11

Jack saw the fear spring onto Kusum’s face. Good! Let the bastard squirm. Give him a tiny taste of what Grace and Nellie must have felt before they died.

It was all Jack could do to keep from pulling the trigger. Practical considerations held him back. Not that anyone would hear the silenced shot; and the possibility that anyone knew Kusum had come here was remote. But disposing of the body would be a problem.

And there was still Kolabati to worry about. What had happened to her? Kusum seemed to care too much for his sister to harm her, but any man who could lead a ceremony like the one Jack had seen on that hellship was capable of anything.

“Where is she?” he repeated.

“Out of harm’s way, I assure you,” Kusum said in measured tones. “And out of yours.” A muscle throbbed in his cheek, as if someone were tapping insistently against the inside of his face.

“Where?”

“Safe… as long as I am well and able to return to her.”

Jack didn’t know how much of that to believe, and yet he dared not take it too lightly.

Kusum stood up.

Jack kept the pistol trained on his face. “Stay where you are!”

“I have to go now.”

Kusum turned his back and walked to the door. Jack had to admit the bastard had nerve. He paused there and faced Jack. “But I want to tell you one more thing: I spared your life tonight.”

Incredulous, Jack rose to his feet. “What?” He was tempted to mention the rakoshi but remembered Kolabati’s plea to say nothing of them. Apparently she hadn’t told Kusum that Jack had been on the boat tonight.

“I believe I spoke clearly. You are alive now only because of the service you performed for my family. I now consider that debt paid.”

“There was no debt. It was fee-for-service. You paid the price, I rendered the service. We’ve always been even.”

“That is not the way I choose to see it. However, I am informing you now that all debts are cancelled. And do not follow me. Someone might suffer for that.”

“Where is she?” Jack said, leveling the pistol. “If you don’t tell me, I’m going to shoot you in the right knee. If you still won’t talk, I’ll shoot you in the left knee.”

Jack was quite ready to do what he said, but Kusum made no move to escape. He continued facing him calmly.

“You may begin,” he told Jack. “I have suffered pain before.”

Jack glanced at Kusum’s empty left sleeve, then looked into his eyes and saw the unbreakable will of a fanatic. Kusum would die before uttering a word.

After an interminable silence, Kusum smiled thinly, stepped into the hall, and closed the door behind him. Containing the urge to hurl the .357 against the door, Jack lined up the empty chamber and gently let the hammer down on it. Then he went over and locked the door—but not before giving it a good kick.

Was Kolabati really in some kind of danger, or had Kusum been bluffing? He had a feeling he had been outplayed, but still did not feel he could have risked calling the bluff.

The question was: Where was Kolabati? He would try to trace her tomorrow. Maybe she really was on her way back to Washington. He wished he could be sure.

Jack kicked the door again. Harder.