‘We’ll keep in touch by cell phone,’ said Nose Uncle, ‘and if we find any clues we’ll call you right away.’
Preeti’s face fell.
‘But,’ added Nose Uncle, ‘you can help by asking all the villagers in the area if they know anything about dacoits dressed in black. If there is anyone who can find that out, it is your people.’
Preeti blushed with pride. ‘Very well, O Wise One,’ she said.
‘Come on,’ said the Inspector as they squeezed back into the jeep. ‘Mahabalipuram, here we come,’ and the police constable revved the engine and shot off down the small lane leading to the East Coast Road.
Dawn was beginning to break over the Bay of Bengal as the jeep sped down the road. It scattered bicycles and goats to the verge and wove in and out of the still sparse traffic. This time, no one told the police driver to slow down. They all knew that if they wanted to rescue the children they had to hurry.
‘Why would they take them to Mahabalipuram?’ asked Lentil Brain.
‘We don’t know they have,’ said Nose Uncle. ‘They could be taking them further away. In any case, the dacoits’ base headquarters can’t be too far away if they are mixed up in business at the site. And I have a theory as to why they chose Mahabalipuram.’
‘Really?’ asked the Inspector. ‘What is it?’
Nose Uncle sucked his teeth. ‘It’s all to do with what we know about the town,’ he said. ‘If I’m correct, then it’s the clue to the whole business. It would account for the takeover of my dig, the attack on Rigolet, and now the kidnapping of the children.’
‘And if you’re wrong?’ sneered Lentil Brain.
‘Nose and I are never wrong,’ said Nose Uncle. He hoped he was right, for the children’s sake. In his heart he was desperately worried about what was happening to them right now.
Chapter 16
Nisha knew they didn’t have much time. Already, the sky seemed a little lighter.
‘Dawn will arrive soon,’ she said and, as if to echo her words, a cockerel struck the first note of the day’s chorus.
‘Do you think we should look in through the window of the big house?’ asked Ram.
‘Just what I was thinking,’ said Nisha, and taking his hand in hers, she led them in a short silent run across the farmyard towards the stone building where, earlier, they had first met the woman in scarlet.
They crouched just below one of the windows, behind a bush that would give them some cover for a short while. Slowly, they raised their heads and peered through the window.
There was no sign of the woman or of her assistant, but three or four of the dacoits were struggling to move the tall elegant statue, that had been standing against the wall, towards the doorway. A large empty wooden crate stood ready, with its lid off and packing straw piled up next to it.
‘What are they doing with that statue?’ asked Ram.
‘And where did it come from?’ wondered Nisha.
At that moment, a strange series of tapping noises were heard from a far corner of the yard, beyond a clump of casuarina trees.
‘Did you hear that?’ breathed Ram.
‘Let’s go and find out,’ said Nisha. ‘Do you see that little heap of rocks over there, below the trees? We can hide there and, at the same time, watch what’s going on. You know, I’m sure I’ve heard that sort of noise before. Ready?’
Once more, hand in hand, they ran across the yard towards the rocks. It was just as well that they had moved, for at that very moment the door of the stone building was flung open, and the statue, now packed securely into the wooden crate, was being pushed outside by the dacoits. The reason for their action was soon obvious. The lorry which had brought them to the farm returned through a gateway and stopped in front of the building. Immediately, the back flap of the lorry was dropped and the dacoits began to move the packed statue towards the lorry. It was clear that they were going to transport the statue somewhere.
By now the tapping sounds had increased, as if a large family of woodpeckers had set up home under the casuarina trees.
The rocks led right up to the trees, and the children were able to stay out of sight of the farm while they inched their way closer to the trees. The soil here was almost entirely of sand and they guessed they weren’t too far from the sea. Indeed, if they strained their ears, they could just hear the roar of the waves below the tapping.
‘Can you see anything?’ said Ram, as the tapping grew louder.
‘Not yet. No, wait, I think I can just make out … Wow.’
‘What can you see?’ Ram tried to push past his sister while still remaining hidden.
‘Take a look for yourself.’
Ram crept forward and peered through a gap in the rocks. Just below them, seated on a bare patch of sandy ground were half a dozen men with hammers and chisels, skilfully chipping away at a large piece of rough stone.
‘They’re carving the stone,’ said Ram. ‘And it looks a little bit like …’
‘The statue we have just seen being crated up back in the house,’ finished Nisha. ‘But it’s not quite the same; this one is male.’
‘What does it all mean?’
‘I wish Nose Uncle were here,’ said Nisha. ‘He’d be able to work it out straightaway.’
The sun was now beginning to rise steadily above the horizon and reminded Ram of what he would normally be doing near this time of day.
‘It’s almost breakfast time. I’m really hungry.’
It was as if the workers were able to read his thoughts, for at that moment the tapping ceased. The workers laid down their tools and opened their banana leaf breakfast boxes. From where they lay among the rocks, Nisha and Ram licked their lips as they could see small containers of sambhar and chutneys being laid out together with dosa and vada and other delicacies. A faint but delicious smell drifted towards them.
‘That smells good,’ Ram was hopeful.
‘Do you think they’d let us have some?’ said Nisha.
