‘Where to now?’ Arjuna asked, passing Ellie another canister of water. They had two in the back and a small crate of food from Namalie. She had been baking butter cake from dawn.
‘I’ve made you fish buns, too.’ Namalie handed her a warm paper bag. ‘He’s not allowed to eat those mutton rolls. They’re bad for him.’
‘Thank you.’ Ellie kissed her.
Namalie held her and whispered, ‘Don’t let him do anything foolish. Take care of him, please.’
‘I will,’ Ellie promised. She climbed into the car and accessed the new map she had downloaded.
Arjuna drove them in the direction of the highway. ‘I assume we didn’t come all this way for a family visit.’
‘No, although it would have been worth it just for that. Namalie’s really special,’ Ellie said. She opened the window and let the cool morning air in. Her diplomatic immunity would be revoked in eight hours.
‘She is. So where are we going next?’ Arjuna asked again.
‘Where Ameena is guiding us to go.’ She showed him the address on the receipt she had found hidden in Shirani’s Lonely Planet.
•
Arjuna parked the car outside the Alston Copy shop in Hambantota. The early morning traffic had picked up, but offices hadn’t opened yet. They walked a block down to a small street vendor and picked up a deep-fried mutton roll.
‘Where can I get some coffee with my cholesterol?’ Ellie asked.
‘Enjoy it, life’s short. Particularly if I keep hanging out with you.’ He doused his mutton roll in chilli sauce. ‘How did you know the receipt would be there?’ he asked.
‘It was something Shirani said at the school. She said Ameena loved Canada.’
‘Everybody loves Canada,’ he replied, wiping the sauce from his chin.
‘Apparently Ameena’s favourite authors were Canadian: Selvadurai, Ondaatje and Michael Clayton. Clayton is not a Canadian author, though. He’s a character in a movie.’
‘The one with George Clooney?’ Arjuna asked.
‘Yes, there’s a scene in that movie—’
‘We’re here because of a scene in a movie?’
‘Not just any scene. And not just any movie. It’s an excellent film, one of my favourites.’ Sharkey and Bradfield would have loved it. Bradfield more so, he always appreciated the quiet, cerebral thrillers.
They returned to the copy centre as the security grill rolled up. A young man took his position behind the desk next to a computer. He was surrounded by self-service photocopiers. Behind him, young men and women in striped uniforms were loading reams of paper into industrial-sized copiers.
‘I’d like to collect this, please.’ Ellie handed him the receipt.
‘Just a moment, madam. The computer is warming up.’ He tapped a beat on the desk with his pen. ‘Sorry, madam. Very slow.’ He typed the receipt number into his computer. ‘This is for collection by Ameena Fernando or Shirani Dennis. Passport ID is required, madam.’
‘Ameena sent me,’ she said.
‘I’ll need to see a letter of authorisation, madam,’ the man replied.
‘Right. No problem.’ She took a step back, unsure of what to do next.
‘Malli,’ Arjuna addressed the young man as little brother. He spoke to him in Sinhalese, telling him that freedom of speech was at stake in the authoritarian dictatorship they lived in. The man looked from Arjuna to her and back to Arjuna again. He looked behind him to see if anyone was watching. He answered Arjuna earnestly, so rapidly that Ellie missed it, and nodded.
‘One moment, please.’ He went to the back storeroom.
‘I can’t believe that worked,’ Ellie muttered.
‘You’d be surprised how many people feel that way. He can’t release the boxes, but he’ll do what he can.’
‘Boxes?’
‘Boxes—twenty of them, stored at the back. Ameena left a mailing list with them, too. And specific instructions: if Shirani Dennis didn’t pick up the boxes by February fourth, Sri Lanka’s Independence Day, they were to be posted to all local civil society activists and international media.’
The man returned. He placed an envelope on the counter and passed it over.
‘Thank you, malli.’ Arjuna took the package and a copy of the mailing list. He led Ellie out the door and back to the car.
She opened the envelope. It was a special edition of The Lanka Herald, detailing the arms deal. It included copies of crucial primary correspondence between Dilshan Perera and Cultural Attaché Kwan, agreeing to the purchase of legal and potentially illegal weapons, including short-range heavy artillery.
There was something else in the envelope. Ellie tipped it into her hand. It was a USB stick. She plugged it into her laptop to find digital copies of the magazine and supporting evidence—lists of chemicals and weapons, purchase prices and sale dates.
