The Girl from Lace Island Page 32
Now, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rising when she saw that Hakem was standing blocking her path. He was tall, with a shaved head, and he stared down at her, that cruel, sly smile on his lips as he sucked on a toothpick. Leila fought not to show any emotion on her face.
It was Hakem who was the foreman on Lace Island and ruled the workers with a grip of terror. When Shang was away, it was Hakem who did his bidding and made sure that everything ran smoothly. And it was Hakem who locked her into her room every night, like a dog.
He got a perverse kind of thrill out of it, Leila knew. She’d heard one of the guards say that he’d been a torturer in Burma when he’d been younger and Leila could believe it. He was a psychopath, as far she was concerned. Left to his own devices, he’d torture and rape her without any mercy, but because of Chan, he couldn’t touch her.
She saw him sneering down at her now and she longed to take one of the nushtars and slit his throat. She imagined how sticky and satisfying his blood would feel on her hands.
‘Clear all this up,’ he said, ‘and make breakfast earlier tomorrow. The shipment is going out. The workers are needed at the dock.’
Leila nodded, not making eye contact with him.
‘And don’t think I’m not watching you,’ he added.
She said nothing, hating the way he always reminded her of the one time she’d tried to escape on the boat. How a momentary lapse in Hakem’s concentration had given her the opportunity to get on board with the heroin shipment bound for the States. It had been such a spur-of-the-moment impulse, but in that moment, she’d imagined getting away from Lace Island forever. How she’d go to the authorities in whichever port she arrived at and confess everything.
But Hakem had found her, and Chan had ordered him to whip Leila. She still had the scars on her back, and she knew that she wouldn’t have the strength or nerve to attempt such a rash escape again.
Leila ducked under his arm and into the kitchen with the plates she was carrying. When she saw that Hakem had got bored of taunting her and had gone to pick on the workers, she leant on the sink and exhaled. She could hear the workers singing now, the leery, out-of-tune chorus they favoured.
When would this hell end? Leila wondered, setting to and washing the dishes in the hot, mosquito-infested kitchen, slinging the plates with careless abandon on the side. When would the monotony ever end? Her life was whizzing past her, and each year made her feel less and less like a real human being and more like the slave she was. How old was she now? Forty? Forty-one? She couldn’t be sure. She hadn’t celebrated or marked her birthday since she’d been a child. No one had. Would Chan make her carry on like this until she was an old woman?
The dishes finally done, Leila sneaked round the front of the kitchen and onto the roof of her prison room, relishing the moment of solitude and the cooler night air. From inside her grubby apron, she took the cigarette she’d saved from the lot Tapi had given her and lit it, inhaling the smoke, relishing the one small pleasure she had in life. She remembered smoking on the roof in school with Judith all those years ago. Whatever happened to her? she wondered.
She was probably a mother herself, Leila thought. Or maybe she’d made it as a singer. She laughed mournfully to herself, thinking of those long-distant days at school and how much she’d hated it. She let herself enjoy a wry smile.
She hadn’t known she was born.
She listened now to the sounds around her, but Lace Island was unrecognizable from the place of her childhood. It was a brutal place, designed for producing heroin in secret, and the air was filled with the crackle of electric fences, the distant noise of the machines in the factory.
As usual, a feeling of hopelessness washed over her. Hopelessness and guilt and anger. The truth was that Chan had kept her prisoner here all these years, but she might as well have been dead. What was the point of torturing herself with the photographs of Jessica that Chan gave her each year? She would never see her daughter again. She knew that. She would never know her. But the thought of her poor Jessica being kept under surveillance year in, year out by those scum so they could use the threat of killing her to make Leila do what they needed her to do had made her furious enough all these years not to give up.
Using Leila as a slave was just the tip of the iceberg. The real reason she’d been kept alive all this time was because Chan needed her to sign paperwork. She had no idea what half the documents were, only that Lace Island operated in her name, which meant that everything that went on here was her responsibility. She’d refused to sign her name once – right at the beginning – and Shang had beaten her so badly he’d broken her nose and ribs.
