Naresh heaved himself to his feet. A few seconds later, he was standing in front of Ramesh’s desk. Ramesh didn’t invite him to sit down. The man had his fingers intertwined, elbows on his desk. His watery eyes regarded Naresh irritably. It was obvious there was to be no small talk on this occasion.

“You said on the phone you wanted to see me because there was a problem,” Ramesh said sulkily. “What’s the problem?”

“I got on Miss Hernandez first thing this morning. I didn’t get there early enough to tail her to breakfast at the Imperial, so I don’t know whom she met there. But right after that, not too much after nine, she came back to the Amal and then took a hotel car, apparently to go sightseeing.”

“Do I have to hear all this?” Ramesh complained.

“If you want to know how the problem happened,” Naresh said.

Ramesh made a rotating motion with his index finger for Naresh to continue.

“She stopped briefly at the Red Fort, but it didn’t appeal to her. Next she went to the bazaar, parked at the Jama Masjid, and hired a cycle rickshaw.”

“Can’t you just tell me the problem?” Ramesh complained again.

“It was at that moment that I came into the parking area just after someone in a new E-Class Mercedes. I vaguely noticed him because he’d been tailing her as well from the Red Fort.”

Ramesh rolled his eyes at Naresh’s lengthy rendition.

“He took off after Miss Hernandez, which I thought curious, so I redoubled my efforts and ran after both. From then on everything happened in the blink of an eye. He didn’t hesitate. He ran up behind Miss Hernandez and pulled a gun. It was right in the middle of the crowded bazaar, with people all around. He was going to shoot, no questions asked. I had two seconds to decide whether to intervene. All I could hear was your telling me not to let her become a martyr. Well, that’s what she was about to become, so I shot and killed the would-be killer.”

Ramesh’s mouth slowly dropped open. Then he slapped a hand across his forehead and leaned on his elbow while he shook his head in short arcs. “No!” he cried.

Naresh shrugged. “It all happened so fast.” Naresh reached into his pocket and took out a piece of paper. On it was written Dhaval Narang. He placed it on the desk in front of Ramesh.

Without removing his head from his hand, Ramesh reached out and picked up the paper. He read the name. “Do you know who this guy is?” Ramesh blurted. He raised his eyes and looked irritably at Naresh.

“I do now. It is Dhaval Narang.”

“That’s right. It is Dhaval Narang, and do you know whom he works for?”

Naresh shook his head.