Chapter 26
OCTOBER 18, 2007
THURSDAY, 10:52 A.M.
DELHI, INDIA
For a moment, time stood still. All was silent. Everyone in the immediate area was dumbstruck for almost a full beat. With the gun going off in the narrow, close-quartered alleyway, their ears were ringing. The next instant it was like being next to a tornado, with everyone screaming and running headlong away in a complete panic.
The protein-starved cyclist ferrying Jennifer was one of the very first to flee, literally leaping from his tricycle and dashing off, heading down the galis, not even holding on to his dhoti. He might have appeared malnourished, but he had a strong sense of self-preservation.
The instant the driver left the cycle rickshaw and forcefully pushed off with his feet, the front wheel turned sharply and the tricycle’s momentum heaved it forward. As it crashed it hurled Jennifer straight ahead onto the filthy pavement. With her shoulder bag looped over her shoulder, it stayed with her as she sprawled spread-eagle on the ground, scraping the side of her nose and her right elbow in the process. At the time she didn’t care what she’d fallen into. Almost the second she’d touched down, she was up and running with everyone else.
Within seconds the bazaar became a building tide of people rushing forward like a wave, engulfing the shops, which acted like clams. As soon at the disturbance touched them, their doors instantly slammed shut from within; locks were secured, leaving merchandise to be stumbled over and trampled in the street.
Jennifer had no idea where she was going but was content to let her shocked feet take her anyplace quickly, as long as it was away from where the gun had gone off. All she could think about was the fleeting image of the man in black aiming a gun at her face. At the last nanosecond she saw the man’s left cheek literally disappear; one second it was there, the next it was gone. At that instant the man appeared to be the embodiment of the Grim Reaper.
Jennifer became aware of other people running, everybody in a slightly different direction, although most down the street and bearing to the right at the first corner. Rapidly tiring from running full-tilt, she noticed a number of people disappearing into the doorway of one of the larger shops beyond the corner. The owner was complaining and trying to get his door shut, but the half-dozen or so people were ignoring him. Jennifer pushed into the store behind the others, as ahead she saw two policemen, scruffily dressed in khaki, trying to stop the panic by beating people with their long bamboo staffs as they ran headlong into them.
As she dashed into the shop and stared around at the merchandise, she realized it was a butcher shop. Toward the front were stacks and stacks of tiny crates stuffed with live, cackling chickens and a couple of ducks. A little farther inside were some pigs and a lamb. The place stank and was horribly dirty. The floor was covered with dried crusted blood. Flies were all over everything. Jennifer found it hard to keep them out of her face.
While the proprietor was arguing with the other strangers who had run in, Jennifer looked for a hiding place of sorts, where she could get her breath and reprogram her mind. She was still overwhelmed by fright. Knowing she could not be choosy, she encountered a soiled curtain. With no hesitation, she pulled it aside and stepped beyond.
As her foot came down, Jennifer realized belatedly she had to direct it onto one of two bricks. The same with the other foot. She had inadvertently stepped into a makeshift toilet. Balancing herself, she pulled the curtain back into place. Next she managed to turn herself around without stepping off the bricks. The facility was just a hole, two bricks, and a faucet.
The argument between the owner and the interlopers was still going on out in the narrow store. Jennifer assumed the language was Hindi. She tried not to breathe through her nose. The smell was repulsive.
Now that she was stationary, Jennifer shivered. She looked at her hands and then tentatively smelled. It didn’t smell good, whatever it was that she’d landed in when she’d pitched out of the tricycle. At least it wasn’t feces. She looked down at the faucet, shrugged, and bent down to rinse off her hands. At that point it sounded as if a new person had gotten into the shop and was arguing with the owner. This time it was in English. But the individual said little. It was mostly the owner carrying on very angrily. Then there was a crash, and the pigs began squealing and the lamb bleating.
Worrying about what was happening, Jennifer stood up, turned, and listened. It sounded like the owner was trying to get up. Just when Jennifer had generated the courage to peek around the curtain, it was rudely whipped to the side, causing her to cry out, as did the person doing the whipping.
It was Neil McCulgan.
“God, you scared me half to death,” Neil complained with a hand pressed to his chest.
“You?” Jennifer complained with equal vehemence. “What about me? And what in God’s name are you doing here?”
“There’ll be time to explain,” Neil said. He extended a hand for Jennifer to step off the bricks. Behind him, the owner was busy trying to extricate himself from a stack of the tiny chicken cages where he’d presumably been pushed. Several of the cages had broken, and the released chickens were nervously pacing around the immediate area.
She shook her head and raised her hands as a warning. “You don’t want to touch me. I was tossed out of a tricycle into some—”
“I know. I saw.”
“You did?” Jennifer stepped off the bricks. She briefly glanced at the half-dozen Indians she’d followed into the shop.
“I most certainly did.”
“I want you Americans out of here,” yelled the owner, after catching the chickens and cramming the poor birds into occupied cages. “I want everyone out of here!”
“Let’s go!” Neil said, keeping himself between the owner and Jennifer. “There’s nothing to be running from.”
Outside, things had pretty much returned to normal. People were no longer in a panic and were beginning to drift back into the street. Shops were reopening, and the two policemen were no longer beating anyone. Best of all, it seemed no one had gotten hurt other than the person who was shot.
“Alright, this is far enough!” Jennifer said, halting in the middle of the alley. She was trembling now that she’d had a moment to think about what she had experienced. It had all transpired so fast. “Do you know what happened?”
“Sort of,” Neil said. “I was behind you trying to catch up when the shooting occurred. I’ve been trying to catch you from the moment you left the hotel. I missed you at the Red Fort.”
“I couldn’t handle visiting it,” Jennifer confessed. “And it turned out that I couldn’t handle the bazaar, either. I was trying to get the cyclist to turn around and take me back to my car when the shots rang out.”
“Anyway, I got to the mosque and I just caught a glimpse of you disappearing on the cycle rickshaw. I had to run through all those people in front of the mosque to try not to lose you in this labyrinth.” Neil made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “I wasn’t even sure which direction you’d gone. But I hurried best I could despite the crowd. Then the moment I did see you, I noticed someone go right up behind you and take out a gun. I yelled bloody murder and started running faster, but a short guy behind the first was faster. He was like a gunslinger. He whipped out his own gun and blam, blam, then yelled ‘Police!’ and held up a badge. That was it. I saw you pitch from the cycle and dash off. It was all I could do to keep you in sight. You really can sprint.”
“You think the guy with the gun was going to shoot me?” Jennifer asked anxiously. She started to raise her hand to her face in consternation but thought better of it.
Neil pressed his lips together and shrugged. “It sure looked like it. I mean, he could have been planning on robbing you, I suppose, but I kinda doubt it. He acted too motivated. Is there anyone that might actually want to kill you?” Neil let the question trail off, suggesting that he couldn’t believe what he was actually asking.
