He stopped and faced me one last time. “No, Danny Boy. I tried once at Chhotu’s urging. It was a mistake.”

“Wasn’t it twice?” I asked. “You sent me to Bombay, where Bikas was waiting for me in my flat.”

Willy nodded. “Yes, that’s right. We searched your room in Poona, looking for the film, and discovered you still had your house keys. You hadn’t lost your flat. We tried to lure you to your place where he was waiting. I’m sorry.”

“And Sushmita? Did she know? That you tried to murder me?”

He smiled sadly. “Goodness, no. She would have killed me. And herself afterward.”

And like that, he left me there.

I didn’t think it wise to follow him; Chhotu and Bikas might not have the same qualms about shooting me. I went as far as the drawing room and waited there. Moments later, I heard the car start, and the headlights lit up the room. Then they were gone.

Now I rushed out the door into the pouring rain. I could see Bikas was at the wheel of the blue Ambassador, and Willy and Chhotu sat in the back. As the car receded down the little road, its right taillight grew smaller and smaller. There was only the one. The left light was out. The car turned onto the road that led back to Lonavala.

Now I was alone, standing in the rain, unsure of what to do next. I supposed I had to reach Ranjit and Harlan to let them know I’d seen Willy. That was sure to be a difficult conversation. They’d curse me for having withheld my knowledge of the bungalow. Had I been honest with them, Willy would have been in custody by now. Or dead.

In a fog, with nothing else I could do, I thought of Sushmita. That poor, damaged soul. If she made up tall tales about her life, it was because Willy had given her a childhood even worse than that of a filthy street beggar.

Then I heard a car blaring its horn as it approached the house.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

It was a police Jeep. And Ranjit was at the wheel, with Birgit in the front passenger seat.

“Get in, Danny!” she called, jumping down to clear the way for me. “Hurry!”

She shoved me into the back seat, then she climbed in front.

“But there are no doors on this thing,” I said, as the Jeep leapt forward, Ranjit shifting gears furiously as he raced back toward the main road. Rain leaked through a tear in the ragtop roof, dripping onto my head at regular intervals.

“Shall we call for a limousine?” she yelled from the front as she lowered the canvas door flap to provide the barest minimum of protection from the rain and mud.

“What are you two doing here?” I yelled back. “I thought you’d gone home. How did you find me?”