Vicky ran her fingers over the rose on the lid. Pretty. Why couldn't this be hers? Maybe after Aunt Nellie finished the chocolates she'd let Vicky keep the box.
How many are left?
She lifted the lid. The rich, heavy smell of dark chocolate enveloped her, and with it the subtler odors of all the different fillings. And another smell, hiding just underneath the others, a smell she wasn't quite sure of. But who cared? The chocolate overpowered everything else. Saliva poured into her mouth. She wanted one. Oh, how she wanted just one bite.
She tilted the box to better see the contents in the light from the foyer. No empty slots! None of the chocolates was missing! At this rate it would take forever before she got the empty box. But then she forgot about the box. Chocolates…the chocolates…
She picked up a piece from the middle, wondering what was inside. It was cool to the touch but within seconds the chocolate coating became soft.
She held it to her nose. It didn't smell quite so good up close. Maybe it had something yucky inside, like raspberry goo or some such awful stuff. One bite wouldn't hurt. Maybe just a nibble from the outer layer. That way she wouldn't have to worry about what was inside. And maybe no one would notice.
No.
Vicky put the piece back. She remembered the last time she’d sneaked a nibble of chocolate—her face swelled up like a big red balloon and her eyelids got so puffy all the kids at school had said she looked Chinese. Maybe no one would notice the nibble she took, but Mommy would sure notice her blown-up face. She took one last, longing look at the rows of dark lumps, then replaced the lid and put the box back on the table.
With Ms. Jelliroll under her arm again, she walked back to the bottom of the stairs and stood there looking up. Awfully dark up there. And she was scared. But she couldn't stay down here all night. Slowly she started up, carefully watching the dark at the top. When she reached the second floor landing she clung to the newel post and peered around. Nothing moved. With her heart beating wildly she broke into a scampering run around to the second flight and didn't slow until she’d reached the third floor, jumped into her bed, and pulled the sheet over her head.
10.
"Working hard, I see."
Jack whirled at the sound of the voice, nearly spilling the two glasses of champagne he’d just lifted from the tray of a passing waiter.
"Gia!" She was the last person he expected to see here. And the last person he wanted to see. He felt he should be out looking for Grace instead of hob nobbing with the diplomats. But he swallowed his guilt, smiled, and tried to say something brilliant. "Fancy meeting you here."
"I'm here with Nellie."
"Oh. That explains it."
He stood there looking at her, wanting to reach out his hand and have her take it the way she used to, knowing she'd only turn away if he did. He noticed a half-empty champagne glass in her hand and a glittery look in her eyes. He wondered how many she’d had. She’d never been much of a drinker.
"So, what've you been doing with yourself?" she said, breaking the uncomfortable silence between them.
Yes—definitely too much to drink. Her voice was slightly slurred.
"Shoot anybody lately?"
Oh, swell. Here we go.
He tried a soothing tone. He wasn't looking for an argument. "Reading, trying a few videogames—”
"Which ones? Hitman? Grand Theft Auto? "
"—and watching movies."
"A Dirty Harry Festival, I suppose."
"You look great," he said, refusing to let her irk him as he tried to turn the talk toward Gia. He wasn't lying. She filled her black dress nicely. It made her blond hair and blue eyes seem to glow.
"You're not doing so bad yourself."
"It's my Fred Astaire suit. Always wanted to wear one of these. Like it?"
Gia nodded. "Is it as uncomfortable as it looks?"
"More so. Don't know how anyone ever tap-danced in one of these. Collar's choking me.
"It's not your style, anyway."
"You're right." Jack preferred to be unobtrusive. He was happiest when he could walk past with no one noticing. "But something got into me tonight. Couldn't pass up the chance to be Fred Astaire just once."
"You don't dance and your date will never be mistaken for Ginger Rogers."
"I can dream, can't I?"
"Who is she?"
Jack studied Gia closely. Could there be just a trace of jealousy there? Was that possible?
"She's..." He looked around the room until he spotted Kusum..."that man's sister."