‘What!’
‘I was joking,’ she said. ‘But I must say that even one mouthful would be heavenly.’
Ram hesitated. ‘You know, I might be able to get some of that food.’
‘Now you must be joking,’ said Nisha.
‘No, really,’ he insisted. ‘Look at that man down there, just below us.’
Nisha peered down. She noticed one of the workers had moved away from the work site and had found himself a small clearing next to the rocks where he could eat his breakfast. Although it was still early, no doubt he was avoiding the heat of the sun that was rapidly climbing the sky. His breakfast was laid out beside him at the base of the rocks.
‘You see,’ said Ram, whispering now that the tapping had stopped, ‘if I creep round the side of these rocks, I could get close to that man and still not be seen and, um, borrow some of his breakfast.’
Nisha was not so sure.
‘You have only to disturb one of the smaller rocks and it could roll down below and we’d be discovered.’
‘Look,’ said Ram. ‘I play these sort of games all the time, creeping up close to birds and animals so that I can watch them without being seen. And they are much more easily frightened than people. I am pretty certain that I could do it and get away with it.’
The appetising aroma tickled Nisha’s nostrils.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘But be careful.’
Ram edged away from his sister and, after a careful survey of what he thought would be the best route, very gingerly began his approach towards their breakfast.
Before each movement, he gently tested the next step with his toe before moving his entire weight on to it. Then he started all over again. It was slow work but, still out of sight, he eventually reached the bottom of the rocks. All he had to do now was move, equally carefully, along the base of the rocks, towards the open area where the man was enjoying his breakfast.
There was only a thin barrier between him and the stone carver. A single pillar of rock separated
them. Although Ram couldn’t see the man, he could see the edge of the newspaper on which he had spread out his meal. Ram planned to grab the edge of the paper and slowly pull it, inch by inch, closer to himself. He reached out. It was only then that he saw something that made his blood almost freeze. A snake. A coiled cobra, soaking up the sun’s heat after the cold of the night, was lying directly between him and the worker.
Ram remembered something that Nose Uncle had once told him when talking about the snakes that lived in the mango orchard.
‘Snakes won’t bother you unless you bother them,’ he had said. ‘If you don’t disturb them, they’ll just get out of your way. Unless, of course, you tread on them, threaten them or approach their eggs.’
There was one other thing that Nose Uncle had said about snakes.
‘They’re cold-blooded,’ he had said, ‘and they rely on the sun to keep them at the right temperature. If they’re cold, they’re slow and sluggish.’
Ram looked at the snake in front of him. It must have only recently come out into the sunlight and the sun had only just risen. That meant, if Nose Uncle was right, that the snake would not be very alert. Ram glanced around and his gaze fell on a small broken branch of a casuarina tree lying on the sand. Yes, that would do. Now, was he brave enough? He took a deep breath and reached for the branch.
Slowly, very slowly, he pushed the branch in the sand directly under the coiled cobra. Then he suddenly raised the branch and threw the snake up into the air in the direction of the worker round the corner of the rocks.
There was a startled scream and then the sound of bare feet running across the sand, away from the rocks. Ram peered round the rock. The worker was nowhere to be seen. And, fortunately, neither was the snake. Ram quickly pulled the breakfast towards him, bundled it up and, moving fast this time, without caring about the noise he made, he swiftly rejoined Nisha. Except that she wasn’t there!
Chapter 17
The police jeep hurtled along the road as the sun rose higher above the waves of the Bay of Bengal. The driver was now wide awake and grimly gripping the steering wheel as he concentrated on the road ahead. His passengers were silent, lost in their own thoughts.
In the front seat, Nose Uncle was unaware of the occasional tanker that threatened to shove them into the ditch. Nor did the swaying jeep interfere with the questions he was asking himself. Were the children safe? Would he find them?
The Inspector, seated next to Lentil Brain, was also thinking about the children and wondering how they were going to start looking for them. Even if they were at Mahabalipuram, it was quite a large town and it would take a lot of time and many people to search for them.
Lentil Brain was thinking how unfair life was. Here he was, a highly respected local official, now made to look uncaring and stupid all because the obvious suspect, the Professor, just happened to know and be friendly with the police inspector. It was all so wrong!
They were now approaching the outskirts of the town. People were beginning to stir. The main street was starting to show signs of life with backpacker tourists strolling towards restaurants that sold breakfast. Cows were munching fresh vegetables stolen from stalls being erected by local shopkeepers, and the first few bicycles were wobbling their riders to work. And in the background was the almost endless sound of stone carvers tapping away at their ancient craft.
‘Where shall we start?’ asked the Inspector, content to let Nose Uncle’s famous nose dictate the action. The organ in question was quivering and beginning to show signs of changing colour.
‘In the view of Nose and myself,’ said Nose Uncle, ‘we should stop somewhere for coffee and a bite to eat and then think about what we are going to do. I personally think we should ask someone local about places in the area that have seen unusual activity, particularly about the comings and goings of lorries.’
‘There must be scores of lorries coming in and out of the town,’ said Lentil Brain, ‘and with so many tourists about, what counts as strange activity?’
