Her Nightly Embrace Page 23

  “You have a bit of Old Testament in you, honey,” Ariel said, still grinning.

  “Bastards like him like to give orders without getting their hands dirty,” I said. “He ordered the murder of three people. He’s the type who never thinks about how the sausage is made as long as he gets his fat salary and club membership. It never occurred to him that one day, it’ll be his turn to be the sausage. That day has come.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  It was after eleven p.m. when Julia opened the door of the suite and let me in. She was wearing a tasteful but slinky black cocktail dress and the most crimson lipstick imaginable.

  “Are you all right?” I said.

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? He’s in here.”

  She led us to the bedroom where Powys was laid out like a baby.

  “He’s all yours,” she said.

  Jarrod and his men came in for him.

  “You’d been working the whole time?” I asked.

  “Of course. The money’s good. I told Roger and Cheryl we’d broken up, and they worked out my schedule so I didn’t have to come in the office when you were around. I’m a freelancer, after all. They could just phone me when they needed me.”

  “How many cases did you work in the last three months?”

  “Let’s see.” She made a mental count. “Twelve.”

  “Twelve?!”

  “They were mainly meet and greets, arm candy, soft honeytraps. I was working with Marcie a lot, and Mark. And then Olivia used me a few times to expose a couple of Buddhist monks of sexual impropriety.”

  “Bloody hell! Did—did you have to have sex with any of the marks you were watching?”

  “Of course not. Roger never insisted on that. He trusted me to find ways around that. I wasn’t going to give in to my addiction.”

  “Oh, thank God for that.”

  “Don’t worry, Ravi. I drugged his whiskey with a muscle relaxant. He can’t move.”

  Considering that Julia was drugging a man to have sex with him when I first met her, drugging a man to avoid having sex with him now was a distinct improvement. And considering I’d just drugged a tabloid reporter the day before, I was in no position to judge.

  “How long had you been working Powys?”

  “Two days,” Julia said. “Marcie gave me his schedule. He’d been living large in town after office hours, spending his bonus money. It was easy to pick him up from his favorite bar.”

  I looked over to Powys. He looked up from the bed at Jarrod and his men. If it were up to me, I’d have handed him over to the police, let him face the humiliation of a trial and jail term, but Marcie kept pointing out to me that if there was any chance of Powys singing to try to save his own skin, all would be exposed and everything would fall apart.

  “Know how we got Jack Higglesworth to jump off the roof?” Jarrod said. “We told him that if he did it willingly, we would leave his wife and kids alone. We’re making you the same offer.”

  Powys went pale. A wet spot appeared on the front of his trousers and expanded. He was fucked and he knew it. Live by the faked suicide and cover-up, die by the faked suicide and cover-up.

  I didn’t want to hear anymore. I took Julia out of there, leaving Powys to the three Rakshakas he’d unleashed. I drove Julia home.

  “I’ll call you. Is that okay?”

  “I’d like that,” she said, and kissed me on the cheek before she got out of the car.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Powys’s wife found his body in their garage the next day. Jarrod had Powys drug the dinner so his wife and the kids wouldn’t wake up during the night when he went into the garage to meet with Jarrod. He was in his Jaguar with a hose attached to the exhaust pipe that ran into the closed window of the driver’s seat. He even left a note about the shame the scandal had brought to his family and his responsibility for driving Joe Higglesworth and Darren Cowley to their deaths. Nice to see Jarrod and company could follow direction.

  We contacted Mullins and let him rant about drugging him and stealing the thumb drive.

  “Come on, mate. You were the one chasing the hair of the dog before lunchtime.”

  “I know how much I have to drink before I pass out,” he grunted. “And one drink wouldn’t have done it.”

  “You passed out right there in the pub,” I said. “It wouldn’t have been safe to leave the drive there with you like that. You can come pick it up from our office or we can meet and give it back to you.”

  He insisted I bring the drive to him at his office, with his editor and coworkers as witnesses. That was fine with me. I went in and gave him the drive, told him the new password we’d created for this drive. What he and his editor saw gave them orgasms and warmed their shriveled little tabloid hearts.

