onto Jana that way. But she slipped us-thanks to Crane himself. He flew off someplace with her. To Dubai, it seems. A night in paradise, he must’ve been thinking. It turned out to be literally true, of course, since she killed him.”
Tesla snapped, “That’s how Jana got on to us in Paris. That wouldn’t have happened, if you hadn’t meddled.”
“I
“But not very goddamn well, since I got shot and Charley was nearly killed.”
“What’s going to happen now?” Wiki Chang asked.
“We’ll spirit both of them back to London-Chernayev and Zang. See what we can arrange for a trial. Zang’ll ultimately go back home-and end up shot, most likely. As for your Russian friend, if the Criminal Court wants him, ’fraid you’ll have to stand in line.”
“They’re both yours for the time being,” Middleton said. “The only warrant we had was for Devras Sikari.” Then he had a thought and laughed.
“What?” Connie asked.
“The Scorpion-Sikari’s benefactor.” Middleton shook his head. “All we knew about him was that he was ‘holy, but of this world.’ But I’m wondering if that was a mistake. Maybe the phrase started in English before it got translated into Hindi. The original phrase might have been ‘wholly of this world.’”
The British agent said, “Can’t disagree with that: It certainly describes Chernayev… Talk about greed. Selling out a whole country.”
Middleton cocked his head. “That raises a question. Chernayev’s motive was money and Zang’s was annexing territory with a good source of water for China. But Sikari’s motive was an independent Kashmir. So what was his real involvement in all this?” He waved his hand, indicating the dam. “It seems like he was a pawn, used by Chernayev. But he clearly had something planned for the Village-that was in his email to Kavi Balan.”
There were plenty of unanswered questions, he reflected.
“I better make some arrangements for transport now,” Barrett-Bone checked an extremely expensive watch. He saw Middleton regarding it. He laughed. “I didn’t steal it. I come from money, my friend. Believe it or not, I’m a civil servant because I like the work. One can’t be a benefactor to the world of arts and music full time and not get bored. Besides, I’m also a bit of a patriot, as out of vogue as that seems. Cheers now.” He walked into the dusty heat.
Middleton pulled out his new phone and got a status update. The fifty Mujahedeen and their leaders had been taken into custody, as had the BlueWatch people. The grounds and the explosives were secure.
He now rose. “I’m going to check on Charley.” His soul was heavy with the knowledge that she’d been drawn into the midst of this terrible affair-at a time when what she needed most was a chance to heal.
“I’ll go with you,” Tesla said.
He was nearly to the door when his phone buzzed. “Yes?”
“Colonel Middleton?” the British voice asked.
“That’s right.”
“Commander Ethans here. SAS.”
“Go ahead.”
“Stumbled on a bit of an odd situation. Thought it best to apprise you. We’ve got the body of that Archer Sikari. But, well, the queerest thing. Seems he didn’t die from loss of blood. He probably would have, but that’s not what finished him off. He was shot. In the back of the head.”
“What?”
“No question.”
Middleton recalled seeing the man sit up suddenly and then collapse. But he hadn’t heard any shots. He told this to the SAS officer, and asked, “What about your men?”
“No, sir. None of ours or yours were issued silencers.”
“Can you clear it for me to have a chat with Chernayev?”
“I’ll check with Mr. Barrett-Bone, sir, but from SAS’s perspective, it’s fine.”
He thanked the officer and hung up. He told the other Volunteers what had happened.
“But none of the BlueWatch people would have shot him-they were working together.”
Middleton said, “This one has too many questions left for me. I need some answers.”
He headed out the door into the blaring sun, Nora Tesla beside him.
They approached the trailer where the prisoner was being held. Middleton identified himself to the six Indian guards, who checked IDs and then nodded them through the temporary barbed wire perimeter, after verifying that Barrett-Bone and the SAS had okayed their interview.
The trailer was big-a doublewide American model, with air-conditioning. In the front office, two guards sat in metal chairs, gripping H &K machine guns. One checked their IDs and placed another call to their superior officers and, it seemed, to Barrett-Bone. Middleton didn’t mind; there couldn’t be too much security with these particular prisoners.
Then he hung up and said, “You can go in, in a moment. As soon as the nurse is finished.”
“Nurse?”
“British army nurse.”
Middleton frowned. “Is Chernayev injured?”
“No, no. She said it was a routine check to allow him into London.” He smiled. “Maybe he needs inoculation against mad cow disease.”
“Allow him into London? There’s no quarantine coming from India. Anyway he’s not going on a commercial flight. Who approved it?”
“An officer in our command.”
“Inside, now! Keep your weapons ready.”
“She was just a nurse.”
“I’ll call Northern Command if I have to.”
The guards regarded each other. They rose, readied their machine guns.
One covered the door while the other unlocked and flung it open. He peered inside, his face a mask of shock. “There is problem. No, no!”
The other Indian soldier raced into the room, Middleton and Tesla right behind.
They stopped fast, seeing Chernayev’s body. It was in the middle of the small office, whose windows were covered with thick steel mesh. He’d been shot in the back of the head as he tried desperately to claw his way out.
“The nurse,” a guard whispered, gesturing at the only other door in the room, leading to a third office.
“There’s a back door?”
“No, just the one, the front.”
The nurse was trapped. They’d keep her pinned and call in a marine tac team. “I’ll get-”
“No, we will stop her.”
“Wait!” Middleton whispered. “She can’t-”
They flung the door open and blinked as a brilliant light, the sort used for construction site work at night, clicked on. Blinded, they staggered back as four well-placed silenced rounds found their targets-the men’s foreheads.
In a blur the woman rushed out. She was dressed in a British army soldier’s uniform, but the poor fit and a small red stain on the chest told Middleton how she’d come by the outfit. He didn’t recognize her.
She hesitated in shock, not expecting the other two to be in the room. But before she could lift the.22 again, Middleton drew the Beretta that Chernayev had given him. When he touched the muzzle to her head she debated only a moment and dropped her own weapon.
Tesla then stepped forward, grabbed the woman and, wincing from the wound in her own shoulder, flung the attacker to the floor hard. Then she struck her furiously in the head and face.
“Nora, stop!” Middleton said, pulling her off and securing the shooter with one of the dead guard’s handcuffs. “You didn’t have to do that.”
