The Delhi Deception (35 page)

“So when Elouise failed to give you what you needed, you turned your attention to Carla,” Andrew said scathingly.

George ignored the comment and continued, “As I was saying, he had access to India’s nuclear reactors, so we couldn’t ignore this or simply think of it as a coincidence.”

“And then you came up with the brilliant plan to have Carla kidnapped and drugged so that you could rescue her and gain her trust so that she could spy on him,” Andrew said.

“It was not planned that way.” George stood up and said, “I’m going to make another pot of coffee. Leila, do you mind helping me?”

Leila looked at him in surprise and said, “Of course not.” She followed him to the kitchen.

George closed the kitchen door and said, “Leila, I don’t think we can work with this guy. He’s way too emotional, and he could compromise the entire mission. Something big is going down, and he’s making me nervous.”

Leila placed her hand on his arm as he put the coffee percolator on the stove. “Don’t be silly. He’s OK, really. He’s a brilliant war reporter, and I’ve seen him do some crazy brave stuff. I think there’s a conflict of interest here. You guys are after the same woman.”

“No, it’s not tha—” Smiling sheepishly, George said, “‘Maybe you’re right. Carla is special. I can understand why someone would fight for her.”

Leila frowned and said, “George, to be honest, I think you should be careful.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Giving him a knowing smile, she turned around and removed the coffee from the stove, pouring it into the silver pot. Irked, George closed his eyes for a second as he tried to regain his composure. Then, as if they had been discussing the weather, he smiled and said, “Good, looks like I made a perfect pot. I think Sunil stashes his cookies away somewhere here.” He looked in the pantry and returned with an old-fashioned tin box. Leila carried the coffee and fresh cups while George followed her with the tin of cookies.

Andrew stood up politely and took the tray from Leila, placing it on George’s desk. Leila poured the coffee, and they helped themselves to the raisin cookies. George, who was sitting on the armrest of Leila’s chair, finished his coffee and returned to the other side of the desk. He switched on his computer and said, “I have some satellite images over Srinagar. My guys are watching the Delhi airport, as well as the border posts in Kashmir. There’s not a whole lot we can do right now, except keep our phones on and hope one of them makes contact.”

“Maybe Andrew and I can go to Kashmir and ask a few questions. The lady they visited the day before their disappearance might know something,” Leila said.

“I guess there’s no harm, but stay in contact with me at all times. I have a couple of guys there who could pick you up at the airport and assist you. I’ll give them a call. Anyway, you guys better get back to the hotel and try to sleep for a few hours before catching the 9:30 flight tomorrow morning. Please take a taxi, as I will be busy with Kamal.” George stood up and walked them to the door.

The scraping sound of the key turning in its lock woke Harry. Sleep hadn’t brought him rest but a relentless assault of nightmares. He sat up as Nizaam came in with a glass of milky tea. “Good morning, I got you some chai,” he said cheerfully.

“Thanks,” Harry said gruffly, looking for his phone. Nizaam handed it to him. “I need to phone home. Where can I get a signal?”

“Try downstairs,” Nizaam said casually. He had scrambled the signal the day before, but had decided to not tell the doctor and alarm him further.

Harry moved around, and when he got closer to the door that led out to the back, he picked up a weak signal. He dialed Elouise’s number, but the signal was not strong enough. The door was locked, but the key was in it; he unlocked the door and stepped outside. Early morning sunrays peeked over the gray cement buildings, warm against his skin with the promise of another hot summer’s day. He moved to the side of the building as the signal grew stronger. At last, with most bars showing, he dialed her number, but it was still switched off and went to voice mail.

While dialing Kishan, he noticed a row of windows. He strolled toward them and peered down into the basement. It was dark inside, and it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dimness.

Harry’s blood turned to ice as he saw his wife lying on a dirty mattress on the floor. Her hands were tied behind her back. He banged on the window and shouted, “Elouise, Elouise, it’s me, Harry.”

Elouise sat up confused. She nudged Carla next to her to wake her up, then looked up, squinting against the bright morning light. Her mouth opened in shock, and she started saying something, but Harry couldn’t hear her. The hot, stinking breath of the snarling dog behind him chilled him to the bone. Keeping as still as possible, he moved his head sideways and saw that the dog was on a leash. He turned around and saw the guard straining to control the fierce Doberman.

Ali appeared. With a savage expression matching the dog’s, he grabbed Harry roughly by the shoulders and heaved him into a standing position, tying up his wrists with plastic cable ties. Ali turned him around and said, “Dr. Singh, after you,” pushing him forward toward the door.

Harry was terrified for himself and his family.
What is Elouise doing here?
Ali steered him toward Nadir’s office, then knocked and pushed him forward. Nadir looked like he had just woken up. His eyes were puffy and he was grumpy. “What now?” he bellowed.

Cowering slightly, Ali said, “We found him outside. He saw the prisoners.”

Harry jumped in. “Why is my wife here? She knows nothing, I swear. I demand that you release her immediately.”

