Chapter 6 | Contents | Chapter 8
While feeling a mixture of elation and exhaustion welling up inside me, I continued to take photos of the funeral. It was a little past 8pm local time. No matter how much he insisted that he was fine, I couldn’t drag Sagar around any longer, so after sending him home, I went on alone, picking out people who seemed likely to speak English and interviewing them. Eventually, the fatigue won, and I had to somehow encourage my heavy legs to move on towards Tokyo Lodge. It was already 11pm at that time.
Though the main street of Jhocchen still had some light, the darkness in the alleys were so dark that it felt dangerous to turn into them. I hurried back, occasionally resting my hand on the sun-dried brick walls, guided by the faint light seeping from the decorative windows of houses. Even as the night wore on, the streets were still full of people. So many had come to pay their last respects to the King, lingering until the small hours, reluctant to say goodbye. Even so, when I neared the lodge, I became alone.
I could hear a sound coming from far away. Bong… it sounded like the tolling of a bell, but was actually the sound of cannons being fired in mourning for the king’s death. The cannons were continuously fired with a ten second interval between them. Which shot was that? I’d started counting halfway, but lost count. A passerby informed me that there were 55 shots in total. The number of gun salutes was equal to the king’s age.
The lodge came into view. An electric lamp mounted on top of the metal doors cast an orange glow over a pyramidal area. Sure enough, my mind and body began to relax.
Unexpectedly, the doors were opened from inside. I wondered if Chameli was coming out to receive me, but it was Shukumar. As usual, he was in his white shirt, which was now a little creased at the sleeves. Like me, he was surprised. Both our eyes widened when we caught sight of each other.
“Were you out working at this time?”
“Yeah, I went to see the king’s funeral procession. Where are you going?”
He laughed awkwardly.
“To get a drink. I would have liked to drink here, but…”
“You prefer a livelier atmosphere?”
“Not exactly. Well, you will understand soon. See you.”
Leaving behind those words, Shukumar casually stepped out into the night. Would there even be a bar which lets customers get a drink the day after the king died? While I had that thought, his figure vanished into the dark of the street.
I opened the doors of the lodge. Chameli was at the dimly-lit front desk, and was flipping through a ledger on the other side of the desk. When she saw me, she spoke apologetically.
“Miss Tachiarai, there is still no reply.”
It was about the request to interview Warrant Officer Rajeshwar. I suppressed my disappointment.
“That’s understandable. It must have been a chaotic day at the palace for a soldier there.”
“That is what I think too. It will let you know if a reply comes in.”
“Please do. If I’m sleeping, I don’t mind if you wake me up.”
Though that was what I said, I didn’t know if I would actually be able to wake up from a few knocks on the door.
“Alright. I think I will be staying up late tonight.”
“If it’s for my request…”
Chameli gently smiled.
“No. Because Mister Shukumar went out, I need to stay up until he returns.”
That made sense. Tokyo Lodge didn’t have so many employees that it could keep the front open fro 24 hours a day. After all the guests were back, Chameli would probably lock the doors and go to sleep.
I was tired. In a corner of my head, I recognized that I had to check all the photos I’d taken today, but most of my consciousness was looking forward to a warm bath and a soft bed.
As I headed towards the staircase, Chameli added.
“Also, there is a water outage tonight.”
I whirled around, but her eyes were already back on the ledger.
Scheduled water outages were frequently implemented in Kathmandu, which was struggling with chronic water shortages. At certain times, the water supply in each district would be shut off. I knew about that, but of all nights, it had to be tonight. The fatigue that enveloped my entire body seemed to intensify tenfold. Even the digital camera hanging from my neck felt as though it were grinding into my shoulders. So that was why Shukumar had gone out to get a drink. It must be extremely inconvenient to have no access to water.
After unlocking the door to Room 202, I switched on the lights. Like with the schedule water outages, planned power outages were a regular occurrence in this city. Should I be relieved that at least the electricity worked? Wanting to check that there was indeed a water outage for myself, I twisted the faucet at the sink, but only a miniscule amount of water left in the pipes trickled slowly out, before eventually stopping altogether. I flung my sling bag onto the bed. I wouldn’t be able to take a bath for now, but how long would that last? Perhaps I should have asked Chameli for when the water outage would be lifted.