"Is she the 'personal matter' you helped him with?"
"Oh?" he said with a slow smile. "You've been asking about me?"
Gia's eyes shifted away. "Burkes brought your name up. Not me."
"You know something, Gia?" Jack said, knowing he shouldn't but helpless to resist. "You're beautiful when you're jealous."
Her eyes flashed and her cheeks turned red. "Don't be absurd!"
She turned and walked away.
Typical, Jack thought. She wanted nothing to do with him but didn't want to see him with anybody else.
He looked around for Kolabati—not a typical woman by any standard—and found her standing beside her brother who seemed to be doing his best to pretend she wasn't there. As he walked toward the silent pair, Jack marveled at the way Kolabati's dress clung to her. The gauzy, dazzlingly white fabric snaked across her right shoulder and wrapped itself around her breasts like a bandage. Her left shoulder was completely bare, exposing her dark, flawless skin for all to admire. And there were many admirers.
"Hello, Mr. Bahkti," he said as he handed Kolabati her glass.
Kusum glanced at the champagne, at Kolabati, then turned an icy smile at Jack.
"May I compliment you on the decadence of your attire."
"Thank you. I knew it wasn't stylish, but I'll settle for decadent. How's your grandmother?"
"Physically well, but suffering from a mental aberration. I fear."
"She's doing fine," Kolabati said with a scathing look at her brother. "I have the latest word and she's doing just fine." Then she smiled sweetly. "Oh, by the way, Kusum dear. Jack was asking about durba grass today. Anything you can tell him about it?"
Jack saw Kusum stiffen. He knew Kolabati had been startled when he’d asked her about it on the phone today. What did durba grass mean to these two?
Still smiling, Kolabati sauntered away as Kusum faced him.
"What did you wish to know?"
"Nothing in particular. Except...is it ever used as a laxative?"
Kusum's face remained impassive. "It has many uses, but I have never heard it recommended for constipation. Why do you ask?"
"Just curious. An old lady I know said she was using a concoction with a durba grass extract in it."
"I'm surprised. I didn't think you could find durba grass in the Americas. Where did she buy it?"
Jack was studying Kusum's face. Something there... something he couldn't quite define.
"Don't know. She's away on a trip right now. When she comes back I'll ask her."
"Throw it away if you have any, my friend," Kusum said gravely. "Certain durba grass preparations have undesirable side-effects. Throw it away." Before Jack could say anything, Kusum gave one of his little bows. "Excuse me. There are some people I must speak to before the night is over. "
Undesirable side effects? What the hell did that mean?
Jack wandered around the room. He spotted Gia again but she avoided his eyes. Finally, the inevitable happened: he ran into Nellie Paton. He saw the pain behind her smile and suddenly felt absurd in his old-fashioned tuxedo. This woman had asked him to help find her missing sister and here he was dressed up like a gigolo.
"Gia tells me you're getting nowhere," she said in a low voice after brief amenities.
"I'm trying. If only I had more to go on. I'm doing what I—"
"I know you are, dear," Nellie said, patting his hand. "You were fair. You made no promises, and yo
u warned me you might not be able to do any more than the police had already done. All I need to know is that someone is still looking.”
"I am." He spread his arms. "I may not look like it, but I am."
"Oh, rubbish!" she said with a smile. "Everyone needs a holiday. And you certainly seem to have a beautiful companion for it."
Jack turned in the direction Nellie was looking and saw Kolabati approaching them. He introduced the two women.
"Oh, I met your brother tonight!" Nellie said. "A charming man."
"When he wants to be, yes," Kolabati replied. "By the way—has either of you seen him lately?"
Nellie nodded. "I saw him leave perhaps ten minutes ago."
Kolabati said a word under her breath. Jack didn't know Indian, but he could recognize a curse when he heard one.
"Something wrong?"
She smiled at him with her lips only. "Not at all. I just wanted to ask him something before he left.”
"Speaking of leaving," Nellie said. "I think that's a good idea. Excuse me while I go find Gia." She bustled off.
