The Huntsman

by Rafael

  With his adrenaline dissipated, the Frenchman slowed, his movements and attacks became more measured. Nisha’s prediction began to manifest. The crowd sensed the tide turn. Black played a position game forcing Red into corners, making him run and escape, dodge and evade, expend more energy. The escape and evade pattern continued. But Giscard remained a master to reckon with.

  He feinted another dodge to escape and Black bit. Red thrust behind Black’s cutoff and would have delivered a killing strike if Black, displaying phenomenal balance, had not twisted at the last moment. Nonetheless, Giscard’s rapier slid along his side opening a gash down to the ribs. The theater gasped and rose to its feet, sensing the moment. For an instant Nicholas felt the Coliseum’s bloodlust, saw the gladiators in the arena.

  Blood pouring down his side, Dieter’s expression remained stoic. The air stilled and the tension thickened. A phone began to ring. Giscard continued to evade knowing each passing second would weaken his foe. The ringing persisted. A horrified Nicholas scrambled to extract his communicator. Angry eyes turned and glared, hissed for quiet and cursed his stupidity.

  Ignoring the burning pain searing his side, Dieter pressed the attack. His longsword clanged against the rapier. Clanged and clanged again. The arm-numbing blows began to take their toll. Nicholas’ hand closed around the phone, yanked it out. Nothing he pressed or tapped stopped the ringing. An enraged murmur rose around him.

  With a tremendous blow, Dieter’s sword traveled along the rapier’s length and snapped off the metal guard that formed a cage around Giscard’s hand. The blade continued cutting deep into the Frenchman’s arm. “Ohh!” As one, the crowd again rose. Nicholas frantically tried to open the case and remove the battery. His eyes bulged at the image slowly rolling up the display.

  With a weakened sword arm and no cross guard, Giscard no longer attempted direct blocks but skillfully angled his sword to deflect blows away from him. Dieter slashed along the horizontal catching Giscard’s slowing rapier flush, flinging it from his blood-soaked, near-numb fingers. Reflex transitioned Dieter into a Roof guard from which he delivered a classic Schielhau. His longsword plunged into and through Giscard’s neck. A swift withdrawal and the Frenchman’s eyes rolled upward before he dropped where he stood, dead before hitting the ground.

  Nicholas’ phone stopped ringing. Dead silence gripped the theater. Giscard’s legs lay twisted beneath his crumpled body. A spasm shook it once. Blood seeped into a growing pool. Janesh’s bare-chested image filled the display. Over it, a message sharpened into view. “You failed again, Nicholas. Our next meet will be your last failure.”

  CHAPTER 38 In Plain Sight

  Singh tapped the screen confirming table 19’s reservation. The waiter acknowledged and he looked up at the young couple. “Welcome to Chatur. Do you prefer traditional menus or mats?”

  “Mats.” they smiled. He returned their smiles along with two wafer-thin roll-ups that unfurled into place mats displaying vivid menu images and linked directly into the restaurant’s ordering system.

  “You’ll find a red button on the upper right corner labeled ‘Maitre d’’. Do not hesitate to tap it should you require my immediate assistance. Please follow me.” Singh led them through the entrance to their waiting server. “This is Chandru, your waiter for the evening. Enjoy yourselves and the meal.”

  The restaurant had thinned out after the opening rush and wouldn’t refill until the theaters, concerts and recitals let out. He scanned the room for anything amiss, acknowledged the smiles of a few regulars, hurried to the station when his ear piece pinged the elevator’s arrival.

  A statuesque beauty emerged, her waist-length hair wafted and waved as she strolled the hallway’s length. Flawless skin glowed beneath minimal makeup. Lined, dark mascara beneath slender, arched brows gave her a classic Egyptian appearance. Intense, penetrating, black eyes missed no detail as her long shapely legs, flowing from summer shorts, closed the distance. Singh leaned on his years of professional service to remain impassive against her raw sexuality. “Good evening, Madame. Welcome to Chatur.” A warm, sincere smile brightened her face.

  “My name is Nisha Saha. I have an 8:30 reservation.” Singh tapped the screen.

