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by Merryn Allingham


  As soon as the man disappeared, Javinder waited only for the remaining servant to bend over the flowers and begin tweaking them this way and that, before he stepped out from his hiding place and hurled the piece of granite along the corridor that ran at angles to the main passageway. It narrowly missed an expensive-looking statue and fell with a crash almost out of sight. The startled servant left his flower arranging and rushed off to discover the source of the crash. Before he returned, they’d slipped through the door, ran down the stone steps, past the fountain and across the open space to the granite archway. Then turned sharp left, away from the road and into the bordering expanse of grass, now burnt to a crispy brown. A heavy planting of trees and bushes was scattered randomly through the park and, in the fading light, the cover they offered proved sufficient. By dint of moving from one shelter to the next, they managed to remain invisible to the one or two vehicles that passed them on the road.

  Grayson had been right about the courtyards. The smaller, inner courtyard at least. By keeping to parkland, they were able to walk around its iron gates instead of through them. But that wouldn’t work on the heavier ramparts of the outer courtyard. Apart from the guards on either side of the gate, she’d noticed yesterday that a small platoon of soldiers was being rigorously drilled in one corner of the fortified square. There was no way Javinder could fight his way through this miniature army. And to scale the great stone walls that enclosed the Rajah’s estate was unthinkable. It was impossible, even for a fit man and she was sure that after weeks of imprisonment, Javinder was far from fit. The only alternative was again to distract the guards’ attention. It had worked before, so why not again? And they had one advantage. Dusk was beginning to fall and, in the muted light, it might be easier to sow confusion.

  They had been half walking and half running, and though the approaching night had cooled the air a good deal, it wasn’t long before they were both feeling unpleasantly sticky. They paused for a moment beneath one of the largest trees, blotting their faces and trying to recover their breath.

  ‘Do you think the Rajah knows of our escape by now?’ she asked. ‘If he does, every one of those soldiers ahead will have been put on alert.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Javinder’s response was heartening. ‘The meeting the Rajah has convened is of the utmost importance. Our jailors won’t want to interrupt it with news that will probably hang them. But, even so, we must move quickly.’

  He strode ahead, eager to find a way of negotiating the outer courtyard, but Daisy remained where she was. Their escape had been frenetic and so far she’d had little time to think. Now she tried to clear her mind. Could they get through this last guarded outpost? Even if they did, how likely was it they’d alert the army speedily enough? They might succeed in reaching the town, in commandeering a vehicle, finding a telephone even, but in time? The army would arrive—eventually—but it would be too late to save Grayson. And he’d known that when he’d sent them on their way. They had left him facing overwhelming odds so what was she doing, walking away from him, leaving him to face death alone?

  When Javinder realised she was no longer following him, he turned around and urged her to make haste.

  ‘I can’t go on,’ she said. ‘I have to go back.’

  He gaped at her. ‘If you go back, they will make you a prisoner again, or worse.’

  ‘Then I’ll be a prisoner or worse. I can’t leave Grayson alone to face whatever’s coming.’

  ‘Miss Driscoll, please, think for a moment. Consider how very dangerous these men are. They will not exempt you because you are a woman.’

  ‘I don’t expect special treatment.’

  ‘But Mr Harte would want you to escape,’ Javinder pleaded. ‘He was most insistent that you did.’

  ‘Of course he was. He thinks he’s a hero out of the Boy’s Own Paper,’ she said shakily. ‘But he isn’t. He’s a decent, honest man who has been dreadfully deceived.’

  Javinder looked at her and his eyes were filled with a deep sadness. ‘I think I understand how Mr Harte must feel.’

  She hadn’t time to ask him what he meant, though she could guess well enough. Instead, she spurred him on. ‘You must go, and raise the alarm. And I must go back.’

  She clasped him by the hand and gave him a brief kiss on the cheek. Then turned back towards the distant palace.

  CHAPTER 22

  With luck they would get away. His appearance in the audience room, when he was supposedly incarcerated a mile underground, should be enough to keep Talin Verghese and his henchmen from questioning why he stood there alone. He would be walking into the lions’ den, that much was certain, but there was something he must do—a confrontation he must have—and he would have it, come what may.

