The Huntsman

by Rafael

  Duncan bit deep into the tiger’s rump before dashing away. Distracted from pursuing the injured dog, the tiger roared its fury. At the sight of a limping Ronan, Janesh bellowed his own. The tiger whirled. Cold, murderous eyes lasered the distance to the near-naked human. It crouched.

  Janesh had a chance to make the trees but the beast would leap on his back before he climbed up. He hurled his spear and broke for the water. The unfamiliar object hurtling toward the tiger caused it to hesitate, bought Janesh precious seconds. Dim awareness showed the lake’s denizens had paused to watch the unfolding drama. Behind him the thump of footfalls confirmed he’d missed. He splashed into the water. In leaps and bounds the tiger powered closer. Janesh filled his lungs and dove. Strong, efficient leg kicks thrust him deeper. Above him the tiger swam in fruitless search. Below him three crocodiles rose from the lakebed.

  At this depth, only the lake’s colder water saved him from certain death. Torpid lethargy slowed the reptiles’ rise. The warm-blooded mammal they chased somersaulted and swam for the paddling tiger. Blade in hand, Janesh twisted sideways and sliced the tiger open along its length. Lungs afire, he continued for the shore, bursting through the surface when his feet touched ground. Gasping for breath, he turned to look back. A crocodile tail flashed from below. The tiger jerked once, twice. Without a sound, its head sank below the water.

  At the shore an anxious Duncan barked and paced. Urged him to come out. Ronan held his hind leg rigid, limped along on three. He hurried to join them. Janesh dropped down to wrap an arm around each. He scratched and patted. They licked and crooned. Once more the three had cheated death to reaffirm their bonds. None gave a thought to what the future might hold.

  Janesh washed Ronan’s still bleeding gash and packed it with lakebed mud. Spear once more in hand, he set a slow pace as the three returned to the forest. Behind them the land animals resumed their feeding.

  CHAPTER 9 Table for Two

  Again Miranda glanced at the clock. 6:43pm. She backed away from the mirror for a final once over. Her white, one-piece, sleeveless, below-the-knees, full skirt dress had been a steal. And a perfect fit no less. Its décolletage managed to be just revealing enough without passing into immodesty. Smooth, clean lines contrasted well with her hair’s untamed finish. The skirt billowed and fluffed as she turned and whirled. A small, thin-strapped, over-the-shoulder bag held the minimal necessities and matched her red wedge pumps. Light mascara and bright-red lipstick completed the look.

  She smiled at her reflection. Sara Bell might have reawakened the girl, but Janesh McKenzie brought out her woman. She glanced at the clock. 6:46pm. He’d called last night after three days and confirmed 7pm for dinner. A quick scan confirmed nothing untoward left about. The evening did not include bringing him back here but then again, when had she last had a man?

  Hallway sensors detected her exit and summoned an elevator. “Floor, please?”

  “Ground floor, please.” she responded, smiling at the polite exchange with a machine. She wanted to arrive early to see if Janesh McKenzie did too. Unlike most men in her presence, who became obsequious and accommodating, he had remained somewhat impenetrable. If he arrived late, she’d take a cooler, more aloof approach. An early one might indicate a reciprocal interest. She’d press to find out.

  Turned heads at her entrance confirmed the dress had the desired impact. An enchanted maitre d stepped from behind his stand. “Kumārī Logan. It’s a pleasure to see you again. May I escort you to a table?”

  “No, thank you.” she smiled. “I’m meeting someone at 7. May I do so at the bar?”

  “Of course. This way, please.” The bartender’s eyes widened at their approach.

  “Is this acceptable, Kumārī Logan?”

  “Perfect. Thank you, so much.”

  “I am at your service should you require anything else.” He bowed before returning to his station.

  “Vodka tonic, please. With a lime.”

  Miranda sat and turned the seat to face the entrance. On her right a metal rail separated the dining area. She leaned back and crossed long, shapely legs glad the dress’ length eliminated any need for adjustment. The bartender carefully placed the drink and napkin before her. “Anything else.”

  “Not at the moment.” She sipped, nodding in approval.

