I lay back, Anna's face looming in my mind. Apart from her physical beauty, which was striking, she was funny, irreverent, and mentally as strong as anyone I'd ever met. Far more than me. And I thought I was tough.
She'd endured so much from those bastards that she could have been forgiven for crumbling into a heap when she was attacked from all sides. But she didn't. She stood toe to toe with one of the most powerful business figures in the country and beat him. Roger Timpson, CEO of R.S. Holdings stood in the dock facing charges of conspiracy to murder, bribery, extortion and a raft of international crimes.
When her mother tried to kill her, she dealt with it and came through. She was the first woman in my life, apart from my sisters, that I really loved. I badly wanted to be part of her life but that didn't happen. She said she'd never known love so she couldn't offer any, even telling me at one stage to find it with somebody who did.
She'd stick with her animals, she said. `They give me all I need right now, and what I give them is all I have to give. I don't have enough for anything, let alone anyone else.'
I backed off. I hoped that someday she'd be able to see human beings as worthy of love as llamas, dogs, and horses and when she did, I'd be there. Until then I stayed as close as she'd let me and our affair, intermittent though it was, kept my hopes alive. Looking at the relationship from this distance I wondered if maybe we were more suited than I thought.
One of the problems with relationships in my life was that I was never still. I was always heading off after some distant story or campaign or other. There was a woman I thought I loved but her need for a stable home with kids and all the trimmings clashed with all that. I didn't grieve long.
My own unstable family life hadn't prepared me for suburbia any more than Anna's had. Our similarity was that we'd both faced enormous pain and loss in our lives. Our difference was that I had been loved by all the people I'd lost. Was I too careful about commitment because I'd lost nearly everyone I loved? Maybe, but I knew love existed so I was more open to it than she could be.
When I suggested that learning to trust might be easier if she was close to trustworthy people, namely me, she told me I was insensitive and glib. She was working through that stuff and would I kindly leave her alone to do that. So I did.
During the next week of filming it looked as if my appeal to David Bale's ambition had paid off. Bale stayed out of my way, which made me even more sure that he was behind the attacks back in Kargil. The amateurishness of them was another. I doubted Bale had ever hired assassins to kill someone in his life.
As we packed up after the harrowing filming, I thanked the team and brought up awards again. To keep the bastard honest. The stories and the evidence of vegetative kids had made all of us angry and depressed. Before this nobody except me had seen the real aftermath of what companies like R.S. did. I'd only seen it close up when my sister lay dying in a Guatemalan hospital. It was a quieter, more thoughtful team that descended from the mountains.
Back in Kargil, with internet connections restored, I reached for my computer. The email from Jerry Carney was blunt. No greetings, just facts. And interesting facts they were. According to Jerry, David Bale's mentor, the producer Milan Pavlovic was a very bad man. Probably connected to the mob. I was a bit sceptical because Jerry liked to grandstand, but dirty money in movies was almost a given.
My heart jumped a beat when I saw the rest of what he wrote. One of Pavlovic's associates was a man called Vlado Mladenovic. Mladenovic was Anna's grandfather's name. Her mother's and Aunt Geraldine's father. By all accounts he was a ruthless crook. Anna's mother had been proud of his ruthlessness and said so when she tried to kill her daughter.
This Mladenovic was a Serbian mobster who was `suspected' by his government of running one of the biggest and most brutal crime organisations in the country. He was also suspected of being involved in some of the worst atrocities of the Croatia Serbian War. But nothing had ever stuck to him. No witnesses or evidence had ever surfaced.
Coincidence? Probably. Mladenovic was a common enough name in Serbia. Not all Mladenovics were likely to be crooks and not all Serbians were crooks or war criminals. I'd steer clear of judgments until I knew more. But it sure raised the hackles. Anna wouldn't know if there was a family connection. Her grandfather died before she was born and the only other family the old man had, his two daughters who might know, were also dead.
I'd have to dig. And I would. But up front it looked like David Bale was probably associated with a man suspected of having mob connections. And that man was probably associated with a known organised crime boss who had the same family name as a long dead Australian crook who was related to my Anna.
It was time to confront Bale. I stretched and wandered towards the mess hut. Christ it was good to have buildings around. The twelve days in tents in the cold of the high Himalayas had sorely tested my dedication to my trade. I always thought that when I returned to civilisation after spending time in remote places. But I knew I wouldn't stop doing it. Apart from the majesty of them, those places really grounded me. Made me realise that comfort was amongst the least important things in my life.
