Danger at Dahlkari (31 page)

Michael moved on ahead with brisk, confident strides, pushing vines and branches out of the way. Ahmed held me firmly, forcing me to walk ahead of him, wrenching my arm whenever I hesitated or stumbled. Black clouds seemed to close in over me, only the sharp, searing pain keeping me from passing out entirely. We moved through the jungle, further and further away from the camp, and finally, an eternity later, we came upon two horses tethered to a tree. The morning sunshine was brilliant now, pouring down in dazzling rays.

“You can let go of her now, Ahmed. She won't scream. Even if she did, no one back there could hear her.”

Ahmed let go of me and stepped back. I staggered, and I would have fallen if Michael hadn't seized my arm. He looked at me with gentle blue eyes, a sad smile on that wide, beautifully shaped mouth.

“It's a long ride back to our camp, Lauren. We must do it as quickly as possible. I'm afraid you might struggle, might slow us down. I'm going to have to put you out for a while. I'm sorry.”

Still gripping my arm with his left hand, he drew back his right arm, balling up his hand into a tight fist, and then he slammed it against my jaw with stunning force. There was a blinding explosion of light inside of my head, burning, flashing. I felt myself falling, spinning into a void of blackness. I was dimly aware of strong arms catching me before I hit the ground, and then there was nothing but impenetrable darkness that not even the pain could break through.

I groaned, struggling against the thick blackness enveloping me, and one by one the heavy black shrouds lifted, ever so slowly, giving way to light veils of ashy gray through which I was dimly aware of sound and smell. My jaw ached painfully, as did my arm, and I groaned again. An arm wrapped itself around my shoulders, lifting me up gently, and then I felt a delicious cool wetness against my lips and Michael was telling me to drink, his voice soothing and tender. I drank. I opened my eyes. Michael set the glass aside and looked down at me.

“Are you all right now?”

I nodded, unable to speak. I was on a cot, cushions piled behind me, and Michael was sitting on the edge, leaning over me, that handsome face inches from my own. We were in a tent. A gorgeous carpet was spread over the ground, and there was also a small table desk and a chair. The tent was of heavy yellow silk, that special yellow that only the rajah was allowed to use. Michael brushed wisps of hair from my face, then touched my jaw with gentle fingers.

“I'm sorry I had to do that, Lauren. It was necessary. You understand that, don't you?”

“Where—where are we?”

“We're in the Thuggee camp—the camp Gordon sent me to find. I knew where it was all along, of course, and my main objective was to keep any of my men from locating it. Unfortunately one of the scouts happened to discover it and returned to announce its location in front of all the men. There was nothing I could do but order a massacre.”

“You—you had your own men murdered,” I whispered.

“I had to, Lauren.”

“You sent them to kill
us
. Yesterday morning they—”

“Not you,” he said. “I never intended for you to be killed. They were to abduct you and your friend Sally, bring you safely back to camp. That was why the tiger hunt was set up to begin with, so that you could be abducted. The rajah wanted you. He planned to keep you hidden away in the palace, forcing you to become one of his concubines. I had other plans for you, but I didn't tell him.”

Michael got up and stepped over to the front of the tent, lifting the flap to peer out. The camp was noisy, and I could tell that there must be at least a hundred men. Michael let the flap drop and turned back around, looking at me with a solemn expression.

“You and the girl were to be abducted from your hut, the others to be killed quickly, with silent efficiency. Unfortunately, you were awake, alert. You shot the man climbing in through the window, and that caused the rest of your party to come out firing. From then on it was sheer disaster.”

“How—how could you know what happened? All the Thugs were killed.”

“Ahmed was with them. He was standing in the jungle, watching the man climb into your window. He saw you shoot him, saw you rush out with a pistol in your hand. While the others were swarming over your camp he hurried back to report. That's why he was so vicious back there—he blames you for the deaths of all his comrades. He's been begging me to let him kill you. Ahmed's a hot-blooded youth, impulsive, too.”

“He—he followed me in the bazaar one afternoon, spying.”

