“It’s an expression,” I said. “When someone’s talking about you … Never mind. Tell me.”

“I’m always trying to improve my English. Sushmita is a great help for that. But what Chhotu and I were discussing was another favor you can do for me. If you’re willing.”

“Of course,” I said, wondering if I’d have time to visit the Blue Diamond Hotel to get word to Ranjit about this development.

“I’d like you to collect a parcel for me in Bombay. It’s small. No physical effort required. And then bring it back to me.”

“Sure. When would you like me to go?”

“Not until Saturday. Friday is Independence Day, so that won’t do. It’s a sample, you see, arriving from Amsterdam. You can travel with Chhotu. I hope you don’t mind going by car.”

THURSDAY, AUGUST 14, 1975, 11:58 A.M.

I left the bungalow under the pretext of taking yet another jog, and ran to the Blue Diamond Hotel in my shorts and T-shirt. My morning runs were paying off; the heat barely bothered me now. My wind was getting stronger every day, and I felt I was in the best physical condition since my college football and track days. The desk clerk told me Ranjit was “out of station” until Sunday. No need to leave a message in that case; I’d be back well before then.

CHAPTER FORTY

FRIDAY, AUGUST 15, 1975, 9:52 P.M.

Independence Day. Twenty-eight long years since India had “redeemed its pledge” and made its “tryst with destiny,” as Mrs. Gandhi’s father, Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru, had so famously put it. Fireworks popped and crackled in the streets throughout Koregaon Park, as I wondered what I should think of this anniversary. India’s democracy was a miracle in so many ways. A multicultural society with Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs, Jains, Christians, Parsees, and dozens of languages. Somehow, they had been able to cobble together a country and a democracy. Imperfect, perhaps. What democracy wasn’t?

But now Nehru’s own daughter, a woman I’d admired so much from afar, had swept away Indian democracy as if swatting a fly. I understood she’d felt threatened by the opposition and the unrest. Maybe even that she’d believed the nation was in peril. What I couldn’t accept was her wiping out due process and basic protections under the pretext that the nation was threatened by “internal disturbances.”

But India was not my country. How it handled its crises was its own business. My job was to report it. Had been to report it. Now, I was in the lackey business. An employee ready and willing to do his boss’s bidding, no matter how objectionable. But then I reminded myself I was also a snitch. I was after bigger quarry. And if that included Willy and his heavyset companion, I was game.

The fireworks continued outside until after midnight, when they finally died out, with one final bang.