Nose Uncle smiled down at their flushed faces.
‘Whoa there,’ he said, ‘one at a time, if you please.’
They stood back and, between them, told him of how they had been kidnapped by the dacoits and of how they had been questioned by the tall woman in scarlet. With some pride, they told of their escape, and how they had discovered the stone carvers, and about the arrival of Preeti and her fellow hijras.
‘They were fantastic!’ said Ram. ‘I think they saved us.’
Nose Uncle heard all this patiently.
‘That’s wonderful,’ he said. ‘And I’m glad you’re safe. We all owe Preeti a vote of thanks. But come with me,’ he added. ‘I need to check on what the stone carvers were doing.’
‘Come and see,’ Nisha took him by the hand and led him over to the lorry. ‘In there are the objects they were carving.’
Nose Uncle climbed into the lorry after the children and began examining the stone objects. One by one he turned them over and peered at them closely.
‘And what about this one?’ he asked, pointing to the crate.
‘That was in the stone house with the woman in scarlet,’ said Ram.
‘Now why did they crate this one up and not the others?’ mused Nose Uncle.
‘There’s an address on the side,’ said Nisha shyly. ‘I think it will surprise you.’
Nose Uncle bent down and, in the gloom inside the lorry, could just make out the small lettering.
‘The Free University of Central Quebec,’ he read slowly.
‘That’s where Rigolet said he worked,’ said Nisha.
‘And which you said didn’t exist,’ said Ram.
‘Let’s have it outside and open it up,’ said Nose Uncle.
With the help of three police constables the crate was dragged to the rear of the lorry and then carefully lowered to the ground. One of them picked up a crowbar that was in the lorry and began to lever open the crate.
‘Careful, now,’ said Nose Uncle. ‘Slowly does it.’
With a splintering noise, the lid of the crate was prised open and Nose Uncle peered inside, stepped back and rubbed his chin.
‘Well, I never,’ he said at last. ‘This is something special and was not made by those stone carvers you saw earlier. This is the real thing. It’s several hundred years old and, if I’m not mistaken, I’ve seen it before.’
‘Where?’ said Nisha.
‘I’m not sure but I’m beginning to see light in this entire business. And, if I’m right, business is the right word.’
The Inspector approached.
‘I’ve been questioning the dacoits,’ she said. ‘They are not saying much. Clearly, they are more frightened of this woman in scarlet than they are of going to prison. They are refusing to say where she is.’
‘I know where she is,’ said Nisha, quietly.
‘You do?’
‘Yes, they drove away in a red car and I noted the number plate.’
‘Well done. Let me have it and I’ll alert the whole area.’
‘You may be able to narrow the search down further,’ continued Nisha, surprised at her own boldness.
‘What do you mean?’
‘According to the number plate, the car came from Pondicherry.’
‘That makes sense,’ said Nose Uncle. ‘We must get there fast, before they get away.’
‘We’ll take the jeep,’ said the Inspector. ‘That’s the fastest vehicle. The rest of my people can wait for the van to take the dacoits to prison.’
‘And we’ll guard the house in case anyone comes back,’ said Preeti, who had been listening. She grinned. ‘We still have some mangoes left.’
‘Where exactly do we go in Pondicherry?’ asked Nose Uncle as the children, the Inspector and the driver joined him in the jeep.
‘The airport,’ said the Inspector. ‘It’s my guess they’re planning a quick getaway.’
‘Airport?’ said Nose Uncle. ‘I didn’t know there was an airport in Pondicherry.’
‘Very few people do. It’s a pretty small one that was once used by the military. It was sold not long ago to a private company. And I’m beginning to have an idea that we know who might own that company.’
‘Who?’
‘The Free University of Central Quebec,’ smiled the Inspector. ‘Now, let’s go!’
Chapter 21
The jeep skidded out of the overgrown path on to the tarmac road heading for Pondicherry, narrowly missing two cyclists and a startled goat.
The Inspector pulled out her cell phone.