I felt an urge to toss myself on the bed like I’d done with my bag, but there was still something I had to do. Either because it was a Saturday, which is a rest day in Nepal, or because every shop owner went out to attend the king’s funeral, I hadn’t been able to obtain a radio. I couldn’t possibly borrow Shukumar’s radio. That made the television on the fourth floor a valuable source of information, and I had to take a look, even for just a little while. Feeling that my motivation would completely fade if I ever sat down, I left my camera on the desk, decided to bring my bag just to be on the safe side, then immediately left Room 202, which should have granted me some solace.
I thought that the hallway was a little dim, and it turned out that one of the light bulbs had gone out. After locking the door to my room, I headed for the staircase.
But at that moment, a door to another guest room in front of the staircase opened, and a man languidly stepped out. It was Rob Foxwell. His beard had grown out, and his face was pale. When he caught sight of me, he forced a firm grin.
“Hey, Machi, you’re back.”
“Yeah.”
“You must be tired. But we just had to get a water outage today. Man, this is really getting to me.”
“I agree.”
As we exchanged words, he kept sending me meaningful glances. I wondered if he was flirting, but that didn’t seem like it.
“What’s the matter?”
I asked, prompting him to answer with visible confusion.
“I mean, you had something you wanted to tell me, right?”
“I did?”
A really puzzled look must have appeared on my face, for Rob replied hastily, as if to defend himself.
“I’m sorry, I guess I misunderstood.”
He was about to close the door. He looked so dejected that I was about to say something to him when it suddenly occurred to me.
I wanted to hear the thoughts of people from all walks of life. The opinion of an American tourist who happened to be in Kathmandu was also welcome.
“I don’t have anything to say to you, but I want to hear what you have to say.”
“Me?”
A look of joy flashed across the gray eyes in his sunken eye sockets. It seemed that he really wanted to talk to someone.
“Yes, but we’ll be a nuisance to other guests here.”
“If my room is fine with you…”
“I want to watch TV. Let’s go to the fourth floor.”
With a sigh, he muttered, “Alright,” then closed the door, locked it and followed after me.
There was no one on the fourth floor. Chameli was on the first floor, while Shukumar had gone out for a drink. I hadn’t seen Yatsuda, but he didn’t seem like the type to keep up with the news. I turned on the television, and sat in a nearby chair. Before I could say anything, Rob took a seat opposite from me.
“Did you get any tickets to get out of here?”
He shook his head, a grim expression on his face.
“Nope. They kept telling me to wait, they told me to keep calling different numbers, and in the end they said they were closed. Chameli made a lot of money.”
“I see…”
“Well, I’ll try again tomorrow.”
Probably having come to terms with it, he said in a matter-of-fact way.
“So, what should I talk about?”
I stopped him with a gesture. On the BBC, the announcer was reading from a script with a tense countenance.
“Tonight, the government announced that His Royal Highness Dipendra has ascended the throne. The new king has not regained consciousness, and for the time being, Prince Gyanendra will carry out official duties as regent…”
Shocked, I flipped through my notebook. Gyanendra was the younger brother of King Birendra, who died in the incident. In other words, he was an uncle to Crown Prince Dipendra, the suspected perpetrator of the shooting spree.
While the announcer went on, Rob spat out.
“That’s crazy. A mass murderer becoming the king?”
“He’s unconscious.”
I replied, but Rob’s expression changed completely. He lashed out at me with fiery intensity.
“So what? He could regain consciousness. That would just be fantastic, wouldn’t it? At least one life gets saved. But what does he say when he gets out of bed? I killed my father and mother, but since I’m the crown prince I’ll become king? What a joke. It’s not the middle ages anymore. If the vice-president could get promoted by killing the president, the White House would be a bloodbath every day!”
He turned to face the TV. After informing viewers of the crown prince’s succession of the throne, some music was starting to be played on the BBC. Perhaps it was music played for mourning the dead. The string instruments produced a lingering, plaintive sound, steeped in sadness.