It turned out that it was Shang who had masterminded the whole plan for Lace Island, with his links to gang chiefs in Laos and Vietnam. Chan had gone along with all his plans in return for a free and plentiful supply of opium, to which he was still addicted. Leila remembered seeing Shang delivering something to him in the middle of the night when she’d been a child. How Chan had managed to keep his addiction from Bibi for so long was amazing. Or maybe Bibi had known. She often thought of how conflicted Bibi must have been in her last, dying days and how she’d been unable to leave Chan.
And now Leila couldn’t either. She had no choice but to comply with Chan’s wishes, who delighted in telling her that if there was ever a police raid, it would be Leila who went to jail for the rest of her life and that an Indian prison would be even worse than her incarceration here.
She had no doubt that he was telling the truth. Leila knew that Chan had spent years cultivating his contacts with everyone from the coastguards to the customs officials. From the fortune he made from the produce of his poppy plants, she knew a sizeable chunk of the profit went on bribing the necessary officials. She knew because she signed the cheques and the paperwork.
Even taking the huge bribes into consideration, Chan’s arrangement had worked so well that he’d become fat and gluttonous on his wealth. And, as Adam Lonegan had predicted long ago on that Bali bed with Monique, he’d also become monstrously rich from Lace Island, being the vital link in the supply chain. Leila had even heard a rumour that he was now in politics in the States.
But what if she stopped playing ball? Leila thought. What if she was out of the picture? Because if she was, she could bring the whole operation at Lace Island crashing to the ground. She’d burnt this place down once before, but it hadn’t been enough. Now she needed to remove herself entirely. That was the only way to stop the evil here. And if she was out of the picture, they’d have no reason to hurt her daughter.
‘Hey, Leila, Tapi was asking for you,’ she heard someone call to her from below.
Groaning, Leila dragged herself away from the roof and walked down the path to the makeshift concrete bunker that served as Chan’s security centre on this side of the island. He’d upgraded it recently, installing new cameras and new monitors, ever more paranoid about people coming to Lace Island.
There’d been a few chancers over the years – a few holiday-makers on a boat that had lost its course. The patrol boat had blown them all up. And now, for the most part, they were left alone. That didn’t stop Chan being ultra-paranoid, though, and she grinned now at the CCTV camera and stuck her middle finger up. She knew Tapi would be watching inside.
She supposed it was Tapi who was the closest thing she had to a friend, even though the sight of him repelled her. He was fat, his teeth red with betel-nut juice, and he stank.
‘You look pretty tonight,’ Tapi said to her now, pressing his tongue through the gap in his teeth.
Leila turned away, revolted by his compliment, but even more revolted by herself. She wouldn’t know if she was good-looking. She hadn’t looked in a mirror for years.
‘Someone said you wanted me?’ she said, and he nodded, furtively looking outside and ushering her inside. She rolled her eyes at his paranoia.
‘Will you stay here for me? Just for a moment?’ he asked.
‘Why?’
Leila nodded, slumping into his chair. What did he think might happen? And what’s more, why did he think he could trust her? If Chan found her in here, or Hakem, he’d be in very serious trouble.
In the dark, Leila stared at the grainy CCTV cameras and the fields of poppies. She yawned, staring out at the images, thinking of those harmless plants and what they produced and how much misery they must cause all over the world. She tried not to think of it, but sometimes, like now, the horror of it made her feel sick to her stomach.
She took a cigarette from the packet on Tapi’s desk, trying to catch it in her mouth, as he always tried to do, but it fell on the floor.
Cursing, she knelt down on the dirty concrete floor to retrieve it, which is when she looked up and saw that the wires from the computer went out through a hole in the wall outside. That must be where the mosquitos were coming in, she thought. And then she saw something else. There was a metal box attached to the underside of the desk.