  “That is correct, Madame Saha. Table 17. Dinner for…” he looked up, “one?” Her smile widened.

  “Yes. Just for me. And may I ask a small favor?”

  “Of course, Madame.”

  “Would you ask Chatur if he could join me for dessert? I know he’s busy. I’ll only need a few minutes.”

  “I’ll convey your request, Madame. If you’ll follow me please.”

  Singh had to seat a few more arrivals before he could ping the monitor above Chatur’s station. The master chef did not look up as he garnished a line of entrees. Behind him white-jacketed men and women scurried to and fro. “Yes, Singh?”

  “A Nisha Saha asked that you join her for dessert. Table 17.” Chatur paused to look up at an adjoining monitor.

  “I do not know a Nisha Saha but her beauty is quite recognizable.” He turned toward Singh’s monitor. “Is she dining alone?”

  “Yes, she is.”

  Chatur grinned. “Ah. Self-confidence does indeed enhance a woman’s allure. What do the Americans say, curiosity killed the cat? How fortunate I’m not a cat.” He resumed his duties distracted but mulled possible responses. “Ask her waitress to inform the lady it would be my pleasure.”

  Forty minutes later Chatur emerged from the kitchen, pausing along his route toward Table 17 to acknowledge customers, friends, and avid foodies. His head gave a slight bow. “Good evening, Madame. I am Chatur and have never refused an invitation for dessert.” Her smile brightened the subdued lights.

  “I love consistent men. Especially those who call me Nisha.” Chatur took the seat her extended hand offered.

  “Did you enjoy dinner?”

  “I can offer nothing by way of criticism, only praise. It was delightful. Such a joy when reality matches expectation. The tandoori shrimp fell from heaven.”

  “Kindness exceeded only by beauty. I am in the heaven the shrimp fell from.” Nisha’s heartfelt laugh made her eyes sparkle and glint.

  “I’ll take the kindness. Beauty is so fleeting.”

  “Since I have none, your words give me hope. What brings you to Chandrapur? Perhaps I can show you its more interesting pleasures?”

  Before she could respond the waitress arrived with the dessert cart. They both agreed on a coconut crème caramel sorbet in a piña colada style, coffee for her, espresso for him. Nisha’s steady gaze gave no hint how well she lied.

  “I’m looking for Janesh McKenzie. We met some years ago when I booked one of his tiger safaris. We shared some interesting…” she lowered her eyes, “moments, but lost touch when I returned to Jodhpur. I’m on holiday and local friends told me the city’s most famous chef is a friend of the Mahān Śikārī.”

  “I should have known. The bitter disappointments that man has caused me will shorten my life.” Her smile turned coquettish.

  “There is hope. Perhaps he won’t remember me.”

  “Oh, it springs eternal. I will pray Vishnu accelerates his creeping Alzheimer’s.”

  Nisha laughed but stopped abruptly. Two men approached from behind Chatur. They flashed police badges then grabbed chairs from an adjoining table to seat themselves. Nisha remained calm. So did Chatur. “Good evening, gentlemen. Did you solve the case surrounding Ekani’s murder? Or are you just hungry?” One leered at Nisha, the other turned toward Chatur.

  “You’ve been withholding information, Chatur. That tends to make solving cases more difficult and me very suspicious. Why is it every time something suspicious happens in Chandrapur you’re lurking nearby?”

  They’re fishing, Chatur thought. If he could goad them just enough maybe they’d reveal for what. “It is my fate. That and having to endure rude policemen impose on my dear guests.”

  “Who was in the house when the victim stumbled in?”


  “Renters.” Nisha sat expressionless.

  “I understand they were scientists on a special assignment.”

  “They may have been. I’m not in the habit of asking renters their career goals.”

  “Why were you there?”

  “The rental period had expired. I needed to make sure there was no reason to retain their deposit.”

  “They met every day in an empty factory floor rented by you.”

  “Again, they pay their rent I don’t ask their business. All this is in my prior statement. Would you like me to call my lawyer and have him read it back to you?” The other stopped ogling long enough to join in.

  “They left in a caravan filled with camping gear. Where were they going?”

  So, the police had been digging hard. He and his communications had to be under surveillance. They hoped he’d panic and lead them to the group. What else did they know?

