Bernadette liked her compound. Private, it had a colorful and fragrant garden with a small fish pond. The walls were high as was the custom in Kathmandu and, when she looked down on to the top of the wall, she could see the sparkle of broken glass embedded in the concrete cap of the brick wall. Security concerns did not bother Bernadette. Just before she met Peter Brandon, she had been active in a few skirmishes between the IRA and British security services. She was comfortable with weapons and knew how to use them.
Bernadette was almost hoping she would get a chance to avenge Peter’s death. After all, her relationship with Peter Brandon had enabled her to extract herself from the IRA. Peter had convinced her, regardless of the idealism of the mission, the killing of innocent people was inherently wrong and immoral. His money allowed her to leave Ireland for several years, while she improved her education and gained a reputation for being an authority on Tibetan artifacts.
Earlier in the day Bernadette dropped a note for Arjun Singh at the reception desk of the Soaltee Hotel, inviting him to come to her compound for tea at 4:00 p.m. She used Kathy’s name to clarify her reason for wanting to see him. Precisely at the appointed time, Arjun’s car drove down her driveway. He got out, and she met him on the veranda and introduced herself.
Bernadette offered her arm to Arjun and said, “Shall we go inside?” She showed him into the living room and said, “You will have to excuse me for a few minutes, while I brew the tea.” She hadn’t hired any help yet, not knowing if Jack would approve the existence of unknown servants in the house. Somehow she thought not.
Arjun said, “If you’ll allow me, I’ll join you. Perhaps I can be of some assistance.”
Bernadette replied, “Certainly, I would be delighted.”
She thought this detective was not quite what she had expected. His good manners are natural. English has a slight British accent and not learned on the job. Not a bad looking man, about my age and not wearing a wedding ring. A Sikh but a modern version, what they call a shaven Sikh. His hair is cut, no turban, and only a rather dapper moustache. Clothes are well tailored and a bit on the formal side. His look is direct with eyes showing an intelligent person lives in there. A good man to have around.
Bernadette loaded up the tea tray, and Arjun graciously took it from her and carried it into the living room.
Bernadette said, “I hope you will excuse me, but I haven’t had time to do a proper shopping, so the biscuits aren’t up to standard.”
As they were finishing their first cup, Arjun said, “Beautiful women do not usually invite me to tea just for my company.”
Bernadette replied, “This time you’re perfectly right, but the next time you may be wrong. Yes, I’ve some business to discuss, but first I must give you this check from Mr. Brandon, my employer for the moment.”
Arjun looked at the check and commented with a smile, “And just what is it you want me to do? This much money before I have even thought of a bill is a bit unusual.”
“My first request is for you to provide proper security for this compound. The way Mr. Brandon phrased his instructions to me, I believe he means a team of armed people, but you are to be the judge of that. I should tell you Mr. Brandon’s father, my very good friend, was killed by a group of terrorists in his home near Washington, D.C. Three of the four assailants were killed in the attack. The police have not been able to identify the dead killers. My employer believes al-Qaeda was somehow involved.”
“Yes. Now I see the need. A four-man team of my people armed primarily with shotguns will be here within the hour. Now for my report. The person of interest to you will arrive here tomorrow afternoon. He is traveling alone and is booked into the Yak and Yeti Hotel. We will cover him 24/7. I will leave this envelope with you. It contains some rather decent pictures of Mr. Abdul Ali Fahad and his living and business building. Now, if you will excuse me, Ms. O’Brien, I must be going.”
“Arjun, if I may call you Arjun? Please call me Bernadette. Perhaps tea time would be a good time to discuss our business. So tomorrow at the same time?”
“My pleasure.”
True to his word, four very competent looking men arrived within the hour. The bundle they carried into the house contained six 12-gauge pump shotguns, which were strategically placed around the house. The gate was locked and the old gatehouse swept out. It now housed a real live guard, probably for the first time since it had been built. Tall shrubs near the house and outside wall were trimmed to allow better observation. A closed circuit TV covered the front gate while two others scanned the side gardens.
By the time night began to fall, Bernadette’s bungalow and compound were much more secure. She went to sleep thinking about Mr. Singh and how long it had been since she had been with a man, especially an interesting one. Tomorrow she would begin making rounds of her Tibetan art dealers.
Facts and Fictions 