“The Nepalese are probably thinking the same thing, that it’s not normal for the murderer of a king to become king, that something’s going on. This is going to cause quite a stir.”
He then looked up at the ceiling and cursed.
“Dammit! I would’ve liked to watch this from the sofa at home. This situation sure is interesting… but it’s too close!”
He’d come to the Orient searching for exoticism, but was now unable to exit the country due to a murder. It was like going to the zoo to see a lion, but getting trapped in a lion’s cage. His cry of “it’s too close!” felt all too real.
I studied Rob’s flushed profile. He said that he wanted to view this incident from America. Meanwhile, I was conducting interviews to write an article for Japanese readers. In other words, there was both a sender and a receiver of news right here. Was my target audience someone like him? Suddenly, I had a realization. I’d been a journalist for over five years, yet I hadn’t carefully considered what kind of person would read and like my articles…
I wanted to talk with Rob a little more. It might also help him feel better. I brought out my notebook and pen.
“Rob, I’m reporting on this news story for a Japanese magazine, Shinsou Monthly. Could you tell me your thoughts on it?”
When I asked that question, his eyes changed. A sense of pride and resistance seemed to coexist in them, like he was happy, yet hesitant.
“A magazine, you say? So you really aren’t a student, Machi.”
“That’s what I said, didn’t I?”
“When you said you were 28, it sounded like a joke, so I didn’t know what to take seriously.”
I produced a light grin. When I was a student, I was often told that I didn’t look like one.
“Anyway, it’s such a big incident that no one could’ve seen coming, so I’m really shocked. I want to get out of the country as soon as possible. You don’t know what could happen, after all. Going by bus would be the best, but I’d take a plane if I have no other choice. I can’t let my guard down until I leave this country. I have to keep telling myself to be calm and careful.”
I jotted down his words in Japanese. Perhaps he thought Japanese characters to be interesting, but Rob stared at my hands even after I was done writing. Wanting to give him a little extra service, I added “That’s what Rob said. He’s apparently with the chief.” at the end, then closed my notebook.
“Thank you, Rob.”
“When will the article be published?”
“Most likely in the middle of this month, if no bigger incident happens. Shall I send you a copy when it gets printed?”
He nodded intensely like a child.
“Yeah, please do!”
For that, I needed his address. Rob said he would write it himself, so I handed him my notebook. As I watched him write down an address in California, I heard the bongs of mourning guns in the distance.
On the BBC, the music stopped, and news started being reported again.
“Tonight, the government announced that His Royal Highness Dipendra has ascended the throne…”
When the date changed, I returned to Room 202. I went over to the faucet and optimistically twisted it, but this time, not even a drop of water came out. Suddenly feeling thirsty, I picked up the electric kettle on the desk. It felt heavy, so I opened its lid to find water inside. I must have filled it, though I didn’t remember doing that. I wondered if the water was dangerous, but after realizing that it should be fine if it was boiled, I switched the kettle on.
Next, I sat down on the bed and reached for my camera. I’d brought quite a good number of spare batteries, but would they be enough? I had no experience investigating a case overseas, and it was also my first time using a digital camera for work. I couldn’t tell how much battery power was used, and I wasn’t entirely sure if the camera would work properly even with batteries bought from overseas. If I had to guess, it should be fine.
While buying a digital camera, I’d been really torn between a rechargeable model and a battery-powered one. A rechargeable camera could be used for long periods of time, and the device itself was slim and lightweight. Since the battery-powered model used batteries, it was inevitably heavier. However, if the rechargeable camera ran out of power I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, while the battery-powered model had the merit of me always being able to switch its batteries out as long as I had some on hand. Perhaps I should reconsider my choice after this job.
While I was worried about the camera’s battery level, it was necessary for me to check the photos I’d taken. Thus I powered on the camera and started looking at them. I’d taken dozens of photos of the funeral procession going through the streets of Kathmandu. In some instances it passed through streets of brick buildings and lattice doors reminiscent of an ancient capital, while in others it went past buildings of concrete and glass typical of the 21st century, and at one point under the sign of a burger shop.