  Janesh McKenzie arrived neither early nor late. Precisely at 7, he stood at the entrance. Without scanning the room he locked eyes with her and smiled. The maitre d rushed to his side. Miranda watched him shake his head and point toward the bar. He sauntered over oblivious to the eyes following his every step. Well-tailored, smoke-gray slacks accompanied a black, collared pullover. A black-banded Patek Philippe decorated his wrist. Shined, black leather shoes, glinted every few steps. A hair strand again creased his forehead. His muscular physique did not bulge through the clothes but the ensemble couldn’t hide it either. Warm, brown eyes took her in. A raised eyebrow marked the only reaction.

  “Good evening, Dr. Logan. How nice to see you again.”

  “Good evening, Mr. McKenzie. I see the wild man is equally at home in the civilized world. Given this is India, have you considered you might be the Earl of Greystoke reincarnated?”

  Before he could add to his soft chuckle, the bartender rushed over. “Mahān Śikārī. It is an honor, Sri McKenzie. How may I be of service?”

  “Bourbon neat, thank you.”

  “You are quite the celebrity, Mr. McKenzie.” Again he chuckled.

  “I assure you, Dr. Logan. If we take a walk, you will garner far more attention than I.” Janesh looked about the room. “I expected you’d be sitting at a table.”

  “An unaccompanied woman sitting at a bar is daring. An unaccompanied woman at a dinner table is lonely. Which do you prefer?”

  He gave her a sidelong glance, grinned, then sipped his drink. “Are you hungry, Dr. Logan?”

  “Quite.” Janesh emptied the glass.

  “The evening demands a meal that is up to it. Come. I know the perfect place.”

  For a moment her confidence faltered. “Where, where are we going? Am I underdressed, overdressed?”

  “A daring woman would be curious. A lonely one wouldn’t care. Which one are you?” She returned his look and grin, then opened her bag to pay.

  “The bill is already taken care of.”

  “Well then, Mr. McKenzie. Lead on.”

  Outside the setting sun reduced the coming night to delicious warmth. A few cars honked as they crossed the street. One slowed to engage Janesh in Hindi. The driver gave Miranda the once over, laughed, and sped off. Janesh turned toward Miranda. “See what I mean. No one’s paying the slightest bit of attention to me.”

  “What did that man say?”

  “Oh, something about your availability for mating.”

  “What did you say?” Janesh grinned at her.

  “Not for the next few hours.” Miranda laughed.

  “Thank you. I think.”

  Across from the hotel an open-topped, two-seater jeep sat parked. It looked either brand new or well kept. She couldn’t tell which. Duncan and Ronan, sitting in the rear storage area, wagged their tails. He’d left the key in the ignition. Miranda wondered if anyone had even thought about it. As he mounted the sidewalk to open the door, she noticed the gash along Ronan’s hindquarter. “Oh my God.” She leaned in stroking Ronan’s neck and back. “Easy boy, easy. Let me look at that.”

  Instinct surrendered to her professional competence. Ronan stood still as she examined the wound. Calm, steady hands felt along the tear. Someone had shaved the fur and covered the slash with an antibacterial salve. Her eyes flashed as she turned toward Janesh. “Did a tiger do this?” He walked around to the driver’s side.

  “Oh please. He’s been insufferable. Showing it off every chance he gets. He feels like he’s been initiated into the club.” Miranda frowned at him before bending to sniff the wound for any sign of infection. She placed a hand on either side of Ronan’s head to examine his eyes, gum
s, and teeth. A small crowd gathered, marveled at her manhandling the huge dog. Miranda buckled herself into the passenger’s seat.

  “He had excellent care. My compliments to the vet.” Janesh wore a chastened expression.

  “For what it’s worth, he did berate and lecture me.”

  “How did it happen?” Janesh pulled into traffic.

  “It’s not something I normally talk about.” He glanced at her and smiled. “So we’ll label this Exception #1.”

  An edited version of their two days in the forest ensued. Miranda listened in rapt silence, shuddered at the thought of swimming in a crocodile infested river. She leaned back in the seat, letting the breeze from the car’s motion, the passing sights, the warm air, the deepening night cocoon her.

