“Go,” he said to Sam, sternly. “Now!” She engaged the clutch and the truck narrowly dodged a bicycle. As they sped past the Toyota, Rausing fixed his pale eyes on Tusker under steeply arched brows. The Land Rover careened around a roundabout and roared north out of Pasikudah.

Car Trouble

Pasikudah, Sri Lanka. Later that day.

Sam kept the gas pedal of the Land Rover pressed to the floor. The underpowered truck hurtled up the A15 in a cacophony of rattles and whining gears. Tusker looked back, expecting to see the black Land Cruiser right behind them, but it didn’t materialize.

“I think we’re fine, you can let up,” he shouted over to Sam. Normal conversation was difficult in this truck at idle; above 40 miles per hour, it was nearly impossible. She nodded and let off the accelerator.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang and the Land Rover skidded to the right, careening across the road and narrowly missing a tuk-tuk headed the other direction.

“What the hell!” Tusker yelled as he was pitched across the slippery vinyl seats. Sam jammed on the brakes and wrestled the steering wheel to bring the truck to a stop just before it tipped into a grassy ditch.

Sam shut off the ignition and leaned her forehead on the steering wheel, exasperated, but didn’t say anything.

“What was it?” Tusker asked. “What was that bang? Did we hit something?”

Sam shook her head and looked out the windscreen at the traffic they were now facing. “Sounded like a blown diff.”

“The differential?” Tusker said. Sam nodded and opened the door. Tusker followed. There was an acrid smell of burnt rubber and hot metal and a fresh streak of black leading from the middle of the highway to where the truck now sat. A lorry streaked by, its wind horn gaily calling in full Doppler effect.

“I’m just glad this happened when the traffic is light,” Tusker gestured to the passing lorry. Sam didn’t reply but dropped to her hands and knees and peered under the Land Rover.

“I’m guessing you don’t have any sort of roadside assistance for this thing,” he said.

Sam ignored his comment. “There’s a mechanic back in Pasikudah who’s good with these Landies. If we can limp into town, I bet he’s got a spare differential lying about.”

“I don’t think it’ll move, much less limp,” Tusker said.

“Nah, it’ll get us there,” Sam smiled confidently and jumped up, brushing gravel from her knees. She went back to the passenger seat and lifted off the cushion revealing a storage box. She slid off the cover, pulled out a rolled-up canvas pouch, and dropped it on the ground. A crowd had gathered now, a few skinny kids and an old man on a bicycle.