Ellie rapped loudly on the door until the small hatch opened. A face peered out, then shut the hatch before she could speak.
She rapped again. She heard running footsteps and the bolts of the door slide open.
The same guard as before let her in and asked her to raise her arms. Arjuna did the same, wincing as the man touched his bruised side. They were led into the atrium where Manisha was waiting.
‘He’s looking for surveillance, not weapons,’ she said.
‘I’m not here to expose you,’ Ellie told her. ‘Not yet, anyway. I like you.’
‘Thank you, Ellie. That’s kind, but you shouldn’t let it get in the way of doing your job. What is it you want? I’ve told you everything I know.’
‘Not at all. You’ve told me everything you’re willing to tell me. I can’t subpoena a list of your staff, but I’m going to make a wild guess. About eight months ago, Ameena Fernando started coming here to meet her source. A few months later, she made a large order of books for your brothel. The books are schoolbooks, Manisha, for some of your staff. Your under-aged staff.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about, Ellie.’
‘Let’s find out, shall we?’ Ellie broke away from Manisha and ran up the stairs, three at a time. Behind her, Arjuna grabbed the guard and threw him against the wall. Another guard shouted and followed her. She kicked open a door. The room beyond was empty. The guard reached her and grappled her from behind, arms tight around her chest. She pushed back hard, slamming him into the railing of the balcony, nearly toppling over it herself. Then Arjuna was at her side, pulling her back from the edge, steadying her and driving an elbow into the man’s nose.
Another guard approached from the other side of the verandah. He tackled Ellie and pushed her down on her stomach, smothering her with his body. She shoved her elbow sharply into his gut and jerked her head back, stunning him enough to throw him off, but before she could get up, he gripped the railing and levelled a kick at her belly. She absorbed it, and used the man’s force to bring his leg down towards her and twisted his knee. She heard the nauseating pop of the patella disconnecting.
She wasn’t here to fight. She pulled away from the tangle of limbs and sprinted down the corridor, kicking open more locked doors. Each one was the same, empty.
She heard Manisha shouting instructions to her men as she reached for the next door. Manisha had climbed the stairs by then and spoke as Ellie was about to kick it open.
‘Don’t,’ Manisha said sharply. ‘Locksmiths are expensive in Colombo. Just knock and open the door—you’ll find what you’re looking for. My men aren’t coming.’
‘You won’t have them shoot me?’
‘Upholstery is difficult to clean.’
Ellie knocked and opened the door. There were three boys huddled together on the floor, a game of cards scattered, forgotten around them.
‘You’re scaring them,’ Manisha said behind her.
‘I’m scaring them?’ She left the boys and walked down the corridor.
‘I have clients in those rooms, Ellie. Please respect their privacy.’
Ellie shook her head in revulsion. ‘I think all other rights are forfeited, Manisha, when you decide to violate a child.’
The guards had finally hobbled up the stairs, one with his face covered in blood, the other with his knee already ballooning up. Arjuna stood behind them, a piece of the railing hefted in his hands.
‘If they touch me, I will kill them,’ Ellie said.
‘I know,’ Manisha said softly. ‘I’m glad you can still feel outrage, Ellie. I feel so little these days. Come downstairs, please. Let’s start over.’ She stretched out a hand. The other was in the pocket of her silk gown.
‘Put your gun away, please, Manisha. There’s a drone above us catching all of this, and an earpiece your men missed.’
‘Arresting me achieves nothing. I want Ameena’s killer, too.’
‘Do you? This is motive. Did she threaten to uncover this?’ Ameena would have accepted prostitution, but not child prostitution. Ellie didn’t want to think about what had been done to those children. If she let herself think about it, she would have to squeeze her hands around Manisha’s elegant neck. ‘Did you set up the hit?’
‘I don’t need to kill her or anyone. People need me, Ellie. I am the most protected person in this city, more than Mahinda Rajapaksa and his cousin. They have power and soldiers, but I have what people need.’
Ellie turned away, disgusted. ‘What was she doing here? I’m sure she wasn’t a deviant.’
‘No, she was terribly straight. Something about all that righteous indignation is so attractive. You have it, too.’
Ellie ignored the comment. ‘You sent me to the Cricket Club, Manisha. Why?’
‘I was trying to be helpful. What did you find there?’
‘A lot of photographs of dead brown people who wished they were white.’
Manisha laughed. ‘That’s particularly funny—and accurate—coming from you. Internalised racism is the most innocuous part of our colonial heritage. What else?’
‘I crashed a conversation about the spoils of war.’
‘Gruesome, isn’t it?’ She took a step towards Ellie.
‘Stay right there. I want to see both your hands.’
Manisha smiled and placed both hands on the balcony railing, turning into the morning light in the open atrium. A red dot appeared on her forehead like a potu, and then moved down her body, towards her heart. Too late, Ellie shouted, lunging forward to knock her down.
A shot rang out and blood gushed from Manisha’s chest. She looked at Ellie, confused. Her guards shouted and stumbled forward.