  In the span of three weeks a dull zoologist had gone from watching a hippo give birth to riding through a foreign city in an exotic land next to a wild man who hunted and killed tigers. In between she’d joined the CIA who paid for fancy trips and fancy clothes. All in pursuit of a demonic killer who might be a genius lunatic. She allowed a slight, self-satisfied smile. Her staid, predictable life had become operatic drama

  Thank God for Professor Akiyama. Through all the bizarre absurdity, Janesh McKenzie emerged as an implacable rock. Next to him she felt at once secure and invincible. Greg Dawson’s face appeared before her. She shook it away. Perhaps in time something like contented love might emerge. Dear, sweet Greg would make a supportive husband and nurturing father. But who would she be? She needed—and wanted—a man.

  And yet the one next to her remained a complete stranger. She knew nothing about him. Could she stand the heartache if he entered a wilderness and never returned? His grin, his eyes, his hair, his voice. Without so much as brushing against her, she had to squeeze her thighs to ease the heat surges within. He made her feel savage. She sank deeper in the seat and cleared her thoughts. The night enveloped her.

  “Does tiger hunting pay the bills, Mr. McKenzie?”

  “At what point do you stop calling me Mr. McKenzie?”

  “The instant you call me Miranda. But don’t answer a question with a question.”

  Janesh slowed and pulled head first into a space. A few maneuvers and he killed the engine. The key came out of the ignition. He turned and grinned at her. “Okay, Miranda. But it’ll have to wait. We’re here.”

  She didn’t wait for him to open the door. Nothing jumped out at her as a restaurant. The building’s windows displayed professional offices but Janesh stepped onto the sidewalk and headed for its entrance. “Right this way. A short elevator ride and we’ll be there. Promise. Come.” Startling a few passers-by, the eager dogs leaped from the jeep and trotted up behind him as he held the door open.

  The dogs, placid and calm, sat while Janesh allowed the lobby to clear before boarding an elevator. “They really are very well behaved.” Miranda exclaimed.

  “Actually, they’re a gift from my friend, the restaurant’s owner. He too worried about my forest forays and trained them himself. He’d kill me if I left them downstairs.”

  “You used to hunt tigers alone?” He nodded.

  “I used to be much better at it. They’ve made me a bit lazy.” An astonished Miranda couldn’t tell if he was putting her on.

  The elevator opened on the top floor to a short hallway. At its end, a tuxedoed man looked up from the reception stand. His eyes widened in delight as he rushed out from behind it.

  “Sri McKenzie. Mahān Śikārī. It’s wonderful to see you again.” He shook Janesh’s hand with great enthusiasm and warmth.

  “Singh, this is Miranda. Miranda this is the very affable, Singh.”

  “Good evening, madame. A distinct pleasure to meet you. Welcome to Chatur.”

  “Thank you, Singh. I’m very glad to be here.” He turned to Janesh.

  “I’ll tell Chatur. He’ll want to greet you out here.”

  The genial Singh hurried away. Moments later, Chatur strolled through the entrance. Janesh extended a hand.

  “It’s good to see…” The short man brushed it aside

  “I heard about your latest adventure. I’ll speak to you soon enough.” Chatur locked his gaze on Miranda. He bowed deeply, took her hand to kiss. He straightened.

  “Your skin is like ivory, your eyes like emeralds, your hair like rubies. This uncivilized lout has never brought a woman to my establishment and now a goddess accompanies him. I am humbled and honored…”

  “Mi, Miranda. My name is Miranda.”

  “I thought nothing could exceed your beauty until I heard your name. It sings. I am Chatur. Welcome to my restaurant.”

  “Alright, alright. Laying it on a bit thick, don’t you think?”

  “Ah, the ardent suitor grunts and betrays his jealousy. For daring to speak in your presence, we’ll let him suffer a bit longer. Permit me for the moment to greet two friends who know the true meaning of loyalty.”

  Chatur stepped away to pat his chest. “Come, Ronan, come.” The dog stood to place his paws on Chatur’s shoulder, towered over him. Chatur scratched his sides and back while Ronan eagerly licked his face. “Yes, yes, you are a mighty warrior. The Infirm Hunter dodders if he let a tiger get this close to you.” The ever dispassionate Duncan paced and whined, lost patience, and pushed Ronan aside. “Ah, Duncan. Don’t let yourself become as rude as the Feeble Hunter.”

  With a parting scratch, Chatur turned back to Miranda. “Despite having to endure the sight of this unwashed oaf seated there, it would please me to no end if you would accept my best table.”

