Chapter 13

  

“Pirate Vishnu,” I said, slapping down a printout of the page of the newspaper archive in front of Tamarind.

“Huh?” Tamarind stared into the distance beyond the glass front doors, distracted.

“You okay?” I asked, following her gaze. “You look distracted. You still hoping to catch a glimpse of Naveen?”

“There’s some kid in a dark hoodie who’s been lurking outside the doors since I’ve been back at my desk. He hasn’t come inside, but that’s a long time to be waiting for a study buddy. I thought I knew all the troublemakers, but he must be here just for summer session.”

“I don’t see him.”

“You got off track?” Tamarind said, turning her attention back to me. “I know pirates are way cool, but you’re usually more focused—”

“This,” I said, pointing at the sketch, “is Uncle Anand.”

“Shut. Up.”

“This explains how he got his hands on the treasure,” I said. “He was a pirate who stole it.”

“Wow,” Tamarind said. “Oh. My. Wow. Just wow.”

“A ship that originated in India came to San Francisco, where their treasure was stolen by Pirate Vishnu, AKA Uncle Anand.”

“The treasure originated in India,” Tamarind repeated. “What do you think it was?”

“I’m trying to think what it could be that fits with that timing.” I shook my head. “The ruling governance had changed from the British East India Company to the British Raj by then. There was a lot of wealth, but I don’t know about anything that was being given to America. We weren’t big players yet. Indian kings were giving gifts to Europeans, not Americans. And since the papers didn’t report further details, I’m not sure how to narrow it down.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” Tamarind said. “I know how big a country India is to research.”

“It was both British trading wealth and also rich princely states that had treasures. That’s why Anand was involved in the nationalist movement—sticking up for the little guy rather than colonizers or local royalty. My mom told me that he knew the men who created the symbolic Heart of India statue before it was swept out to sea during a bad monsoon season. India is a country full of treasures like that. You must have read about the treasure hoard discovered in the Sri Padmanabhaswamy temple in Trivandrum not too long ago. There’s no shortage of possible treasures.”

“I’m trying to think about how we can narrow it down,” Tamarind said.

“I should have made him tell me what the treasure was before I would help him.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Tamarind said. “Besides, I’m the one who’s good at convincing people to tell things they don’t want to tell.” Her nose ring sparkled in the light as she smiled mischievously. “But hang on. This article doesn’t say anything about a treasure. In fact, it says his crew attacked this ship and scared the crap out of them, but then they didn’t steal anything.”

“There were four more references to Pirate Vishnu in the paper,” I said. “Three were just regurgitations of other articles and didn’t say anything new. But one mentioned another ship that was attacked. During this attack, Pirate Vishnu and his crew took the ship.”

Tamarind took the article printout from my hand, her bright red lips hanging open. “A crew member of the ship that was attacked reported a Negro man with a Chinese crew,” she summarized, “but I’m guessing that’s our guy.”

“I doubt the sailor had seen many dark-skinned people from the south of India. And it’s only a week later than the first article. The same reporter identified them as the same crew on the same ship.”

“No deaths,” Tamarind read. “They organized, attacked, and stole the entire ship, but they didn’t kill anyone, or even maim anyone. It looks like that was much to the reporter’s disappointment. His story is on the front page but below the fold.” Tamarind frowned as she finished the article. “Even though they took the ship, there’s still nothing reported about what the ship was carrying besides average trading supplies.”

“I have an idea about that,” I said. “What if he stole something that was already stolen?”

“Shut. Up.”

“That would explain why it wasn’t reported,” I said. The facts were falling into place. I’d need more evidence to be sure, but I felt like I was finally onto something.

“You are the man, Jaya.”

“Look at the facts here,” I said. “On their first try, they attacked the wrong ship. That’s why they didn’t care at all about that ship and abandoned it.”

“They were after something specific,” Tamarind said.

“But what was it they stole?”

Tamarind grinned at me. “I have something to inspire you.” She snuck behind her desk and reappeared a few seconds later. She handed me a sticker of a pirate flag—the skull and crossbones.

“I got this to put on my phone,” she said. “But I think it’s more appropriate for you to have today.”

My stomach rumbled as I put the sticker in my back pocket.

“I need a snack break,” I said.

“Not without me. You can’t drop a pirate bombshell and not think it through without me. Let me get Sarah to cover for me.”

I slung my messenger bag over my shoulder while Tamarind went to talk to one of her colleagues. She came back a minute later with a sour expression on her face.

“I can’t take another break yet,” Tamarind said. “Sometimes I don’t know how I ended up working for the Man.” She scrunched up her face in silent protest.

“Back soon,” I promised.

Walking out of the library, I headed down the few steps in the direction of my favorite campus coffee house. As I walked I noticed someone walking alongside me. A man with a black hooded sweatshirt took slow strides a few feet away. His hood was pulled over his head in spite of the warm day. His gait wavered, like he was nervous or high.

I hurried my pace, and the man fell back. I was just being paranoid because of everything that was going on. Even though it was summer, there were still people around campus. And this was San Francisco. Some of them were bound to be strange.

I relaxed. It was the wrong thing to do. As soon as I turned to look the other way, the man knocked into me. He slammed into my shoulder, knocking me to the ground.

“Hey!” I yelled, pain shooting up through my elbow and tail bone.

The man held out his arm. It wasn’t an attempt to help me up. I felt a sharp tug across my body. He was after my bag.

I had my bag slung across my body, so although the sharp tug caught me off guard, my attacker didn’t manage to pull the bag away.

Ready for his second attempt, I bent my knees from my prostrate position, planting my feet flat on the ground, and took firm hold of the strap of my bag. As he gave a second tug, my body lifted up along with the bag slung over my body. I pushed with my leg as he pulled, and we stood directly in front of each other. That’s when I saw his face. Or rather, the lack thereof. A stocking was pulled over his head, obscuring his appearance.

Like most people, this man stood quite a bit taller than me. Between the pantyhose distorting his features and the bulky sweatshirt covering much of his body, that’s about all I could tell.

Before I could cry out again, he gave another sharp yank to the strap of my bag, higher this time. It pulled across my back, yanking me sideways and knocking the breath out of me. The strap caught under my arm. He didn’t loosen his grip.

None of the few people walking by on the far side of the quad seemed to be paying the slightest bit of attention to us. I was on my own. I spun on my heel to face away from the attempted thief. I lowered my center of gravity and heaved.

It’s easier to throw someone over you than you’d imagine. As a small person, it’s one of the most important things I’ve learned. The man tumbled over me with ease, landing on his back. He was even lighter than I’d imagined. My assailant groaned as he hit the concrete.

I didn’t think, but acted on instinct from years of training. When you attend a self-defense or martial arts class where they send one big guy after another at you, you learn to react. But what they don’t teach you is to think about your possessions along with your physical self. The man had kept hold of my bag as he twisted over me. As I flipped him over me, my bag went with him.

As soon as I realized what I’d done, I lunged forward. The man rolled away with my bag.

My right palm skidded across the concrete in my desperate forward grasp, leaving skin behind. I landed on my elbow. The mugger didn’t look back. As pain throbbed in my hand and elbow, he jumped up and sprinted away.

All I could do was watch as he disappeared around the side of the building—and along with him, my laptop and Anand’s map.