Jack looked at Kolabati. "Not a bad idea. Had enough of the diplomatic crowd for one night?"
"For more than one night"
"Where shall we go?"
"How about your apartment? Unless you've got a better idea."
Jack could not think of one.
11
Kolabati had spent most of the evening cudgeling her brain for a way to broach the subject to Jack. She had to find out about the durba grass. Where did he learn about it? Did he have any? She had to know.
She settled on the direct approach. As soon as they entered his apartment, she asked:
"Where's the durba grass?"
"Don't have any," Jack said as he took off his tailed coat and hung it on a hanger.
Kolabati glanced around the front room. She didn't see any growing in pots. "You must"
"Really, I don't"
"Then why did you ask me about it on the phone today?"
"I told you—"
"Truth, Jack." She could tell it was going to be hard getting a straight answer out of him. But she had to know. "Please. It's important."
Jack made her wait while he loosened his tie and unbuttoned the winged collar. He seemed glad to be out of it. He looked into her eyes. For a moment she thought he was going to tell her the truth. Instead, he answered her question with one of his own.
"Why do you want to know?"
"Just tell me, Jack."
"Why is it so important?"
She bit her lip. She had to tell him something. "Prepared in certain ways it can be...dangerous."
"Dangerous how?"
"Please, Jack. Just let me see what you've got and I'll tell you if there's anything to worry about."
"Your brother warned me about it too."
"Did he?" She still could not believe that Kusum was uninvolved in this. Yet he’d warned Jack. "What did he say?"
"He mentioned side effects. 'Undesirable' side effects. Just what they might be, he didn't say. I was hoping maybe you could—"
"Jack! Why are you playing games with me?"
She was genuinely concerned for him. Frightened for him. Perhaps that finally got through to him. He stared at her, then shrugged.
He went to the giant Victorian breakfront, removed a bottle from a tiny drawer hidden in the carvings, and brought it over to Kolabati. Instinctively, she reached for it. Jack pulled it away and shook his head as he unscrewed the top.
"Smell first."
He held it under her nose. At the first whiff, Kolabati thought her knees would fail her. Rakoshi elixir! She snatched at it but Jack was quicker and held it out of her reach. She had to get it away from him!
"Give that to me, Jack." Her voice was trembling with the terror she felt for him.
"Why?"
Kolabati took a deep breath and began to walk around the room. Think!
"Who gave it to you? And please don't ask me why I want to know. Just answer me."
"All right. Answer: no one."
She glared at him. "I'll rephrase the question. Where did you get it?"
"From the dressing room of an old lady who disappeared between Monday night and Tuesday morning and hasn't been seen or heard from since."
So the elixir was not meant for Jack! He’d come by it secondhand. She began to relax.
"Did you drink any?"
“No.”
That didn't make sense. A rakosh had come here last night. She was sure of that. The elixir must have drawn it. She shuddered at what might have happened had Jack been here alone.
"You must have."
Jack's brow furrowed. "Oh, yes... I tasted it. Just a drop."
She moved closer, feeling a tightness in her chest. "When?"
"Yesterday.”
"And today?"
"Nothing. It's not exactly a soft drink."
Relief. "You must never let a drop of that pass your lips again—or anybody else's for that matter."
"Why not?"
"Flush it down the toilet! Pour it down a sewer! Anything! But don't let it get into your system again!"
"What's wrong with it?"
Jack was becoming visibly annoyed now. Kolabati knew he wanted answers and she couldn't tell him the truth without him thinking her insane.
"It's a deadly poison," she said off the top of her head. "You were lucky you took only a tiny amount. Any more and you would have—"
"Not true," he said, holding up the still unstoppered bottle. "I had it analyzed today. No toxins in here."
Kolabati cursed herself for not realizing that he'd have it analyzed. How else could he have known it contained durba grass?
"It's poisonous in a different way," she said, improvising poorly, knowing she wasn't going to be believed. If only she could lie like Kusum! She felt tears of frustration fill her eyes. "Oh, Jack, please listen to me! I don't want to see anything happen to you! Trust me!"
