We rumbled through a tiny village—Mundhwa—according to the little sign illuminated by our headlights. Then we crossed the Mula Mutha and hugged the northern bank of the river on a dirt road for maybe two kilometers. It was slow going on the rough, desolate road, and now the sun had set. Chhotu told Bikas to stop. No need to pull over. And no place to pull over. We were in the middle of nowhere.

I thought of Sushmita. Was she aware of what was going on? How could she have left without a goodbye? How could I have misjudged her so?

Then I thought of my parents. My brother and sister, Mark and Debbie. Good people. Fine people. What would they think? How might they take the news that their son and brother had died in an obscure place halfway around the world? Would they understand my motives? Would anyone even tell them what I was trying to accomplish? I couldn’t worry about that now. I’d trust that word would get back to them that I was on the side of right, trying to do good. And, for Christ’s sake, I intended to get out of that night alive.

“You’ll find your door is unlocked,” Chhotu said.

“I’m not getting out.”

“Have you forgotten I have a gun?”

“No. But if you’re going to shoot me, I’ll at least make sure you have a mess to clean up inside Willy’s Mercedes.”

“Get out,” he said, more insistently.

“Fuck you.”

He turned to Bikas to give him new orders. The guy wagged his head as Chhotu spat instructions in wretched Hindi. As he did, I reached over, snatched the loose gearshift from its cradle, and bolted out the door before Bikas could even react. He jumped from the car to follow me. I didn’t know if he was armed, so I ran as hard as I could, sloshing through the mud and heavy rain back the way we’d come. Chhotu needed several seconds to pop open his own door and wedge himself out. I was about twenty or twenty-five yards clear when I heard the first shot. Glancing back, I saw Bikas pursuing me on foot. I couldn’t tell if his hands were empty. Had the shot come from him or Chhotu? There was no way Bikas could outrun me, and forget about Chhotu. Unless one of them got off a lucky shot in the dark, they’d never catch me without a car. And I had the gearshift.