FORTY-EIGHT
The sky turned from black to blue and finally to grey as we drove the fifty miles back to Sambalpore. On a good day and in a fast car, it might have taken two hours. On a monsoon night and in a lorry that moved at the pace of a bullock cart, it was over four before the walls of the town came into view.
That gave me plenty of time to explain my theory, and my fears, to Surrender-not.
‘I should have spotted it myself, sir,’ he said as he drove, the hang-dog expression back on his face.
‘Nonsense,’ I said. ‘I only figured it out myself after speaking to Portelli last night.’
‘Still,’ he said, ‘I am a Hindu. It should have occurred to me.’
‘The point is, we need to get back and warn Punit,’ I said, though even as I uttered the words, a dissenting voice spoke softly in my head. Was there really any threat to Punit?
Maybe there wasn’t. Maybe I was wrong – Lord knows I’d been wrong about enough things to do with this case already, but something told me this was different. I dismissed the thoughts, though not before registering a sharp pang of guilt.
The streets of Sambalpore were thronged with people despite the torrential rain.
‘Head for the palace,’ I ordered.
‘It may be better to head for the temple, sir,’ said Surrender-not.
‘The crowds are out for the procession of Lord Jagannath’s chariot back to the temple.’ He frowned. ‘From the start, the whole case has been inextricably linked to Jagannath. Adhir was assassinated on the twenty-seventh day of Ashada, the start of the Jagannath festival. Now Punit is leading the procession back to the temple on its final day. If something is going to happen to him, it will probably happen there, while he is exposed to the crowd.’
‘Good point, Sergeant,’ I said. ‘Maybe you’re not such a bad Hindu after all.’
We inched our way through the hordes, finally reaching the bridge across the Mahanadi. On the other bank, the Rath of Jagannath, the Juggernaut, towered over thousands of the god’s devotees. It lumbered forward, pulled along by a frenzied mass to a cacophony of drums and cymbals and chanting voices. Punit was down there, amid the mêlée, maybe with Annie close by. Time was running out.
‘We’ll never make it in this thing,’ I said, opening the cab door. ‘We need to go on foot.’
Surrender-not parked the truck at the side of the road as best he could, then jumped down to join me as I sprinted across the bridge then fought through the procession. Up ahead, the Juggernaut grew closer. It seemed to have stopped and a cheer went up from the crowd.
‘Jagannath has reached the temple,’ shouted Surrender-not above the din.
Suddenly there was a bang, as of a pistol going off. Surrender-not and I stopped and looked at each other. A chill went up my spine. Then came several more explosions.
‘Firecrackers!’ cried Surrender-not.
‘Come on,’ I shouted, ‘there’s still time!’
We made it to the temple compound. The Juggernaut and a few hundred pilgrims had been allowed within its walls, with the rest of the throng held back by a line of soldiers. I spotted Major Bhardwaj under an umbrella near the entrance and ran up to him.
‘I need to see Prince Punit immediately!’
He seemed shocked by my sodden, mud-spattered appearance. He shook his head. ‘His Highness is inside the temple for the prayers.’
‘Colonel Arora, then,’ I said. ‘Where is he?’
‘The colonel is with him.’
‘I need to speak to Arora immediately!’ I shouted. ‘If I don’t, the consequences will be on your head.’
He stared at me for a moment, then shook his head again. I didn’t have the time to argue, so I pushed past him and ran forward with Surrender-not at my heels.
Inside the compound, on a raised dais under an awning stood members of the royal court, dressed to the nines despite the weather. Annie was among them, chatting to Emily Carmichael. She was as surprised to see me as Major Bhardwaj had been. Hurrying over to the railing, she called down.
‘What are you doing here, Sam?’
I ignored her and ran towards the temple doors. As I reached them, I was grabbed by two guards, while another two accosted Surrender-not. I should have remonstrated, but instead opted to punch my way free. Ten hours in the monsoon rains has a tendency to cloud your judgement. I managed to throw a right hook before being coshed on the head by something hard, and then the wet ground rose up to greet me. Close by, I could hear Surrender-not shouting. He at least was still on his feet.
I was lifted unceremoniously back up, pushed against the side of the dais, in preparation for a blow to the face, when the temple doors opened. Out strode Punit. The priest I’d seen with the Maharani Shubhadra was at his left hand and Colonel Arora at his right. He was dressed in a silk Kurta and turban, both encrusted in diamonds and emeralds, and it was fair to say he looked a bit better than I did. A conch shell rang out. Cymbals crashed and the crowds cheered, drowning out my shouts. The chief priest glanced over. He must have seen the guards restraining me. I hoped the sight of the struggle would cause him to pause. I hoped he’d realise something was dreadfully wrong and stop the coronation. But he looked straight through me.
Another saffron-clad priest walked over to him with a silver tray. The chief priest lifted a sweetmeat from it, blessed it and then placed it in the prince’s mouth. The conch shell sounded once more. A line of priests exited the temple and began distributing sweetmeats to the assembled dignitaries on the dais.
I called out one last time and Colonel Arora finally caught sight of me. After the initial shock, he walked over, his head protected by a flunkey carrying an umbrella, and ordered the guards to release me.
‘Wyndham?’ he said. ‘What the devil are you doing here? You look like a drowned goat.’
‘You need to get the prince out of here and back to the palace,’ I shouted. ‘He’s still in danger!’
‘Nonsense,’ he said sharply. ‘We’ve arrested Devika, and Davé. What further threat can there be?’
‘You need to trust me,’ I said urgently.
He stopped for a moment, then walked towards me. His neat, starched uniform darkened under the rain. He stopped inches from me. Water ran in rivulets down the crags of his face and into his beard. His expression hardened.
‘Tell me this isn’t some sort of joke.’
He barked some orders at the guards who instantly surrounded a startled Punit. He began to argue, then suddenly stopped and clutched at his chest. His legs gave way. Arora ran towards him, still shouting orders. My captors released their grip and I sprinted forward.
Arora cradled the prince’s head in his arms and shouted something at the soldiers. They lifted Punit and carried him to the shelter of the canopy. The prince writhed in pain, a crown of perspiration dotting his forehead.
‘Get a doctor,’ I shouted to Major Bhardwaj. At the sound of my voice, Punit opened his eyes and looked straight at me. His silk tunic was mud-spattered and sodden. He seemed to want to tell me something. I knelt down and put my ear close to his face. But no sound came from his lips.
Suddenly I felt Annie beside me. She had her hand on Punit’s neck, searching for a pulse.
‘His heart’s stopped.’
I tore open his tunic and began to pound at his sternum. A pre-cordial thump they’d called it in the army. They said it offered a chance of resuscitation if applied appropriately and quickly enough. I’d never seen it work, but I had to try. Twenty seconds passed, then forty, then a minute. I kept pounding. I felt Annie’s hand on my shoulder.
‘Sam.’
I looked up.
Tears ran down her face. Or maybe it was the rain. I looked back at Punit and hit his chest once more. A diamond studded button fell from his tunic. It skittered off the platform and landed in the mud at the foot of Lord Jagannath’s chariot.