Her heart began to pound as she edged closer to the door. What if she failed to get away? Would he hurt her? She glanced to her left. The door was only two steps away. She could make it but she was afraid to try.
It had to be now!
She leaped for the doorway. a tiny cry of terror escaping her as she grabbed the handle and pulled the door closed behind her. Kusum was at the door the instant it slammed shut. Kolabati fumbled with the catch and shouted with joy when it clicked into the locked position.
"Bati, I command you to open this door immediately!" Kusum shouted, his voice thick with anger.
She ran for the outer door. She knew she wouldn't feel truly free until she’d put a layer of steel between herself and her brother. A crash behind her made Kolabati glance over her shoulder. The wooden door exploded outward. She saw Kusum' s foot flash through as the door dissolved into a shower of splintered wood. Kusum stepped into the hall and started after her.
Terror spurred her on. Sunlight, fresh air, and freedom beckoned from beyond the steel hatch. Kolabati darted through and pushed it shut, but before she could lock it, Kusum threw his weight against the other side, sending her flying onto her back.
Without a word, he stepped out onto the deck and pulled her to her feet. With a viselike grip that bruised her wrist, he dragged her back to her cabin. Once there, he spun her around and gripped the front of her blouse.
His eyes nearly bulged with rage. "Don't ever try that again! It was idiotic! Even if you managed to lock me up, you would have no way to reach the dock—unless you know how to slide down a rope."
She felt herself jerked forward, heard the fabric of her blouse rip as buttons flew in all directions.
"Kusum!"
He was like a mad beast, his breathing harsh, his eyes wild.
"And take—"
He reached into the open front of her blouse, grabbed her bra between the cups, and tore the center piece, exposing her breasts...
"—off—"
...then pushed her down on the bed and yanked brutally at the waistband of her skirt, bursting the seams and pulling it from her...
"—these—”
...then tore her panties off...
"—obscene—”
...then tore away the remnants of her blouse and bra.
"—rags!"
He threw down the ruined clothes and ground them into the floor with his heel.
Kolabati lay frozen in panic until he finally calmed himself. As his breathing and complexion returned to normal, he stared at her as she huddled naked before him, an arm across her breasts, a and over the pubic area between her tightly-clenched thighs.
Kusum had seen her unclothed countless times before; she had often paraded nude before him to see his reaction. But at this moment she felt exposed and degraded, and tried to hide herself.
His sudden smile was sardonic. "Modesty doesn't become you, dear sister." He reached for the flat box he’d brought with him and tossed it to her. "Cover yourself."
Afraid to move, yet more afraid of disobeying him, Kolabati drew the box across her lap and awkwardly pulled it open. It contained a light blue sari with gold stitching. Fighting back tears of humiliation and impotent rage, she slipped the tight upper blouse over her head, then wrapped the silk fabric around herself in the traditional manner. She fought the hopelessness that threatened to engulf her. There had to be a way out.
"Let me go!" she said when she felt she could trust her voice. "You have no right to keep me here!"
“There will be no further discussion as to what I have a right to do. I am doing what I must do. Just as I must see my vow through to its fulfillment. Then I can go home and stand before those who believe in me, who are willing to lay down their lives to follow me in bringing Mother India back to the True Path. I will not deserve their trust, nor be worthy of leading them to Hindutvu, until I can stand before them with a purified karma."
"But that's your life!" she screamed. "Your karma!"
Kusum's shook his head slowly, sadly. "Our karmas are entwined, Bati. Inextricably. And what I must do, you must do." He stepped through the ruined door and looked back at her. "Meanwhile, I am due at an emergency session of the Security Council. I shall return with your dinner this evening.”
He turned, stepped through the remains of the shattered door, and was gone. Kolabati didn't bother calling his name or looking after him. The outer door to the deck closed with a loud clang.
More than fear, more than misery at being incarcerated on this ship, she felt a great sadness for her brother and the mad obsession that drove him. She went to the table and tried to eat but could not even bring herself to taste the food.
