Conflict of Interest

‘Oh, my God!’ Her face was flooded with alarm. ‘What’s going to stop him?’

‘We are,’ he was definite. ‘And you’re getting your story out – that asshole Carter is in for the shock of his life. I’ve worked out a plan. The first thing we need to do is get the hell out of here right away.’

She looked reluctant.

‘Tomorrow’s the great factory trip,’ he told her. ‘You can be sure they’ve got something lined up for us that doesn’t involve admiring Quantum Change efficiencies.’

‘But I’ve come all this way. I’ve got to see the other factory.’ She touched her camera. ‘Photographic evidence. It’s less than twenty minutes from here.’

‘I don’t know …’

‘We could be there and back in under an hour. Are you saying we can’t wait that long?’

This wasn’t something he had anticipated, wasn’t in his plan. ‘How d’you know where to go looking?’

‘That’s sorted. Jaipur Abolitionist Group. I’ve already spoken to Ravi.’ She jerked her head in the direction of the bazaar. ‘He’s taking me.’

‘You know you’re probably being followed?’ She nodded. ‘Ravi thought of that.’

Less than fifteen minutes later they were each on the back of a scooter, winding their way through the congested streets at high speed. The scooters didn’t follow the same route all the way as they wove in and out among market stalls and down side alleys, the tumult and melée of Jaipur passing by in a high-speed whirl of vivid colour and pungent aromas. Ravi and his friend Aziz had assured them the trip wouldn’t take more than a quarter of an hour. But ten minutes later they were still caught in the urban sprawl with its bewildering contrasts of new office buildings, slum shacks, open sewers and satellite TV dishes all in the same block. They didn’t seem to be getting any closer to an industrial area, thought Judith. Then Ravi turned down a side street and raced along for two blocks before pulling unexpectedly down a dark and narrow alley. He cut the motor.

‘We are here,’ Ravi told her in a low voice.

She looked bewildered. ‘The factory?’ she whispered.

‘Yes indeed.’ Turning, he nodded towards a large, corrugated-iron shed. It was about twenty yards down the road, diagonally opposite the entrance to the alley. Judith stared across. It wasn’t instantly obvious that this was the same building she’d seen in the photograph in London, and she had imagined that the factory would be on the fringes of town, away from everything. But as

she looked at it, she realised that it was the place. She couldn’t get over it. Here it was, hardly any distance at all from the centre of Jaipur – a large, unprepossessing shed with a constant buzz of traffic rushing past it. And inside, untold misery.

Aziz’s scooter, with Chris on the back, appeared at the other end of the alley.

‘That’s it.’ She nodded towards the factory when he joined her.

He looked surprised. ‘Not what I was expecting.’

‘Me neither.’

‘Do you think its guarded?’

At that moment, Ravi and Aziz hurried them down the alley and against the wall. ‘Be careful or they see you,’ Ravi warned them in a strenuous whisper.

‘Who?’

Slowly, Ravi edged to the corner of the alley, before nodding towards two Indian men wearing khaki uniforms and leather boots, with holsters on their belts, who were sauntering round the building, glancing about them as they conversed.

‘How many?’ asked Chris.

Ravi held up two fingers.

‘All the time?’

‘Twenty-four hours,’ he replied, once the men had rounded the corner.

Judith strained to look down the street. ‘Can we get closer?’

Ravi set off into the street, gesturing for them to remain while he looked up and down through the traffic of bicycles, hand carts and ancient cars. Then he was back beside them. ‘Not safe,’ he told them.

A moment later, a loud, deep rumble reverberated down the street, with every strip of sheet metal and pane of glass rattling ominously. The noise was coming closer and closer until, from the darkness of the alley, they saw a large van roaring past, so wide it almost scraped the buildings on each side. As the gears ground down noisily, there was a sudden squeal of brakes, and a pneumatic gasp as the van pulled up outside the shed. Then a slamming of doors as the driver and his passenger climbed out and hammered on the shed door, before making their way round to the back of the truck. Peering round the corner from their hiding place in the alley, Judith and Chris exchanged glances. Had the van come for a consignment? Were they about to see Starwear merchandise being loaded up in flagrante?