She crawled over to it and fiddled with the catch and the flap fell open. Inside was a gun.
Leila gasped and took it out, holding it in her hand, feeling the weight of the small weapon. She scrambled back out to the chair with it, her heart racing with excitement.
A gun. A real gun. Which meant power.
She felt herself trembling at the thought of it. Because this meant that tonight she could do it. The thing she’d only dared dream about. She could take the gun and slip the tip of it into her mouth. And then she could pull the trigger. And this hell she was living in would be over. And she’d have finally won.
As she stuffed the gun into her jacket, she didn’t notice the grainy picture on screen three of Chan in his office on the phone, angrily putting his hand to his head in frustration.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Lace Island, present day
Jess held on to the wheel of the twenty-metre yacht and watched the wind billowing in the white sails. So far, the crossing from Cochin on the boat had been fairly smooth, but with blue sea and horizon in every direction, she was starting to feel like they really were in the middle of nowhere.
The sunshine and fresh air were doing wonders for clearing her head, but despite the baseball hat she was wearing, her cheeks had caught the sun. She patted them and they felt tight.
‘Here you go,’ Suresh said, coming up from below deck. He handed Jess a bottle of water. ‘We’re making good progress,’ he said. ‘I just checked the GPS. A few more hours and we’ll be closer.’
‘You’re a good skipper,’ she said, meaning it. And he was an even better shrink, she nearly added. Talking to him had made her feel normal for the first time in months.
‘I love sailing. I wish I could go more.’
‘Why don’t you, then?’
‘Kareena wouldn’t come on a yacht. Maybe a big one, but nothing like this.’
Jess told Suresh the next part of her history with Blaise and about being in Ibiza with Ivana and Serge on the mega-yacht.
‘Kareena would have loved that,’ Suresh said.
‘Yeah, well, I couldn’t stand it,’ Jess said, glad to admit what she’d truly felt. ‘They were awful. And I bet Serge knew about Blaise and me. And what was going on between Porscha and Blaise.’ She shouted with pent-up fury. ‘I’m such an idiot.’
‘Stop blaming yourself, Jess. You weren’t to know. It sounds like Blaise was pretty clever.’
‘You know, the truth is that I didn’t really care about how rich he was. It always felt wrong. I was always uncomfortable with him flashing his wealth. You know, we had a row in Cartier in Dubai and he said, “I’m just the guy who is buying you diamonds,”’ she said, doing a mean impersonation of Blaise. ‘I mean, come on. How could I have been so stupid?’
‘So why did you fall for him?’ Suresh asked, laughing.
‘Honestly? Because I’ve always believed in fate. Call me an idiot, but I always thought that fate would bring me together with the man I loved, and when I fell into Blaise’s arms on the plane, I convinced myself that it was him.’
The sentence hung between them for a moment.
‘Does that make me sound like an idiot?’
‘No,’ Suresh said. ‘Not at all.’
She sighed and stared out at the sinking sun.
‘I just wanted it to be perfect, you know? All my life I’ve been waiting for someone to care about me. And to be honest, I couldn’t believe it at first, but then he just seemed to say all the right things. I told myself – and everyone else who would listen – that he was my fantasy man.’
‘Oh? And what is your fantasy man?’ Suresh asked.
Jess laughed now at how absurd the question seemed coming out of his mouth. ‘Well, I certainly don’t have one anymore. I don’t know . . . When I met Blaise, he just ticked all the boxes. He was rich and handsome. Someone I could boast about.’ She sighed heavily.
‘I mean, thinking about it now, I got so swept up in how impulsive it all was, but it could never have really worked out with someone like him. Even if it wasn’t all bullshit.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he would have wanted me to give up work. And I’ve worked too hard to do that. He would have wanted me to become someone I couldn’t be. One of those . . . women . . . who spend all their time trying to look perfect and spending all their husband’s money on things they pretend they need. I think you’re much more sensible – getting to know someone properly before you commit. And you support Kareena in her career.’
