Stop the Car
‘Stop the car Sunder,’ Kami pressed the button. The glass window slid down. The cool tea country air invaded the air conditioned climate-controlled atmosphere of the chauffer driven Mercedes Benz.
‘Yes Madam,’ the rolling Indian Tamil accent of the driver combined with the fragrance of freshly plucked tea sent a shimmer down Kami’s spine.
‘Now what?’ Ben turned back to her from the front passenger seat. ‘Shut the damn window Kami. I can smell the dirt on those coolies!’ He ran his fingers through his curly black hair. His eyes were dark with impatience and annoyance. ‘This is the third bloody stop we’ve made.
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