Bale wasn't in the mess hut so I checked all the other huts. Nobody had seen him for at least two hours. Shit, I thought, the swine is at it again. Gone off to hire another hit man. I went looking for Barir, our interpreter. I asked him if he'd have a chat to the Kashmiris in the crew. Find out if Bale had made any odd requests. Later I'd go with him to talk to the cops.
They were already suspicious of us so whether they'd tell us where Bale could find a killer, I had no idea. Strangers in towns as remote as this were always suspect until proven otherwise and we hadn't been there long enough for that. You almost had to marry their daughters to get that kind of trust.
I went back to my hut where the girls from the production team were viewing the footage from the high villages.
`You know Bale might be a total shit but he's great with a camera, I'll give him that,' said Jess, a technician, the oldest and most experienced.
I looked up. `What do you mean total shit? What did he do?'
`Aw, Harry, you must have noticed? The prick hits on us all the time.'
Mandy, a grip, laughed. `Don't be silly, Jess. Harry's too nice. He wouldn't notice that kind of thing, would you, Harry?'
`What does he do?'
`Cops a feel all the time.'
`Has his hand up your crutch every time you try to work with the bastard,' said Carly. She was our co-presenter alongside me and usually very polite and reserved.
`Yeah,' said Jess, `offers to help you up and grabs your arse or your boob to help him do it. You know, that kind of thing.'
`Why didn't you tell me or Greg? We'd have torn him a new one.'
`Yeah, we knew that. But in a tight crew like this that could make life more difficult." She shrugged. `We're used to that kind of stuff so we put up with it. And, as I said, he's good with the camera.'
`So is it still happening? Because we don't need cameramen that much.'
`Well, no, it isn't,' said Mandy. `You see when he flashed it at me, I took the law, as it were, into my own hands.' They all laughed as my jaw dropped open.
`I didn't exactly tear him a new one, but he didn't feel like using the old one for a while when I finished with him.'
I grinned. `Tell me.'
`Well,' Mandy said coyly, `first I laughed and told him my guinea pig had a bigger one, then I kicked him in the balls. Very hard. I do kick boxing in my spare time. I'm surprised he could even get it out to pee. He hasn't touched any of us since.'
`You should file a sexual harassment case against him. That way it's on his record and might save less...ah...'
`Aggressive...'
`I was going to say, resilient women in the future.'
`I tell you I don't care how good he is behind the camera I'll never work with the fucker again, and I'll spread the word. So, we'll think about it, won't we girls? Now Harry, get out of our faces, we've got work to do.'
I dug out Barir again. He'd asked around. All he could find out was that Bale had asked his men whether there was an area of the city where the `bad people', his words, hung out.
`He didn't say why he wanted to know?'
`No.' Barir stared at him, comprehension dawning. `You think he was the one who got those men to attack you? But why would he?'
`I don't know yet.'
`But how could he do that? He doesn't speak the language and I'm sure none of them speak English,' said the interpreter. He shook his head. `It's not possible.'
`Unless he found an interpreter by himself. He knew you wouldn't have helped him hire an assassin.'
The man was horrified. `Certainly not, Mr Harry. No way!'
`Can you think of any way he could have got someone to help him?'
Barir looked at me in silence for a time. `Money,' he said.
`Ah,' I nodded. `Of course. If he flashed enough money around—'
`People here are poor. Western money can buy almost anything.'
Including murder.
I thanked him and sat down to wait for David Bale to get back from what I was sure was his latest attempt to arrange my demise. Money wasn't only important to the locals. It seemed Mr Bale was under its spell too. And after Jerry's email I reckoned I knew who was paying him. But not why.
While I waited I checked out Vlado Mladenovic. Born in 1950, he had more strings than a marionette theatre. Already a well-known criminal in the then Yugoslavia, back in 1990 Mladenovic aligned himself with Slobodan Milošević and embraced the war as soon as it began. He was suspected of being involved in all the worst of the atrocities including mass slaughter, rape, gun running and torture.
He tyrannised the local people wherever he went and retired to extreme wealth at the end of the conflict, unrepentant and untouched. Where Milošević was arraigned and punished, not a whisker of evidence was ever found to tie Mladenovic to any of it. Mind you a whole lot of the people around him simply disappeared.
All that was fine, but I couldn't see any reason whatsoever for any of it having anything to do with me. I looked up as a commotion broke out outside. One of the locals on the team was shouting and gesticulating at Greg. Even though all the crew spoke English it was clear that this man's had deserted him.
The only word I could make out was Bale. Over and over again. The interpreter glanced at me as the man was led away followed by the other locals on the team. The rest of the crew gathered around a white-faced Greg as he dropped onto an oil drum and stared at me.
`The stupid turd has attacked one of the local girls. In the town.'