Finally the tears came. She buried her face in her hands and wept.
3
For the first time since Gia had known him, Jack looked his age. Dark rings under hung his eyes, a haunted look hovered within them. His hair needed combing and he’d been careless shaving.
"I didn't expect you," she said as he stepped into the foyer.
It annoyed her that he could just show up like this without warning. On the other hand, she was glad to have him around. It had been a long, fearful night. And a lonely one. She began to wonder if she would ever straighten out her feelings for Jack.
Eunice closed the door and looked questioningly at Gia. "I'm about to fix lunch, Mum. Shall I set an extra place?"
The maid's voice was lifeless. Gia knew she missed her mistresses. Eunice had kept busy, talking incessantly of Grace and Nellie's imminent return. But even she seemed to be running out of hope.
Gia turned to Jack. "Staying for lunch?"
He shrugged. "Sure."
As Eunice bustled off, Gia said, "Shouldn't you be out looking for Nellie?"
"I wanted to be here."
"You won't find her here."
"I don't think I'll ever find her. I don't think anyone will."
The note of finality in his voice shocked Gia. "W–what do you know?"
"Just a feeling," he said, averting his eyes as if embarrassed to admit acting on feelings. "Just as I've had this other feeling all morning that I should be here today."
"That's all you're going on—feelings?"
"Humor me, Gia," he said with an edge on his voice she’d never heard before. "All right? Humor me."
Gia was about to press him for a more specific answer when Vicky came running in. Vicky missed Grace and Nellie, but Gia had kept her daughter's spirits up by telling her that Nellie had gone to find Grace. Jack picked her up and swung her to his hip, but his responses to her chatter consisted mainly of noncommittal grunts. Gia could not remember ever seeing him so preoccupied. He seemed worried, almost unsure of himself. That upset her the most. Jack was always a rock of self-assurance. Something was terribly wrong here and he wasn't telling her about it.
The three of them trailed into the kitchen where Eunice was preparing lunch. Jack slumped into a chair at the kitchen table and stared morosely into space. Vicky apparently noticed that he wasn't responding to her in his usual manner so she went out to the backyard to her playhouse. Gia sat watching him, dying to know what he was thinking but unable to ask with Eunice there.
Vicky came running in from the back with an orange in her hand. Gia idly wondered where she’d got it. She thought they’d run out of oranges.
"Do the orange mouth! Do the orange mouth!"
Jack straightened up and put on a smile that wouldn't have fooled a blind man.
"Okay, Vicks. The orange mouth. Just for you."
He glanced at Gia and made a sawing motion with his hand. Gia got up and found him a knife. When she returned to the table, he was shaking his hand as if it were wet.
"What's the matter?"
"This thing's leaking. Must be a real juicy one." He sliced the orange in half. Before quartering it, he rubbed the back of his hand along his cheek. Suddenly he was on his feet, his chair tipping over behind him. His face was putty white as he held his fingers under his nose and sn
iffed.
"No!" he cried as Vicky reached for one of the orange halves. He grabbed her hand and roughly pushed it away. "Don't touch it!"
"Jack! What's wrong with you?"
Gia was furious at him for treating Vicky that way. And poor Vicky stood there staring at him with her lower lip trembling.
But Jack seemed oblivious to both of them. He held the orange halves up to his nose, inspecting them, sniffing at them like a dog. His face grew steadily paler.
"Oh, God!" he, said, looking as if he was about to be sick. "Oh, my God!"
As he stepped around the table, Gia pulled Vicky out of his way and clutched her against her. His eyes were wild. Three long strides took him to the kitchen garbage can. He threw the orange in it, then pulled out the Hefty bag, twirled it, and twisted the attached tie around the neck. He dropped the bag on the floor and came back to kneel before Vicky. He gently laid his hands on her shoulders.
"Where'd you get that orange, Vicky?"
Gia noted the "Vicky" immediately. Jack never called her by that name. She was always "Vicks" to him.
"In...in my playhouse."