  The men were gathered at the far end of the chamber, poring over what appeared to be a large map. They would need to schedule the attacks precisely for maximum effect, his mind told him. This would be the war room for the coming destruction. He deliberately allowed his footfall to be heavy. One of the men turned to face him, followed by each of his companions. Grayson’s entrance gained all the attention he could have hoped. Every one of them stood open-mouthed, staring at him in amazement, but the man who had turned first wore the most ghastly pallor.

  Grayson spoke directly to him. ‘Have you come to rescue me, Mike? How kind of you.’

  For two or three crushing moments, Mike Corrigan said nothing. A clock ticked loudly in the background and several of the men shuffled themselves arc-wise around the Englishman to form a barrier.

  ‘I told you not to come here, Gray,’ Mike said.

  ‘You did. And now I see why. Why you were so adamant that I shouldn’t.’

  ‘I tried to save you from walking into danger. You were my friend. I would have done anything for you, you know that. I tried to keep you from getting mixed up in this mess.’

  Corrigan stepped out of the protective circle of men and faced Grayson directly. His hands moved to clutch at the revers of the loose jacket he wore. He seemed not to know what to do with them.

  ‘Again, how very kind of you,’ Grayson responded. ‘Particularly as you appear to be involved up to your neck. Though “mess” is hardly an apt description. Villainy would seem to hit the right note.’

  Mike’s gaze slid away. He had no answer to the accusation and it was the Rajah who broke the silence. ‘Mr Harte, I am always delighted to welcome a guest, but I regret that you are badly in the way, and will have to be removed. Once more. You should have remained where you were.’

  ‘It may seem strange, Your Highness, but a damp cell holds little attraction for me.’

  ‘Or for your companion?’ the Rajah said. ‘Where is she?’ He adjusted his robes slowly and efficiently, as though an escaped prisoner was the last thing on his mind.

  The old man didn’t miss a thing, Grayson thought. He would have to bluff. ‘She is well on her way to safety, you can be sure.’

  Verghese’s black brows rose in scorn. ‘You expect me to believe such a nonsense? You must do better than that.’

  ‘Believe it or not, it happens to be true.’ He became aware of the other men beginning to fan out and move towards him in a pincer movement.

  ‘Then why are you here? Surely you should be well on your way to safety, too.’ The Rajah was keeping him talking, while the other men cut off any escape route.

  ‘I have a score to settle. Mr Corrigan knows what it is.’

  The Rajah’s face expressed utter boredom. ‘I’m sure he does, but we are not here to settle a dispute between friends, or even former friends. We have business to do.’

  ‘Is that what business is these days? The business of indiscriminate killing? And you, Mike, what part do you play in this “business”? Are you here to speak for me or make sure the Rajah wins? No, don’t tell me, I think I can guess.’

  Mike looked pugnacious. ‘I’m here to make sure the project succeeds. I couldn’t let you spoil it, not after all these months.’

&nbs
p; ‘The project,’ Grayson jeered. ‘The ultimate euphemism. Have the guts to call it what it is, man—mass murder. What’s in it for you? Money?’

  Mike’s face flamed. ‘There’s been money, yes. Plenty of it. Unlike you, I wasn’t blessed with a silver spoon. You’re still young and have the world before you. What do I have precisely? But it’s not just about money. I had to take a stand. I had to feel I counted. I’ve been treated shamefully by people who should know better.’

  ‘Not nearly as shamefully as you’ve behaved.’

  ‘SIS forfeited my loyalty when they passed me over for less experienced men. Me! A man who for thirty years worked tirelessly for them. Who risked my life on countless occasions and been so badly beaten that I’ll be in pain for the rest of my life. And you expected me to accept such treatment without a murmur, stay docile, and take a second-rate job I thoroughly despise?’

  ‘I expected you to be loyal to the oath you took. Nothing can justify your betrayal, and you have less than nothing. In my view, you’ve been dealt with fairly. You haven’t been pensioned off, you haven’t been asked to leave the service. Instead, you’ve been found another job. And then permitted to come with me to India, despite there being more useful men available.’