‘Back to the Embassy now?’ Arjuna asked. ‘Please? We have a USB stick, her article and a mailing list.’ He took his jacket off and unclasped the strap on his holster.
‘Were there any embassies on Ameena’s list?’
He checked the papers and then shook his head.
‘She had lost faith in the international community,’ she said. ‘This still doesn’t tell us who killed her, Arjuna.’
‘No, but it gives both the Sri Lankan and Chinese governments compelling reasons to. This is a story worth killing for. Let’s take it to Solomon. He doesn’t like you, but he’ll help.’
‘I’m not ready for the Embassy yet.’ She checked the mirrors, expecting the man on the motorcycle to be there.
‘We’re a target now, Ellie. The Sri Lankans and the Chinese will want this. The longer we hold onto it, the more danger we’re in. We’re wide open here. We’ve evaded one motorcyclist so far, but what happens if there are four?’ His eyes were also on the mirrors. ‘We need to get it to the right people.’
‘I’m just not sure who the right people are.’ Ellie exhaled. Ameena no longer trusted governments but she had backed herself the whole way. She had made sure the article would survive, even if she didn’t. Ellie wanted Ameena’s strength; she wanted to be held in the other woman’s certainty.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ she said. He started the car.
•
The motorcyclist circled the block and parked in the alley next to the Alston Copy shop. He took his helmet and jacket off and put his sunglasses on before crossing Mayfield Road—recently renamed Huihuang Avenue—and ordered a mutton roll. He watched the American woman and the burned man come out.
She held an envelope tightly to her chest.
His employer was right about her. She had found what they were looking for.
She looked deeply tired, had ever since the mother and the child. He was sorry about the child, but there had been no other way. He would be sorry about the American too, she was pretty.
•
Ameena’s research showed that all transport routes for China’s illegal weapons led to the new airport and seaport at Hambantota that had been financed by the superpower. As Shirani had explained to Ellie, when Sri Lanka defaulted on the massive debt it owed to China, all of these debt-funded strategic bases would become Chinese equity-funded assets.
Hambantota’s new airport was graced with an impressive five-storey car park. It was empty and dusty, sand blowing in from the ocean.
Arjuna pulled into a car space.
The airport was a monolith of glass and concrete, a large neon banner proclaiming it Mahinda Airport, after the President. The tarmac was devoid of planes. As they walked across the sky bridge, approaching the terminal, they could see into three floors of solitude.
At the entrance, a soldier stopped them and asked for their identification papers. He looked at the papers and then at Arjuna’s face, then handed the papers back, speaking rapidly in Sinhalese. He pressed his hands together in the traditional greeting and then shook hands with Arjuna, until Arjuna pulled away.
‘Thank you, malli.’ Arjuna urged Ellie into the airport.
‘You are a local hero. I thought your sister was exaggerating.’
‘Shut up. Check out the boards.’ The signs were all in Sinhalese, English and Mandarin. The Arrivals and Departures boards were empty save for one plane arriving in four days and leaving thirty minutes later. The check-in desks were numbered optimistically from one to thirty. Each was manned by Sri Lankan girls wearing a modern version of the traditional Kandyan skirt and blouse, meticulous makeup, and slightly robotic smiles.
‘What do you think?’ Arjuna surveyed the vast emptiness and opulence that the Chinese had funded and the Sri Lankan people would pay for.
‘I think, Vanity, Thy Name is President Mahinda Rajapaksa.’
•
Arjuna drove them to the outskirts of the airport, to the eastern side of Hambantota Port. The airport backed onto an unfenced national park. He pulled off the highway into scrubland. They took their backpacks from the boot of the car.
‘It’s too exposed between here and the warehouses. We need to hike the rest of the way,’ he said, handing Ellie her earpiece and helping her with the wire transmitter. He inserted his own and lifted his shirt so Ellie could thread the wire down under his shirt to his phone.
‘Scottie, can you hear me?’ he asked, adjusting the earpiece.
‘Affirmative. I can hear you and I can see you. Drone CJCK128 is overhead. Move northeast, two clicks towards that small ridge. You can see out over the port from there,’ Scott said to them.
When they reached the vantage point, they stopped for water and reconnaissance.
‘Third warehouse from the left.’ Ellie took the binoculars from her face and wiped away the sweat.
‘That’s a lot of military vehicles for a domestic warehouse storing everyday imports and exports.’
The vehicles were marked with Sri Lanka Army signatures—and PRC Army ones.
