A Walk Across the Sun (37 page)

She thought next of the internal doors. The door to the basement room where she had found Natalia had a bolt that could be locked by hand from the hallway. The door to the laundry room had no lock. Her bedroom door had a lock, but she realized that she hadn't given much thought to it in the past few days. Her sudden and inexplicable move from the restaurant to Vasily's flat had left her disoriented, and the night traffic of Dmitri and the girls had turned that disorientation into fear.

She closed her eyes and tried to recall as much about the bedroom door as she could. Tatiana always locked the door from the outside, and she remembered hearing a sliding sound when Tatiana said goodnight. It might have been the insertion of a key. Still, a keyhole on the outside of the door wouldn't do her any good unless it was mirrored on the inside. She thought harder, but the area around the knob remained blurry.

She looked at the keys and made up her mind. She took the ring off the hook just as she heard Tatiana coming up the stairs. Secreting the keys in her sari, she closed the closet door just so. When Tatiana appeared, she was dusting the desk again. The keys were cold against her skin, but she took comfort in them. Whatever Vasily and Uncle-ji had planned for her tomorrow, she had at least one more night in the flat.

And with the night came possibilities.

That evening, Sita helped Ivanna serve the family dinner. When the dishes were cleared and the kitchen clean, Tatiana escorted Sita to her room and wished her good night. She closed the door and locked it from the outside. Sita held her breath and looked toward the doorknob.

There
was
a keyhole!

She waited until Tatiana's footsteps receded down the hallway before withdrawing the keys from the folds of her sari. She placed her ear against the door and listened for a full minute to make sure no one was within earshot.

When all was quiet, she took the first key and slid it into the deadbolt. The key didn't turn. She tried the second key. It, too, met resistance. Her heartbeat increased. She held the third key and twisted it in the lock, praying it would turn.

It did!

The key swiveled softly from the vertical to the horizontal position, and she heard the bolt disengage. It was hard to believe it could be so easy. She twisted the key in the opposite direction and reset the bolt. She knew now that she could escape from her room, and if she could escape from her room, she could escape from the flat using the codes she had memorized.

She sat down on the bed and worked each move out in her mind. When she was satisfied, she took a long bath in the tub and then dressed again in her sari. She wished she had better shoes. She was still wearing the sandals Navin had bought her in Bombay. She rummaged through some drawers and discovered an old sweater and a pair of wool socks. She put the socks on her feet and slipped on her sandals. The fit was tight, but the sandals would have to do.

At ten o'clock, she stood by the window and watched Dmitri shepherd the girls across the courtyard to the vehicles. Again, only Natalia accompanied Dmitri, this time in the black Mercedes. The others climbed into the back of the van. The van left the courtyard first and the Mercedes followed. Sita didn't know how long they would be gone, but she guessed they wouldn't return until at least three in the morning. It was enough time for her to disappear.

She sat down on the chair by the window and picked up the novel she had been reading. She pulled a blanket over herself to conserve her body heat and read until midnight. Then she went to the door of the room and listened carefully. She had heard footsteps in the hallway half an hour before. Now there was no sound. It was a good sign, but the risk of detection was still high. She resolved to wait another hour or two.

She returned to the novel. As she read, her eyelids grew heavy, but she fought off sleep. Her mind began to drift. She saw Ahalya dancing on the beach. She shook her head and focused on the bookcase across the room.

Ahalya isn't here
, she thought.
Stay awake!

Before long, however, she drifted again. There was Ahalya, meeting her after class at St. Mary's. And Naresh, asking Ambini about her grades. There were mangy dogs barking and the ocean lapping at sand … and Ahalya swimming, diving with her into the depths … the blue sea turning to shade … turning to gray … turning to black.

When she opened her eyes, she sat upright. She glanced at the clock on the wall and fear lanced through her. It was 3:15 in the morning. She couldn't believe she had fallen asleep. She looked out the window and saw with relief that the courtyard was still empty. She walked to the door and pressed her ear against it, listening. She heard nothing. She slid the key into the lock and retracted the bolt. She stepped out into the hallway. The flat was dark, except for the glow of a night light in the foyer.

She crept down the hall, taking care to step on the balls of her feet. She looked at the stairway. The steps were wooden, and she couldn't recall if any of them creaked. She held the banister and stepped as lightly as possible on the first step. It sank beneath her weight, but it didn't make a sound. She took one step after another until she reached the foyer floor. The alarm system was activated. She felt another twinge of fear. Would the system beep when she entered the code? She couldn't remember hearing a beep when Dmitri used it.

Crossing the floor to the entry closet, she put on the warmest coat she could find. The garment was made of black wool and had a fur collar and hood. She buttoned the coat and took two steps to the keypad. The red light glared at her. She took a deep breath and punched the six digits she had memorized, praying to Lakshmi that no alarm would sound.

The light turned green without a beep and the latch disengaged. She turned the handle and opened the door. The blast of wintry air took her breath away. She stepped quietly onto the porch. The courtyard was dark and the sounds of the city were muted. A light snow was falling. She moved across the cobblestones to the doors beneath the arch. She punched in the second code and heard a bolt retract. She pushed open one of the doors and slipped out into the night.

