‘Is he coming?’ demanded Tossa, slicing straight through to essentials.
‘Where he has been I cannot tell you, surely in many places. Where I found him was in a place of the spirit where we have sometimes rested together when there was need. One does not ask too many questions of those one meets there, for only the answer to one question is of any importance, and that is; from here, whither? And yes, he is coming. There will be a plane from Madras arriving to-morrow a little after noon.’
‘Then he didn’t know,’ said Tossa, quivering, ‘that his mother was dead? He didn’t see the newspapers?’
‘He did not know until it was too late… no. One does not always read newspapers. There is a time not to read them, if you wish to remain upright.’
‘Then you had to tell him?’ she said, her eyes, dark and luminous with sympathy, fixed on the austere old face that confronted her with such serenity. ‘That must have been very hard for you both. And then, his child…’
‘It is never easy,’ said the Swami apocryphally, ‘to return to the world. Until you have left it, you cannot know how hard. But there is no other way forward and none back. Yes, I told him all that it was necessary to tell. And tomorrow in the afternoon he will be here.’
‘But what can he do?’ demanded Felder. ‘God knows I shall be glad to have him emerge into the light again, and get hold of his responsibilities. He’s taken his time about it! But it’s the kid we’re concerned about, and how is he better placed than we are to get her back? Damn it, we did what they told us to do, we paid what they asked for, and they’re ratting on the deal. What more has he to offer, when it comes to the point?’
‘About twelve million rupees more,’ said the Swami Premanathanand with all the aplomb and all the cold blood of a banker or a saint. And he added patiently, as to unrealistic children: ‘Do not forget we are concerned with people whose requirement is essentially simple… money. That puts us in a very strong position, because Satyavan is in command of a very great deal of money – now, as you know, in almost complete command of it – and to him it means very little. It sweats from his finger-ends, money. Daughters are infinitely harder to come by. He will pay whatever is necessary to recover Anjli. He has told me so with his own lips. To the limit of what he has, he will pay for her.’
‘But how,’ wondered Tossa distractedly, ‘do we get in touch with them? They can reach us, but we don’t know how to reach them.’
‘That probably won’t be a problem,’ Dominic said bitterly, ‘as soon as her father emerges. After all, they must be watching absolutely any developments in connection with the family, they wouldn’t miss a thing like that.’
‘You may well be right. But in fact Satyavan has left as little as possible to chance. I have here the text of a personal advertisement which I have composed at his dictation.’ He felt in the deep pocket of the trench coat, which was draped like a cloak of office over the back of his chair, and produced a folded sheet of paper. ‘It is his wish that this shall appear in tomorrow’s newspapers… all the main ones – in the personal column. It is too late to get it into the morning press, but we are in time for the evening papers. If we are not successful with this approach, then of course it may be necessary to let the newsmen have some item to use concerning the return of Mr Kumar, but for the moment he judged it better to come home as quietly as possible and attempt a private contact.’ He unfolded the sheet of paper, and perched his spectacles back upon his long, narrow, beautiful nose. ‘This is how it reads: “Anjli: Am interested in your merchandise. High price if delivered in good condition. Full guarantees.” Then I had intended to give Mr Kumar’s home number and request a call at a fixed hour any evening – hoping, of course, that it will come tomorrow evening if the advertisement has been seen. But if you would permit, I think it would be better now to say only: “Call usual number, eight p.m. Kumar.” If you will allow this telephone to be used as before, I think it might avoid alarming the vendors.’
Felder uttered a soft whistle of admiration. ‘You think of everything!’
‘If one must do such things at all, it is necessary to think of everything. And therefore I cannot any longer avoid,’ said the Swami mildly, ‘pointing out to you the one remaining possibility with which, unfortunately, we also have to count. Though it may well be that you have thought of it for yourselves, even if you have refrained from expressing it. Anjli may already have been killed.’
Tossa nodded wretchedly, Dominic stood frozen eye to eye with the fear he had hoped she need not share, and Felder protested aloud, all in the same instant.
‘Good God, no! They surely wouldn’t hurt the child. I’m sure she must be alive and safe somewhere.’
‘It is common practice in cases of kidnapping. Such people tend to make certain that they can never be identified, and the obvious witness is the victim.’
It was doubly terrible to hear this said in that tranquil, matter-of-fact voice. Felder looked grey with shock and a little sick; but still he shook his head vigorously, resisting the foreboding. ‘No, it’s impossible. I’m certain she’s alive and well.’
‘Let us hope so. But the criminals have not kept their bargain with you. There must be a reason why you have not received the expected call. Either it is a further gesture of greed to hold on to her for still more money, since the first demand was so encouragingly successful. Or else they cannot produce her, and you will hear nothing more. Her father’s arrival will resolve that problem. For I must tell you that he will insist on seeing with his own eyes that his daughter is unharmed, before he even enters into negotiations. What is more, on my advice he insisted that you, who may now know her more certainly than he himself would, shall also see her and verify that it is indeed Anjli. He has not set eyes on her for six years, a substitute might be passed off on him if you were not present to confirm her identity.’
‘But how,’ asked Dominic with patent dismay, ‘can we hope to make them agree to taking a risk like that?’
‘That is for them to arrange as best they can. Satyavan will agree to any safeguards they suggest, provided he can satisfy himself that there still exists something to be bought. If they want their money – and it will be worth their while – they will go to some trouble to arrange it.’ He added: ‘I also have promised that the police will not be drawn into the affair by me, though of course, as you know, they are already informed about the crime itself. A quick settlement is therefore much to the criminal’s advantage.’
‘I hate,’ said Dominic with sudden and uncharacteristic passion, ‘to think of them getting away with it.’ And it came out as a plain protest against the Swami’s apparent acceptance of the possibility. True enough, the main thing was to recover Anjli alive and well, and restore her to her rediscovered father. But even so, the ugliest and meanest of crimes… not to speak of Arjun Baba’s thin but tenacious thread of life, snapped almost by the way…
The Swami rose, faintly smiling, and put on his trench coat. ‘I am more fortunate than you in this respect, that my beliefs assure me that no one ever gets away with anything. There is a constant account which must balance. In what form of life these people will return to earth it is useless to conjecture.’
‘Cockroaches, probably,’ said Tossa with detestation, and saw Felder wince perceptibly. In India cockroaches are the nightmare of the uninitiated.
‘Ah, cockroaches are sagacious and relatively harmless creatures! Do not attribute human malice to them. And now I shall leave you,’ said the Swami, ‘until tomorrow evening. If you agree that I may bring my friend here to hope for his daughter’s return?’