  Mike’s face turned an unhealthy mauve. Grayson could see he was struggling with a consuming anger. ‘You thought you were doing me such a favour, didn’t you? Mr bloody benevolent, handing out your little perk. A pat on the head for honourable service. What you didn’t know was that I couldn’t let you come alone to India, to Jasirapur, and your suggestion couldn’t have suited me better. You hadn’t a clue that for months I’ve been sending Verghese intelligence on the situation in SIS. He’s known every twist and turn in policy, known just how the office back home was responding to the outbursts of violence in Sikaner. It made him sure the project could go ahead with minimal interference from headquarters.’

  ‘That may be true of London, but your plans haven’t been smooth sailing, have they? It seems to me that you’ve suffered plenty of interference—from within Rajasthan itself.’ Grayson’s smile was unpleasant. ‘You didn’t see that coming, did you, an SIS officer doing his duty?’

  Mike shrugged. ‘Javinder Joshi has been dealt with. He put himself in the way when our plans were shaping up nicely. And got a little too close to the truth. I couldn’t afford for him to contact London and spill the beans. My beans. If he’d told tales, I would have been disgraced, dismissed with ignominy. But I needn’t have worried. The Rajah has his ways and means.’

  ‘How charming.’

  ‘And he’d have stayed dealt with,’ Corrigan muttered, ‘rotting away in that cell, if you hadn’t decided to be a hero. But, of course, you couldn’t resist the challenge. You had to charge to his rescue. Nothing I could say would persuade you to stay in England. I knew you’d endanger the project the minute you landed in Bombay. So I hitched a ride, and encouraged Daisy to come too. She was an extra safeguard. Not that she’s been the slightest use in stopping you—the opposite, in fact.’

  From the corner of his eye, Grayson saw the Rajah striding towards them and turned to face the man directly. ‘A few minutes, if you will. There are things I need to know, and there’s plenty of time for you to do as you wish with me.’

  He turned back to his one-time friend who stood, white-faced and rigid, a few feet from him. ‘What have you been doing in Jasirapur, Mike? All those hours toiling away in the office?’

  ‘What do you think? I looked for Joshi or I pretended to. Pretended to try and discover something that would help you in your search. It kept you quiet and it kept civil admin contented. And that was necessary. The project had reached a critical stage and I needed to make sure the team at Jasirapur had no suspicions. I fed them little bits and pieces about our search for their lost colleague, and they seemed happy enough to accept what I told them.’

  ‘All the time clearing the path for this sorry band of cut-throats?’

  ‘You can call them as many names as you like. They’re my paymasters and have rewarded me well. I’ve been paid to protect the project by warning them of your intentions. I’ve done a good job, I think, even though somehow you managed to make it here.’

  ‘Pat yourself on the back. It’s the only reward you’re likely to get. But a nice long stretch in an English prison will help to compensate. That’s, of course, if you’re not strung up as a traitor.’

  ‘Look around you. What do you see? Friends? I don’t think so. You’re a prisoner here and you’ll be dealt with. You should have left when you could.’

  ‘I’m not a rat, I don’t desert.’

  Corrigan flinched but his voice never wavered. ‘I’m afraid you’ll wish you had.’

  ‘Enough.’ The Rajah, clearly out of patience, clapped his hands. ‘Seize Harte,’ he commanded his minions. ‘Bind and gag him. This time we will not worry about the niceties.’

  One of Grayson’s erstwhile jailors appeared out of nowhere and produced a knife. Just in case I should struggle, he thought, as the man grabbed him from behind and the steel’s cold tip pricked at his throat. The Rajah stretched his arms wide to shepherd his companions back to the table. Grayson saw the rotund figure of Mr Acharya bouncing from one side to the other, smoothing the map flat and positioning various counters when and where he was told. He’d always suspected it and here was the proof: the secretary was neck deep in whatever evil was being plotted.

  ‘Come, we must mobilise—it’s time for the first stage of our war.’ The Rajah bent over the table. ‘And this is where we will begin, I think, and here, too.’

  The knife continued to hover an inch from Grayson’s throat as another two of yesterday’s heavyweights advanced with a length of rope in their hands. Before they could reach him, though, a voice from the doorway halted them in their tracks.

