The Virtuosic Spy 01 - Deceptive Cadence (27 page)

“Yeah, well, normal people in a chair car express aren’t undercover and on the run, looking to cover their tracks. On top of that”—Sedgwick stabbed a thumb in Conor’s direction—“the chair car folks wouldn’t appreciate having his microbes cycling through the AC system.”

“Ah. Fair point there.” Thomas looked at Conor with renewed concern. “How’s the form, by the way? Feeling all right?”

Conor pursed his lips, diffidently considering the question. “Not too bad. Only half-smothered. I’m about ready for a chair of some kind, though.”

“Well let’s head over to your palace on wheels,” Sedgwick said. “No reason they can’t roll it to the Chennai Mail with you inside it. It’s sitting on Platform 28 right now.”

Trailing along at the rear, Conor found it a little ridiculous that a railway station could be so enormous. When he trudged down a flight of stairs onto Platform 28, he felt as though they’d marched halfway back to Bandra. Ahead of him, Thomas and Sedgwick had continued farther up the platform to buy food from a trackside vendor, but he wasn’t hungry, and he’d walked far enough.

He stopped in front of the rail car that would be their mode of transport for the next six days and eyed it doubtfully. It didn’t look like much, at least from the outside. A 1920s-era Pullman edition, its drab, black-and-olive paint job was chipped and dull, and the washed-out lettering on the side proclaiming it the “Redwood Special” did not evoke visions of luxury.

Although several of the pitted and scratched windows glowed with a sallow light, the curtains had been drawn over most of them, obscuring whatever lay inside. At the end of the car, however, he saw that one window had remained uncovered. Through it, he caught sight of a darkened living room and the dim outline of a plump, overstuffed sofa. It looked particularly inviting.

A door at the end of the room led out onto a rear observation deck, and with a hopeful grunt, Conor walked over to the stairs leading up to it. He took hold of the railing, but before he could pull himself up, the door above flew open and a dark shape emerged. It tumbled down the stairs and collided with his midsection. Just as quickly, it bounced off again and began speeding away from him, a long length of fabric flapping out behind it.

Conor staggered back and then spun to look at the rapidly retreating figure.

“Oh, shit!” He began to run, frantically motioning at Sedgwick and his brother, who were just strolling back, loaded down with greasy-looking bags.

“Grab her!” Conor shouted. Their faces gaped as the small form dodged nimbly around them and continued on without breaking stride. He broke through the two of them, cursing in explosive gusts. “Are you made of stone, for Jesus’ sake? Radha, stop! Wait!”

He didn’t have a prayer of catching her at this pace, but at the far end of the platform, she became entangled with several children and their mother. The woman—wearing a full-length, black
chador
—was still gripping Radha by the wrist, scolding her clumsiness, when he stumbled up and dropped onto one knee.

With her back to him and all of her energy focused on escape, Radha did not notice him. She twisted furiously in the large woman’s grasp, spitting a stream of obscenities worthy of the crustiest South Asian sailor. She wore a bright yellow
salwar kameez
, and her
dupatta
—a wide ribbon of cloth that matched the rest of the outfit—clung precariously to her shoulder at one end. The other end dragged along the ground near Conor’s foot. He picked it up and draped the loose end over her opposite shoulder.

“Rad . . . Radha . . . ” He began, forcing out syllables between breaths.

The reaction was instantaneous. Perceiving a new threat at her back, Radha wrenched her hand free from the burly woman and snatched at the soiled end of her
dupatta
. With a cry like that of a goaded animal, she whirled around and found herself eye-to-eye with her adversary. She stared at Conor and the contorted snarl on her face changed to awe- struck wonder.

“Con-ji! I was not believing it.”

Her arms dropped limply to her sides, and Conor allowed his muscles to relax. Rocking back, he rested an arm on top of his knee and regarded her with anxious bewilderment. What the hell was going on? Who, or what, was she running from, and what was she doing here in the first place?

Before he could venture any questions, Radha’s face became animated again, and she launched herself at him. Her small hands pounded at his chest and shoulders with a hysterical frenzy, and she began a litany of her own questions, a cross-examination punctuated with outrage and reproach.