Nadir looked at Harry with a raised eyebrow. Amusement played at the corners of his mouth, and then he laughed, a deep, ugly cackle. His eyes bored into Harry, and then he slapped him with the back of his huge hand. The force of the blow had Harry staggering backwards; he would’ve fallen, but Ali caught him and kept him upright. A trickle of blood ran into his eye, as the diamond ring on Nadir’s index finger had cut the tender flesh above his eye.

Nadir rubbed his hand absentmindedly and then he said, in a voice filled with scorn and loathing, “We don’t need you anymore, my dear doctor. We will manage without you, and for your time and trouble we will make sure that your suffering is quick.”

“But what about my mother? You promised to get her out of that rat-infested stink hole in Lahore. We had a deal.”

Sitting down heavily on the chair at his desk, Nadir looked longingly at the bottle of whisky. Sighing with regret, he opened a drawer and took out a Cuban cigar instead. He unwrapped it slowly, with what appeared to be infinite patience, and said, “That old, fetid whore? She’s not your mother. She’s just a disgusting prostitute, her mind so weakened by venereal diseases that she believed you to be her long-begotten son. Quite touching, actually.” He dragged the smoke deep into his lungs.

The color drained from Harry’s face. Ashen, he stormed forward with a ferocious, almost inhuman scream, but Ali stopped him, forcing him to his knees by kicking him savagely in the groin. Harry lay writhing in pain, tears of frustration and self-condemnation flowing freely. When the throbbing pain started subsiding, he struggled onto his knees and said, “Please let my wife go. You can do whatever you want with me, just let her go. Please, I beg you.”

Nadir, who was drawing on his cigar with deep, intense pleasure, suddenly stood up and walked toward Harry, who was now on his knees, his shoulders hunched, head thrown back, and eyes squeezed tightly shut. Nadir kicked him in the gut. Harry folded, gasping for air. His head started spinning; his eyes now stretched wide and unfocused, black spots impairing his vision. In a hazy red fog of pain, he heard Nadir’s orders. “Lock him up with our prisoners and then start clearing the floor.”

Harry felt Ali dragging him by the feet. His head scraped and bounced in the pitted unevenness of the cement floor.

With her heart pounding and a rush of blood to her temples, Elouise forced the words: “Carla, did you see him?”

“Who?”

“Harry!”

“What? Where?”

“There—at the window. He was kneeling and knocking on the pane. He looked straight at me.”

“Then where did he go?”

“I don’t know, must be trying to rescue us. Oh my God, he must be careful.”

“Let’s get up,” Carla said.

Back to back, Carla’s feet against the wall and Elouise’s heels wedged in a large cavity in the cement, they got back onto their feet. As they made their way to the basin, the door opened, and Elouise screamed. Harry was bound and being dragged on his back into the room. He had a deep cut over his right eye, which was now completely swollen shut.

Elouise ran toward him, asking, “Are you OK?” Turning his head painfully to the right, he looked at her for a brief moment, and then down at the floor. Ali threw a package of cookies on the bed and, taking out scissors, cut the cable ties. He barked the instruction—“Eat. Quickly!” Elouise had no appetite, but Carla shoveled a couple of cookies into her mouth. Ali shot a mocking questioning glance at Elouise, but she shook her head. He shrugged, tying her up again and then Carla. When he got to the door, he stopped for a moment, looked at them strangely, and then walked out, locking the door behind him.

Elouise kissed Harry on his cheek and said, “Come sit down.” He followed her to the mattress, which Carla had kicked against the wall. Backs to the wall, they slid down to the floor. Harry was silent. Elouise waited for him to speak and then asked, “How did you find us?”

“How did you end up here?” Harry asked, the stare in his left eye boring into her with as much intensity as his tone.

“It’s quite a story.”

“Please tell me.”

Skipping the details of Carla’s and George’s involvement, Elouise told Harry how she had discovered the truth about his mother. Harry’s expression now was one of incredulity and utter horror. He started crying. Soon he was sobbing, loud, mournful sounds that bounced off the walls of the vast basement. Elouise began to weep, and Carla, her eyes now averted, felt the weight of their grief. After the tears, Harry and Elouise lay close to one another.

Suddenly Harry sat up. “There’s something I have to tell you, and you’re not going to like it.”

.

CHAPTER 26

H
arry’s narrative began with the events that had deeply affected him throughout his life. Elouise was already familiar with much of it, but was now hearing things that she either never knew or had only been told a few days before. Carla listened with great interest but felt her skin beginning to prickle with apprehension. Harry was depicting a much wider, more complex context of people and activities quite beyond the personal experiences of the everyday successful businessman, husband, and father. The heinous world of criminal activities and, in particular, that of regional and international terrorism was unfolding. Finally, his voice trailed off.

Elouise and Carla sat hunched in shock and disbelief, horrified by what was being planned there, where they were being held captive. Carla was overcome with a sense of dread by the fact that Harry knew about it and that he was deeply involved. She no longer felt compassion for him, not even pity. Elouise had long since turned away from him, inexpressible pain distorting her features. He pleaded with her, but she seemed not to hear him.