  ‘Let him be,’ the voice said. ‘If you harm him, it will be the worse for you.’

  Daisy. It couldn’t be, but it was. He felt a riot of emotions. Why on earth was she here? She was supposed to be miles away, supposed to be safe. Vexation coursed through him at the knowledge that she’d put herself back into danger. Could she never do what she was asked? At the same time, his heart rejoiced at her courage. And then tore itself apart with fear for her.

  ‘Let him go,’ she repeated.

  Verghese turned from the table, a sigh of the utmost weariness escaping him. ‘Dear young lady, is it really you? It seems that you and your companion are living in a dream world.’ His voice grew harsh. ‘Seize her as well. I had no idea the English were such romantics, but if they wish to die together, who am I to stop them?’

  Daisy fought back with her only weapon. ‘The army is on its way. Javinder Joshi has gone to meet them and will guide them here. If you surrender now, you’ll face prison but not death.’

  ‘A dream world indeed,’ the Rajah muttered.

  His companions were growing restless. Events were not working out quite as they’d envisaged. The men with the rope were also looking unsure. ‘Bind them both,’ Verghese commanded. ‘She is lying, you fools. How could the army be here? Even if Joshi has escaped, what chance has he had to call up soldiers from miles away?’

  ‘He hasn’t,’ Grayson managed to say before the men advanced on him. ‘But I have. I did the calling before I left Jasirapur. The army are coming all right.’

  Mike turned a sicklier white. ‘You’re bluffing. You’re always bluffing. Life is just one long joke for you, isn’t it?’ he said bitterly.

  ‘That’s been your big mistake, Mike, believing I’m never serious.’

  The man wielding the knife had become confused by the shower of words, unintelligible words at that. Distracted, his hand wavered for a second while he tried to make sense of the situation. His hold on the knife slackened and the point inched away from Grayson’s throat. In those few seconds, his prisoner had jabbed backwards with his elbow and hit the man hard in the stomach, then twisted swiftly to face him and punched him squarely in the fa
ce. The man swayed backwards, forwards, then back again and finally succumbed, crumpling to the floor in an untidy heap. As he did so, the knife flew from his grasp and Grayson made a lunge for it.

  But he was not alone. Mike had been standing close and threw himself to the floor, scrabbling to reach the weapon. The two wrestled for control: a twisted arm, fingers in eyes, an elbow to the throat, a kick in the groin. Both had been trained in the art of attack and though Mike had weakened over the years, he was still a strong man. First one, then the other, was uppermost. The Rajah remained at a distance, a pained expression of impatience on his face, while Daisy struggled against her captor to no avail. She was too small, too firmly held, to be of any help to the man she loved. Verghese signalled briefly to one of the servants at the door and a gun appeared from nowhere. She closed her eyes. But the struggling men were too entwined for the servant to take accurate aim and the gun remained pointing into the air. There was a clatter as the knife slid out from between the wrestling bodies. Both men went for it, then the horrible sound of exhaling air and Mike was lying prone.

  ‘An accident,’ Grayson gasped. He bowed his head. Mike was dead, he knew it, and he had been the one to wield the knife. But he had no time to mourn before a rough hand latched itself to his collar and jerked him to his feet.

  ‘I think we have seen enough,’ Verghese announced in a bored voice. ‘Get rid of that—’ he gestured in distaste at the body leaking blood over the pristine floor ‘—and take them up to the roof. We have wasted too much time already. When the sun drops below the mountains, throw them off. At sunset no one will see them fall, except for the vultures seeking carrion. Tomorrow their picked bodies will be a warning to anyone else who might think to interfere.’

  Once again, they were on the narrow staircase used by the servants, but this time being hurried to the very top of the palace instead of plunged to its depths. At least they would die in the open, Daisy thought, and not meet a festering end in that dank and dreadful cell. But that was of little comfort and she felt sick at heart. She’d had some wild hope that if she was here, playing a part in Grayson’s drama, she might make a difference, and an even wilder hope that she could save him. She’d had no clear plan, except to try to frighten the Rajah into letting them both go. But Verghese had treated her threat with contempt.

 

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