Ellie turned to the rooftop the shot had come from. The shooter was masked, but she knew who it was, the shape of his body, the assurance of his stance, the way he waited for her to spot him. He saluted her and ran.
Ellie reached inside Manisha’s pocket and threw the gun to Arjuna. She pressed hard on the wound in Manisha’s chest. A small boy pushed a towel at her.
‘Don’t move,’ she said to Manisha.
‘Come closer,’ the woman whispered, flecks of blood merging with her lipstick. Ellie brought her face closer to the dying woman, breathing in the scent of her perfume. ‘You should pray. God answers those who seek forgiveness.’
‘Christ, Manisha, who did this to you?’ The towel was fully soaked. ‘Please tell me. Before it’s too late.’
‘I’m sorry, Ameena. Forgive me.’ Manisha focused on Ellie’s face. ‘Forgiveness is the key,’ she whispered. Then her eyes closed.
Ellie felt for a pulse. There was nothing. The blood pooled around them, thick and shining. It spread out like a fan, unfurling towards the edge of the balcony and dripping onto the tiles below.
•
‘You didn’t need to come, Tenby, we were handling this,’ Ellie said to her old friend. Seeing him triggered her anger again. Tenby knelt by the body and lifted the sheet from Manisha’s pale face.
‘If by “handling this” you mean “being in the vicinity of another murder”, then yes, Ellie, I see you’re handling this.’
‘Pretty cocky for a man that doesn’t leave the Embassy without a bulletproof vehicle—and then continues to arrive late to the scene of every crime.’
‘Now, now children, this is getting tiring,’ Arjuna said, nudging Tenby out of the way. He straightened Manisha’s hair and returned the sheet over her body. He whispered words of a Buddhist prayer. ‘Forgiveness? She said forgiveness is the key?’
Ellie nodded. ‘She didn’t have time to be more specific.’
‘She was right, I suppose,’ Tenby said. ‘Everyone makes mistakes, everyone wants to be forgiven. Nobody wants to end up like this.’ He backed away from the corpse.
She looked around at the crime scene and then back to the rooftop. ‘Have you checked that out?’ she asked Arjuna. ‘It was a sniper rifle with a laser pathfinder.’
‘Nothing up there. He was long gone. Not a lot of policing happening here,’ Arjuna motioned to the two policemen who had come to remove the body.
Tenby wiped the sweat from his face and neck, his hand lingering at the back of his neck, pinching the tension there to release it.
‘You don’t need to be here, Tenby,’ Ellie repeated.
‘You told Solomon you were just going to say some farewells. Someone has to explain why you’re leaving a trail of bodies behind you.’
She flinched.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean—’
‘It’s fine,’ she cut him off.
Tenby grimaced. ‘I expect we’ll see someone from CID shortly, to make sure Manisha didn’t keep any records.’
‘She was a professional,’ Arjuna pointed out. ‘One thing that doesn’t make sense to me is why Ameena created records. She made her payments to the brothel electronically. Why not just withdraw cash and hand it over?’
Ellie smiled sadly. ‘Because Ameena was a professional too. She created a trail of crumbs that led us here.’ She marvelled at the mindset of a woman who knew her days were finite but lived them fully anyway. ‘I was hoping Manisha might do the right thing by Ameena and give me a last confession,’ she said. ‘You know how it is.’
Confession. You must confess to be forgiven.
The chapel.
‘Come on.’ She bolted down the stairs, Arjuna shouting ‘What, what is it?’ behind her.
She found the door she was looking for. Arjuna held his hand on his weapon when Manisha’s guards tried to stop them.
‘Step away, gentlemen,’ he advised. ‘We’ll be quiet and fast. Just step away.’
Ellie closed the door and looked around the room. The familiar fragrance of incense was strong in the air. There was a hairshirt for the penitent hanging on a hook behind the door. She touched its abrasive surface and high collar. She felt guilt for her sins, but wearing a hairshirt would only give her a rash.
She opened the carved doors of the confessional. It was empty, of course. Two booths divided by a screen. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting. There was a Bible on the seat.
She picked it up. Underneath it was a ring; a slender, dull gold band with nine gemstones set in a square. Nine stones for the nine planets.
‘Ameena,’ she whispered.
Arjuna came to stand beside her. ‘There’s only one way this ring got here. Manisha must have ordered the hit and claimed it as a trophy.’
‘Perhaps,’ she said.
‘Perhaps? Definitely, Ellie. I don’t know who just killed Manisha or why, but how else would Ameena’s ring get from her dead body to a confessional in a brothel?’
‘There’s one other way. I just need to think …’ She was almost there. She had most of the pieces, but she needed a few more. Ameena had always been committed to the evidence that proved and told the story. Ellie put her hand in her pocket and felt the receipt. She needed more evidence. And a change of clothes. She was wearing layers of other people’s blood. Nothing truly washed it away.
‘Where to next?’ Arjuna asked.
‘Let’s go home. Pack your things and let Namalie know we’re coming to Hambantota,’ she replied.