The Constant Gardener

"We didn't bully him," Lesley comes back, angry at last. "We were extremely gentle. We asked him about her notice board. Why was it full of pins and pinholes but didn't have any notices on it? He'd tidied it, he said. Tidied it all by himself with no help from anyone. He can't read English, he's not allowed to touch her possessions or anything in the room, but he'd tidied the notice board. What had he done with the notices? we asked him. Burned them, he said. Who told him to burn them? Nobody. Who told him to tidy the notice board? Nobody. Least of all Mr. Justin. We think he was covering for you, not very well. We think you took the notices, not Mustafa. We think he's covering for you on the laptop too."

Justin has lapsed once more into that state of artificial ease that is the curse and virtue of his profession. "I fear you do not take into account our cultural differences here, Lesley. A more likely explanation is that the laptop went with her to Turkana."

"Plus the notices off her notice board? I don't think so, Justin. Did you help yourself to any disks during your visit?"

And here for a moment — but only here — Justin drops his guard. For while one side of him is engaged in bland denial, another is as anxious as his interrogators to obtain answers.

"No, but I confess I searched for them. Much of her legal correspondence was contained in them. She was in the habit of e-mailing her solicitor on a range of matters."

"And you didn't find them."

"They were always on her desk," Justin protests, now lavish in his desire to share the problem. "In a pretty lacquer box given her by the very same solicitor last Christmas — they're not just cousins but old friends. The box has Chinese lettering on it. Tessa had a Chinese aid worker translate it. To her delight, it turned out to be a tirade against loathsome Westerners. I can only suppose that it went the same way as the laptop. Perhaps she took the disks to Loki too."

"Why should she do that?" asks Lesley skeptically.

"I'm not literate in information technology. I should be, but I'm not. The police inventory said nothing of disks either," he adds, waiting for their help.

Rob reflects on this. "Whatever was on the disks, chances are it's on the laptop too," he pronounces. "Unless she downloaded onto a disk, then wiped the hard disk clean. But why would anyone do that?"

"Tessa had a highly developed sense of security, as I told you."

Another ruminative silence, shared by Justin.

"So where are her papers now?" asks Rob roughly.

"On their way to London."

"By diplomatic bag?"

"By whatever route I choose. The Foreign Office is being most supportive."

Perhaps it is the echo of Woodrow's evasions that brings Lesley to the edge of her chair in an outburst of unfeigned exasperation.

"Justin."

"Yes, Lesley."

"Tessa researched. Right? Forget the disks. Forget the laptop. Where are her papers — all her papers — physically and at this moment?" she demands. "And where are the notices off that board?"

Playing his artificial self again, Justin vouchsafes her a tolerant frown, implying that although she is being unreasonable, he will do his best to humor her. "Among my effects, no doubt. If you ask me which particular suitcase, I might be a little stumped."

Lesley waits, letting her breathing settle. "We'd like you to open all your luggage for us, please. We'd like you to take us downstairs now, and show us everything you took from your house on Tuesday morning."

She stands up. Rob does the same, and stations himself beside the door in readiness. Only Justin remains seated. "I'm afraid that is not possible," he says.

"Why not?" Lesley snaps.

"For the reason that I took the papers in the first place. They are personal and private. I do not propose to submit them to your scrutiny, or anybody else's, until I have had a chance to read them myself."

Lesley flushes. "If this was England, Justin, I'd slap a subpoena on you so fast you wouldn't even feel it."

"But this is not England, alas. You have no warrant and no local powers that I'm aware of."

Lesley ignores him. "If this was England, I'd get a warrant to search this house from top to bottom. And I'd take every trinket, piece of paper and disk that you lifted from Tessa's workroom. And the laptop. I'd go through them with a toothcomb."

"But you've already searched my house, Lesley," Justin protests calmly from his chair. "I don't think Woodrow would take kindly to your searching his as well, would he? And I certainly cannot give you permission to do to me what you have done to Arnold without his consent."

Lesley is scowling and pink like a woman wronged. Rob, very pale, stares longingly at his clenched fists.

"We'll see about that tomorrow then," Lesley says ominously as they leave.