‘I knew Su Lin Kwan was full of shit,’ Ellie said.
‘You did not,’ Arjuna scoffed. ‘Tenby told me you thought she was cute, so you bought her whole “I’m here to bring food and medicine to the people” routine.’
‘Enough bickering, children,’ Scott said in their earpieces. ‘The Chinese Army seems to have access to all the runways.’
‘Airport plus port plus warehouse plus PRC military vehicles. What does that equal?’ Ellie asked. Through her binoculars, she could see crates being loaded onto Sri Lanka Army trucks. ‘I’m going to get closer.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Ellie.’ Arjuna looked at her incredulously.
‘Scottie will cover me.’
‘Cover you? What am I supposed to do? Wait here? You’re running out of time,’ he reminded her.
‘Yep. I’ll have a quick look around. Back in an hour. I need to know what’s inside the crates. Ameena had government correspondence and payment records but no photographs of the actual weapons. Her exposé is pointless unless we have some hard evidence to prove what’s going on here.’
‘This whole exercise is pointless if you die.’
‘There won’t be any trouble.’ She had promised Namalie she would take care of her brother. Years ago, she had made the same promise to Sathyan, too. ‘Just stay here please, Arjuna.’ Her heart rate quickened and the familiar tension coiled and then uncoiled within her. She could do this.
‘You weren’t responsible for what happened,’ Arjuna replied fiercely. ‘How many times do I have to tell you, Ellie? I wanted to be there. It was my job, as much as yours.’
She shook her head. It was his job, but her responsibility. Her debt. ‘Stay. Do that for me.’
She adjusted her earpiece and pulled out Scott’s encrypted handheld, placing her thumb on the screen and lifting it to her eye to read her biometric data markers. ‘Okay Scottie, I’m ready—are you in?’
‘I’m not comfortable with this, Ellie.’ Scott’s anxiety was loud and clear in her earpiece. ‘You should call it in. Solomon can send a team. You can search and document the warehouse together, under the cover of darkness and surrounded by heavily armed Special Ops guys. Bravo 3 is on standby.’
‘I don’t want a team. I’ll be in and out, without making a sound. Are you in?’ she asked again.
‘Yes, I have you on the drone and I’m in your—excuse me, my handheld. If you get caught, I’m wiping it from the inside. Everyone knows we have a drone overhead, but we don’t like to get caught spying on the neighbours, it’s not cool.’
‘Definitely not cool.’ She put on her tactical goggles and tightened her cap. The midday sun was beating down hard. She took the dirt road as Scott instructed and followed it through light scrub for a kilometre.
‘Half a click east and then one due south and you’re at the fence.’
‘Got it.’ She ran until she came to the wire perimeter. She crouched, took the cutters from her backpack and was about to cut the fence when she heard Scott shout.
‘Stop!’
‘Jesus, what is it?’
‘The fence is electrified. Judging by the electromagnetic radiation I’m picking up, the shock is supposed to damage rather than deter.’
‘And you’re only picking this up now?’ She shuffled back from the fence, pulling her backpack with her.
‘Yes now, because I switched the drone scope from telescopic to EMR vision, so you’re welcome.’
‘What do I do, Scottie?’ She surveyed the fence doubtfully.
‘Take the defibrillator out of the bottom of your pack,’ he instructed.
‘That’s encouraging.’
‘Just do it. Get your cutters ready. Turn the dial on the defib right up. You’re going to shock the fence to momentarily shut down its local generator. You should have about ninety seconds to cut an Ellie-sized hole in the fence. Even if the generator restarts, you can get in and out of the hole.’
‘As long as she doesn’t touch the sides, right?’ Arjuna said, absorbing the whole plan. ‘What happens if the generator restarts while she’s still cutting the fence?’
‘Then you have about four minutes to get down there, turn the defibrillator back down to normal, and shock Ellie’s heart. Position the pads at ten o’clock and four o’clock.’
‘Failing that, you can dig an Ellie-sized hole in the ground,’ she added.
‘That’s not funny,’ Arjuna warned.
‘It’ll work, Ellie,’ Scott reassured them both. ‘Remember, turn the dial right up, cut the hole fast and big.’
‘Wait,’ said Arjuna. ‘Won’t the Army register the perimeter breach?’
‘No, the circuit will still be complete. From what I can see up here, it’s not that sophisticated.’
