as he followed that wall around to the main deck where he found a padlocked iron door.
The voice coming from behind the door was Kolabati's. Jack allowed himself a self-congratulatory grin. He’d found her.
He examined the door. The shackle of a laminated steel padlock had been passed through the swivel eye of a heavy slotted hasp welded firmly to the steel of the door. Simple but very effective.
Jack dug out his pick kit and went to work.
10
Kolabati had started calling Kusum's name when she heard the footsteps on the deck above her cabin; she stopped when she heard him rattle the lock on the outer door. She wasn't hungry or thirsty, she simply wanted to see another human face—even Kusum's. The isolation of the pilot's cabin was getting to her.
She’d spent all day racking her brain for a way to appeal to her brother. But pleas would be of no avail. How could you plead with a man who thought he was salvaging your karma? How could you convince that man to alter a course of action he was pursuing for what he was certain was your own good?
She’d even gone so far as to look for something she might conceivably use for a weapon but had discarded the notion. Even with one arm, Kusum was too quick, too strong, too agile for her. He’d proved that beyond a doubt this morning. And in his unbalanced state of mind, a physical assault might drive him over the edge.
And still she worried for Jack. Kusum had said he was unharmed, but how could she be sure after all the lies he’d already told her?
She heard the outer door open—Kusum seemed to have been fumbling with it—and footsteps approaching her cabin. A man stepped through the splinters of the door. He stood there smiling, staring at her sari.
'Where'd you get the funny dress?'
'Jack!' She leaped into his arms, her joy bursting within her. 'You're alive!'
'You're surprised?'
'I thought Kusum might have...'
'No. It was almost the other way around.'
'I'm so glad you found me!' She clutched him, reassuring herself that he was really here. 'Kusum is going to sail back to India tonight. Get me out of here!'
'My pleasure.' He turned toward the shattered door and paused. 'What happened to that?'
'Kusum kicked it out after I locked him in.'
She saw Jack's eyebrows rise. 'How many kicks?'
'One, I think.' She wasn't sure.
Jack pursed his lips as if to whistle but made no sound. He began to speak but was interrupted by a loud clang from down the hall.
Kolabati went rigid.
'The door!'
Jack was already out in the hall. She followed in time to see him slam his shoulder full force against the steel door.
Too late. It was locked.
Jack pounded once on the door with his fist, but said nothing.
Kolabati leaned against the door beside him. She wanted to scream with frustration. Almost free—and now locked up again!
'Kusum, let us out!' she cried in Bengali. 'Can't you see this is useless?'
No reply. Only taunting silence on the other side. Yet she sensed her brother's presence.
'I thought you wanted to keep us apart!' she said in English, purposely goading him. 'Instead you've locked us in here together with a bed and nothing but each other to fill the empty hours.'
There followed a lengthy pause, and then an answer—also in English. The deadly precision in Kusum's voice chilled Kolabati.
'You will not be together long. There are crucial matters that require my presence at the Consulate now. The rakoshi will separate the two of you when I return.'
He said no more. And although Kolabati had not heard his footsteps retreating across the deck, she was sure he’d left them. She glanced at Jack. Her terror for him was a physical pain. It would be so easy for Kusum to bring a few rakoshi onto the deck, open this door and send them in after Jack.
Jack shook his head. 'You've got a real way with words.”
He seemed so calm. 'Aren't you frightened?'
'Yeah. Very.' He was feeling the walls, rubbing his fingers over the low ceiling.
'What are we going to do?
'Get out of here, I hope.'
He strode back to the cabin and began to tear the bed apart. He threw the pillow, mattress and bedclothes on the floor, then pulled at the iron spring frame. It came free with a screech. He worked at the bolts that held the frame together; amid a constant stream of muttered curses he managed to loosen one of them. After that it took him only a moment to twist one of the L-shaped bars off the frame.
'What are you going to do with that?'