  “Well, I’m not a detective you understand. But if they had camping gear, I would take a look at the local camp sites. If you hurry you might capture them taking nature walks.”

  “Ekani Jayaraman was a good friend of Janesh McKenzie. Where is he?” Nisha remained expressionless but her eyes fell on Chatur.

  “He’s out of town.”

  “Come, come, Chatur. Everyone knows how close you two are. McKenzie’s associate is shot to death and he’s not here? Where is he?”

  “I’m not sure exactly.”

  “What about generally?”

  “I’m sure he’s on Earth.” They both stared at him.

  Chatur took the initiative. Time to give them pause, show he too had sources. Perhaps allow his side a little breathing room. “You’re on the wrong track. Find the woman who shot Ekani’s killers and you’ll solve this case. For policemen of your caliber, she shouldn’t be too hard to find in India. She was last seen wearing a sari.”

  They both stood. Neither bothered to return the chairs. The letch leered once more before turning away. “You lead a charmed life, Chatur. But like all the others, you’ll make a mistake.” The two walked away without another word or look. Nisha returned her gaze to Chatur. A Cheshire grin grew.

  “Does an arch criminal hide behind a master chef?”

  “I categorically deny it.”

  “Why did you goad them? Nothing good can come of that.” Chatur shrugged.

  “Policemen are good at catching those who break the law. They’re hopeless against those who go around it.”

  “Is that what you do, go around the law?” Chatur returned her grin.

  “I categorically deny it.”

  “And I take it you don’t know exactly where Janesh McKenzie is?” His grin widened.

  “Not exactly, no.

  Nisha reached inside her bag, brushed against a silenced .22. The thought had crossed her mind she might have to kill the two officers. She felt relieved no one had connected or recognized her. She killed for money not lust. Makeup case in hand, she checked her face then reapplied lipstick. The “renters” had to be the science group Nicholas searched for. If so, Miranda Logan had to be among them. If the police had learned about the camping gear so could she. Its type and amount would point toward a likely destination. If she located Miranda Logan, Janesh McKenzie would not be far behind.

  “I must say, Chatur, it has been a most fascinating evening. An interesting bonus to a delicious meal.” She signaled the waitress for her bill.

  “Dinner is complimentary. For having to put up with those two boors.”

  “Oh you dear, sweet man. I don’t remember the last time I had so much fun. I insist.”

  The waitress arrived and entered an access code into a handheld before passing it to Nisha. She added a generous tip and pressed a finger against a flashing box allowing her print to authorize an immediate cash transfer. She rose and extended a hand. He gallantly kissed it.

  “Thank you again, Chatur. My return cannot be fast enough.”

  “Tonight visions of your beauty will lull me to sleep.”

  “Oh you dear, sweet man.”

  When the elevator doors opened two men stood inside. Though sunset had long passed the younger sported aviator glasses. “Daaruk! What a pleasant surprise.” Daaruk emerged to hug Chatur with warmth and joy. His partner removed the aviators to stare at Nisha. Eyes flashed recognition.

  “It’s her!” Nisha’s trained reflexes moved her hand faster than thought, placed a circular hole center forehead. The young agent crumpled to the floor, a lifeless hand still reaching for his weapon. Shocked speechless, Chatur broke away to hear a soft whisper swish past his ear. Daaruk moved just enough to absorb a head shot that emerged after a half-inch penetration. Nisha slammed the gun into Chatur’s throat leaving him gasping for air. With surprising strength she hauled the body from the elevator, punched the ‘Close’ button, and disappeared.

  Coughing and gagging, Chatur crawled toward Daaruk. His friend smiled. “I can’t feel a thing. Is it bad?” Chatur’s vision blurred through tear-filled eyes. His throat ached, burned by the gun’s hot barrel. He struggled to rise and run for help. Daaruk grabbed his arm. “Warn Janesh. The CIA’s Unit Four has landed in India. With my department’s help they are searching for him.”

