I thought. . . he said, and then caught himself.
Daniel shook his head. It didn't work out that way. Chawe wasn't very bright, I'm afraid. You should have fired him long ago, Mr.
Singh. Now move around to the other side of the car, but move slowly.
Please let us keep our dignity. He jabbed the gun into the Sikh's back, hard enough to bruise him through the thin cotton shirt which was all he wore above a pair of khaki slacks and sandals. Chetti Singh had obviously dressed in great haste.
They moved in close file around the front of the Cadillac's fancy radiator grille to the passenger door.
Open the door. Get in, Daniel instructed.
Chetti Singh settled himself on the gleaming leather upholstery, and looked up into the barrel of the shotgun only inches from his face. He was sweating more heavily than the warm night air warranted. Beads of sweat twinkled on his beaky nose and slid down his cheeks into the plaited beard. He smelt of curry spices and fear, but there was a tiny spark of hope in his eyes as he offered the keys of the Cadillac to Daniel through the open door. Arc you going to drive? Here are the keys; take them.
I place myself in your hands, absolutely. Nice try, Mr. Singh, Daniel smiled coldly. But you and Mr. Purdey are not going to be separated for a moment. just slide across to the driver's seat, nice and slowly.
Awkwardly Chetti Singh moved his big frame across the console between the seats, grunting with the effort, and Daniel prodded him with the shotgun.
That's it. You are doing very well, Mr. Singh. He slid into the passenger seat as Chetti Singh settled at the wheel. He held the shotgun across his lap, out of sight of any casual observer, but with the muzzle still pushed hard into the Sikh's lower ribs.
With his free hand he closed the door. All right. Start up. Drive out.
As the headlights swept across the lawns, they lit the body of one of the Rottweilers lying on the grass. My dogs, my daughter is very fond of them. She has my commiserations. Daniel gave the taunt back to him.
But the animal is doped, not dead. They drove out into the street.
My shop, my supermarket in town is on fire. I think this is your doing, Doctor. It is an investment of several millions. Again, you have my commiserations, Daniel nodded. It's a tough life, Mr. Singh, but worse for the insurance company than for you, I imagine. Now drive to the warehouse please. The warehouse? Which warehouse? Where you and Chawe and I met earlier today, Mr. Singh.
That warehouse. Chetti Singh turned in the correct direction, but he was still sweating. The smell of curry and garlic was very strong in the confined interior of the Cadillac. With his free hand Daniel adjusted the air-conditioning.
Neither of them spoke but Chetti Singh kept glancing in the rearview mirror, obviously hoping for assistance. However, the streets were deserted until they stopped at a traffic light at the entrance to the industrial area. Then headlights flooded the interior from the rear, and a Landrover pulled up alongside them. It was painted grey and when Daniel glanced sideways at it, he made out the peaked cap brims of the two police constables in the front seat.
Beside him he felt Chetti Singh stiffen and gather himself.
Stealthily the Sikh reached out for the door handle at his side.
Please, Mr. Singh, Daniel said pleasantly. Don't do it.
Blood and guts all over the upholstery will ruin your Caddie's resale value. Chetti Singh deflated slowly. One of the police constables was now staring across at them. Smile at him, Daniel instructed.
Chetti Singh turned his head and snarled like a rabid dog.
The constable looked away hurriedly. The lights changed and the Landrover pulled forward.
Let them get ahead, Daniel instructed.
At the next intersection the police vehicle turned left. You did that well, Daniel congratulated him. I am pleased with you. Why are you victimising me in such a barbarous fashion, please, Doctor? Don't spoil your record by asking facetious questions, Daniel advised him.
You know why I'm doing this. The ivory was no concern of yours, surely, Doctor?
The theft of the ivory is the concern of any decent man, but you are correct. That is not the main reason. The business with Chawe. That was not personal. You brought that upon yourself. You should not blame me for trying to protect myself. I am a very wealthy man, Doctor. I would be glad to make up to you any injury to your dignity or person you might have suffered. Let us discuss a figure. Ten thousand dollars, US, of course, Chetti Singh babbled. Is that your final offer? I find it miserly, Mr. Singh. Yes, you are right.
Let's say twenty-five, no, make that fifty. Fifty thousand US. Johnny Nzou was one of the best friends I ever had, Daniel said softly. His wife was a lovely lady, they had three children, two girls and a little boy. They named the boy after me.
Now you have me at a loss, never mind. Who is Johnny Nzou? Chetti Singh asked. Let's say fifty thousand for him, as well. One hundred thousand US dollars. I give it to you, and you walk away. We forget this foolishness. It never happened Am I correct, Doctor? A little late for that, Mr. Singh. Johnny Nzou was the warden at Chiwewe National Park.
Chetti Singh let out his breath softly. I am terribly sorry about that, Doctor. Those were not my orders. . . There was the brittle edge of panic in his voice. I had nothing to do-with that. It was, it was the Chinaman. Tell me about the Chinaman. If I tell you, will you swear not to harm me? Daniel seemed to consider this at length. Very well, he nodded at last. We will go to your warehouse where we can have a private uninterrupted chat. You will tell me all you know about Ning Cheng Gong, and afterwards I will release you, immediately, unharmed. Chetti Singh turned to stare at him in the reflected light from the instrument panel.
I trust you, Doctor Armstrong. I think you are a man of integrity.
I believe you will keep your word. To the letter, Mr. Singh, Daniel assured him. Now just keep heading for the Warehouse. They passed the sawmills. The lumberyard was brightly lit and the teams of sawyers were at work in the long sheds.
The squeal of the saw-blades slicing into timber carried clearly even into the air-conditioned interior of the Cadillac. Business must be good, Mr. Singh. You are working nightshift. I have a large consignment going to Australia at the end of the week. You will want to survive long enough to enjoy those profits.
just keep cooperating.
At the end of the street the warehouse stood in darkness.
Chetti Singh stopped at the main gates. The gatehouse was deserted and unlit. Left-hand drive, Chetti Singh remarked, indicating the controls of the Cadillac with an apologetic shrug. You must operate the gate from your side. He handed Daniel a plastic coated electronic key-card similar to the one retrieved from Chawe's corpse, and lowered the electric window.
Daniel leaned out and pressed the card into the slot of the control-box.
The gate boom rose and Chetti Singh drove through. Behind them the boom dropped again automatically. Your guard leopard must save you a great deal in the way of wages. Daniel's tone was mild and conversational but he kept a firm pressure of the shotgun into Chetti Singh's ribs. But I don't understand how you have made the animal so vicious. In my experience, leopards will not attack a man unless provoked. That is true. Chetti Singh was more relaxed since they had struck their bargain. He had stopped sweating and now he chuckled for the first time.