"I'll trust you if you'll tell me what's going on. I find this stuff among the possessions of a missing woman and you tell me it's dangerous but you won't say how or why. What's going on?"
"I don't know what's going on! Really. All I can tell you is something awful will happen to anyone who drinks that mixture!"
"Is that so?" Jack looked at the bottle in his hand, then looked at Kolabati.
Believe me! Please, believe me!
Without warning, he tipped the bottle up to his mouth.
"No!" Kolabati leaped at him, screaming.
Too late. She saw his throat move. He’d swallowed some.
"You idiot!"
She raged at her own foolishness. She was the idiot! She hadn't been thinking clearly. If she had she would have realized the inevitability of what had just happened. Next to her brother, Jack was the most relentlessly uncompromising man she’d ever met. Knowing that, what could have made her think he would surrender the elixir without a full explanation as to what it was? Any fool could have foreseen that he would bring matters to a head this way. The very reasons she was attracted to Jack might have doomed him.
And she was so attracted to him. She learned with an explosive shock the true depth of her feelings when she saw him swallow the rakoshi elixir. She’d had more than her share of lovers. They’d wandered in and out of her life in Bengal and Europe, in Washington. But Jack was special. He made her feel complete. He had something the others didn't have...a purity—was that the proper word?—that she wanted to make her own. She wanted to be with him, stay with him, keep him for herself.
But first she had to find a way to keep him alive through tonight.
12.
The vow was made...the vow must be kept...the vow was made...
Kusum repeated the words over and over in his mind.
He sat in his cabin with his Gita spread out on his lap. He had stopped reading it. The gently rocking ship was silent but for the familiar rustlings from the main hold amidships. He barely heard them. Thoughts poured through his mind
in a wild torrent. That woman he had met tonight, Nellie Paton. He knew her maiden name: Westphalen. A sweet, harmless old woman with a passion for chocolate, worrying about her missing sister, unaware that her sister was far beyond her concern, and that her worry should be reserved for herself. For her days were numbered on the fingers of a single hand. Perhaps a single finger.
And that blond woman, not a Westphalen herself, yet the mother of one. Mother of a child who would soon be the last Westphalen. Mother of a child who must die.
Am I sane?
When he thought of the journey he had embarked upon, the destruction he had already wrought, he shuddered. And he was only half done. Richard Westphalen had been the first. He had been sacrificed to the rakoshi during Kusum's stay at the London embassy. He remembered dear Richard: the fear-bulged eyes, the crying, the whimpering, the begging as he cringed before the rakoshi and answered in detail every question Kusum put to him about his aunts and daughter in the United States. He remembered how piteously Richard Westphalen had pleaded for his life, offering anything—even his current consort in his place—if only he would be allowed to live.
Richard Westphalen had not died honorably and his karma would carry that stain for many incarnations.
The pleasure Kusum had taken in delivering the screaming Richard Westphalen over to the rakoshi had dismayed him. He was performing a duty. He was not supposed to enjoy it. But he had thought at the time that if all three of the remaining Westphalens were creatures as reprehensible as Richard, fulfilling the vow would be a service to humanity.
It turned out quite differently. The old woman, Grace Westphalen, had been made of sterner stuff. She had acquitted herself well before fainting. She had been unconscious when Kusum gave her over to the rakoshi.
But Richard and Grace had been strangers to Kusum. He had seen them only from afar before their sacrifices. He had investigated their personal habits and studied their routines, but he had never come close to them, never spoken to them.
Tonight he had stood not half a meter from Nellie Paton discussing English chocolates with her. He had found her pleasant and gracious and unassuming. And yet she must die by his design.
Kusum ground his only fist into his eyes, forcing himself to think about the pearls he had seen around her neck, the jewels on her fingers, the luxurious townhouse she owned, the wealth she commanded, all bought at a terrible price of death and destruction to his family. Nellie Paton's ignorance of the source of her wealth was of no consequence.
The Tomb (Repairman Jack) Page 17