Michael grinned. “The young fool actually thought he might have an opportunity to abduct you then, take you to the rajah and get in his good graces. He thought maybe he could lure you behind the stalls and knock you unconscious, somehow or other smuggle you to the palace. It was a foolish idea, but as I said he's hot-blooded, not always bright. The plan might actually have worked if that corporal hadn't been with you. As it turned out, the young idiot almost got himself caught.”

“Those men who crowded around Burke—”

“Our men, of course. If they hadn't been on hand Ahmed would have been in quite a mess.” Michael shook his head, the grin still playing on his lips. “His throat was sore for a week. When your corporal puts a stranglehold on someone he intends to hold him. Serves the young rascal right. He's a good lad, though, one of the best. That's why I've promised him a reward. I intend to let him have the girl—Sally.”

I sat up, gripping the side of the cot with my hands. I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. Michael still wore the high black boots, the clinging white trousers and scarlet jacket. The uniform was dusty and worn, but it was a
British
uniform. It was inconceivable that any Englishman could be so treacherous, could speak of such heinous deeds in a casual, chatty voice. It was almost beyond belief. He shoved a heavy blond wave from his forehead and sighed.

“You don't understand, do you?”

“How could I? You—you're British.”

Michael shook his head, smiling a curious smile. “No, Lauren. My father was Indian. He went to England to attend Oxford. He met a woman there, an engaging blonde who worked in a pub, serving ale to rowdy students. She became his mistress, and ultimately she gave birth to me.”

“The rajah. You're his—”

“His son,” Michael said. “I know it seems incredible. Through some peculiar twist of nature I inherited none of his features, none of his coloring. I took after my mother, and no one ever suspected I wasn't one hundred percent English. It's not all that unusual, actually. I understand there are any number of Negro bastards in Africa who can pass for white. In America, too. Some times it happens that way.”

“I—I can't believe it.”

“It's true, I assure you. When I was in my teens my father decided to send for me. When I arrived in India he was startled to find a fair, blue-eyed lad with perfect English features. He had originally intended to find a place for me at the palace, but after he saw me he decided I could ultimately be of far greater use if I continued to pass as white.”

Michael paused, his mouth lifting at one corner in a half smile. “He sent me back to England. I received the finest education his money could provide. Eventually I graduated from Sandhurst and received my commission and shipped out for India. By that time Sleeman had already begun persecuting the Thugs, trying to eliminate them. Those that escaped his purge began to congregate in this area. I spent two years in Delhi, passing information about special caravans to my father, and finally I came to Dahlkari to be your guardian's aide. I managed to persuade him to let me head most of the expeditions against the Thugs.”

“So—so you could cover up for them,” I said.

“Precisely. I did a rather good job of it. Then Gordon came along. He will die this afternoon along with all the rest of the English besides your friend Sally.”

“You plan to—to attack the camp?”

“That's why Ahmed and I were in the jungle this morning—getting the exact location. My father is dead. I know all about that. The English are responsible. This afternoon all the men here will join together in mass attack. Robert Gordon will die—they all will. Perhaps that'll serve as a warning to Sleeman.”

Michael gave a grim nod, his mouth tight, his blue eyes filled with savage hatred. He knew that a large detachment of English soldiers had left the garrison, and he had located them this morning, but he obviously had no idea that there had been
two
detachments, that at this very moment Gordon was leading a hundred and fifty men to the Thuggee camp. That knowledge gave me great strength. My jaw still ached, as did my arm, yet I managed to stand up, managed to retain a calm composure.

“And what about me?” I asked quietly.

“I'm going to take care of you for the rest of your life,” he said. “I love you, Lauren. I meant everything I said back at the garrison. I'm a very wealthy man now. My father saw to it that I received a five percent cut of everything throughout these past three years. The loot was converted into money, English money, and it's waiting for me in Australia, in a bank in Sydney. Now that my father's dead I have no desire to remain in India. As soon as I've avenged him we'll go to Australia. We'll start a new life there, together.”

He paused as a loud keening sound filled the air. It seemed to issue from a soul in torment, rising higher and higher. He frowned. “That's the wife of one of the men killed yesterday morning,” he informed me. “She was staying here at the camp with us. We brought our dead back yesterday, her husband among them. She's insisted on suttee, and there's nothing we can do but oblige her. The pyre's already been laid. It'll be lighted in half an hour. The widow's in the next tent, waiting to join her husband.”