‘I must ring ahead to the Pondicherry police,’ she explained. ‘We are going to another State where I will have no authority. I need permission from the local authorities to work there.’
‘That could take forever,’ grumbled Nose Uncle, hanging on for dear life as the jeep turned a corner on two wheels. ‘The people there will contact your headquarter and that could take far more time than we have to catch the scarlet woman and her accomplice.’
‘So what do you suggest we do?’
‘We follow my nose,’ said Nose Uncle, tapping that august organ. ‘Nose operates above all authorities. He doesn’t require permission from anyone.’
Nisha and Ram, swaying in the back seat of the jeep next to the Inspector, listened with excitement. Till now, they had seen little of Nose in action. They had heard all sorts of stories from their parents about its legendary abilities, but had not witnessed anything spectacular. Was this the moment they had been waiting for? They would soon find out.
The road to Pondicherry at one moment was wending its way through coconut groves and small villages selling local fruit and vegetables. The next it was passing through open country with paddy fields—home to egrets or salt ponds—where farmers were gathering their dirty white harvest into small mounds.
From time to time, Nose Uncle would rouse himself to point out places of interest to Nisha and Ram.
‘The old fort of Sadras is down there,’ he said. ‘It’s still surprisingly intact.’ And then, ‘do you remember that lane? It’s where we went in the bullock cart to Alamparai. And if we turned right here, we’d end up in Gingee. Marvellous place.’
Soon the villages grew closer together and the traffic was busier. They were very close to Pondicherry.
‘I’ve heard the policemen there wear red hats just like the French police,’ said Ram.
‘Some of them do,’ smiled the Inspector.
‘Is it full of French people?’ asked Nisha.
‘Quite a few, but many of them are of Indian origin who became French when the French left Pondicherry. They can still vote in French elections.’
‘Does it look like France?’
‘No,’ intervened Nose Uncle. ‘Most of the town looks like any other place in south India, except for a small area near the shore. There are still some colonial style houses and, of course, the ashram where Sri Aurobindo and the Mother used to stay.’
‘It’s not far now,’ said the Inspector, amused at the children’s questions.
The driver was forced to slow down. His moustache, which seemed to have grown bushier during the drive, quivered with impatience as he repeatedly punched his horn at wavering cyclists, bullock carts, auto rickshaws, cows, tankers, trucks and buses. None of them took the slightest bit of notice.
They were on the final leg into the town and just about to leave Tamil Nadu for Pondicherry, when Nose Uncle cried out.
‘Stop! That’s it. That’s where they’ve gone!’ And he pointed to a red earth track leading off to the right.
The police driver stepped on the brakes and the jeep screeched to a halt, leaving a long skid mark on the road. An Ambassador car nearly ran into them from the back, but somehow managed to weave around them, with much waving of fists and tooting of horns. The police driver smiled triumphantly and waited for further orders.
Nisha peered at a road sign.
‘Auroville,’ she read out loud. ‘That doesn’t sound like a Tamil name.’<
br />
‘Is it French?’ said Ram.
‘Sort of,’ said Nose Uncle. ‘It’s home to many nationalities. But that can wait for later. Right now, we must drive there and catch the villains.’
‘Are you sure about this?’ asked the Inspector. ‘What makes you think they’ve gone there and not to the airport?’
‘Because they’d be spotted there pretty easily as, according to you, not many people use it. But in Auroville they’d be able to hide easily. It’s an enormous place, over fifty acres, and full of little paths and compounds. If, as I think, the leader of the dacoits is a foreigner, then what better place to hide than among other foreigners?’
‘But is that just a guess?’ she asked.
Nose Uncle tapped his nose.
‘You’re forgetting this,’ he said. ‘Nose is speaking to me and Nose is never wrong. As soon as we approached this place, Nose started vibrating and, as you can see, it’s changed colour.’
And it was true; Nose Uncle’s famous organ had turned a remarkable magenta colour, brighter than they had ever seen it before.
The Inspector sighed. ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘Driver, turn off here and follow the road to Auroville.’