  CHAPTER 39 Forging Ahead

  Miranda stood feet apart, arms akimbo, surveying the river before her. Cold, swift water swirled thick through its fifty foot channel. They had lost a day searching along the bank for a crossing point. Nothing better had presented itself. On either side her colleagues gazed over the water reveling in the cool breeze wafted by its passage. Next to her Gary removed his hat, wiped his brow.

  “What do you think?”

  “It’ll have to be here. The widely spaced trees on the other side will let us land and maneuver the vehicles to the clearing beyond.”

  “Any guesses how deep it is?” the Russian asked.

  “GPS says ten feet.” Narsimha answered.

  “Anything dangerous in there?” the Israeli wondered.

  “Not likely.” Miranda replied. “Aquatic predators prefer slow-moving water.”

  “How do we get everything to the other side?” the Russian resumed.

  “Five PhD’s and one engineering student. We can solve this.” said the Israeli.

  “True enough”, countered Miranda, “but we’re going to first need a little brawn. Any ideas, Narsimha?”

  “Every vehicle has a front-end winch. We also have five 100ft lengths of nylon rope. If we lash two together we’ll be able to pull things to either bank with a minimum of 50ft play on each side. But first we have to get someone to the other side.”

  Without Ekani to guide them, the trek inland from Camp G had been an arduous one. His sudden loss had left no time for a replacement anyone could trust. GPS provided unerring direction but knew nothing of routes in an area traversed only by park rangers. After three days inching through dense forests and a day searching for a wooden bridge they knew existed, Miranda wanted to waste no more time.

  “I’ll go.” she volunteered. “I’m a strong swimmer. That current is fast but if I lash myself to one of those ropes and the rest of you keep me from being swept away, I’m confident I can make it.”

  “Hold on.” the Argentinean joined. “Let’s think this through. Why bother to take the vehicles across? It’s only thirty miles to the camp. We can hike it.”

  “Too dangerous.” Narsimha responded. “We’re in the heart of Tadoba. From here every direction is untamed forest. Without roads or paths we’d have to blaze our own in high heat and humidity while carrying 100lb packs. If anyone happens upon a cobra, krait, or viper there’s no hope of survival. If we’re lucky and avoid them, four types of leopard roam these forests. Generally, they’ll try to avoid us but tigers won’t. The population out here has lost all fear of humans. The dogs will warn us if one is about but if we’re camped on the ground and a tiger decides to drag one of us away, there’ll be nothing we can do. We don’t have weapons or know how to use them. And remember, the pa
rk officials think we’ll be in Camp G for another month. No one knows we’re out here. No, the vehicles are our safety net.”

  Silence gripped the six as they stood along the bank. Miranda broke it. “Still, if the vehicles are our safety net, Carla may be on to something. We don’t need all four vehicles and we may be in a hurry to cross this river on the way back. One can fit all of us but we’ll cross two in case of breakdown. The other two we’ll lock up tight and leave under the trees.”

  “Will they survive being submerged?” the Israeli asked. Narsimha nodded.

  “They’re ATV’s. They’re engineered to cross water. And the solar batteries are waterproof. I’m only concerned about that current. It can sweep away one ton like a toy.”

  “Maybe five of us should cross first, tie an extra rope to the ATV, and help to pull it across.” Miranda suggested.

  “Good idea.” Narsimha agreed. “Can’t hurt.”

  “I’m not as strong as I used to be”, Gary admitted, “but I can connect a winch. I’ll stay behind.”

  “It might also help”, the Israeli suggested, “if we strip the first ATV of everything, especially the batteries. Make it as light as possible.”

  Without prodding, everyone self-assigned duties. The physicists made short work of the battery removals. Narsimha lashed ropes and formed slip-proof knots. Miranda secured the extra vehicles after Gary removed the self-sealing inner tube from a spare tire. Neither he nor Narsimha could swim. The Argentinean bundled supplies and equipment into waterproof bags. Duncan and Ronan wreaked havoc among the local wildlife.

  Two hours later Miranda stripped to bra and shorts and waded knee-deep into the river secured to Narsimha’s make-shift harness. She shouted back to the team. “The current is strong. I’m not going to try and fight it. We’ve got 150ft to play with. Keep it slack. I’ll pick my spots, let the river carry me, and land farther downstream.”