That was when Fredrick thought that a change of scenery would do them all a world of good and accepted a position on the CERN council, which meant moving to Switzerland. Ajay’s initial experience of his new country was from the inside of the Geneva Rehabilitation Centre, where he spent the first six months getting clean. He left the clinic looking healthier than he had done in a long while, with a determination to get his life back on track.
Frederick found him a job at CERN, after pulling a few strings, and set him up in the accommodation block to give him a sense of autonomy; however, in reality, he had asked the night porter to keep an eye on him and inform him if Ajay received any guests or was seen going out late at night. To Frederick’s relief, over the next four years there had been nothing to report.
Ajay enjoyed his newfound independence but would always visit his parents at the weekend, when they would spend their time together on trips into the countryside, visiting the surrounding villages or boating on the lake. Ajay felt that he was now closer to his parents than he’d ever been and, with a regular wage coming in, he could afford to treat them to the odd meal or present.
He loved his job. He didn’t have an official title, but everybody knew that he was the general dogsbody. Ajay didn’t mind his lowly position, however, because it gave him the opportunity to meet so many different people. He would load boxes, deliver mail, organise refreshments for meetings, ferry people to and from the airport, deputise for reception staff — every day was different and every day would bring him into contact with a new set of employees who were always friendly towards him.
He did have his favourite; the girls in the canteen would always tease him, making him blush, but there was one girl in particular that had caught his eye. She was quieter than the others and didn’t join in the banter, but would always give him a radiant smile whenever she saw him.
On one occasion, when he was helping to unload a delivery to the kitchens, she came out for a cigarette by herself and asked him for a light. He fumbled around in his pocket, despite knowing that he didn’t have a lighter on him because he didn’t smoke. When he’d made enough of a show of trying to find one, he apologised and went back to stacking the boxes. The next day, armed with two lighters and a carton of cigarettes, he made certain that he was in the right place when another delivery turned up. And, sure enough, whilst he was carrying the goods into the kitchen, she came out. Before she’d had a chance to take a cigarette from her packet, he’d already dropped the two cases of fish packed in ice and offered her one of his cigarettes.
She smiled coyly at him. ‘Thank you. I didn’t know you smoked.’
He lit hers and one for himself, suppressing a cough as he took in the smoke. ‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘but I’m trying to give them up.’
This was, in fact, only the second cigarette he’d tried in his life. The first one was loaded with skunk, given to him by one of his depraved ‘friends’ when he’d gone off the rails. On that occasion, he coughed so much that he thought he would pass out and vowed never to try another, preferring the simpler-to-ingest cocaine to get his highs.
‘Me too,’ the girl said. ‘It’s a disgusting habit, when you think about it. My name’s Jasmine, by the way.’
‘Ajay, pleased to meet you.’ He held out his hand for a formal greeting.
She smiled again and shook his hand gently, feeling a little embarrassed by the gesture.
‘Have you been here long, Jasmine?’ He liked the sound of her name when he said it; it suited her delicate features, petite figure and dark, chocolate-coloured eyes. She wore a none-too-flattering catering hairnet, but he could tell from her fringe that her hair was black and silky. Her complexion was lighter than his own, suggesting that her family came from one of the more northern regions of India.
‘This is only my second month in Geneva,’ she said. ‘My father got a transfer at work, so our family came with him.’
‘Who does he work for?’
‘The Hinduja Bank in the city.’
‘It must have been difficult for you to leave your home,’ Ajay said, remembering his own immigration. ‘Where did you live before?’
‘My family is originally from Kashmir, but we’ve moved around a lot with Dad’s work.’
‘Do you like it here?’
‘The country or the canteen?’ Jasmine asked, smiling.
‘Both.’
‘I like working here because the people are so friendly,’ she replied. ‘But I haven’t seen much of Geneva. We spent the last few weeks in a hotel while my mother looked for a place for us to live. All our stuff is being shipped over, so I’m living out of a suitcase at the moment.’
‘I could show you around Geneva, if you like?’ said Ajay seizing the opportunity to spend more time with this pretty girl.
‘I’d like that,’ she flashed him another smile.
‘Tonight? I could pick you up when you finish work.’
‘Okay, I’ll see you tonight. I must get back to work, otherwise I’ll be in trouble,’ she said stubbing out her cigarette before scurrying back inside, leaving Ajay standing there with a big grin on his face.
It was several minutes before he saw the puddle of water starting to form around his feet from the defrosting ice seeping out of the boxes he’d discarded earlier. The supplier had finished unloading the rest of the goods and had driven off without Ajay even noticing. He picked up the fish and took it into the kitchen, oblivious to the trail of water he was leaving behind him. His mind was on more important things; he had to ask his father if he could borrow one of the pool cars for his date that evening.
Frederick was usually to be found somewhere on site. Although he was President of the Council and could have spent his days pushing pieces of paper backwards and forwards across a desk, he preferred to take a hands-on approach by involving himself in the day-to-day running of the facility. Ajay knew his best bet of tracking him down quickly was to ask one of the security team that patrolled the premises.
‘Have you seen Herr Volker?’ he asked the first uniformed guard he saw.
‘I saw him when he arrived this morning,’ replied the man. ‘He went into the main building, but I haven’t seen him since.’
Ajay went to the main reception to ask and was told that Frederick had left the building about ten minutes ago.
‘Which direction was he heading?’
‘He took one of the golf buggies and drove off left.’
Ajay ran down the stairs and jumped into one of the buggies parked at the front of the building and set off after him. He had to ask another two security guards on the way before he was able to spot the white cart turning into an underground car park in the distance. Ajay had never been to this area of the compound before; he hadn’t had any need to.
He followed his father through the entrance. As his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he could see that the car park was almost deserted apart from five black Mercedes, the same model as his father’s, parked side by side along one wall, and two white buggies which were abandoned in front of the lift. He parked next to the cars and walked back, peering through the darkness to determine any form of life. It was desolate. As he waited for the lift to arrive, he wondered what his father could be doing in such a remote part of the complex and who the other cars belonged to.
He could hear the gentle hum of the electric motors as the lift made its way to him, but it seemed to take an inordinately long time. Finally, the doors opened and he stepped in. Not knowing which floor his father was on, he decided to go through them one at a time and pressed the first floor button. The journey took a couple of seconds and the doors slid open again to reveal an empty rectangular office space. The walls had been painted and the floor tiled, but it was evident from the musty smell that it had never been a functioning work environment.