“They’re both yours for the time being,” Middleton said. “The only warrant we had was for Devras Sikari.” Then he had a thought and laughed.

“What?” Connie asked.

“The Scorpion—Sikari’s benefactor.” Middleton shook his head. “All we knew about him was that he was ‘holy, but of this world.’ But I’m wondering if that was a mistake. Maybe the phrase started in English before it got translated into Hindi. The original phrase might have been ‘wholly of this world.’”

The British agent said, “Can’t disagree with that: It certainly describes Chernayev . . . Talk about greed. Selling out a whole country.”

Middleton cocked his head. “That raises a question. Chernayev’s motive was money and Zang’s was annexing territory with a good source of water for China. But Sikari’s motive was an independent Kashmir. So what was his real involvement in all this?” He waved his hand, indicating the dam. “It seems like he was a pawn, used by Chernayev. But he clearly had something planned for the Village—that was in his email to Kavi Balan.”

There were plenty of unanswered questions, he reflected.

“I better make some arrangements for transport now,” Barrett-Bone checked an extremely expensive watch. He saw Middleton regarding it. He laughed. “I didn’t steal it. I come from money, my friend. Believe it or not, I’m a civil servant because I like the work. One can’t be a benefactor to the world of arts and music full time and not get bored. Besides, I’m also a bit of a patriot, as out of vogue as that seems. Cheers now.” He walked into the dusty heat.

Middleton pulled out his new phone and got a status update. The fifty Mujahedeen and their leaders had been taken into custody, as had the BlueWatch people. The grounds and the explosives were secure.

He now rose. “I’m going to check on Charley.” His soul was heavy with the knowledge that she’d been drawn into the midst of this terrible affair—at a time when what she needed most was a chance to heal.

“I’ll go with you,” Tesla said.

He was nearly to the door when his phone buzzed. “Yes?”

“Colonel Middleton?” the British voice asked.

“That’s right.”

“Commander Ethans here. SAS.”

“Go ahead.”

“Stumbled on a bit of an odd situation. Thought it best to apprise you. We’ve got the body of that Archer Sikari. But, well, the queerest thing. Seems he didn’t die from loss of blood. He probably would have, but that’s not what finished him off. He was shot. In the back of the head.”

“What?”

“No question.”

Middleton recalled seeing the man sit up suddenly and then collapse. But he hadn’t heard any shots. He told this to the SAS officer, and asked, “What about your men?”

“No, sir. None of ours or yours were issued silencers.”