Mallison’s daughter. Have that prim bitch on her back.
There was a knock on the door.
“I said I didn’t want to be disturbed!”
Torrance shouted, but despite his protest the door opened and the
muslin billowed inward, letting in a flutter of moths.
“For Christ’s sake,” Torrance cursed, then fell abruptly silent.
He fell silent, for the first man through the door was ajetti, his bare
torso gleaming with oil, and behind him came the tall man with a limp,
the same man who had pleaded for Naig’s life. His name was Jama, and
he was Naig’s brother, and his presence made Torrance acutely aware of
his nudity. He swung off the hammock and reached for his dressing
gown, but Jama twitched the silk garment off the chair back.
“Captain Torrance,” he said with a bow.
“Who let you in?” Torrance demanded.
“I expected to see you in our small establishment tonight, Captain,”
Jama said. Where his brother had been plump, noisy and a braggart,
Jama was lean, silent and watchful.
Torrance shrugged.
“Maybe tomorrow night?”
“You will be welcome, Captain, as always. “Jama took a small sheaf of
papers from his pocket and fanned his face with them.
“Ten thousand welcomes, Captain.”
Ten thousand rupees. That was the value of the papers in Jama’s hand,
all of them notes signed by Torrance. He had signed far more, but the
others he had paid off with supplies filched from the convoys. Jama
was here to remind Torrance that his greatest debts remained unpaid.
“About today .. .” Torrance said awkwardly.
“Ah, yes!” Jama said, as though he had momentarily forgotten the
reason for his visit.
“About today, Captain. Do tell me about today.” The jetti said
nothing, just leaned against the wall with folded arms, his oiled
muscles shining in the candlelight and his dark eyes fixed immovably on
Torrance.
“I’ve already told you. It wasn’t of my doing,” Torrance said with as
much dignity as a naked man could muster.
“You were the one who demanded my brother’s death,” Jama said.
“What choice did I have? Once the supplies were found?”
“But perhaps you arranged for them to be found?”
“No!” Torrance protested.
“Why the hell would I do that?”
Jama was silent a moment, then indicated the huge man at his side.
“His name is Prithviraj. I once saw him castrate a man with his bare
hands.” Jama mimed a pulling action, smiling.
“You’d be astonished at how far a little skin can stretch before it
breaks.”
“For God’s sake!” Torrance had gone pale.
“It was not my doing!”
“Then whose doing was it?”
“His name is Sharpe. Ensign Sharpe.”
Jama walked to Torrance’s table where he turned the pages of Some
Reflections on Paul’s Epistle to the Ephesians.
“This Sharpe,” he asked, ‘he was not obeying your orders?”
“Of course not!”
Jama shrugged.
“My brother was careless,” he admitted, ‘over confident. He believed
that with your friendship he could survive any enquiry.”
“We were doing business,” Torrance said.
“It was not friendship. And I told your brother he should have hidden
the supplies.”
“Yes,”Jama said, ‘he should. And so I told him also. But even so,
Captain, I come from a proud family. You expect me to watch my brother
killed and do nothing about it?” He fanned out the notes of Torrance’s
debts.
“I shall return these to you, Captain, when you deliver Ensign Sharpe
to me. Alive! I want Prithviraj to take my revenge. You
understand?”
Torrance understood well enough.
“Sharpe’s a British officer,” he said.
“If he’s murdered there’ll be an enquiry. A real enquiry. Heads will
be broken.”
“That is your problem, Captain Torrance,” Jama said.
“How you explain his disappearance is your affair. As are your debts.”
He smiled and pushed the notes back into the pouch at his belt.
“Give me Sharpe, Captain Torrance, or I shall send Prithviraj to visit
you in the night. In the meantime, you will please continue to
patronize our establishment.”
“Bastard,” Torrance said, but Jama and his huge companion had already
gone. Torrance picked up Some Reflections on Paul’s Epistle to the
Ephesians and slammed the heavy book down on a moth.
“Bastard,” he said again. But on the other hand it was Sharpe who