With the utmost reluctance, he handed the ruby back to MacDougal. He would play for bigger stakes. And to do so he had to appear completely unconcerned about money.
"I guess no harm has been done. Sell that for what you can and divide it up between the men. And divide it equally, hear?”
MacDougal appeared about to faint with surprise and relief, but he managed a sharp salute.
"Yes, sir!"
Westphalen tossed the Enfield back at him and walked away, knowing that in MacDougal's eyes he was the fairest, most generous commanding officer he had ever known. Westphalen wanted the enlisted man to feel that way. He had use for MacDougal, and for any other soldier who had been in Bharangpur for a few years.
Captain Sir Albert Westphalen had decided to find this Temple-in-the-Hills. It might well hold the answer to all his financial problems.
Chapter Three
Manhattan
Friday
1
Jack awoke shortly before ten feeling exhausted.
He’d come home jubilant after last night's success, but the glow had quickly faded. The apartment had had that empty feel to it. Worse: he felt empty. He’d quickly downed two beers, hid the second half of his fee behind the cedar plank, then crawled into bed.
After a couple of hours of sleep, however, he’d found himself wide awake for no good reason. An hour of twisting around in his sheets did no good, so he gave up and watched the end of Bride of Frankenstein. As the dinky little Universal plane went around the world and said "The End," he’d dozed off again for another couple of hours of fitful slumber.
He now pushed himself out of bed and took a wake-up shower. For breakfast he finished off the Cocoa Puffs and started on a box of Sugar Pops. As he shaved he saw that the thermometer outside his bedroom window read 89°—in the shade. He dressed accordingly in slacks and a short-sleeve shirt, then sat by the phone. He had two calls to make: one to Gia, and one to the hospital. He decided to save Gia for last.
The hospital switchboard told him that the phone had been disconnected in the room number he gave them; no Mrs. Bahkti listed as a patient. His heart sank. Damn! Even though he’d spoken to the old lady for only a few minutes, the news of her passing hurt. So senseless. At least he’d been able to get the necklace back to her before she packed it in. He told the operator to connect him with the nursing desk on the old lady's floor. Soon he was talking to Marta.
"When did Mrs. Bahkti die?"
"Far as I know, she didn't."
A flash of hope: "Transferred to another floor?"
"No. It happened during the change of shift. The grandson and granddaughter-"
"Granddaughter?"
"You wouldn't like her, Jack—she's not a blonde. Anyway, they came to the desk at shift change this morning while we were all taking report and thanked us for the concern we'd shown their grandmother. Said they'd take care of her from now on. Then they walked out. When we went to check on her, she was gone."
Jack pulled the receiver away from his ear and scowled at it before replying.
"How'd they get her out? She sure as hell couldn't walk."
He could almost feel Marta shrug at the other end of the line. "Beats me. But they tell me the guy with one arm was acting real strange toward the end of the shift, wouldn't let anyone in to see her for the last few hours."
"Why'd they let him get away with that?" For no good reason, Jack was angry, feeling like a protective relative. "That old lady needed all the help she could get. You can't let someone interfere like that, even if he is the grandson. You should have called security and had them—"
"Cool it, Jack," Marta said with an authoritative snap to her tone. "I wasn't here then."
"Yeah. Right. Sorry. It's just that—"
"Besides, from what they tell me, this place was a zoo last night after a patient on Five North climbed out a window. Security was all tied up over there. Really weird. This guy with casts on both hands breaks through his room window and somehow gets down the wall and runs away.
Jack felt his spine stiffen. "Casts? On both hands?"
"Yeah. Came in through the ER last night with comminuted fractures. Nobody can see how he climbed down the wall, especially since he must have got cut up pretty bad going through the window. But he wasn't splattered on the pavement, so he must have made it."
"Why the window? Was he under arrest or something?"
"That's the really weird thing. He could have walked out the front door if he wanted to. Anyhow, we all figure the grandkids snuck old Mrs. Bahkti out during all the commotion.”
"What'd the guy who went through the window look like? Did he have a patch on his left eye?" Jack held his breath as he waited for the answer.
"I haven't the faintest, Jack. Did you know the guy? I could find out his name for you."
"Thanks, Marta, but that won't help. Never mind."
After saying good-bye, he cradled the receiver and sat staring at the floor. In his mind's eye he was watching Kusum steal into a hospital room, grab a young man with a gauze patch over his left eye and casts on both arms, and hurl him through a window. But Jack couldn't buy it. He knew Kusum would have liked to do just that, but he couldn't see a one-armed man being capable of it. Especially not while he was busy spiriting his grandmother out of the hospital.
Irritably, he shook off the images and concentrated on his other problem: the disappearance of Grace Westphalen. He had nothing to go on but the unlabeled bottle of herbal fluid, and had only a vague gut suspicion that it was somehow involved. He didn't trust hunches, but he decided to follow this one for lack of anything better.
He picked up the bottle from where he’d left it on the oak hutch last night and unscrewed the cap. The odor was unfamiliar, but definitely herbal. He placed a drop on a fingertip and tasted it. Not bad. Only thing to do was to have it analyzed and see where it came from. Maybe by some far out chance it was connected to whatever had happened to Grace.
He picked up the phone again, intending to call Gia, then put it down. He couldn't bear to hear the ice in her voice. Not yet. Needed to do something else first: Call that crazy one-armed Indian and find out what he’d done with the old lady. He dialed the number Kusum had left on the office answerphone yesterday.
A woman answered, her voice was soft, unaccented, almost liquid. She told him Kusum was out.
"When will he be back?"
"This evening. Is...is this Jack?"
"Uh, yes." He was startled and puzzled. "How did you know?”
Her laugh was musical. "Kusum said you'd probably be calling. I'm Kolabati, his sister. I was just going to call your office. I want to meet you, Repairman Jack."
"And I want to know where your grandmother is!"
"On her way to India," she said lightly, "where she will be cared for by our own doctors."
Jack was relieved but still annoyed. "That could have been arranged without sneaking her out the back door or whatever you did."
"Of course. But you do not know my brother. He always does things his way. Just like you, from what he tells me. I like that in a man. When can we meet?"
Something in her voice caused his concern for the grandmother to fade into the background. He old lady was, after all, under medical care...
"Are you staying in the States long?" he asked, temporizing.
He had a rule that once he was through with a job, he was through. But he had an urge to see what sort of face went with that seductive voice. And come to think of it, this woman wasn't a customer—her brother was.
Jack, you should have been a lawyer.
"I live in Washington, DC I rushed up as soon as I heard about grandmother. Do you know where the Waldorf is?"
"Heard of it."