‘Of
‘Thanks,’ I said, hesitating a moment. ‘I’ve got a job to do, but… I’ll be back later tonight, or tomorrow, at the latest. I’ll see you then.’
‘Inshallah,’ he said softly, turning his face to the windows once more. ‘Inshallah.’
I went down through the house to the kitchen and lifted the heavy trapdoor. A dozen steps led into the floodlit cellar. Krishna and Villu greeted me happily, and went to work on my passport immediately. Few things excited them more than a counterfeiting challenge, and they chattered in a spirited little argument before agreeing on the best approach.
While they worked, I examined Ghani’s new workshop. It was a large space-much larger than the basement of Abdul Ghani’s mansion alone. I walked some thirty to fifty metres past light-tables, printing machines, photocopiers, and storage cupboards. I guessed that the basement extended beneath the next large house in the street beside Ghani’s. It seemed likely that they’d bought the house next door, and connected the two cellars. If that were so, I assumed, there would be another exit, leading into the neighbouring house. I was searching for it when Krishna called to tell me that my rush-jobs visa was ready. Intrigued by the new set-up beneath the houses, I promised myself that as soon as possible I would return and inspect the workshop thoroughly.
‘Sorry to keep you,’ I muttered to Didier as I climbed back onto the bike. ‘It took longer than I expected. But the passport’s done. We can go straight to Madame Zhou’s now.’
‘Don’t hurry, Lin,’ Didier sighed, clutching at me with all his strength as we moved out into the traffic. ‘The best revenge, like the best sex, is performed slowly and with the eyes open.’
‘Karla?’ I shouted over my shoulder, as the bike accelerated into the metal stream.
‘
I parked the bike in the driveway of an apartment building a block away from the Palace. We walked on the other side of the road until we passed the building by half a block, studying it for signs of activity within. The façade of the Palace seemed intact and undamaged, although metal and wooden sheets on the windows, and planks nailed across the main door, hinted at the destruction the mob had wrought inside. We turned and walked back, passing the building again and searching for an entrance.
‘If she’s in there, and if her servants are bringing her food, they’re not coming and going through
‘Yes, exactly my own thought,’ he agreed. ‘There must be another way inside.’
We found a narrow lane that gave access to the rear of the buildings in the street. In contrast to the proud, clean, main street, the access lane was filthy. We stepped carefully between rank, scum-covered pools of black liquid, and skirted piles of oily, unidentifiable debris. I glanced at Didier, knowing from his wretched grimace that he was calculating how many drinks it would take to rid himself of the stench that filled his nostrils. The walls and fences on either side of the lane were made of stone, brick, and cement, patched together over many decades, and swarming with a wormy writhe of plants, mosses, and creepers.
Counting back from the corner, building by building, we found the rear of the Palace and pressed on a short wooden gate, set into a high stone wall. The gate opened at the touch, and we stepped into a spacious rear courtyard that must’ve been a luxurious and beautiful retreat before the mob had attacked it. Heavy clay pots had been toppled and shattered, their burdens of earth and flowers spilled in muddy confusion. Garden furniture had been smashed to kindling. Even the paving tiles were cracked in many places, as if they’d been struck with hammers.
We found a blackened door that led into the house. It was unlocked, and swung inward with a rusty creak of complaint.
‘You wait here.’ My tone allowed no possibility of protest. ‘Keep watch for me. If someone comes in through that gate, slow them up, or give me a signal.’
‘As you say,’ he sighed. ‘Don’t be too long. I don’t like it here.
I stepped inside. The door swung shut behind me, and I wished that I’d thought to bring a torch. It was dark, and the floor was treacherously cluttered with broken dishes, pots, pans, and other vessels strewn amid the black lumps of furniture and fallen beams. I picked my way slowly through the ground-floor kitchen and on into a long corridor that led toward the front of the big house. I passed several rooms that were burned. In one of them, the fire had been so fierce that the floor was missing, and the charred bearers showed through the gaps like the ribs of some great animal’s remains.