  “You may console yourself, Chatur, with the knowledge it is I who must eat with him.” He smiled at her.

  “My suffering endures. Yours has just begun. Singh, table 3, please.” He bent to kiss Miranda’s hand again. “I’ll join you as soon as my duties permit.” As she followed Singh, Janesh bent low.

  “How quickly we forget our friends, Dr. Logan.”

  “Come along, Mr. McKenzie. We must take our blessings where we can.”

  The entrance opened to a gigantic circular room. Against the walled circumference, service stations positioned every twenty-five feet along with cabinets bulging with china, silver, and glassware permitted the wait staff to manage their assigned tables. Above the five foot wall, huge picture windows stretched thirteen feet to a dome adorned with the goddess Vishna. A circular platform, raised four feet off the floor, filled the room’s center and its almost imperceptible rotation provided diners a 360° panorama illuminated by Chandrapur. Dim, subdued lighting finished the effect with a warm, intimate atmosphere.

  Diners, already gawking at the miniature ponies disguised as dogs, turned their heads as Singh held Miranda’s hand to step up low stairs onto the platform. A whispered undercurrent grew when Janesh stepped up. Some pointed and waved. Miranda’s temper flared at a few Indian beauties who pointedly tried to catch Janesh’s eye. She straightened and slowed to a smug, regal sashay.

  Singh brought them to a table on the platform’s rim within a more spacious area set off by decorative railings. He fussed over settings and comfort, introduced their waiter and waitress, hovered while they took drink orders, then discretely retired. The waitress returned, placed menus, dispensed with a tiresome specials announcement, then proved herself equally discrete. Miranda sipped her gin and tonic, noting her limit had one left.

  “I’m impressed. What must tables 1 and 2 be like?”

  “Table 3 is it. The original design included the two tables but Chatur had them ripped out to allow the additional space. A Table 3 placement is considered quite an honor among Chandrapur’s dining cognoscenti.”

  “How long have you known Chatur?”

  “We met in Cambridge. He left as an undergraduate. I followed a year later.”

  “And where are the dogs?”

  “Don’t let their fawning fool you. They knew what was coming. Right now they’re happily gnawing on fresh bones in Chatur’s office.” Miranda looked around.

  “His of
fice?”

  “This room is bigger than it appears. Beyond the outer wall a kitchen takes up half the circumference. The remainder contains storage and supply areas, administrative rooms, and Chatur’s private office.” Janesh reached for the menus and passed her one. “Don’t be afraid to choose. You can’t go wrong whatever you pick.”

  Her stomach threatening to protest further delay, she opened the ornate carte. English descriptions and Janesh’s urging proved no help. Unfamiliar words, intermingled throughout, sprang from the pages. “What is chaat, Janesh?”

  “You must be looking at the appetizers.” Miranda nodded.

  “Served like your sidewalk hotdog stands, chaat is a savory snack made of fried dough beloved throughout India. Chatur took this popular street fare and gave it his own flare and style. He’s mixed in herbs and spices, with mint, tamarind and yogurt, and added in a ginger potato hash. Quite delicious and an excellent choice to start.”

  “Okay. Put me down for one of those.” She continued scanning.”And vindaloo? What is that?”

  “Vindaloo is a spicy curry dish distinguished by vinegar and Kashmiri chilies, served alongside whatever the menu selection is. Besides being quite tasty, it’s rich in vitamins and minerals along with immunity and healing properties.”

  “Great.” She hummed a bit. “What is tandoor? And you still haven’t told me if tiger hunting pays the bills?”

  “That refers to how a menu selection’s meat is cooked. A tandoor is a clay brick oven designed to reach very high temperatures. As high as 900°. It sears the herbs and spices into the meat and is an essential component if one wishes to create classic Indian cuisine. Chatur has two in his kitchen.”

  The silence lengthened. She looked up to see him concentrating on the menu. “Having trouble remembering what else you do?”

  He matched her teasing tone. “It’s a question when asked on a first date insures there won’t be a second. Make an effort to know who I am. The question is lazy, makes a woman look like she has a tape measure out and is checking boxes on a form. But this isn’t a first date.” He looked up from the menu. “Is it?” She smiled and shrugged noncommittally.