Looking both ways, she decided to go left. Her objective was to find a hotel with a night clerk who would agree to contact the police. She had no idea whether she could trust the French authorities, but she had no other option.

She walked quickly, her footfalls echoing in the still air. She reached an intersection with a major boulevard and peered into the distance, searching the street for a hotel sign. The boulevard was lined with storefronts, all of them closed. A couple of taxis passed her, and then silence descended again.

Pressing her hands into her coat, she started up the boulevard. She passed two hotels, but the lobby doors were locked and she could see no one inside. The cold encircled her and needled her face. Her breath came out in clouds of vapor, and snow dusted her nose.

She felt the first signs of desperation. The sunrise was still hours away, and she was freezing. She almost didn't see the black Mercedes until it passed her going in the opposite direction. Something jogged in her mind and she turned around just as the driver slammed on the brakes. Adrenaline poured into her arteries and she began to run. She was hampered by the heavy coat and the lack of grip on her sandals.

The Mercedes turned around and raced back down the road. She heard the car pass her and slam on its brakes again. Dmitri jumped out of the car. They saw the bakery truck at the same moment. It was coming toward them slowly. Dmitri stood still, watching her, a mere twenty feet away. She stopped in her tracks and began to wave her arms furiously at the truck.

“Help!” she shouted in English. “Help me, please!”

The truck decelerated, the driver interrogating her with his eyes. In the light of a nearby streetlamp, she could see that he was heavyset, with a round face and curly hair.

“Help!” she shouted again. She ran up to the side of the truck as it pulled to a stop.

The driver reached across the passenger seat and rolled down the window.
“Je peux vous aider?”
he asked warily.

“I don't speak French,” she wheezed, trying to catch her breath. She could see the black Mercedes through the windows of the truck, but Dmitri was not in sight. “Please,” she begged him. “Please let me in.”

“Français! Français!”
the driver said, growing impatient.

“No français!”
she exclaimed. “Please! Call the police!”

The driver looked scared.
“La police?”
he asked, looking around.
“Non. Je ne veux pas des problèmes,”
he said and rolled up his window quickly. He stomped on the gas and drove off.

Sita watched the truck depart with terror and despair. She turned around and bolted down the boulevard, her lungs burning in the cold. Dmitri caught up with her easily and lifted her off her feet. She lashed out at him, kicking and clawing at his eyes, but he held her tightly and piled her into the back seat of the Mercedes. He slipped into the driver's seat and floored the accelerator.

Sita buried her face in her hands and sobbed. She had been so close! If only she hadn't fallen asleep! If only she'd taken another street! If only she'd left at midnight when she first had the thought! She cried until the car stopped outside the flat. Dmitri jumped out and keyed the code into the system. The doors swung wide and he drove the Mercedes into the courtyard.

When the car stopped again, Sita looked up and realized she was not alone. Natalia sat beside her. Beneath an open black trench coat, she wore a low-cut halter top and a skintight skirt that showed all of her legs. Her face was a mess. Her makeup had run and her hair was disheveled. Her blue eyes were red, as if she had been crying.

She reached out and touched Sita's face, wiping away her tears. Their eyes met and held, drawn by understanding. Then the moment passed and Dmitri was at the door, reaching into the seat and dragging Sita out by her hair.

Chapter 21

Human nature is made of faith. As a person believes, so he is.
—B
HAGAVAD
G
ITA

Paris, France

Thomas arrived at the grand archway of Porte St. Denis a few minutes before eight. The streets of the Tenth looked different at night. The lamplight cast a warm glow upon the urban scene, but the shadows reminded him of all the things that remained hidden from view.

Julia showed up on time and greeted him with a double kiss. Thomas led her up Rue du Faubourg-Saint-Denis and pointed toward the entrance to the arcade. It was then that he noticed a sign above the wrought-iron gate. He'd missed it that afternoon. The sign read PASSAGE BRADY.

“Have you ever been here?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I haven't spent much time in the Tenth.”

Although it was a Monday, the restaurants along the arcade were gaily lit and bustling with business. The only exception was the first restaurant on the passage—the one in which the rotund Indian woman had been cleaning. A curtain had been drawn across its windows, and a placard hanging in the door read, “
Fermé jusquçà nouvel ordre
.” Closed until further notice.

Thomas saw Ajit standing at the entrance to his establishment. He brightened when he saw Thomas. He greeted him effusively and showered Julia with compliments. Then he showed them to a candlelit table beside the window and commented on the view. Handing them menus, he promised to make them the best meal in Paris.

When Ajit scurried away to greet another customer, Julia laughed. “You obviously made an impression on him.”

After perusing the menus, they delivered their orders to a young Indian waitress. She returned a moment later with two glasses of red wine.

“Tell me about the District,” Julia said, tasting the wine. “I grew up in Reston, but I haven't been back since college. My parents are in Boston now.”

Thomas spent the next twenty minutes regaling her with tales of scandal and political malfeasance from the Metro section of the
Washington Post
. Once she asked a question about his family, but he was deft in deflecting her interest. He didn't mention Priya, and she had the decency not to probe. She seemed content to sip her wine and listen to him talk.