Jack noticed then that Kusum’s throat was bare. He did look considerably older than Jack remembered him. “Your necklace…?”

“I take it off when I address them,” he said, gesturing to the rakoshi. “Otherwise they wouldn’t be able to see their master.”

“You mean ’father,’ don’t you? Kolabati told me what kaka-ji means.”

Kusum’s gaze faltered, and for an instant Jack thought this might be his chance. But then it leveled at him again. “What one had once thought unspeakable becomes a duty when the Goddess commands.”

“Give me the child!” Jack shouted. This was getting him nowhere. And time was passing on those bomb timers. He could almost hear them ticking away.

“You’ll have to earn her, Repairman Jack. A trial by combat… hand-to-hand combat. I shall prove to you that a rapidly aging, one-armed Bengali is more than a match for a two-armed American.”

Jack stared at him in mute disbelief.

“I’m quite serious,” Kusum continued. “You’ve defiled my sister, invaded my ship, killed my rakoshi. I demand a contest. No weapons—man to man. With the child as prize.”

Trial by combat! It was insane! This man was living in the dark ages. How could Jack face Kusum and risk losing the contest—he remembered what one of the Indian’s kicks had done to the door in the pilot’s quarters—when Vicky’s life rode on the outcome? And yet how could he refuse? At least Vicky had a chance if he accepted Kusum’s challenge. Jack saw no hope at all for her if he refused.

“You’re no match for me,” he told Kusum. “It wouldn’t be fair. And besides, we don’t have time.”

“The fairness is my concern. And do not worry about the time—it will be a brief contest. Do you accept?”

Jack studied him. Kusum was very confident—sure, no doubt, that Jack was ignorant of the fact that he fought savate-style. He probably figured a kick to the solar plexus, a kick to the face, and it would be all over. Jack could take advantage of that over-confidence.

“Let me get this straight: If I win, Vicky and I can leave unmolested. And if I lose… ?”

“If you lose, you agree to disarm all the bombs you have set and leave the child with me.”

Insane… yet as much as he loathed to admit it, the idea of hand-to-hand combat with Kusum held a certain perverse appeal. Jack could not still the thrill of anticipation that leaped through him. He wanted to get his hands on this man, wanted to hurt him, damage him. A bullet, a flamethrower, even a knife—all were much too impersonal to repay Kusum for the horrors he had put Vicky through.

“All right,” he said in as close to a normal voice as he could manage. “But how do I know you won’t sic your pets on me if I win—or as soon as I take this off?” he said, pointing to the flamethrower tanks on his back.

“That would be dishonorable,” Kusum said with a frown. “You insult me by even suggesting it. But to ease your suspicions, we will fight on this platform after it has been raised beyond the reach of the rakoshi.”