Truth Lake Read Online Free

before. He placed an arm along her shoulders, but more as a gesture of silencing than comfort, for he sensed that she was going to argue. Sadrettin, Antonio Sinbari’s taciturn personal assistant, who’d ignored Adam’s earlier question, turned suddenly and summoned them both.
    'Car's here. Shall we move?' They acquiesced to his quiet command and were soon whizzing through the capital's deserted streets. At the airport there was noise and bustle but to Sara it all seemed dreamlike. A Sikh family with pretty twin daughters and lots of luggage squashed up next to then in the lounge. Holiday excitement or natural exuberance made them voluble and the mother turned to Sara and Adam as if to include them in the general mirth. With lowered lids, pretending to sleep, Sara listened to the girls’ chatter. How childlike they seemed. How untroubled. Not so different from some girls she knew back home.
    An hour later they were airborne. There had been only one hitch in their strangely smooth departure and it had come when a grim-faced woman guard ran the metal detector over Sara's body. The source of the noise had fast been located, however, as an oversized platinum-plated watch that she had in her pocket. Glancing surreptitiously at Adam, who had already passed through his body search and was now ahead of her, she retrieved it from the tray into which it had been dropped and clutched it silently as they were ushered onto their flight. Seated behind Adam with a row of empty seats to sleep on, she curled herself into a ball and opened her fist.
    The watch face clicked and glinted at Sara like a lewd admirer, familiar yet threatening. Her eyes began to sting and her heart thudded sickeningly. She turned the watch over and read the minute, spidery inscription on the back though she knew it off by heart, Darling Cam, find time for me. Always.

3
     
    In another part of the country entirely, Karmel’s bus climbed and climbed. Sooty villages had flickered past in an equally sooty dark yet, now that they had left the plains behind and hints of colour were beginning to tease the sky, he could see nothing but nature.
    Bred in the city and accustomed to its odours, its noise and myriad human constructions, he felt discomfort stirring in his blood as shadowy rocks and trees hissed past. The air streaming in from open windows was chilly and fragrant. Even the most uncomfortably placed passengers had dozed off and he felt as if there was no one conscious except for himself and the driver. A sudden sharp turn brought them within sight of a tattered village.
    Several passengers alighted and the bus seemed to squat less heavily on its wheels. Steaming tea was offered and accepted. Women took their children off to urinate in nearby greenery and Karmel borrowed a smoke from the man who'd used his shoulder all night long.
    'Long night, huh brother?'
    'I hear there've been roads collapsing further ahead.'
    'Wife's sick. Got to get back.'
    'Tobacco?'
    'Damn the roads.'
    Wisps of speech drifted around and made them feel like a small community.  Karmel flicked ash out of the window and felt his mind loosen. Motion induced nausea receded.
    The bus stalled continually after that stop. Some miles beyond another village, the driver asked the male passengers to get off and push the bus over a fallen heap of mud and stones. The fall was fresh but at least there had been no rain and the bus thudded, ungainly but manageable, over the rubble. As they drove on, higher and higher, the sun illuminated old waterfalls and sparkled off the thin trickles splashing the roadside.
    Karmel slept fitfully, anxiety about his trip mixing with older memories and images in his dreams. He had never left Delhi before but he had a disconcerting sense that he was going back to something familiar.
    By the time they reached Dilghum, their destination, there were only twelve people left on the bus and they were all, apart from Karmel, locals. Their sun-chapped skin and high cheek-bones