I was certain that I’d managed to capture something with these photos. More of them had an interesting composition compared to those taken in the morning in front of the palace. However, none of them were quite as satisfying as I’d hoped they would be. But what exactly was I even trying to capture?
I let out a sigh. All of them were at a level where there would be no issue with normal use. I really should ensure that I have internet access so that I can send the pictures to Shinsou Monthly… There were so many things to think about.
As I was staring at the screen, there was a hesitant knock on the door. I slowly stood up. It was only then that I noticed that the door had no peephole.
“Who is it?”
The reply was as soft as the knock.
“This is Chameli. About the request…”
I didn’t think anything untoward was likely to happen, but just to be safe, I put the chain lock on before opening the door. Chameli was alone. For some reason, she kept glancing over in the direction of the stairs with a concerned look on her face.
“Something wrong?”
“No… but there are some noises coming from that room.”
Now that she mentioned it, there was indeed the sound of something heavy being moved.
“Are the only people on this floor me and Rob… Robert Foxwell?”
“No. Mister Shukumar is also on this floor, but he has not returned.”
“So the sound is coming from Robert’s room?”
“Yes. If it goes on for too long, I will have to check it out. Anyway…”
Chameli lowered her voice even more. She was probably afraid of being overheard.
I removed the chain lock.
“Come in.”
“…Thank you.”
She came into Room 202.
“I mentioned the request, but…”
“Yes?”
A short pause ensued.
“He says that he will meet with you.”
I felt fresh energy surge through my exhausted body. Of course, “he” referred to the soldier who had been on guard duty at the palace on the night of the massacre. To think I would actually be able to interview him!
“Warrant Officer Rajeshwar, right?”
Like her, I also spoke in a whisper, yet she put a finger on her lips.
“Be careful… he says that he wants to keep his meeting with you a secret.”
That made sense. Information on security at the palace should be of utmost secrecy. It wouldn’t be surprising if there was even a gag order on why the king’s assassination could not be prevented. Under those circumstances, he naturally wouldn’t want his colleagues to know that he was meeting with a journalist. If he was still willing to meet with me, did he have some sort of controversial story to tell? No, I was getting ahead of myself. I should keep my emotions in check. It was at times like this when I felt thankful that I wasn’t the type to wear my heart on my sleeve.
“I see. My lips are sealed.”
If he did say anything, it would probably be on the condition of anonymity, which I didn’t mind. I could just write that it came from an anonymous source.
“Where and when will he meet me?”
“He will tell you tomorrow.”
He probably didn’t know when he would be able to leave work. It was certainly impossible to predict if any situations would occur the next day. But that meant I would be stuck here for the entire day.
“Do you know if it’ll be in the morning or afternoon?”
Chameli put on a troubled look. Since she wasn’t the one who deciding on the timing, it was understandable that she would be at a loss when asked.
“It should be in the afternoon… I think. I have never seen him come in the morning.”
“I see.”
The water in the electric kettle finished boiling, and there was a click as the switch flipped.
“Well then, please keep this between us.”
Chameli said, then stood up to leave. I called out to her back.
“Erm, Chameli-san, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Please thank him as well.”
She said while looking over her shoulder. I asked a question.
“And one more thing… when will the water outage end?”
Perhaps because she’d been feeling anxious about what she might be asked, the tension in Chameli’s face suddenly eased. She turned to face me before replying.
“Six o’clock in the morning.”
As expected, I would have to give up on taking a bath tonight.
“Like today, the water outage is scheduled to start from ten o’clock at night tomorrow. Good night, Miss Tachiarai.”
Chameli closed the door.
It was a shame about the bath, but I’d been gifted an opportunity for my work. I could feel my body buzzing with a quiet excitement. I picked up a mug that had been placed upside down and filled it with hot water from the kettle.
At that moment, I noticed that the night in Kathmandu had fallen silent. Even when I strained my ears, all I could hear were some rattling and clattering noises. What in the world was Rob doing… Chameli would probably check on him soon.
The mourning guns must had stopped. I did not hear any of those sounds that resembled the tolling of a distant bell before I drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 6 | Contents | Chapter 8
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Editors (Tier 2): Dedavond, Pearl H Nettle
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