The keening became a shrill, piercing shriek that shattered into a series of broken sobs. Eventually it subsided, replaced by occasional groans that were even more disturbing. Michael scowled, irritated by the interruption, and then he heaved a sigh, forcing himself to ignore those anguished groans.

“We'll be married,” he continued. “You'll have everything you could possibly desire.”

“You—you're insane.”

“Don't talk like that, Lauren.” His voice was hard. “You're going to be my wife.”

“I'd rather die!”

He looked incredulous, as though he were unable to comprehend what I had said. I realized then that he was indeed demented. I knew that there were people who simply had no conception of right and wrong, totally amoral individuals who could commit the most heinous crimes without the slightest remorse. Michael was one of them. He had been part of a horrible conspiracy of mass murder for gain, yet he saw no reason why I should hesitate to fall into his arms. He planned to turn Sally over to Ahmed, planned to murder Dollie and Reggie and all the others, and he actually couldn't see why that should make the least difference to me.

“You love me,” he said gruffly.

“No, Michael, I don't. I never have.”

He stepped quickly over to me and seized my arms, gripping them tightly. I winced, trying to pull away. He shook me viciously.

“You're lying!” he exclaimed.

“No—” I whispered.

“I don't believe you! You've
got
to love me.”

“I—I'm in love with Robert Gordon.”

Michael stared at me, shocked, profoundly shocked, and then, slowly, his expression changed. The corners of his mouth tightened, his nostrils flared, his lids lowered until his eyes were narrow slits. I saw his father in him then, saw the rajah's coarse savagery, surfacing now for the first time in his son. It had been there all along, of course. I had sensed a hard, ruthless quality from the first, but the mask had always been carefully maintained—until now. Hatred glowed in his eyes, hatred and brutal determination. He released me. He stepped back. A cruel smile twisted on his lips.

“Very well, Lauren,” he said quietly.

He stepped to the front of the tent. “Ahmed!” he called, and a moment later the Indian youth stepped inside. He glanced at me with loathing, then gave his full attention to Michael. They spoke quietly, their voices barely audible. Although I couldn't make out any of the words I knew they were discussing me, making some sort of arrangements. Ahmed nodded twice, and then he turned to look at me, smiling a smile that caused my blood to run cold. His fingers stroking the hilt of his knife, he laughed, his dark eyes burning with anticipation, and then he stepped back outside.

Michael folded his arms over his chest and glanced at me with complete indifference. The intense hatred was gone now. I might have been some inanimate object beneath his notice.

“You said you'd rather die,” he remarked. “It's just been arranged.”

“Ahmed—”

“Ahmed's going to murder the widow. She should stop moaning any minute now. He's going to strangle her, hide her body under the cushions—he'll bury it in the jungle later.”

The moans had continued all the while, and now they stopped abruptly. There was a shrill, terrified shriek, then a horrible gurgling sound that seemed to go on forever. It ceased. There was a heavy thud and the sound of something being dragged.

“Why?” I whispered. “Why did you have him kill that poor—”

“You're going to take her place.” His voice was a casual drawl. “The woman has always observed complete purdah, wearing an all-concealing white burka, only her eyes visible. Ahmed will return in a moment with the burka. It should fit you nicely. You'll be gagged, naturally, and when the funeral pyre is lighted, you'll be hurled into the flames.”

He looked bored, and I knew that as far as he was concerned I was dead already. His cool, indifferent manner was far more terrifying than outright menace. I hadn't really been frightened before, for he was Michael, Michael, someone I knew, someone who couldn't possibly wish to hurt me, and I realized now that this cool blond savage was someone I had never known at all. He sat down at the table, opened a drawer and took out some papers, ignoring me completely as he went through them. I had been stunned before, too stunned to feel any strong reaction, but now the impact of it all hit me full force. My whole body seemed to go limp, and it took great effort just to stand. There was a terrible hollow sensation in the pit of my stomach. My heart leaped wildly, pounding so loudly that I felt sure he must be able to hear it.