Ellie wiped her palms on her trousers. She put the cutters on the ground next to her, flexed her hands, braced herself with the defib on high, and shocked the fence.
The impact threw her back hard, sparks darting into her hair and face like a swarm of fireflies. A thunder crack in the distance told her the generator had overloaded.
‘Now, Ellie!’ Scott shouted. She trusted his reading of the EMR. She attacked the wire, both hands on the cutter, clamping hard.
She crawled through the hole head and shoulders first, trying not to touch the sides. ‘I’m heading to the warehouse.’
She crept down to the building through the scrub. At the warehouse wall, she pulled out a small, extendable mirror from her pack and raised it to the window to see a group of soldiers seated around a small table, playing cards and watching a Chinese television show.
‘I need a way in. Are the doors alarmed?’ she asked.
‘I’m a surveillance hack, Ellie,’ Scott replied. ‘Not a psychic. If you head left along the wall, there’s a garage door at the back. A loading dock. No heat signs, I think everyone’s off duty. I can’t imagine they’re expecting trouble. But Ellie …’
‘Yes?’
‘I was looking at satellite footage for the last week. It doesn’t have drone clarity but the sat’s pretty good. Two days ago, a convoy of black SUVs drove into the facility and didn’t drive out. I’m getting into the facility’s own surveillance right now to see if I can tell you who arrived, but I think they were important. The SUVs were souped-up to the max.’
‘Government?’ Ellie asked.
‘Yes, but which one? I couldn’t get plates. Key figures from the Sri Lankan government are still in Colombo, locked away in their war room. They come out occasionally to say something inspirational to the nation or abusive to the foreign press. I don’t think it’s them.’
‘The Chinese?’
‘I can’t find any chatter on Kwan’s movements.’
‘Okay, I’ll keep an eye out.’ She found the open garage door and entered the warehouse. Scott was right. The building was stacked with large reinforced fibreglass crates. It was dark inside, she could see that each crate was sealed and marked with numbers and Hànzì characters.
Ameena’s notebook had contained a list of numbers they hadn’t been able to decipher.
‘Scottie,’ she whispered. ‘Remember those numbers I gave you before?’
‘Vaguely.’
‘Run a Number Nine algorithm on them. Something a pure maths boffin like Ameena could do in her head, under pressure, if she was hand-copying a list of numbers but trying to encrypt it as she wrote.’
She heard him typing. She waited as long as she could. ‘Anything?’
‘It’s a match. Chemicals and weapons. The first two numbers you gave me are dual-use chemicals that have civilian and military applications. I’ve got ID tags for white phosphorus, phosgene, and chlorine gas.’ Scott went silent for a moment, then she heard him exhale. ‘Look, Ellie, these chemicals are precursors to chemical weapons, but they’re also used in agriculture and other legitimate industries. How many more numbers do you have?’
She looked at the towers of crates around her. ‘A warehouse full, I think.’ She heard more typing.
‘The weapons are heavy artillery,’ Scott told her. ‘Multibarrel rocket launchers, thermobaric weapons and cluster munitions …’
This was Sri Lanka’s Zero Civilian Casualty Policy. She sank down on the floor of the warehouse. She felt ill.
‘Shit,’ Scott muttered. ‘Do you think MNW was selling these to the Sri Lanka Army and Ameena was about to blow the lid open on that?’
‘Yes, but where did she get the list from?’ she asked.
She had hidden the copy of Ameena’s report in the chassis of their car, just the way Bradfield had taught her. Now she knew it contained the same list of chemicals and weapons from the journalist’s notebook. Ameena had sat down with someone, somewhere private, who gave her the time and access to scribe a very specific list.
Somewhere like the confessional box at Manisha’s brothel.
Ameena had an inventory of legal-but-excessive weapons and illegal weapon components in her notebook. Ellie had Ameena’s report, the only evidence showing that these were sold by MNW to the Sri Lanka Army. All other evidence had been ‘removed’ from the public or private domain.
Except these crates. ‘Scottie, are you recording this? What’s your picture quality like?’ She held her torch on the serial numbers and letters. She needed evidence, real images.
‘High definition. I can see the crates, but I’m going to need to see weapons if you’re going to do this right,’ Scott said.
‘Understood,’ she whispered.
‘You could walk away now, Ellie. You’ve found enough to interest UN Weapons Inspectors,’ he said, without much conviction.
She knew better. UN Weapons Inspectors would only ask questions if the US pushed them, and the US would only push them if they needed something in return. She was sitting in the Thoroughfare. She knew exactly what governments needed. A seat at this table.