  Olivia had taken a fresh drive and loaded it with the videos from Sandra Rodriguez’s computer, the ones of her and her colleagues coked out of their faces and misbehaving. Not a single mention of the black-ops slush-fund portfolio. The Post ran the videos on their website and got their best clickbait for years. The videos went viral and stayed in the zeitgeist for months. Everyone hated bankers these days. The Morning Post was more than happy to fan those flames for more hits.

  Mullins was well pleased. The story ran and ran and put his name in the game. Powys’s death was the perfect punch line to his story about corrupt and misbehaving bankers, a boss who let power get to his head and let his underlings run amok, only for everyone to come crashing down in the most awful way, a sordid story of decadence and cocaine-fueled hubris. Shame, guilt, and depression, the sheer pressure of it all got to him at the end. This confirmed everything Sandra said in an interview that we arranged, after we briefed her on what to tell him. The paper would be milking this for weeks, letting its readers tut-tut over how low humanity had sunk and so on and so forth until the next big news story hit and everyone would forget this one.

  Roger was so pleased with how all this had turned out that he gave me another bonus. I sent the bonus to Mrs. Dhewan to cover the last installments of my mother’s debt. Glad to be rid of that blood money. I made up the last of the debt by depleting the savings I’d amassed since I started working at Golden Sentinels. I preferred the peace of mind of not owing any more money to the Asian Housewife Mafia, and anyway, Roger reassured me that we would be earning mint for the foreseeable future. If Mrs. Dhewan needed my services as an investigator, we could work out a new deal.

  Even Laird Collins was pleased with the spirit of cooperation both our firms displayed, and sent a Fortnum & Mason Gift Basket to Golden Sentinels. After Benjamin checked that none of it was poisoned, which took about half an hour, everyone in the office polished it off by end of day. I didn’t eat any of it, because I didn’t want anything of Interzone’s. Ken and Clive also refused, though I thought I saw Ken sneak the jar of Strawberry & Champagne Preserve into his pocket.

  As for Sandra Rodriguez, her career in London was over. She said good-bye to friends and family and packed her bags for a plush office in New York City to manage Interzone’s private hedge fund. She got what she wanted in the end: a big pay rise, more power and status, even if it was largely in the shadows. Not bad for someone who got a few people killed. We never heard from her again. Frankly, we didn’t miss her.

  Was I all right with all of this? What do you think? No amount of spiritual enlightenment would ever make me believe I was clean in my complicity. My karmic debt would have to be settled in due course, I’m sure. For now, I had to settle for managing to protect my client and getting something that passed for justice for the victims, but I was under no illusion it was real justice. Interzone, the gun that was used by Powys, would still be out there being aimed and fired by other powerful clients.

  With their work done, Collins’s people got on the first plane out of London; no doubt there were more people to do a security detail for, more poor bastards to extraordinarily render, or put down.

  That left Ariel.

  “Come see me off,” she said on
the phone that morning, like a cat playing with her food. “It’s just polite, as one liaison to another.”

  When I showed up at her hotel to pick her up, I was greeted with the sight of her and Julia together in the lobby, all chummy and giggling like schoolgirls.

  What. The. Fuck.

  “The look on your face,” Julia laughed.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Ariel and Julia sat in the backseat while I drove us to Heathrow. I had resolved to say as little as possible to Ariel when I agreed to drive her to the airport, and Julia made that easier for me to keep my mouth shut while she flirted with Ariel in the backseat.

  Julia met Ariel for a drink the night before when I begged off. She spent the night with her. Was she out to punish me? She knew how dangerous Ariel was. I didn’t even have room to feel jealous or turned on at the image of them doing it. I was more preoccupied with the thought that Ariel would cheerfully murder us if she was ordered to.

  Their schoolgirl flirting continued all the way to the departure terminal.

  “Hey, Ravi.” Ariel smiled. “You never told me about this firecracker you got.”