Suresh laughed.
‘What?’ Jess asked.
‘I might not be married, but I’m already committed way over my head. With everything Kareena has planned, there’s no way I could back out, even if I wanted to.’
Jess wondered why his words hurt so much.
‘And do you want to?’
Suresh looked down, not meeting her eyes.
‘I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have asked that,’ she hurried on. ‘It’s just . . . after everything I’ve been through . . .’
‘What?’
‘Since we’re being so honest, I just wondered . . . do you love her?’
Suresh paused for a long moment; then he sighed. ‘I love her enough,’ he said. ‘Now here, put on a jacket. Once the sun goes down, it gets cold.’ She nodded and took it. ‘And, Jess?’
‘Yes.’
‘This time, I did tell her that I was going on an adventure with you. I emailed her before we left. I told her what was going on.’
Jess nodded. ‘That was probably for the best,’ she said.
Suresh smiled and cocked his head. ‘You hear that?’
Jess drew her eyebrows together, confused. ‘What?’
‘That’s the sound of her exploding, like a firework.’
Jess bit her lip and stifled an embarrassed smile. ‘She won’t be happy, will she?’
‘No.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. You’re a risk worth taking. And this is the first thing I’ve done without Kareena’s say-so since the last time we met.’
It was gone eleven at night and a full moon had come out by the time Jess spotted land through the night-vision binoculars on the horizon.
‘I think it’s there,’ she said, suddenly sitting up.
Suresh took the binoculars from her. ‘It’s definitely land. And I think the coordinates are right.’
Once they’d reeled in the sails and tied them off, Jess stood at the prow of the boat, staring down into the moonlit water, wondering how deep it was below the surface and whether they’d hit a reef.
‘Over there,’ she called, pointing to the right. ‘I can see a jetty.’
Suresh slowed the yacht, then killed the motor. They drifted towards the jetty, the moonlight making the cracked boards silver. Jess jumped off the
yacht and Suresh threw her a rope.
Once they’d secured the yacht, they walked down the jetty onto the beach. ‘I feel weird walking on land, don’t you?’ she said. Suresh held her hand for a moment and she laughed, trying to get her balance.
The sand glowed white in the moonlight. Small crabs scuttled between the dried coconut husks that had fallen from the overhanging trees. Together, they walked a small way down the beach, the silver surf lapping against the sand.
‘It feels like a desert island, doesn’t it?’ Suresh said, smiling. ‘I mean, it’s stunning. You can imagine this being an incredible resort, right?’
The beach curved round and Jess laughed and pointed to a rock. ‘Look. It’s like a frog,’ she said.
‘Shhh,’ Suresh said. ‘Do you hear something?’
Jess stopped still. All she could hear was the waves lapping gently against the beach and the rustle of palm leaves. Then she heard a noise and realized it was the sound of an engine.
They ducked off the beach under cover of the trees. On the other side of the trees was a road. A jeep sped down it.
‘So much for it being a deserted island,’ Jess said. ‘It’s a new road.’
When the jeep was out of sight, they crossed the road and climbed a short way up a bank. The interior of the island, away from the beach, was spread out before them. It had all been landscaped into field upon field of some kind of crop. Suresh ran quickly to inspect the plants.
Jess felt her heart hammering. ‘Oh my God. Are these what I think they are?’ she asked Suresh.
‘They’re opium poppies,’ Suresh said, his voice lowered to a whisper. ‘See the cuts in them?’
Jess stared closely at one of the poppy heads. She could see the skin of the pod had been scored several times and a white substance had leaked out. On some of the plants, it had dried to a hard brown resin.
‘That’s what they make opium out of,’ Suresh said. His face was ashen. ‘My guess is that they turn it into heroin.’
‘Fuck,’ Jess said slowly, swallowing hard, the implications of their discovery tumbling over in her head.