She slammed her glass down on the table and stormed out. A heavy silence settled over the room, and I did indeed feel uncomfortable sitting there with the shit who’d sold that little bride I’d seen in Kamathipura.

“I apologize for Mita,” he said.

It took every last ounce of resolve I had to resist the urge to throw my drink in his face.

Despite the dangers and my doubts about her, I welcomed Sushmita’s visit to my room that night. Somehow I’d expected her, even though it had been ten days since we’d last been together. She was furious with Willy. She always found a way to reach me whenever that happened.

It was quick. And hot and sweaty.

“Why haven’t you figured out how to fix this yet?” she asked, breathing heavily as she stared at the ceiling.

Was this the moment to tell her? I couldn’t. It would jeopardize everything between us, and my one chance to put Willy Smets behind bars. So I stared at the ceiling fan spinning above us and kept my mouth shut.

“You don’t answer me,” she said, pushing herself up on her elbow to look me in the eye.

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 13, 1975, 10:27 A.M.

Sushmita was gone. I had a fair idea of where she was, but this time I couldn’t follow. The risk was too great. To disappear again at the same time would certainly arouse suspicions, if not in Willy’s mind, then surely in Chhotu’s. He knew about our trysts already, and he’d probably guessed that our concurrent absences a couple of weeks earlier were by design and we’d been together somewhere.

Zadya was due to arrive at any moment. I finished my breakfast and complimented Kamal on yet another fine meal.

“Bohut acchha tha,” I said in bloody awful Hindi.

She blushed and said, “Thank you, sir,” in her little voice.

I excused myself to do some reading in my room and, once Chhotu landed up, the two business associates withdrew to Willy’s study.

Maybe he had some kind of hold over Sushmita, I thought as I lay on my bed, avoiding the Wodehouse I’d picked up again. Why else would she let him live in her homes as if he were the lord of the keep? Why wouldn’t she throw him and his awful friend out?

These thoughts were killing me. I didn’t want to think the worst about Sushmita, but was it merely Willy’s money that kept her in line? Put it out of your mind, I told myself. I wrapped a pillow around my head and slept.

It was after seven when I stretched and came back to life. I dreamt Sushmita was calling for me. “Wake up, mazha Danny,” she said, gently shaking me by the shoulder. “It’s time for a drink.”