  “We had broken up at the time.”

  “So I was your rebound? Guess what? I was her rebound as well.”

  “The thing about rebounds,” I said, controlling myself, “is they’re temporary.”

  “You realize I’m bound to you now,” she said, as she kissed me full on the lips. “Both of you.”

  She kissed Julia as well, a bit longer or was it my imagination? Was this to torture or titillate me or both?

  “Till next time,” Ariel said, picking up her carry-on.

  “I sincerely hope not,” I said.

  “Babe, you know there’s going to be a next time.”

  “Let me at least fantasize there won’t.”

  “Hey, why don’t you come with me to India? Offer’s still open. Julia’s open to the idea. You could use a vacation, too.”

  “Once again, I have to decline. Besides, life is even cheaper in India, and my chances of getting murdered there are much higher than if I stayed here.”

  “I’ll protect you,” she said jokingly.

  “And who will protect us from you?”

  “See?” said Julia. “I told you he’d say that.”

  “I’m going to miss you kids,” said Ariel. “Julia, look after him, will you?”

  We watched her go through the gate. She turned back one last time and waved like this was the end of a lovely holiday.

  “Oh, one more thing.” She seemed to remember something. “Watch your ass with that Marcie Holder, or whatever her name is. She’ll sell you out in the end. Goddamn spooks always do.”

  Then she was gone.

  “Right, then.” Julia took my arm. “Shall we be off?”

  She seemed awfully cheerful as we got in the car and drove down the M4 back to London.

  “I suppose I should be glad I didn’t have to slit her throat last night,” she said.

  “You what?”

  “I was going to kill her. During sex. I brought a blade and everything.”

  That feeling of the world dropping away from my feet again.

  “You’re not joking,” I said, rather weakly, because there was nothing else I could think to say even as my mouth was already moving, so the bleeding obvious became the only option.

  “Marcie told me what had happened. That you were worried she might be a danger to you and your family.”

  “And to you.”

  “That’s why I arranged to meet her for a drink. Suss her out, right?”

  “I never wanted you anywhere near her.”

  “I wanted to see if she really was a threat. What I saw was that she has even fewer boundaries than me. Anything really does go with her. Once I saw that she was up for it, we went to her room and had it off. I didn’t like her, so it fed my addiction something fierce. At least it was for a purpose. I made sure she wasn’t going to forget it, even if she might be dead shortly after.”

  “You were going to murder her.”

  “If she was a threat to you. I decided she wasn’t. For now.”

  This fucking job!

  “She’s a trained professional. She could have killed you instead.”

  “I got her right and proper drunk and tied her wrists to the bedpost with the sheets. I knew not to take chances. She was well into it. If she somehow got loose and killed me, I would have made sure I took her with me.”

  “Did you think about how you were going to get away with it if you survived?”

  “Oh, Ken and Clive gave me a few pointers. Like taking a shower afterwards to wash all the blood away and scrubbing my prints off everything. If the law caught up with me, I would have said she attacked me and it was a sex game gone wrong. Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “You could have gone to jail.”

  “But you would be safe from her. That’s what matters in the end.”

  I felt the impact then, of how far she was willing to go for me, a gift I didn’t deserve.

  “I brought you into this job, and now it’s warped you like it did me.”

  “Stop it, Ravi. I chose to work at Golden Sentinels. I always had it in me. The abuse I suffered, then the years of protecting Louise, I was perfectly prepared to kill to keep her safe.”

  “Well, I’m really glad my girlfriend hasn’t committed murder. Or been murdered.”

  “Did you just call me your girlfriend?”

  “Well, breaking up didn’t exactly work, did it? Neither of us really wanted it.”

  “I told you. I don’t need someone to protect me. I want someone to share my crazy life with.”

  “And I have the same crazy life.”

  “So we’re stuck with each other, then?”

  What was I going to say? I felt whole being with her, with her generosity, her seemingly infinite capacity to forgive, and her refusal to be less than an equal.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me for details?” she asked.

