Ellis Peters - George Felse 11 - Death To The Landlords (21 page)

‘You are very sure,’ said the Swami, with sincere sorrow.

‘Very sure. Aren’t you? Who else was ever alone in Purushottam’s office that day? She asked to use his typewriter to catch up with her letters, and she was in there, I suppose, an hour and a half before Priya and I went to see how she was getting on, and bring her back to the house. I don’t know what she did with the bomb – taped it underneath the desk, maybe – I expect the police know. Anyhow, she left it there, set for somewhere around half past seven. You remember, we were to leave about seven, and the lawyer was to come at eight. She didn’t want to kill the lawyer, she knew nothing about him. She knew nothing about Purushottam, either – I blame all of us for that, but as you say, “If only… ” has no meaning. We’d talked so much in front of her about farming on a big scale, and the uselessness of a small-holding economy here – but never, until the morning we were to leave, did we mention the word co-operative in her hearing, or let her into the secret that Purushottam was not setting out to enrich himself but to give away everything he had. Without realising it, we must have confirmed her ten times over in thinking she had the right to dispatch him out of the world. But in the morning, just when we were ready to set out – I remember almost every word now – we were talking as if she wasn’t there, about the welfare of the villages, about how he was aiming at transforming the district and financing the change himself… If we’d said it openly earlier – but how can you use it as a reproach against anyone that he doesn’t talk a lot about his own good deeds? No, there was nothing we could have done.

‘But Patti was standing there close beside us, and she heard, then, and understood. It hit her like lightning-stroke. She suddenly started rummaging in her bag, and then gasped out something about having left her diary in the office, and having to fetch it. There wasn’t any diary, she wasn’t the diary type, but how did we know? We barely knew her at all, even Priya. And she ran to undo what she’d done, to save Purushottam, who wasn’t what she’d thought he was. It was her last change of course, it would have involved confession – everything – though I don’t suppose she thought of that at all. But the bomb went off early, and killed her.

‘And that’s all,’ he said sombrely, steering the car with care through the narrow, chaotic streets of Koilpatti, and out on the northward run to Sattur and Madurai.

‘It is enough,’ said the Swami. ‘Do you not think so? Has she not partially answered you? Do you think that justice consists in revealing everything to everyone? I think not. Why should we discomfort those two sad people by telling them that their daughter became a dedicated terrorist, willing to kill for a cause? And do you think it would redress that balance if we also told them that afterwards she proved herself, no less, a girl with the honesty and courage to turn back just as vehemently when her eyes were opened? To undo what she had done at the cost of her own life? No, I think not. They would not be at home with either aspect. Let them continue to believe in her as in an innocent victim, too bland for either role. I believe they will be happier so. And she…’

‘And she?’ said Dominic.

‘Do not despair of Patti. Do not despair for her. She accepted the evidence that refuted her. She ran without hesitation or fear to undo what she had done, as soon as she knew it to be unjustified – even by her own lights. By mine no violence is justified. Think of it! Your departure was already some minutes delayed, it was past seven o’clock, but still she ran to prevent Purushottam’s death. And having detached the bomb – for I doubt if she knew how to stop the clock mechanism once it was set – what do you suppose she meant to do with it? How dispose of it?’

Dominic watched the road, and kept his hands steady and competent on the wheel. ‘I had thought of that. The office was turned away from the courtyard, with its windows on the kitchen garden. It was quite big and empty out there. I doubt if she’d thought about it at all in advance, but once there, with a bomb in her hands due to go off in about twenty minutes at the outside, I suppose her instinct would be to throw it out of the window as far as she could.’

‘Yes,’ said the Swami, ‘so one supposes. And have you forgotten what you told me? There were three of the household children playing there in the kitchen garden. There were things Patti could not do, and that was one of them. She could not throw out the bomb where the innocents might be harmed, no, not for her own life. And then she did not know what to do. I think she was still holding it in her hands when it blew up and killed her.’

[scanned anonymously in a galaxy far far away]

[A 3S Release— v1, html]

[August 01, 2007]