So the driver, deciding to abandon the need to signal, swerved across the road to the accompaniment of more hooting and swearing and turned on to the bumpy red earth track.
‘What is Auroville exactly?’ asked Nisha.
Nose Uncle grunted.
‘I think the Inspector should tell you. If I remember rightly, she knows all about it, from when the police were here before.’
‘How did you know that?’ said the Inspector.
‘I’ve followed your career, remember?’ replied Nose Uncle. ‘I am well aware that your father was involved when war almost broke out there. Go on, tell them.’
The Inspector grinned and looked at the children who were seated on either side of her, gripping on tightly as the jeep bumped its way along the track.
‘It’s true,’ she began, ‘that my father, who was also a policeman, was sent to Auroville in the 1970s. The place was originally set up for people to get together and live in harmony, according to the teachings of the Mother. Many foreigners, and some Indians, came here to live in communes and set up small industries as well as to create spiritual awareness.’
‘That sounds like a good idea,’ said Nisha.
‘It was, but when the Mother died, arguments broke out about who was in charge. On at least two occasions these led to violence and so the police were called in. Later there were disputes about how closely people should follow the Mother’s teachings, though everyone respects the Matri Mandir.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Nisha.
‘You’ll see. You can’t miss it.’
‘Are we allowed to go in?’ said Ram. ‘Is it dangerous?’
Again the Inspector smiled.
‘No,’ she said, ‘in fact, the place attracts many visitors and it even has a Visitor Centre.’
‘And that’s where we’ll start our search,’ added Nose Uncle. ‘The place is huge and full of little winding tracks with many little communities and isolated buildings. Looking for our suspects will not be easy without some help.’
The jeep jolted along the track, sending up clouds of fine red dust. They passed several foreigners, mostly in Indian clothing, travelling on bicycles or scooters. They seemed to ignore the jeep, concentrating on negotiating the narrow track and not being forced into the scrubby bushes that lined its edges.
The jeep was forced to slow down on one particularly tight bend and suddenly, the bushes were gone and there in front of them was a huge structure that seemed to come straight out of the pages of science fiction. It was a massive many-faceted dome that towered above the surrounding clusters of buildings.
‘What’s that?’ breathed Ram.
‘That,’ said the Inspector, ‘is the Matri Mandir. It is the heart of Auroville.’
‘Wow! Can we go inside?’
‘Later, maybe,’ said Nose Uncle. ‘Our first priority is to catch the villains. Driver, stop outside the Visitor Centre. We’ll start right there.’
But as they were soon to find out, catching the law breakers was easier said than done.
Chapter 22
The Visitor Centre was closed.
Nose Uncle peered at a handwritten notice pinned to the door just above a sign. It indicated opening hours, showing that normally the place would be open. The notice said, ‘Back in half an hour.’
‘What do we do now?’ asked Nisha.
‘There’s a shop over there,’ Ram pointed to a low building about fifty yards away. ‘If it’s open, we could try there.’
‘Good thinking,’ said Nose Uncle. ‘Go there and see if there’s anyone about.’
Ram, glad of some exercise after being cramped up in the car for so long, skipped across the red earth towards the shop. As he grew closer, he could see that there were several people inside. A tall foreigner in khaki shorts and red T-shirt, with his long grey hair drawn back in a ponytail, came out of the shop with a loaf of coarse brown bread. He eyed Ram suspiciously.
‘What do you want?’ he said in a polite but not very friendly manner.
‘The Visitor Centre is not open,’ explained Ram, ‘and we were wondering if …’
‘If it’s closed, it’s closed,’ interrupted the foreigner. Then, seeing the crestfallen look on Ram’s face, he softened a little and gave a brief smile.
‘Try over there,’ he said. ‘They might help you.’ He pointed towards a palm thatched café nestling under a thorn tree.
‘Thank you,’ said Ram and he ran towards the café.
To his relief, he saw that the man in charge was not a foreigner but an Indian, dressed in a shirt with a few missing buttons and a grubby lungi. He was short, incredibly fat and had the friendliest face imaginable.