“Now you are come,
bhaiyya
? Where have you been keeping until this time, please? Why did you go away? What is making you treat Radha so badly? Why taking her from Rohit Mehta, and leaving her in some too horrible place with bad people?”

He could have easily caught hold of the little, balled up fists, but he let her continue pummeling him in rhythm with each indignant exclamation. He was too surprised to stop her. “Horrible?” Conor stammered weakly. “What bad people?

What are you talking about, Radha?”

“Her!” She pointed wildly over his shoulder. He swiveled on his knee to look behind him, and saw that Thomas and Sedgwick had caught up and were accompanied by Kavita, who stood looking at them placidly.

“It happens I was wrong,
beta
,” she said, a corner of her mouth lifting in a wry smile. “She is hating me and not you.”

As if in confirmation, Radha burst into tears and threw herself against Conor. Hiding her face against his shoulder, she poured out her story between sobs. “She would not let me leave that room. She locked the door. She is watching me always. She took away . . . ” Radha faltered but then continued in a rush. “She took away all my things and is making me to take some sticky, burning drink, and I was being so sick,
bhaiyya
!”

“Sounds vaguely familiar.”

Conor heard Sedgwick’s soft remark behind him but ignored it. He put an arm around Radha, trying to soothe her. “Shhh, sweetheart. It’s all right now. Nobody is trying to hurt you. Kavita’s been trying to help you and me as well. You and I have both been ill—she’s had her hands full with the pair of us.”

“Also? You are being ill?” Her voice, muffled against his shoulder dropped down to a low conspiratorial whisper. “She must be a very bad woman, Con-ji. So wicked. She is poisoning us, I think.”

Despite her seriousness—or maybe because of it—Conor could not suppress a gasp of laughter. When she lifted her head to look into his face, however, he sobered immediately. Gently but firmly, he pushed her away from him and gave her arms a reassuring squeeze as he got to his feet.

“Sure it only tastes like poison, love. The best medicines always do.
Shrimati-ji
is a legend you know, a very great healer. I can’t think she’s been unkind to you. You’re not trying to make me believe that, are you?”

Reluctantly, Radha shook her head, and from lowered lids, glanced at the small, elderly woman with a new expression of tentative curiosity.

“Of course not.” He looked inquiringly at Kavita. “What are you both doing here,
ji
? Why did you bring her?”

“My recommendation,” Sedgwick said, before she could reply. “Your business agreement with Mehta is null and void. Khalil took his money back, so the little ‘godfather of the dance bar’ wants his property back; and since he and Khalil have had their
taporis
on the prowl for you for the past three days, he’ll want to pry information out of her about you. He’s not likely to be gentle, because he doesn’t have much to lose. You can’t sell a
sar dhakna
more than once.”

“And you will not be here to protect her from this,” Kavita added quietly. “Mumbai is not safe for you and now also not safe for Radha.”

“Thanks to me.” Conor brushed a hand over his eyes and saw Sedgwick regarding him with a half-sympathetic smirk.

“You know what they say, dude. ‘No good deed goes unpunished.’ I hate to say I told you so.”

“Then don’t,” Thomas said.

Conor bobbed his head gratefully at his brother, for the remark and also for not resuming a demand for explanations that he had some right to expect at this point. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Kavita gathered up a corner of her shawl and tossed it over her shoulder with an impatient sniff.

“Good deed, bad deed, what deed? This is some rubbish talk. Come. Ashram is there. Clean air and healthful foods are there. Massages and other Ayurvedic treatments also there. A good place, with many good things. Why such tension? It is nonsense making.”

Conor turned back to Radha, spreading his hands in appeal. “What do you think,
choti bahan
? You came away with me once already. Do you trust me enough to try it again?”

“I trust you. I will come with you, Con-ji,” she said, in a strained voice. She had been listening closely to their conversation, and her face was gray with fear. Repeatedly, her eyes met his and flicked skittishly away, a little guiltily, he thought. “I trust also your friends if you are saying it is good,” she added. “But, Rohit Mehta—he is angry with you, and he is angry also with me? I was not knowing this. He did not sound—”

Again, she glanced up and away from him. This time, the look of guilt was unmistakable, and they all saw it.

