5

Kolabati paced the apartment, clutching the empty bottle that had once held the rakoshi elixir, waiting for Kusum. Again and again her mind ranged over the sequence of events last night: First, her brother disappeared from the reception; then the rakoshi odor at Jack’s apartment and the eyes he said he had seen. There had to be a link between Kusum and the rakoshi. And she was determined to find it. But first she had to find Kusum and keep track of him. Where did he go at night?

The morning wore on. By noon, when she had begun to fear he would not show up at all, there came the sound of his key in the door.

Kusum entered, looking tired and preoccupied. He glanced up and saw her.

“Bati. I thought you’d be with your American lover.”

“I’ve been waiting all morning for you.”

“Why? Have you thought of a new way to torment me since last night?”

This wasn’t going the way Kolabati wanted. She had planned a rational discussion with her brother. To this end, she had dressed in a long-sleeved, high-collared white blouse and baggy white slacks.

“No one has tormented you,” she said with a small smile and a placating tone. “At least not intentionally.”

He made a guttural sound. “I sincerely doubt that.”

“The world is changing. I’ve learned to change with it. So must you.”

“Certain things never change.”

He started toward his room. Kolabati had to stop him before he locked himself away in there.

“That’s true. I have one of those unchanging things in my hand.”

Kusum stopped and looked at her questioningly. She held up the bottle, watching his face closely. His expression registered nothing but puzzlement. If he recognized the bottle, he hid it well.

“I’m in no mood for games, Bati.”

“I assure you, my brother, this is no game.” She removed the top and held the bottle out to him. “Tell me if you recognize the odor.”

Kusum took the bottle and held it under his long nose. His eyes widened. “This cannot be! It’s impossible!”

“You can’t deny the testament of your senses.” He glared at her. “First you embarrass me, now you try to make a fool of me as well!”

“It was in Jack’s apartment last night!” Kusum held it up to his nose again. Shaking his head, he went to an overstuffed couch nearby and sank into it. “I don’t understand this,” he said in a tired voice. Kolabati seated herself opposite him. “Of course you do.” His head snapped up, his eyes challenging her. “Are you calling me a liar?”

Kolabati looked away. There were rakoshi in New York. Kusum was in New York. She possessed a logical mind and could imagine no circumstances under which these two facts could exist independently of each other. Yet she sensed that now was not the right time to let Kusum know how certain she was of his involvement. He was already on guard. Any more signs of suspicion on her part and he would shut her out completely.

“What am I supposed to think?” she told him. “Are we not Keepers? The only Keepers?”

“But you saw the egg. How can you doubt me?” There was a note of pleading in his voice, of a man who wanted very much to be believed. He was so convincing. Kolabati was sorely tempted to take his word. “Then explain to me what you smell in that bottle.” Kusum shrugged. “A hoax. An elaborate, foul hoax.”

“Kusum, they were there! Last night and the night before as well!”

“Listen to me.” He rose and stood over her. “Did you ever actually see a rakosh these last two nights?”

“No, but there was the odor. There was no mistaking that.”

“I don’t doubt there was an odor, but an odor can be faked—”

“There was something there!”

“—and so we’re left with only your impressions. Nothing tangible.”

“Isn’t that bottle in your hand tangible enough?”

Kusum handed it to her. “An interesting imitation. It almost had me fooled, but I’m quite sure it’s not genuine. By the way, what happened to the contents?”

“Poured down a sewer.”

His expression remained bland. “Too bad. I could have had it analyzed and perhaps we could learn who is perpetrating this hoax. I want to know that before I do another thing.”

“Why would someone go to all the trouble?”

His gaze penetrated her. “A political enemy, perhaps. One who has uncovered our secret.”

Kolabati felt the clutch of fear at her throat. She shook it off. This was absurd! It was Kusum behind it all. She was sure of it. But for a moment there he almost had her believing him.

“That isn’t possible!”

He pointed to the bottle in her hand. “A few moments ago I would have said the same about that.”

Kolabati continued to play along.

“What do we do?”

“We find out who is behind this.” He started for the door. “And I’ll begin right now.”

“I’ll come with you.”

He paused. “No. You’d better wait here. I’m expecting an important call on Consulate business. That’s why I came home. You’ll have to wait here and take the message for me.”

“All right. But won’t you need me?”

“If I do, I’ll call you. And don’t follow me—you know what happened last time.”

Kolabati allowed him to leave. She watched through the peephole in the apartment door until he entered the elevator. As soon as the doors slid closed behind him, she ran into the hall and pressed the button for the second elevator. It opened a moment later and took her down to the lobby in time to see Kusum stroll out the front entrance of the building.

This will be easy, she thought. There should be no problem trailing a tall, slender, turbaned Indian through midtown Manhattan.

Excitement pushed her on. At last she would find where Kusum spent his time. And there, she was quite sure, she would find what should not be. She still did not see how it was possible, but all the evidence pointed to the existence of rakoshi in New York. And despite all his protests to the contrary, Kusum was involved. She knew it.

Staying half a block behind, she followed Kusum down Fifth Avenue to Central Park South with no trouble. The going became rougher after that. Sunday shoppers were out in force and the sidewalks became congested. Still she managed to keep him in view until he entered Rockefeller Plaza. She had been here once in the winter when the area had been mobbed with ice skaters and Christmas shoppers wandering about the huge Rockefeller Center tree. Today there was a different kind of crowd, but no less dense. A jazz group was playing imitation Coltrane and every few feet there were men with pushcarts selling fruit, candy, or balloons. Instead of ice skating, people were milling about or taking the sun with their shirts off.

Kusum was nowhere to be seen.

Kolabati frantically pushed her way through the crowd. She circled the dry, sun-drenched ice rink. Kusum was gone. He must have spotted her and ducked into a cab or down a subway entrance.

She stood amid the happy, carefree crowd, biting her lower lip, so frustrated she wanted to cry.