  “About what?”

  “About how she was in bed.”

  “I already know what she’s like in bed.”

  “Well, it might be different with a woman.”

  “Unless there are real academic benefits to that, I’ll keep it to my imagination.”

  “Don’t you want a threesome? She would have well been up for it.”

  “No, thank you. I draw the line at sex with murderous sociopaths.”

  “Bit late for that, my love.”

  “That was before I found out what she really was.”

  “Semantics. Randiness knows no bounds.”

  “Might I suggest you talk about this at your next therapy session?”

  “I’ll leave out the murder part,” she said, happy.

  “I’ve never had a girlfriend willing to kill for me before.”

  “Ravi, do you want to quit Golden Sentinels? I’ll leave with you if you decide that.”

  “I still need the money. And, well, sod it. There are people who are in real trouble that I can help.”

  “That’s a far cry from all the times you were talking about getting out if it gets too horrible.”

  “I don’t think Marcie will really let me truly quit, anyway. To her, I’m an asset she finds useful. So even if I were screaming and kicking, I’m well in it. I’m all in. Might as well accept it.”

  Ariel may have gone, but Kali was still there with me. She had probably been there all along, never leaving me.

  EPILOGUE: A WEDDING, AN OFFER, AND A VOW

  Weeks, months of preparation, rehearsals, and we were all gathered under the mandap for Sanjita and Vivek’s big day.

  Sanjita, dragged kicking and screaming (on the inside), and me with her. As her brother, I had my part to play in the rituals, of course, so we were in it together. We both vowed not to complain or snark and to play nice for the whole day.

  This was what Mrs. Dhewan’s twenty grand–plus loan had bought us: a full-on ceremony at a hotel
with a large reception room to accommodate about three hundred guests in from India. Sanji and I probably recognized about fifty of the relatives from Delhi and Mumbai. We left it to Mum and Dad to greet and chat with them all while we smiled and nodded politely. We even hired a priest so seasoned that he didn’t need to have a copy of the script in his hand as he conducted the ceremony.

  The ceremony took place in the garden of the hotel on a slightly cloudy day. Some of my aunties complained that it was as bright and sunny as Mumbai, as we expected they would. We were lucky it didn’t rain.

  Sanji in a red sari and Vivek in a gold kafni. His family in from Delhi and Manchester. I could see on Vivek’s face he was well into it. He was a bit more traditional than Sanji, after all.

  We watched Vivek approach my mother so she could dab kumkum on his forehead. He bowed to Mum and passed her the coconut he was holding. Then she and Dad escorted him to the tent. Once he was in place, Sanjita came out with his garland in her hand, me and some flower girls following behind. Now it was on.

  The priest began his speech to begin the wedding, invoking the Earth, the sacred fire and the radiant sun as the foundation of the marriage. The chorus sang the invocations to Lord Ganesh, to Saraswati, and a prayer for harmony.

  Now the garlands for the bride and groom. Mum and Dad washing Sanji’s and Vivek’s feet, applying the kumkum, and giving them the flowers. Mum and Dad formally declaring their approval of Sanjita’s marriage to Vivek. Sanji and Vivek declaring their commitment to each other.

  I saw the curve of a smile in the corner of Sanji’s mouth as she sat down first. As he presented me with his gift, Vivek exchanged a smile with me: we knew this would happen. Was there any doubt that Sanji was going to be the boss of this marriage?

  Now the priest directed Sanji and Vivek through the seven steps: the blessing for an abundance of food, for wife and husband to be strong and complement each other, for prosperity, for eternal happiness, for children, for harmony, for friendship and trust in the marriage.

  I glanced into the audience and caught Julia’s eye. She wore a bright green evening gown and was getting on with my relatives. I knew there would be whispers about me dating an English girl even as the aunties would tease and gossip about when I would finally tie the knot. Of course some of them would talk loudly to my mother about getting a matchmaker to find me a proper Hindu girl. My father had a fixed smile as he went through the day tolerating the busybodies and the gossip.