together. That was what he said in his last letter to me. I thought Adam knew that. When I saw him going down, he was in a real rush, he had his pack on and he was running, I swear it. I thought about not calling to him at first.' She frowned. 'I was anxious.'

'Why were you so anxious, Sara?'

'Jeesus!' She paused, fiddled with her hair. 'Can you imagine it? He'd stayed a week with Cameron, maybe Cam slept with him, maybe not, I don't know. They must've spent time together, don't you think? Then all of a sudden the day before I arrive he tells him, "sorry mate, I'm getting married – to Sara". How shite could it be? I thought Adam had freaked out. So …I guess I thought I wouldn't be his favourite person …' She rubbed her eyes and then, in a swift movement of hands and wrists, pulled all her hair away from her face, lifting both her arms backwards and holding the hair up in a ponytail. The gesture made her look young and sweet. But Tanya didn't pause.

'And?
Did
you and Adam sort it out?' There was a long silence. Tanya bit her lip. 'Sara, did you ask him why he was rushing down?'

'Well he kind of hedged it – I didn't dare talk about Cameron because I didn't know what they'd said to each other – so we kind of kept it casual … only I felt –'

'
What?
Did you sense something?' Tanya was hunched forward, sensing that Sara would avoid the truth.

Sara's lids were almost closed; she seemed to be in a state near enough to a trance, though the glare in her eyes might have caused her expression. The splendid hotel room was looking cluttered in the morning sunlight, their wine bottles from the previous night strewn on the plush sap-green rug. Sara spoke slowly, remembering.

'Nervous. Jumpy. That's how I felt he was. Somehow he seemed to be watching me all the time … with a weird look in his eyes.'

'Weird – how?'

'Kind of assessing and furtive … not the friend I'd known.'

'Can you specify what made you think Adam was different? You'd been friends for years after all, you knew him well. Did he seem to be in a state of shock? Did you feel threatened, perhaps?' Tanya checked the tape – it was almost at an end; she'd have to flip it unobtrusively. She was about to do so when something distracted her, a small sound perhaps, or a movement. Sara was frowning, eyes shut against the light. 

She opened her eyes. She opened her mouth to answer; but a low scream came out instead. Tanya swung herself around to face the door as a mocking voice drawled,
'Yeah, Sara, tell us if you felt threatened!'

*

Unable to sleep, despite hours of profane fantasies in which first one woman then another refused to share his bed, Karmel was locked into a battle with his own imagination; he felt as if he was losing his mind. Every sound he heard seemed menacing and loaded with malice. Even the irregular dripping of the rain was ominous. Reviewing the situation in which he found himself, he decided that if he stayed in the village any longer he was going to lose all interest in his work. 

He could not leave without seeing Thahera once more, however, and that would have to wait until daylight. And so he tried to calm his nerves by marshalling everything he knew about the case.

All Karmel's questions about Sara and Adam had served only to convince him that they had lied, not that they were guilty of murder. Their fear had been genuine, though their tale was fabricated: the village had repelled them.

As far as he could make out, they had arrived in Saahitaal separately: Adam had stayed with Cameron in this very cabin for over a week, during which time they had been seen together by Stitching Woman and other villagers. Whether the two men were working on the same project, or were simply friends as Adam stated, he did not know.  Sara had climbed by herself and approached Saahitaal on approximately the day mentioned in her statement – now nearly a month back. Maybe by design or by chance, she had met Adam along the way. They had camped out, for a day, and then reached the village together. One question still puzzled him. If Adam had not known about Cameron's death, then why had they lied to the Delhi police, effectively providing each other with an alibi and if he
had
known about the body then why had he allowed Sara to climb the rest of the way? Perhaps he had needed
her
to find it.

Sara was hungry and wanted to stay but had not received a welcoming response from the village. Thahéra's sister had fed her.
Why did every track lead back to this family?

By this time, Cameron was already dead. But surely not
decomposed
, the way they had described? That was impossible. Whatever had happened, they had to have recognised their friend.

With deft precision, Karmel's mind felt out the contours of past events.

As she knelt to wash out the pan in the river, Sara had discovered Cameron's body and recognised it. Why hadn't she been worried about Cameron before that?
Had Adam spun her a tale?
Her fiancé should have been her first priority, if indeed she was the woman to whom Cameron had claimed to be engaged. Wouldn't she have been more eager to see Cameron, who had left her months before, than she was to see her friend whom she had been with only a few weeks before in Britain? 

They had panicked. The body was bad … oh yes, it was worse than bad for those who had rarely seen a corpse before: its smell, its patches of decay and overlay of mud, the whiteness of bone a grim decoration; maybe there was still dried blood to be seen when they found it. And then, recognising the face must have been worse still – heart-wrenching, incapacitating, destructive. 

But something else must have happened to deepen their terror. Perhaps they had witnessed something; perhaps they had been threatened. If he did not take note, he too might end up dead. 

He still wasn't clear why the foreign architect had died but he was becoming certain of one thing: the murderer or murderers hailed from this village and would not hesitate to kill again if threatened.

He would pack as soon as it grew light. 

Just as he reached his conclusion and decided to flee Saahitaal, a cloaked figure approached his door. Karmel's nerves were strung so tight that when, having knocked and failed to get an answer, the figure began to push the door inwards, he jerked upright with such force that he knocked over and extinguished his lamp.