The Delhi Deception (40 page)

No one noticed the tears streaming down the terrorist’s face as they led him into a secure cell deep in the secret basement of the immense property belonging to the United States of America.

Within minutes the school was in sight, but they were held up behind the entourage of vehicles following the black bulletproof jeep the American First Lady was traveling in. George was on the phone. “Of course I don’t have concrete evidence. Singh has told me all he knows. Richard, he didn’t know where, but think about it; it makes perfect sense; the American First Lady and the last heir of India’s famous Gandhi legacy—it’s definitely going to happen here. Richard, we need to evacuate the school.” He listened for a minute, his face becoming flushed with anger. He slammed down the phone and said to Carla, “Bloody asshole, he needs time.”

George phoned Kamal next. “How far?” He listened for a few moments, and then he said, “I can’t wait. I’m going in; just get here, dammit.”

He stopped the jeep and said to the women, “I’m going on foot. When you see Kamal and the team, send them in.”

“I’m coming,” Carla said and climbed out. George was already running toward the gate. Sprinting up behind him, she saw the alarm on the faces of the Secret Service men as George approached them. Pulling out their handguns, they commanded him to stop. But he ignored them and kept running. Carla closed her eyes and mumbled, “Oh God, no, they’re going to shoot him.”

George had by this time managed to pull out his badge and held it up, as they were now right in front of him, guns still drawn. He spoke to them, his voice loaded with urgency and authority. From a distance Carla watched them put their weapons back into the holsters.

George turned and called to her. He quickly briefed security, getting clearance for her, and then instructed her, “Carla, go inside and see if you recognize any of the terrorists.”

She nodded and, accompanied by a Secret Service agent, entered the auditorium. It was filled to capacity with at least five hundred people. She walked steadily down the left side, studying the faces as carefully as possible. Making eye contact with the agent, she shook her head, and they walked toward the other side. The headmaster was making his welcoming speech. The stage was well lit, but the auditorium was a little dark. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw George enter. Elouise was behind him and it looked like he was trying to push her outside. One of his men with his hand placed over her mouth and half lifting her off the floor carried her out. Carla started looking frantically for Zara and Chanda. She had to get them out of the auditorium. Sweat was dripping through her eyebrows stinging her eyes. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and continued scanning the rows. And then she saw her.

Her heart was beating painfully against her chest.
Could it be? She looked so serene. Oh my God, she’s pregnant.
But she can’t be this pregnant!
It was Nazeema, the young girl who had been held captive with Carla in Old Delhi.

George saw Carla staring at the girl. At her side in an instant he whispered, “Who is she?”

“She was from Hyderabad, sold by her parents and imprisoned in Ghulam Bazaar.”

“Are you sure?”

Carla swallowed and said, “Yes, it’s her. I’ll never forget her face.”

George spoke softly into his radio, and two more Secret Service men joined him. The three men edged closer to their suspect, their hands on weapons concealed in their clothing. Nazeema saw George, and her eyes stretched wide in fear. She looked around at someone behind her. Carla’s heart was in her throat as she recognized the corpulent eunuch from Ghulam Bazaar.

The eunuch stood up. He held a detonator above his head and shouted, “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” The red laser dot from a sniper’s rifle was on his forehead. George scrambled over the seats and knocked the detonator out of the man’s hands.

One of the Secret Service men screamed frantically, “It’s a Dead Man’s Switch. Catch it! It detonates on impact.” George reached for it, but a woman, screaming hysterically, jumped up suddenly and got in his way.

Everything was unfolding in slow motion before Carla. With eyes transfixed in a hypnotic stare, she launched into a desperate dive through the air. With her arms outstretched to the point where she felt they were being ripped from her sides, she caught the Dead Man’s Switch in her grasping hands, millimeters off the carpeted floor.

A man carefully lifted Carla, and then George was at her side. The eunuch was overpowered and handcuffed. Just then, Kamal appeared at the entrance and led the team into the auditorium. The screaming woman, now aware of the new arrivals, threw herself down on the floor. Her screams turned to pitiable moans as she clutched her head in belated attempt at self-protection. George looked down rather quizzically at her and then turned back to Carla. Gently, he pried open her fingers and carefully relieved her of the deadly switch. He leaned down, looked at her gravely, and whispered, “I’m impressed.”

Carla smiled, a flush of pride as much as the rush of adrenalin on her cheeks, but George was already calling Naeem to look at the detonator. Nazeema was standing between Asef and another Secret Service agent, wailing as they carefully examined the suicide vest she was wearing under her blue Kameez. Carla tried to calm her down, but the pupils of her eyes were abnormally dilated, and Carla realized that she was heavily drugged.

