“What about these two?” said Pudd’n.
“They can stay here.” She turned in the doorway and slapped her hand against the jamb. “You checked this place out properly, didn’t you? No way they could break out of it?”
“The door’s metal lined, and the walls are concrete block,” said Pudd’n. “They’re safe enough, but there’s no lavatory. And no food. We didn’t expect two of them — what do we do with her?”
“We’ll worry about that after I’ve called Scouse.” Zan and Dixie left. Their relationship had not improved during the last interchange, and they carefully avoided looking at each other. After an apologetic glance at the narrow bed, and a shrug of his heavy shoulders, Pudd’n followed them out.
The door boomed shut with a clang of finality, and a second later the light went out. The switch must be outside the room.
This time, Scouse’s mob was taking no chances.
The darkness was harder on me than on Ameera. To her, a light haze had simply become darker haze. We groped our way forward for a few seconds until we located the bed, then while I sat uselessly on it Ameera explored the room using her hands, feet, tongue and nose.
She had slipped off her shoes. I heard her padding around quietly, sniffing curiously in one place, rubbing her hand or foot against the floor or wall in another. At last she came back to where I lay and snuggled beside me on the bed.
“No good?” I said. Somehow it seemed right to whisper, even though there was no one to overhear us.
“It is no good.” Ameera moved closer to me. “It is solid, the way that the man said. Lee-yo-nel, what will they do with us?”
“They will let you go — maybe tomorrow.” I tried to sound confident. “But they want to keep me here and ask me questions about Belur.”
“But you do not know about Mr. Belur.”
“They don’t believe that.”
“What will they do to you?”
Burn me with cigarette ends. Beat me to death and then stick me in the river, the way they had handled Valnora Warren. Torture me to learn my secrets, and then fry me to a crisp on a high-voltage wire, the way they had treated Rustum Belur.
“Lee-yo-nel?” Ameera interrupted my gloomy introspection. “Why did the man with the scratchy voice say that you were using the Nymphs with me? That is not true. I am a full-grown-up woman, not a child.”
“Eh? How do you know about Nymphs?”
“Everyone here — every girl in India — knows about them. Lee-yo said that most of the nymph-et-a-mine tablets for the whole world are made near Calcutta . But why do the men here say that you use Nymphs?”
“Ameera, you shouldn’t be thinking about that sort of thing.” I lifted myself higher on the bed. “People who use this drug are sick — sick in their minds. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Lee-yo-nel!” Her body jerked against me. “How can you say that the Nymphs are bad? What is wrong with them?”
“Everything. They make little girls want sex.” I didn’t want to talk about it, but Ameera would not change the subject.
“How can it be right,” I went on, “when men drug children and force them to have sex? It’s wrong, and it must be stopped.”
Ameera was silent against me for a long time, then she sighed. “Lee-yo-nel, you do not understand anything. You think I am blind, but you see less. My sister will marry next year. I will give her a wedding gift of Nymphs.”
“You will do what?” I wondered if the Madrill treatment was making my brains into mush. “Ameera, you are insane even to think of that. What will her husband say?”
“He will never know.” Ameera’s voice was angry now. “You do not understand our ways — Lee-yo was the same. My sister is ten years old. The new laws say she is a child, and she is too young, but my father says she is not too young. He wants a rich husband for her, and she will find one only if she marries soon. So she will marry. Without the Nymphs, she will have soreness, and bad hurt, and bleeding, and bad fear. Her wedding night will be all pain, as it was pain to me. I was married at ten, and widow at twelve. All the nights then were fear and pain.”
She was weeping against my chest. I suspected that the tears were not for herself, they were for all the young girls of India . I stroked her hair gently, and waited. She had never made such a long speech to me before.
“We will not need Nymphs when the men are changed,” she said at last. “Lee-yo-nel, you are not like this, I know it. But four years ago, I would have starved to get those Nymphs you tell me are so bad.”
She was silent for many minutes. At last her regular breathing told me that she had fallen asleep. I lay awake beside her, wondering what tomorrow might bring. No matter what I had told Ameera, I was sure that they would not let her go either. To leave this house alive, we would have to escape from it.
How?
My head was aching again, but I dared not lose time in sleep. The room we lay in was silent as a grave. As the night wore on I reviewed again and again what we had seen of the house, what I knew of Pudd’n, Dixie , Zan and Ameera, and how I might put that knowledge together to free us. It was slim pickings, but after a couple of hours I could see only one hope.
Reluctantly, I woke Ameera. We whispered for many minutes, huddled close in the unrelenting darkness.
- 13 -
“What time is it?”
My eyes wouldn’t focus and my head was bursting, but when the door to our little room creaked open and the overhead light went on, that was the only question my lips could frame. A lot depended on the answer.
“Just after midnight ,” said Pudd’n’s voice. His broad and amiable face was better to wake up to than Dixie ’s vicious leer. “Eyes open now. Zan’s talked to Scouse, an’ she needs a few words with you.”
He may have looked friendly, but the gun in his great hand told a different story. Ameera and I sat up wearily. I blinked and squinted at the unshaded light, a single forty-watt bulb in the multisocket bracket.
“Couldn’t it wait until morning? We need to get some sleep.”
“We want to finish this before morning,” said Zan. She was standing in the doorway, just behind Pudd’n, and despite the hour she looked fresh and alert. She had changed from blouse and skirt to a clinging purple robe that hugged her figure and showed off her clear olive complexion, and her eyes and lips were freshly made up. She moved forward to stand in front of Pudd’n, always slightly to the side so that we were covered by the gun.
I touched Ameera on her arm. She sat up on the bed and swung her bare feet lightly to the floor.
“Please. I must go to the lavatory. Now.”
Zan and Pudd’n looked at each other. “Take her,” said Zan after a moment.
“What, me?” protested Pudd’n. “She’s a woman, you oughter do it.”
Zan shook her head. “I have to talk to Salkind — Scouse’s orders. You can leave me the gun, if you’re worried about him getting awkward.”
“An’ what about me? You know we’re not supposed to be unarmed.”
Zan looked from Pudd’n’s great frame to Ameera’s five-foot nothing, and gave a slow and lovely smile. “Pudd’n, if she beats you up I’ll look after the wounds myself.”
Pudd’n was not amused. He handed the gun to Zan, stepped forward, and took Ameera by the hand. “Come on, Missie. Let’s get you taken care of an’ back here. Hey, Zan, Dixie ought to bring her back. You know I’ve got to get stuff ready for Scouse. I’ll be up all night as it is.”
Zan frowned. “I suppose so. Tell him to bring food for these two when he comes.”
“Yeah.” Pudd’n grinned at me. “He’ll love doin’ that. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him an’ make sure he doesn’t try an’ poison yer.”