He found the rakosh pawing through a garbage can. It had a dark vinyl bag torn open and was pulling something out. Fury surged through Kusum. He should have known he couldn't trust a youngling! Here it was rummaging in garbage when it should be following the Scent up the wall. He unfurled his whip, ready to strike...
The young rakosh held something out to him: half of an orange.
Kusum snatched it up and held it under his nose. It was one of those he had injected with the elixir and hidden in the playhouse last night. The rakosh came up with another half.
Kusum pressed both together. They fit perfectly. The orange had been sliced open but had not been eaten. He looked at the rakosh and it was now holding a handful of chocolates.
Enraged, Kusum hurled the orange halves against the wall.
He strode around to the rear of the townhouse and up to the back door. The rakosh followed him part way and then stood and stared across the East River.
'Here!' Kusum said impatiently, indicating the door.
He stepped back as the rakosh came up the steps and slammed one of its massive three-fingered hands against the door. With a loud crack of splintering wood, it flew open. Kusum stepped through with the rakosh close behind. He wasn't worried about awakening anyone in the house. If Jack had discovered the treated orange, he surely had spirited everyone away.
Kusum stood in the dark kitchen, the young rakosh a looming shadow beside him. Yes...the house was empty. No need to search it.
A thought struck him with the force of a blow.
Uncontrollable tremors shook his body. Not anger that Jack had been one step ahead of him all day, but fear. Fear so deep and penetrating that it almost overwhelmed him. He rushed to the front door and ran out to the street.
Jack had hidden the last Westphalen from him—and at this very moment Jack's life was being torn from him by the Mother rakosh! The only man who could tell him where to find the child was being silenced forever! How would Kusum find her in a city of eight million? He would never fulfill the vow! All because of Jack!
May you be reincarnated as a jackal!
He opened the rear door of the van for the rakosh but it would not enter. It persisted in staring across the East River. It would take a few steps toward the river and then come back, repeating the process over and over.
'In!' Kusum said.
He was in a black mood and had no patience for any quirks in this rakosh. But despite his urgings, the creature would not obey. The youngling was normally so eager to please, yet now it acted as if it had the Scent and wanted to be off on the hunt.
And then it occurred to him—he had doctored two oranges, and they had found only one. Had the Westphalen child consumed the first before the second was found out?
Possible. His spirits lifted perceptively. Quite possible.
And what could be more natural than to remove the child entirely from the island of Manhattan? What was that borough across the river—Queens? It didn't matter how many people lived there; if the child had consumed even a tiny amount of the elixir, the rakosh would find her.
Perhaps all was not lost.
Kusum gestured toward the river with his coiled bullwhip. The young rakosh leaped to the top of the waist-high retaining wall at the end of the street and dropped to the sunken brick plaza a dozen feet below it. From there it took two steps and a flying leap over the wrought iron railing to the East River running silently below.
Kusum stood and watched it sail into the darkness, his despair dissipating with each passing second. This rakosh was an experienced hunter and seemed to know where it was going. Perhaps there was still hope of sailing tonight.
After the sound of a splash far below, he turned and climbed into the cab of the van. Yes—his mind was set. He would operate under the assumption that the youngling would bring back the Westphalen girl. He would prepare the ship for sea. Perhaps he would even cast off and sail downriver to New York Bay. He had no fear of losing the Mother and the youngling that had just leaped into the river. Rakoshi had an uncanny homing instinct that led them to their nest no matter where it was.
How fortunate he had dosed two oranges instead of one. As he refastened the necklace at his throat, he realized that the hand of Kali was evident here.
All doubt and despair melted away in a sudden blast of triumph. The Goddess was at his side, guiding him. He could not fail!
Repairman Jack was not to have the last laugh after all.
21
Jack awakened with a start. He experienced an instant of disorientation before he realized he was not in his bed but in a chair in the front room. His hand automatically went to the Glock in his lap.
He listened. Something had awakened him. What? The faint light seeping in from the kitchen area was enough to confirm that the front room was empty.
He rose and checked the TV room, then looked in on Kolabati. Still asleep. All quiet on the western front.
A noise made him whirl. From out in the hall—the creak of a board. Jack pressed his ear against the door. Silence. A hint of an odor was present at the edges of the door. Not the necrotic stink of a rakosh, but a sickly sweet smell like an old lady's gardenia perfume.
Heart thumping, Jack unlocked the door and pulled it open in a single motion, then jumped back and took his