‘Hello,’ said Ram.
The man looked up from his newspaper and flashed his white teeth in a broad smile.
‘Welcome, young lord,’ he said. ‘What would you like? Tea, coffee, soft drinks, everything is here. Very good prices, also. And we have snacks as well. What about a bag of chips? Or just a bottle of water?’
Ram thought quickly. It was true that he was both hungry and thirsty, but he had no money. He waved to the others to join him.
‘I will order when my friends join us,’ he said.
‘I await your orders,’ the man replied, returning to his newspaper.
It was not long before they were all seated on white plastic chairs around a white plastic table, grateful for the little shade thrown by the thorn tree and the cool drinks delivered by the smiling café owner.
‘We must find that car,’ said the Inspector. ‘There can’t be that many cars with smoked windows. It’s rather unusual for this area.’
‘Excuse me,’ said the café owner, who had told them to call him Kumar. ‘I couldn’t help hearing what you were talking about. Do I take it that you are looking for a car with darkened windows?’
They all turned to stare at Kumar.
‘Have you seen such a car?’ asked the Inspector.
Kumar eyed her uniform and hesitated.
‘Is this a police matter?’
‘It is. But,’ added the Inspector, guessing the reason for his hesitation, ‘you need not be mentioned in our investigation. Just tell us what you know and we’ll leave it at that.’
Kumar relaxed and wiped his hands on his lungi.
‘Well,’ he leaned forward over their table and whispered, although there was no one else within a hundred metres, ‘I have seen such a car as you mention, coming and going, here and there.’
‘What colour is it?’ asked Nisha, surprising herself.
‘Colour? Oh, red, yes, most definitely. Red. With dark windows.’
‘That’s the car!’ said Nisha.
‘All right,’ said the Inspector. ‘Now perhaps you can help us a little more by telling us where the car goes when it com
es to Auroville.’
‘Oh, that’s easy,’ said Kumar, scratching a part of his belly through a gap in his shirt. ‘It always goes to the Maison Rouge Handicraft Emporium. You go down that path over there and follow it for about a couple of hundred yards till you come to a fork in the road. Take the left lane and, a little further on, you’ll find the emporium. You can’t miss it; it’s a European style red house. And,’ he added with another broad smile, ‘the people there never stop for tea or coffee. Very mean fellows.’
They settled the bill, got into the jeep and followed Kumar’s directions. As they moved slowly along the track, Nose Uncle rubbed his hands together.
‘Nose is telling me we’re almost there,’ he said. And, sure enough, Nose was twitching vigorously.
‘This could be dangerous,’ said the Inspector, ‘but this time I’m prepared. I have a gun that I was given by the reinforcements back at the farm.’
‘I hope it won’t come to that,’ said Nose Uncle.
‘So do I.’
The red house was just where Kumar said it was. It was like a miniature factory with several statues and other objects stacked outside. And in front of the red house, with its engine still running, was a red car with blackened windows.
‘They’re here,’ said the Inspector.
Nose Uncle sniffed the air. ‘But not for long. I suggest you go round the back with the constable and I and the children will go to the front door.’
‘The front door?’
‘Yes,’ said Nose Uncle, again rubbing his hands in anticipation. ‘We’re going shopping. Come on you two.’
He pushed open the door of the emporium. It was dark and cool inside. The large room was full of gilded statues, brass ornaments and cane furniture. On one wall was a large notice proclaiming, ‘All Genuine Reproductions,’ that caused Nose Uncle to snort.
At the back was a door with a frosted glass panel; and it was this that upset their plans. It helped whoever was behind the door to see who was in the shop without being seen themselves. They clearly must have recognized Nose Uncle and the children, for there was the sound of a chair being knocked over and the slamming of a door.
Nose Uncle and the children rushed to the door and pushed it open. It led to a small back office with a desk and filing cabinets, and a ceiling fan that was still moving. An open door lead outside. They ran to the door and looked out just in time to see the Inspector and the jeep driver come round the corner of the house.
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