Jack jumped up and began pacing around the kitchen, frantically running the fingers of both hands through his hair. Finally he seemed to come to a decision.
"All right—we're getting out of here."
Gia was on her feet. "What are you—?"
"Out! All of us! And no one eat anything! Not a thing! That goes for you, too, Eunice!"
Eunice puffed herself up. "I beg your pardon?"
Jack got behind her and firmly guided her toward the door. He was not rough with her, but there was no hint of playfulness about him. He came over to Gia and pulled Vicky away from her.
"Get your toys together. You and your mommy are going on a little trip."
Jack's sense of urgency was contagious. Without a backward glance at her mother, Vicky ran outside.
Gia’s anger flared. "Jack, you can't do this! You can't come in here and start acting like a fire marshal. You've no right!"
"Listen to me!" he said in a low voice as he grasped her left biceps in a grip that bordered on pain. "Do you want Vicky to end up like Grace and Nellie? Gone without a trace?”
Gia tried to speak but no words came out. She felt as if her heart had stopped. Vicky gone? NO—!
"I didn't think so," Jack continued. "If we're here tonight, that might happen."
Gia still couldn't speak. The horror of the thought was a hand clutching at her throat.
"Go!" he said, pushing her toward the front of the house. "Pack up and we'll get out of here."
Gia stumbled away from him, propelled not so much but his words, but by what she’d seen in his eyes...something she’d never seen or ever expected to see: fear.
Jack afraid—it was almost inconceivable. Yet he was; she was sure of it. And if Jack was afraid, what should she be?
Terrified, she ran upstairs to pack her things.
4
Alone in the kitchen, Jack sniffed his fingers again. At first he’d thought he was hallucinating, but then he’d found the needle puncture in the orange skin. No doubt about it—rakoshi elixir. Even now he wanted to retch. Someone—someone? Kusum!—had left a doctored orange for Vicky.
Kusum wanted Vicky for his monsters.
The worst part was realizing that Grace and Nellie had not been random victims. The two old women had been intended targets. And Vicky was next.
Why? In God's name, why? Was it this house? Did Kusum have a Manson thing going where he wanted to kill everyone who lived here? Grace and Nellie already gone, but why Vicky next? Why not Eunice or Gia? It didn't make sense. Or maybe it did and his brain was too rattled right now to see the pattern.
Vicky came up the back steps and hurried through the kitchen carrying something that looked like a big plastic grape. She walked by with her chin out and her nose in the air, without even once glancing Jack's way.
She's mad at me.
To her mind she had ample reason to be upset with him. After all, he’d frightened her and everyone else in the house. But that could not be helped. He could not remember a shock like the one that had blasted through him when he recognized the odor on his hands.
Fear trickled down his chest wall and into his abdomen.
Not my Vicky. Never my Vicky!
He walked over to the sink and looked out the window as he washed the smell off his hands. The house around him, the playhouse out there, the yard, the whole neighborhood had become tainted, sinister.
But where to go? He couldn't let Gia and Vicky return to their own apartment. If Kusum knew of Vicky's passion for oranges, surely he knew her address. And Jack's place was definitely out. On impulse he called Isher Sports.
"Abe? I need help."
"Nu? I should be surprised?"
"This is serious, Abe. It's Gia and her little girl. I've got to find them a safe place to stay. Somewhere not connected with me."
The banter was suddenly gone from Abe's voice. "Hotel no good?"
"As a last resort it'll do, but I'd feel better in a private place.”
"My daughter's apartment is empty until the end of the month. She's on sabbatical in Europe for the summer."
"Where is it?"
"Queens. On the border of Astoria and Long Island City.”
Jack glanced out the kitchen window to the jumble of buildings directly across the East River. For the first time since cutting the orange open, he felt he had a chance of controlling the situation. The sick dread that weighed so relentlessly upon him lifted a little.
"Perfect! Where's the key?"
"In my pocket."
"I'll be right over to get it."
"I'll be here."
Eunice came in as he hung up. "You really have no right to send us all on our way," she said sternly. "But if I must go, at least let me clean up the kitchen."
