“So? Why wouldn’t he turn you in to Willy when you refused to play ball?”

Birgit butted in. “Because it would amount to suicide for Chhotu if he did. Danny and Sushmita could have shown Willy the note, isn’t that right, Danny?”

“Exactly.”

“Not very wise of Chhotu to put his threat in writing, especially since he was withholding the information from Willy.”

“Do you think we can use that against him?” asked Harlan. “You know, turn Willy against him.”

“Afraid not. Sushmita burned the letter when I showed it to her. She was afraid Willy might find it.”

“So you two bluffed Chhotu, and he bought it? Bad luck. We might have been able to use that.”

We were at a dead end with Chhotu. No way to know where he was. But even if we had known, the blackmail note had lost its leverage against him. We had no leads on how to find him or Willy. But I had an idea.

“Kathmandu. The king.”

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

MONDAY, AUGUST 25, 1975, 9:53 A.M.

Ranjit managed to get himself out of Poona and made it back to Bombay. Harlan and I briefed him on the Wicked Walrus. His plan was to deliver a bag of women’s underwear to the king, Dhonu. Panties. Ranjit’s instructions were to hand over the bag and ask for Willy’s samples.

“He’s not going to be expecting a bag full of girls’ chuddies,” said Ranjit, “but I believe he’ll assume there’s been a miscommunication with Smets. He’ll want to contact him.”

“He might not know where Smets is right now,” I said.

“True,” said Harlan. “But it’s either this or wait until he resurfaces eventually.”

An hour later, Ranjit was packed and ready to leave for Kathmandu. He carried a small bag with eleven pairs of ladies’ underwear inside.

Harlan had two updates for Birgit and me.

“Interpol has confirmed that the girl—Sushmita—arrived in London on August 20. She was traveling alone.”

Birgit waited a moment, as if she felt I had first dibs when it came to discussing Sushmita. I’d been doing everything I could to keep her out of my mind, without success, but this news set all kinds of emotions and doubts to roiling in my chest. I wondered if she’d been in on the assassination plot with Willy and Chhotu, if she’d been shipped off to London for her own protection or to do Willy’s bidding, and if she’d been faking it when she slept with me. Hell, maybe she was the ringleader—what did I know?

Or did she truly want to be with me? What if she loved me, even as she’d refused to say it? What if she’d been tricked? Sent away against her will?

“Has she been arrested?” I asked.

“No. They’re watching her in case Smets shows.”

“Do they know if he’s left India?” asked Birgit.