The jeep skidded to a halt in front of a small café. They all got down from the vehicle and sat outside while waiting for their coffee and breakfast to arrive.
‘So what have we got to go on?’ said the Inspector.
‘Not very much,’ muttered Lentil Brain.
Nose Uncle peered sternly at him over his half-moon glasses.
‘If you have nothing positive to contribute,’ he commanded, ‘then I suggest you stay silent.’
Lentil Brain shrugged his shoulders, nearly knocking the tray out of the hands of the waiter. He sat watching sullenly as the coffee and food was handed around by the Inspector. He blew on his coffee and listened to the others.
‘We don’t have much time,’ said Nose Uncle. ‘Despite what our friend here says, we do know from Nisha’s phone call to Preeti that the lorry took them to some kind of a large yard in the middle of the night.’
‘So perhaps someone might have noticed all this activity happening when people are supposed to be asleep,’ added the Inspector.
‘Exactly,’ said Nose Uncle, nibbling on an idli. ‘The question is, who might have been awake at that time?’
‘Night watchmen?’ suggested the Inspector.
‘Right,’ said Nose Uncle. ‘It’s a start, anyway.’
The police driver had gobbled down his breakfast and, having knocked the crumbs off his moustache, was clearly looking forward to a break. However, the Inspector sent him off to look for any night watchman who would have been on duty near the entrance to the town.
‘Quickly now,’ she ordered, ‘before they go back home to bed.’
The policeman, clearly wishing he, too, could return to his sleep, nevertheless left the table and went off to make his enquiries.
They had just finished their second cup of coffee when the constable returned with a tall skinny man still wrapped in grey blanket and an old towel round his head that he had worn to keep off the chill of the night. He looked longingly at the remains of the breakfast on the café table. Nose Uncle, reading the signs, signalled to the waiter to bring another breakfast for the night watchman. He refused to join them at the table and squatted instead on the pavement nearby.
‘Well,’ said Inspector Reddy, ‘were you on duty last night?’
‘Yes, sir, madam,’ said the man. ‘I was awake all night long. Not once did my eyes close.’
‘Good. And did you see or hear a lorry enter the town in the early hours of this morning?’
‘Oh yes,’ he said, reaching for the hot sweet tea and idli that the waiter placed on the ground beside him.
‘Before you start eating,’ said the Inspector, ‘tell me where this lorry was going.’
‘Where it always goes,’ answered the man and he wiped his nose on his ragged blanket and drank some of the scalding tea.
The Inspector maintained her patience. She knew from long experience that witnesses couldn’t always be hurried and that they had to speak at their own speed.
‘And where might that be?’
The night watchman, his mouth full of food, gave a secret smile.
‘Well now,’ he began, thinking that his information might be worth something more than a free breakfast. ‘It was like this. The night was bitterly cold but like always I stayed alert at my post. It’s a very responsible job even though it isn’t very well paid. I used to be in the army you know …’
‘Just tell us what you saw,’ interrupted the Inspector.
But before he could open his mouth, Nose Uncle’s cell phone rang. It was Preeti.
‘Hello,’ said Nose Uncle, ‘have you found anything out?’
‘I have indeed, O Great One,’ was the reply. ‘My people have been asking around the village temples as the people came to do puja. One farmer, who has a cousin in Mahabalipuram, said he had heard that a group of dacoits, dressed in black, had recently begun operating in or near the town.’
‘Well done! Did he know where their headquarters is?’
‘Mor
e or less,’ said Preeti. ‘It’s the other side of Mahabalipuram in a village that was destroyed by the tsunami and is now deserted. There has been talk of strange noises and lights from the village and people are afraid to go near it.’
‘That’s very helpful,’ said Nose Uncle. ‘We’ll go there right away.’
‘Can we help?’ asked Preeti eagerly.
Nose Uncle scratched his chin. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘I rather think you can. Now listen,’ and he gave Preeti certain instructions that had her laughing even when they finished the call.
The night watchman feared he had lost his chance.
‘So I heard these lorries that went straight through the town towards what we call the haunted village.’
‘Take us there,’ said the Inspector, standing up and adjusting her uniform. ‘And be quick about it. You can come in our jeep.’
‘But there’s no room,’ complained Lentil Brain.
‘You can stay here and wait for Preeti,’ said Nose Uncle. ‘Come on everyone, there’s not a moment to lose if we’re to make sure the children are safe.’
‘And I’ll call for backup,’ said the Inspector, reaching for her cell phone. ‘This could be a dangerous operation.’ On hearing her words, Lentil Brain made no more objections and settled down to finish his coffee and wait for Preeti.
‘I hope those children don’t come to any harm,’ said the Inspector. ‘They appear to have stumbled across a particularly evil bunch of villains.’
‘I wonder why they went through the town if the village is the other side; why didn’t they use the bypass?’ said Nose Uncle.
The night watchman, concerned about his first trip in a police jeep, raised his hand like a small boy in class.
‘Please, sir,’ he said. ‘The lorry stopped to pick people up and then drove off again.’
‘Ah,’ said the Inspector. ‘I think we’re going to need those extra constables. This could be nasty.’
Chapter 18
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