Scott Mariani - Valley of Death

Brooke threw herself back in her seat and closed her eyes. Ben fished in a pocket for his pack of Gauloises, tapped one out and lit it, rolled down his window to let the smoke out and went on driving in silence.

After a pause Brooke said in a softer tone, ‘I’m sorry I lashed out at you just then. It was wrong.’

‘It’s okay.’

‘It’s not your fault. It’s that idiot and the things he said. He made me so angry.’

‘Maybe I should have shot him. We could go back, if you like.’

Brooke gave just a flicker of a smile, and fell silent for another long pause. Then she said, ‘The thing is, though, the reason he touched such a nerve is because I must think, deep down, that he’s right.’ It was just like her to analyse everything psychologically, even at times like this.

Ben replied, ‘You can persuade yourself rationally that Amal’s dead. But do you feel it? Do you believe it in your heart?’

‘I’m so tired I don’t know what to believe. What do you think?’

‘I think Prajapati seemed very sure of himself, considering he seems to have damn all proof to support his opinion.’

‘But what if it’s true? How do we know it isn’t?’

‘We have no reason to suppose it is.’

Her lips tightened. ‘You don’t have to humour me, Ben. I’m not a child. Let’s say Amal’s not going to make it out of this. Or he’s dead already, like Prajapati says. What then?’

‘The usual things. You’d bury him, mourn him, and move on. Like everyone does.’

‘I don’t mean that. I mean, what then? ’

‘Then we’d move on to the next phase. The hunt would switch gears and become about finding the people who did it. But it’s too early to start talking this way.’

‘And if they could be found? You’ll take them down?’

Ben looked at her and saw the seriousness in her eyes. She wanted them dead, no mistake. He nodded slowly. ‘You said it yourself, Brooke. Whatever it takes to make this right.’

‘You’d do that for me?’

‘And for Amal,’ Ben said. ‘He’s my friend too.’

She reached out and touched his hand where it rested on the wheel. Her fingers lingered for a moment, then she drew her hand quickly away. ‘What about Kabir?’

‘If you’re right that the two cases are connected, then it means the same bad guys are behind both crimes. In which case, we get the people who took Amal, we’re also getting the ones who got Kabir. Two birds with one stone.’

‘And if I’m wrong, and the two aren’t connected at all?’

‘Then all we can do is take it step by step. It’s a process of elimination. Forget about Prajapati. Even if he hadn’t just taken himself out of the equation, he’s of no use to us. Which takes us to the next name on the list, Samarth. At this point, I’d like to be introduced.’

‘Why now?’

Ben replied, ‘Because he’s the only one of the three brothers still available to talk to. Because I’m a visitor in his home and it’s the polite thing to do. And because he might actually know something that could lead us to the next level.’

They passed a busy street-side kebab stall and the aromas of chargrilled lamb and chicken with hot chilli peppers and spicy okra wafted through the car’s open window. Brooke asked, ‘Not hungry yet?’

‘I want to keep moving.’

‘Same here.’ She reached for her handbag, took out her purse and riffled around until she found a business card. Black with gold edging and script, expensive and glossy. ‘Here it is. Ray Enterprises, Connaught Place. That’s the main business district, where all the big corporate offices are.’ She copied the postal code into the on-board sat nav and peered at the screen for directions. ‘You need to get turned around here.’

‘Let’s do it.’ Ben dropped a gear and the Jaguar’s engine growled happily as he cut across the lanes of chaotic traffic to head back in the opposite direction.

That was when he spotted the car in the rear-view mirror. A dusty white Toyota sedan had peeled suddenly out from the traffic flow and pulled a sharp U-turn in his wake. In any other country Ben had travelled in, it would have been the kind of manoeuvre that elicited a symphony of honking horns from angry motorists. Evidently not in India, where nobody seemed to care much what you did on the road, but it caught Ben’s eye nonetheless. Not exactly subtle.

Someone was following them.

Ben kept it to himself, because he didn’t want to alarm Brooke. Not until he was sure he was right. Then she’d find out soon enough, depending on what happened next.

He took the next right turn, veering sharply into the junction at the last moment. A motor rickshaw driver and a couple of pedestrians had to move fast to get out of his path. Brooke glanced at the sat nav and said, ‘What are you doing? This is the wrong way.’

‘Sorry, my mistake,’ he replied. In the mirror he saw the white Toyota follow them into the junction. Hanging back, keeping its distance, allowing a few other vehicles to filter in between itself and the Jaguar. It had passed the first test. Or failed it, depending on one’s point of view. One more, and Ben would be sure. He said, ‘Let me pull in here and get turned around again.’

He clicked on his indicator, steered nearer the kerb and slowed. A battered taxi sedan, two tuk-tuks and a motorcycle buzzed past. The white Toyota didn’t. It had slowed too, and hovered at the kerbside forty metres behind the Jaguar as though anticipating their next move. Ben waited for a gap in the traffic, then threw the Jag around with a squeal of tyres and accelerated back towards the junction.

Right on cue, the Toyota U-turned and followed.

Brooke still had no idea what was going on, and Ben had decided to say nothing yet. Connaught Place and the Ray Enterprises HQ were twenty minutes away, which he hoped was enough of a distance to provide him with a chance to lose their tail. He left her alone with her thoughts as he followed the sat nav west across the city, cutting and diving into gaps, braking hard now and then to avoid facilitating the suicide of various scooterists and pedestrians, and all the while watching the white Toyota in his mirror. He’d already memorised its Delhi registration number. The glare of the sunlight made it hard to see through its windscreen, but he thought he could see the shapes of two guys inside.

He wondered who they could be. Goons working for Prajapati? Possible, though unlikely.

A traffic light up ahead was changing from green to amber. Ben saw his chance and put his foot down, and the Jaguar surged through just as the light turned red. Some way behind them, the driver of the Toyota had to make a quick decision. He raced through the red, almost collided with a truck, swerved to avoid a motorbike, and kept on the Jaguar’s tail. Ben switched lanes a couple of times, took a couple more turns as directed by the sat nav. He was momentarily distracted by a bus that was trying to force its way up the wrong side of him. Then when he looked in the rear-view mirror again, expecting the Toyota still to be there, it was gone. He slowed a little to let traffic stream past and check that the Toyota wasn’t just lurking further back. Definitely no longer there.