“Son of a bitch,” Sedgwick breathed. “I knew she would be trouble.”

Conor made an urgent motion for him to be silent. Keeping his voice low and calm, he encouraged her to continue. “He didn’t sound angry when you spoke to him, is that it? When was that, Radha? When did you speak to him?”
 

“Just now.” Her voice was barely audible. “Some little while ago.”

“How did you contact him?”

Without looking at him again, Radha reached through a slit in her
salwar kameez
and pulled Conor’s mobile phone from her pocket. Kavita hissed a sigh of disappointment.

“All of your things we brought to rail car. This phone she is taking from your room there.”

He nodded, keeping his eyes on Radha. “You spoke to him a little while ago, and he told you what to do. What was it?”

“He told me to run,” she whispered, “that he was coming and fetching me. I was frightened,
bhaiyya
. I was not wanting to go to a faraway place on a train. The woman—
Shrimati- ji
—she was telling me you also would come, but I was not believing it.”

“Where is he meeting you? What did you tell him?”

He had continued speaking in tones of quiet composure, but it seemed to only frighten her more. Her small body quaking with terror and remorse, she raised her eyes to look at the large metal sign hanging from the ceiling above their heads. Platform 28.

26

W
ITH
AN
OATH
OF
BARELY
CONTAINED
RAGE
, S
EDGWICK
WALKED
several steps away and slammed the bags of food he had been holding into a trash bin. He stood for several seconds with his hands on his hips, glaring down at the bin, but when he returned, his face was composed and his voice clipped and businesslike.

“Okay, we’ve got to get out of here, now. And by now, I mean right now. Get back down the platform to the private car. It’s got to connect with the next train out of the station, wherever it’s going. I’ll go figure that out. Tom, do you still have money? There’s a station engine attached to the Pullman, and the engineer is in it already, I saw him there earlier. Pay him whatever it takes to get the thing moved out into the yard. We’ve got to get it away from this platform. Kavita, get Radha out of sight. Lock her in the bathroom, if you have to. Take the phone away from her, obviously. Conor, you need to—shit, you look like hell. Tom, look after your brother. He’s ready to drop.”

Sedgwick tossed this final observation over his shoulder while sprinting to the nearest stairs and taking them three at a time. Conor watched him go and turned to find the others staring at him.

There was no use denying that he was in poor shape. Whatever air he was taking in felt like it was being strained through a ball of damp wool lodged in his throat. His brother scrutinized him more closely.

“Are you all right?”

“Not great,” he admitted, “but not ready to drop. I will be, though, if I have to hike around this feckin’ place anymore. Go on and have yer man get the train started. It’s got to come back this way to get out of the station. I’ll just wait and crawl on board when it gets here.”

Thomas opened his mouth to object but then closed it again and nodded. With one challenge put to rest, Conor turned next to Radha. She was still badly frightened, her face pale and tear-stained.

“
Chuisle
, it’ll be all right.” He gave her cheek a light pinch and then turned her around to face Thomas. “This is my own
bhaiyya
. His name is Thomas.” Conor shot his brother a playful glance. “You can call him Tom, though. He won’t mind. Go with him and Kavita-ji. I’m going to wait here and rest a bit, and we’ll all leave on the train together.”

“Do you promise this, Con-ji?” She searched his face. “You will not go away from me, again?”

“I can’t promise anything, Radha,” he replied. “All I can say is that I’m not planning to go anywhere.”

Surprisingly, his candor seemed to satisfy her. With a solemn nod, she took the hand Thomas offered, and the two of them set off together, following Kavita back to the private car.

He looked around for a place to sit, or more accurately, collapse. There was nothing. He shuffled over to one of the steel girders holding up the roof. First he leaned against it, and then, sinking down to the ground, he slumped against it. The crowds had thinned considerably in this section of the station. The people milling about earlier had disappeared from the platform, and there were few on the adjoining ones. In the distance, he heard voices and the low-throated hum of engines. Against all reasonable expectation, he found himself falling into a doze.

About ten minutes later, his catnap was disrupted by two noises occurring simultaneously: a distant, high-pitched squeal of train wheels and a much closer explosion of gunfire.