She was about to open the first crate when the lights came on, flooding the room. A familiar voice called out.
‘Dr Harper, please join us.’
Footsteps approached from all sides. She considered her options. Fight or flight were not possible. She raised her hands and walked slowly towards the front of the warehouse.
Kwan strode forward. His bodyguards outpaced him and met her first. They patted her down roughly and then ran a scanner over her, ripping off the goggles and shouting, motioning to her ear.
She pulled the piece out. She was now in a covered building with no drone vision, her goggles and earpiece crushed by the butt of a gun.
‘Please, take a chair,’ Kwan invited her cordially. ‘You’ve done well to get this far, Dr Harper. My men will be reprimanded. You’ve seen the crates, I presume?’
‘Yes. I’ve sent footage back to my people. We know what you’re doing,’ she lied.
‘Of course, you do. You’ve known all along. You’re just upset because we did it first. We are arming and training the Sri Lanka Army for the final stages of their war on terror.’
‘Did you kill Ameena Fernando because she found out?’
‘Kill Ameena Fernando? Is that what this is about?’ Kwan mocked. ‘We don’t bother with self-righteous journalists or even mediocre bureaucrats. We don’t fear international judgement the way you do. We are here to help Sri Lanka end this war and then begin a new chapter in its history.’
‘You sound just like the President and his cousin. Or they sound exactly like you.’
‘We are partners in the region. Is that so wrong of us? To build partnerships and treaties, to trade goods and services?’
‘Goods and services?’ she repeated. She hoped Arjuna wouldn’t try to rescue her. The soldiers were now fully armed and on alert.
‘Yes, goods and services. We live in uncertain times. Energy security, food security, water security. It is no longer just about military security. Our territorial borders are safe, but our survival is not assured.’ He sat down in front of her and leaned forward. ‘We don’t waste time on the empty rhetoric of public good or global security, but trust that every country is entitled to do what is in its own best interests. In doing so, a stable global order will assert itself, providing security for all.’
‘A global order in which you are on top.’
‘Yes. Why is that so uncomfortable for everyone? America has had its time and now it’s ours. People are so foolish. Better the bully they know? They’ll get used to us.’
‘I’m sure once we get to know you, we’ll like you.’ She could see soldiers taking positions at the doorways.
‘Maybe, but we don’t care about being liked as much as you do. We are quietly asserting our dominance in the world, and for the most part, you are too arrogant to see it. You talk too much and learn too little.’
Kwan had said, You’ve known all along. The US, Solomon and probably Redmond had known all along about the weapons and Sri Lanka’s military strategy. But if they had known, why hadn’t they revealed it? Why had the US kept quiet? Everything was an exchange of goods and services. What had been exchanged here in Sri Lanka? China was securing the Thoroughfare for the String of Pearls that protected its economic corridor from Africa to Asia. And the US?
‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘You should be careful doing business here, though, Mr Kwan. It’s an unstable nation-state. Too many religious fundamentalists allowed into the halls of power. I wouldn’t sink too much investment into it.’
‘Thank you for your concern, Dr Harper. I suspect the US would like to sink more investment. There are religious fundamentalists in your White House too, but that’s acceptable to you because they’re the right kind of fundamentalists.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Without a doubt. The US is an unstable nation-state, not the hero it thinks it is. Nor are we the villains here. We are cleaning up our air and securing our food and energy supply. We will give aid more generously and lead more courageously than you ever did.’
‘All of this,’ she motioned to the crates of weapons. ‘This is villainy, not leadership.’
‘No. As I said, we care about our country, and all of this is patriotism. You’re an American. You understand patriotism.’
‘I do, but I’ve never made my peace with its price.’
‘There is no price too high for patriotism, Dr Harper. But I can tell you what the going rate for betrayal is. Given the falling greenback, it’s surprisingly low.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she replied.
Kwan stood up and nodded to an approaching soldier. ‘I would die for my country. I would pay any price for its safety. And I would never sell it out for sixty-eight Yuan.’
‘Sixty-eight Yuan?’ She didn’t understand.
‘Sixty-eight Yuan, at today’s exchange rate, Dr Harper, is less than thirty pieces of silver.’
Thirty pieces of silver. A traitor’s kiss.
‘Remember that,’ Kwan said. ‘When you’re tying up your loose ends—and ours.’
