Pandu whipped the reins over the horses with both hands. We bounced and rattled over cobbles, while under my bravado swam a deep fear. Shirin’s captor had taken her to a temple intending to trade her for my bullion. Tulsidas Mandir—where the devil was it? If they discovered my subterfuge, what would become of her? And who had the reach to terrify a man like Rai Chand? A cold-eyed murderer? A master of the underworld?
Was it the gunships’ approach that set this villain’s plan in motion? He knew to the hour when they would load India’s taxes. I was his puppet, and baby Shirin, my string. I rubbed my wrists, remembering the burn of ropes, and felt a low growl push at the back of my throat.
The sun twinkled off the waves as our wagon climbed the road toward a promontory. A familiar stretch of sandy beach stretched in the distance. Could it be…?
Through the palms, the shape of a broken wall was familiar, piles of stone tumbled along its base. Snatches of memory returned. I’d tripped into a ditch, crawled over a knot of roots … a palm grove, husks of coconuts broken open … Rai Chand’s den!
Our coach flew past clustered shanties, overturned fishing boats and nets stretched over bamboo poles. Here and there children squatted among the rocks, hunting for crabs. On the beach, women crouched over red piles of tiny shrimp, sweeping them into semicircles to dry. The smell of fish, earth, and salt hit my nostrils, as though it was an ordinary day.
Passing a mango grove, the wagon followed a curved path. Stone-built houses stepped up the cliff in various states of disrepair. I spotted Rai Chand’s two-story dwelling. Had I really climbed onto that roof? I stared as we swept past, shaken by my foolhardiness.
Tulsidas temple was built on a cliffside. The approach wound upward, bounded on one side by a steep drop. Here sunsets would color the sky with wonder, lovers join hands and watch the day retire. It was a holy place too, an ancient place, now neglected, with twisted banyan trees bowed under the weight of centuries.
Outlined against the sky, a white-limbed statue of the elephant god Ganesh gazed down over a wide courtyard. Over ten feet high and seated on a plinth against a verdant background, this was a peaceful god.
Under an ornamented crown, his serpentine trunk was perfectly proportioned. Two hands held embellished weapons, a third curved over a round belly, while a palm was raised in blessing. I caught glimpses of a low shed, its terra-cotta tile roof likely a recent addition.
If I’d been less irate, I might have thought better of barging unarmed into Rai Chand’s grasp. But my blood was up; urgency drove me on. If only I wasn’t too late.
Our carriage clattered into an open terrace bounded by a low, curved wall. At the center, the mammoth Ganesh statue was flanked by a triangular temple. Pandu hauled on the reins, his scrawny frame arched backward. Once the wagon rolled to a halt beside a few wide steps, he swiped a forearm across his perspiring forehead, wilting in relief. His part of this foul business was done; mine was still underway.
A group of men came from between the temple pillars. Catching sight of my erstwhile captor, I hollered, “Rai Chand, you coward!”
If my gaze could have scorched him, he’d have burst into a pile of cinders.
He folded his hands to me. “Sahib, we are not what you think. We would not have harmed you.”
“No? You drugged me. Easier to handle an unconscious man, huh?”
He showed his palms. “We put medicine in the water. Only to return you to the street.”
“Now you hide behind a small child? Bring her out.”
In the silence, a faint clatter of wheels grew louder. One of Chand’s men shouted, “Seth-ji, police coming! Three carriages!”
“What have you done?” he cried, then waved his men forward. “Open the wagon!”
Vaulting down from the seat, I elbowed my way to the wagon’s rear. A pair of Chand’s men unhooked the plank and climbed in. Aided by others at the open end, they slid out one of the heavy, flat crates Diana had prepared.
I yelled to Chand, “I’ve done what you asked. Where is the child?”
He flicked a hand to send a man hurrying away.
As I feared, one of his henchmen lowered a crowbar onto the crate and began to pry the top open. Chand hurried over, his eyes bulging. Once the crate’s lid was loosened, the man squatted and worked it off.
Under a thin layer of straw, gold gleamed bright in the noonday sun.
When Rai Chand reached toward it, I knocked his hand away with a growl. “Touch one bar and I will break your arm.”
Grimacing, he motioned to me. “Take her! Take the girl!”
“Captain Jim!” wailed a high voice behind me. I felt a small tug on my clothes.
My breath jolting like a runaway train, I scooped up little Shirin, tucked her in my arms, and glared over her head at Chand.
“I have ransomed the child in full. Steal one bar, and you will regret it.”
He recoiled as though I’d struck him. Backing away, he gestured to his men to close up the crate.
The toddler’s arms tight around my neck, I strode from the gang to the open courtyard where the Framjis’ carriage had just arrived. However, the terrace was no longer empty. How did Chand imagine he’d get the wagon and its heavy boxes away?
Then I did not care, for Diana stepped down and ran toward us. People spilled out of other carriages too, some dressed in saffron, others in the white garb of devotees.
With a squeal, Shirin yanked forward and tumbled into Diana’s waiting arms.
Diana hugged her close. “Thank you, thank you,” she cried, burying her face in little Shirin’s mass of curls.
I propelled them on, hoping to be gone before Rai Chand discovered Adi’s steel implements and Mrs. Framji’s gold-leaf-wrapped sweetmeats layered under the thin cover of hay.