F. Paul Wilson - The Tomb

Visions of Kolabati bound and gagged in a closet somewhere plagued him. She was probably more comfortable than that, but he was sure she was Kusum's prisoner. It was because of her relationship with Jack that her brother had taken action against her. He felt responsible.

Kolabati… his feelings for her were confused at this point. He cared for her, but he couldn't say he loved her. She seemed, rather, to be a kindred spirit, one who understood him and accepted—even admired—him for what he was. Augment that with an intense physical attraction and the result was a unique bond that was exhilarating at times. But it wasn't love.

He had to help her. So why had he spent most of the morning on the phone? Why hadn't he gone over to the apartment and tried to find her?

Because he had to get over to Sutton Square. Something within had been nudging him in that direction all morning. He wouldn't fight it. He had learned through experience to obey those nudgings. It wasn't prescience. Jack didn't buy ESP or telepathy. The nudgings meant his subconscious mind had made correlations as yet inapparent to his conscious mind and was trying to let him know.

Somewhere in his subconscious, two and two and two had added up to Sutton Place. He should go there today. This morning. Now .

He pulled on some clothes and slipped the Semmerling into its ankle holster. Knowing he probably would need it later in the day, he stuffed his house-breaking kit—a set of lock picks and a thin plastic ruler—into a back pocket and headed for the door.

It felt good to be doing something at last.

2

"Kusum?"

Kolabati heard a rattling down the hall. She pressed an ear against the upper panel of her cabin door. The noise definitely came from the door that led to the deck. Someone was unlocking it. It could only be Kusum.

She prayed he had come to release her.

It had been an endless night, quiet except for faint rustlings from within the depths of the ship. Kolabati knew she was safe, that she was sealed off from the rakoshi; and even if one or more did break free of the cargo areas, the necklace about her throat would protect her from detection. Yet her sleep had been fitful at best. She thought about the awful madness that had completely overtaken her brother; she worried about Jack' and what Kusum might do to him. Even if her mind had been at peace, sleep would have been difficult. The air had grown thick through the night. The ventilation in the cabin was poor and with the rising of the sun the temperature had risen steadily. It was now like a sauna. She was thirsty. There was a sink in the tiny head attached to her cabin but the water that dribbled from the tap was brackish and musty-smelling.

She twisted the handle on the cabin door as she had done a thousand times since Kusum had locked her in here. It turned but would not open no matter how hard she pulled on it. A close inspection had revealed that Kusum had merely reversed the handle and locking apparatus—the door that was supposed to have locked from the inside now locked from the outside.

The steel door at the end of the hall clanged. Kolabati stepped back as her cabin door swung open. Kusum stood there with a flat box and a large brown paper sack cradled in his arm. His eyes held genuine compassion as he looked at her.

"What have you done to Jack?" she blurted as she saw the look on his face.

"Is that your first concern?" Kusum asked, his face darkening. "Does it matter that he was ready to kill me?"

"I want you both alive!" she said, meaning it.

Kusum seemed somewhat mollified. "We are that—both of us. And Jack will stay that way as long as he does not interfere with me."

Kolabati felt weak with relief. And in light of the knowledge that Jack had not been harmed, she felt free to concentrate on her own plight. She took a step toward her brother.

"Please let me out of here, Kusum," she said. She hated to beg but dreaded the thought of spending another night locked in this cabin.

"I know you had an uncomfortable night," he said, "and I'm sorry for that. But it won't be long now. Tonight your door shall be unlocked."

"Tonight? Why not now?"

He smiled. "Because we have not yet sailed."

Her heart sank. "We're sailing tonight?"

"The tide turns after midnight. I've made arrangements for apprehending the last Westphalen. As soon as she is in my hands, we will sail."

"Another old woman?"

Kolabati saw a queasy look flicker across her brother's face.

"Age has no bearing. She is the last of the Westphalen line. That is all that matters."

Kusum set the bag on the fold-out table and began unpacking it. He pulled out two small jars of fruit juice, a square Tupperware container filled with some sort of salad, eating utensils, and paper cups. At the bottom of the bag was a small selection of newspapers and magazines, all in Hindi. He opened the container and released the scent of curried vegetables and rice into the room.

"I've brought you something to eat."

Despite the cloud of depression and futility that enveloped her, Kolabati felt her mouth filling with saliva. But she willed her hunger and thirst to be still and glanced toward the open cabin door. If she got a few steps lead on Kusum she could perhaps lock him in here and escape.

"I'm famished," she said, approaching the table on an angle that would put her between Kusum and the door. "It smells delicious. Who made it?"

"I bought it for you at a little Indian restaurant on Fifth Avenue in the Twenties. A Bengali couple run it. Good people."

"I'm sure they are."

Her heart began to pound as she edged closer to the door. What if she failed to get away? Would he hurt her? She glanced to her left. The door was only two steps away. She could make it but she was afraid to try.

It had to be now!

She leaped for the doorway, a tiny cry of terror escaping her as she grabbed the handle and pulled the door closed behind her. Kusum was at the door the instant it slammed shut. Kolabati fumbled with the catch and shouted with joy when it clicked into the locked position.

"Bati, I command you to open this door immediately!" Kusum shouted from the other side, his voice heavy with anger.

She ran for the outer door. She knew she wouldn't feel truly free until there was a layer of steel between herself and her brother.

A crash behind her made Kolabati glance over her shoulder. The wooden door was exploding outward. She saw Kusum's foot flash through as the door dissolved into a shower of splintered wood. Kusum stepped into the hall and started after her.

Terror spurred her on. Sunlight, fresh air, and freedom beckoned to her from beyond the steel hatch. Kolabati darted through and pushed it shut, but before she could lock it, Kusum threw all his weight against the other side, sending her flying onto her back.

Without a word, he stepped out onto the deck and pulled her to her feet. With a vise-like grip that bruised her wrist, he dragged her back to her cabin. Once there, he spun her around and gripped the front of her blouse.

"Don't ever try that again!" he said, his eyes nearly bulging with rage. "It was idiotic! Even if you had managed to lock me up, you would have had no way to reach the dock—unless you know how to slide down a rope."

She felt herself jerked forward, heard the fabric of her blouse rip as buttons flew in all directions.

"Kusum!"

He was like a mad beast, his breathing harsh, his eyes wild.

"And take— "

He reached into the open front of her blouse, grabbed her bra between the cups, and tore the center piece, exposing her breasts…

"— off —"

... then pushed her down on the bed and yanked brutally at the waistband of her skirt, bursting the seams and pulling it from her…