"I'll clean it up," Jack said, blocking her way as she reached for the sponge in the sink. She turned and picked up the Hefty bag that contained the tainted orange. Jack gently pulled it from her grasp. "I'll take care of that, too."
"Promise?" she said, eyeing him with unconcealed suspicion. "I wouldn't want the two ladies of the house coming back and finding a mess."
"They won't find a mess here," Jack told her, feeling sorry for this loyal little woman who had no idea that her employers were dead. "I promise you."
Gia came down the stairs as Jack ushered Eunice out the front door. She seemed to have composed herself since he’d chased her upstairs.
"I want to know what all this means," she said after Eunice was gone. "Vicky's upstairs. You tell me what's going on here before she comes down."
Jack searched for something to say. He could not tell her the truth—she'd lose all confidence in his sanity. She might even call the nut patrol to take him down to pillow city in Bellevue. He began to improvise, mixing truth and fiction, hoping he made sense.
"I think Grace and Nellie were abducted."
"That's ridiculous!" Gia said, but her voice did not carry much conviction.
"I wish it were."
"But there was no sign of a break in or a struggle—"
"I don't know how it was done, but I'm sure the liquid I found in Grace's bathroom is a link." He paused for effect. "Some of it was in that orange Vicky brought in to me."
Gia's hand clutched his arm. "The one you threw away?"
Jack nodded. "And I bet if we had the time we could find something of Nellie's that's laced with the stuff, something she ate."
"I can't think of anything..." Her voice trailed off, then rose again. "What about the chocolates?" Gia grabbed his arm and dragged him to the parlor. "They're in here. They came last week."
Jack went to the candy bowl on the table beside the recliner where they’d spent Sunday night. He took a chocolate off the top and inspected it. No sign of a needle hole or tampering. He broke it open and held it up to his nose...and there it was: the odor. Rakoshi elixir. He held it out to Gia.<
br />
"Here. Take a whiff. I don't know if you remember what Grace's laxative smelled like, but it's the same stuff." He led her to the kitchen where he opened the garbage bag and took out Vicky's orange. "Compare."
Gia sniffed them both, then looked up at him, fear growing in her eyes. "What is it?"
"I don't know," he lied
He took the candy and orange from her and threw both into the bag. Then he brought the dish from the parlor and dumped the rest of the chocolates.
"But it's got to do something!" Gia said, persistent as always.
So that Gia couldn't see his eyes as he spoke, Jack made a show of concentrating on twisting the tie around the neck of the bag as tightly as he could.
"Maybe it has some sedative properties that keeps people quiet while they're being carried off."
Gia stared at him, a mystified look on her face. "This is crazy! Who would want to—?"
"That's my next question: Where'd she get the candy?"
"From England." Gia's face blanched. "Oh, no! From Richard!"
"Your ex?"
"He sent them from London."
Jack’s mind churned furiously as he took the garbage bag outside and dumped it in a can in the narrow alley alongside the house.
Richard Westphalen? Where the hell did he fit in? But hadn't Kusum mentioned that he’d been in London last year? And now Gia says her ex-husband sent these chocolates from London. It all fits, but it made no sense. What possible link to Kusum? Certainly not financial. Kusum hadn't struck Jack as a man to whom money meant much.
This was making less and less sense every minute.
"Could your ex be behind this?" he asked as he returned to the kitchen. "Could he be thinking he's going to inherit something if Grace and Nellie disappear?"
"I wouldn't put much past Richard," Gia said, "but I can't see him getting involved in a serious crime. Besides, I happen to know that he's not going to inherit a thing from Nellie.”
"But does he know that?"
"I don't know." She glanced around and appeared to shiver. "Let's get out of here, shall we?"
"Soon as you're ready."
Gia went upstairs to find Vicky. Before long, mother and daughter stood in the foyer, Vicky with a little suitcase in one hand and her plastic grape carrying case in the other.
The Tomb (Repairman Jack) Page 30