Bodyguards were escorting Sonja Gandhi and her son out of the hall. The American protection unit was encircling protectively around the visibly shaken American First Lady and hurrying out through another exit. The desperate headmaster was attempting a controlled evacuation, but if it weren’t for Mohanbir’s stern, deep voice, and authoritative presence, chaos would have ensued.

As the auditorium emptied, George told Carla to remain alert, to watch out for other members of the terrorist group. She carefully scrutinized the people as they filed out through the exits. As the last person left the hall, she sighed and sat down heavily on a chair.

“Where’s Nazeema?” she asked George.

“Naeem has taken her outside to wait for the Indian military’s bomb disposal unit. He seems to think it’s not going to be too tricky to disarm.”

“Please be gentle with her. She was not here out of her own free will, I’m sure of that.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they treat her well.”

“What about the terrorist group?”

“We are keeping them under surveillance. They’ll be more useful to us this way. We believe they might lead us to a very important target.”

Carla nodded. Her mind had emptied of all thoughts, and she just wanted to get home. Concerned, George said, “Come, I’ll get Kamal to drop you back at Elouise’s. She is going to need you. I have to get back to the embassy to appease the Indians. Richard’s run out of ideas. I’ll call you later. Keep an eye on Elouise; she’s going to be fragile.”

Carla looked at George and noticed how animated he was.
Duty to his country. His first and only love
, she thought, feeling strangely bereft.

.

CHAPTER 29

A
rriving back at the Singhs’ bungalow, Kamal had to get clearance from the Indian military guards posted at the gate. After confirming their identities with head office, they waved them through. Carla thanked Kamal, and smiling, he bade her farewell and left.

A plainclothes policeman opened the door for Carla. Somewhat surprised, she asked for Elouise. He told her that she was in her bedroom, and he would have stopped Carla from going through, but luckily Elouise had heard Carla’s voice and called her over. They embraced and returned to Elouise’s bedroom.

“Where’re the girls?” Carla asked, kicking off her sandals and lying down on the bed next to Elouise.

“They’re sleeping. Our house doctor came over and gave them each a shot. They’re traumatized and asking for their dad.”

Elouise started to weep, and Carla, sitting up, held her in her arms. She didn’t have the words to comfort her friend.

“What’s going to happen to Harry? I’m so afraid,” Elouise asked tearfully.

“I’m sure it’s going to be fine. The bomb didn’t detonate, so I reckon they’ll ask him about his involvement, and once they understand his motives, they’ll be more sympathetic. There’s no reason that he won’t cooperate.”

“I hope you’re right. As much as I abhor his actions, I still love him. He’s the father of my children.”

Carla smiled and told Elouise she should stop worrying and get some sleep. Elouise agreed and lay down, closing her eyes.

Carla returned to her own room and had a shower. She was desperately tired, but the events of the past twenty-four hours kept playing in her mind, preventing her from falling asleep. Eventually she drifted off and slept fitfully.

She woke with a start. Disoriented, she looked around the room. Kishan was smiling broadly, standing next to her bed.

“Morning, Kishan, what’s the time?”

“Good morning, Madam. It is ten thirty. Andrew sir waiting in living room to see Madam from nine o’clock this morning. But I tell him Madam verri tired and needing sleep.”

Smiling, Carla said, “You’re right. I needed to sleep. Where are Elouise and the kids?”

“In their room eating breakfast and watching Hindi film.”

“Please tell Andrew I’ll be with him in a minute.”

Kishan hurried out, and Carla took a shower, dressed in a linen dress, and towel-dried her hair. Not bothering to apply makeup, she walked to the lounge. It was very hot.

Andrew, who was reading an old copy of Time magazine, stood up when he saw her. Embracing her a little awkwardly, he said, “Thank God you’re safe.”

She smiled and sat down on the wingback chair opposite him. “Who told you?”

“George. We came back late last night from Srinagar and met him at the embassy.”

“What were you doing there?” Carla asked, surprised.

“Looking for you.” He smiled coyly.

“Oh, Andrew, that’s sweet. Did Leila go with you?”

“Um, yes, but please don’t think—”

“I’m not. Don’t worry. I’m so tired. I don’t think I will ever again complain about mundane life. I’ve had enough adventure and intrigue to last me a lifetime.”

“Have you given any thought about when you’re returning to London?”