A soldier drew back a fist and hit her hard in the face. The world went black.
•
As soon as Ellie had set off for the warehouse, Arjuna called it in. He wasn’t prepared to wait. Protocols existed for a reason. He asked Scott to scramble Bravo 3 and whoever else was in the area. He returned to the airport and recruited the back-up they should have had in the first place.
He led the Sri Lankan soldiers to the warehouse door, their convoy of jeeps glistening in the sun. At his request, they used their sirens, the wail sending flocks of egrets into the sky in a gale of snow-white against the cloudless blue sky.
He undid the button on his holster but didn’t draw his weapon. There were seventeen soldiers behind him, carrying M16s and the jurisdiction to use them.
The Sri Lankan soldiers shouted at the Chinese soldiers who stood in formation around Kwan. Arjuna saw Ellie on the floor. His heart pounded. He kept his hands by the sides of his body.
‘Mr Kwan,’ he said. ‘My name is Arjuna Diwela. I am US Embassy Security, although formerly of the Sri Lanka Army, joint taskforce.’ Of sorts. He needed his Sri Lanka Army colleagues on side.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Diwela. I believe I have something that belongs to you.’ Kwan flicked his head at Ellie’s still body.
‘You do.’ He stepped towards her. The Chinese raised their assault rifles. The soldiers behind him raised theirs.
‘I’ve been told that Dr Harper has served her purpose. Her time is up.’
‘She has a few more hours,’ Arjuna said. He had to get her back to the safety of the Embassy by 1800 hours for her flight at 2100 hours. It was 1630 hours and Colombo was a four hour drive from Hambantota if they were lucky. They wouldn’t make it.
‘I have very particular instructions in relation to her,’ Kwan said. ‘From someone more senior than you.’
Something wasn’t right.
Dr Harper has served her purpose. What purpose?
‘I have instructions too,’ Arjuna lied, thinking fast. ‘From someone more senior than all of us.’ It was a bluff; although he usually left the risky plays to Ellie, he had learned a few things during his time with her.
He had more firepower than Kwan, but if this escalated, he would still lose soldiers. Bravo 3 was twenty minutes out and would only arrive in time to pick up the bodies. Again. ‘I trust we don’t have a problem here?’ he asked the diplomat, not breaking eye contact.
Kwan looked at him closely, then at the soldiers behind him. ‘None at all.’
Arjuna tried to control his exhale, trapping his relief inside his chest. In Sinhalese, he rapidly instructed the men to stand down, then checked Ellie’s pulse and breathing and whispered a quick prayer of thanks. He gathered her in his arms and held her for a moment. He stood up and stumbled. She was heavy for such a small person.
•
When Ellie awoke, her face ached, her head was throbbing, and air rushed towards her through an open window. She jolted up and tried to run, but was restrained. She looked down to see a seatbelt.
‘The report?’ she asked, tenderly touching her face.
‘It’s safe,’ Arjuna said.
‘What happened?’ she asked.
‘Kwan’s soldiers roughed you up a bit. He said he had instructions from someone senior, about what to do with you.’
‘Sounds ominous,’ she said. Who was Kwan taking instructions from? Most likely Dilshan Perera, she thought.
‘Aside from an impressive bruise on your face, you seem to be intact,’ Arjuna looked at her, worried and relieved. He was driving them on a highway, but she didn’t know to where.
‘You got me out?’ she asked.
‘This time. You haven’t learned a damn thing, have you, Ellie?’ he said. ‘When I found you, I wasn’t sure you were even alive.’
‘Sweet of you to worry,’ she said.
He slowed the car and pulled over. His hands were shaking where they gripped tightly to the steering wheel. He turned his face away from her to the window, inhaled deeply and then exhaled. He released the steering wheel and then rearranged his fingers around it, the colour returning to the skin of his burned hand in a sunset of patches.
‘I’m sorry.’ She reached over and took his left hand, raised it to her face and then kissed it. ‘I’m sorry, Arjuna. Thank you.’
‘You may not value your life anymore, Ellie. But there are other people who do. Other people who would risk their lives for you. People who would mourn you if you’re gone.’ He swallowed hard, eyes straight ahead. ‘You matter to me.’
‘You matter to me, too. The clock on Solomon’s protection has run out. Are we headed back to Colombo?’ She instinctively looked around for approaching vehicles. They needed to keep moving.
‘Yes, Colombo,’ he replied. ‘I’ll stay with you until the end.’