to the Westerners’ eyes, it still seemed like a minor flea market, transient street fair, and rinky-dink traveling amusement park in some lower-middle-class suburban town.
Nichols was just steps behind the naked man when he burst into a patchy, compact fairground between tent-like booths; bent, discolored, miniature, ancient rides; and a makeshift stage from which a local band played classic catchy, danceable, Indian pop music. None of that was a problem. In fact, it effectively hemmed in the naked man. The problem was were all the young men in out-of-fashion jeans and shirts acting like it was their own personal mosh pit.
They were jumping, kicking, and thrusting their arms in the air to the live music, while the few women present were off to the sides. The latter were the ones who started reacting to both the naked man and redhead first. Their little shrieks and cries acted like a wave, catching the attention of the dancers like a pond ripple. The result was the naked man turning toward Nichols on the far side of a human circle, while the path was closed off behind the redhead by curious, concerned festival-goers.
Nichols slowed, letting her peripheral vision take in all the confused faces. But she concentrated on the man, who was now holding the corpse like a sleeping child while babbling something in Punjabi, the local dialect.
“What is he saying?” she asked no one in particular. But her sharp tone elicited a reaction from a nearby co-ed.
“He says you are a demon, a redheaded demon, who attacked his family.”
Nichols didn’t look away from the man as she quickly responded. “Tell them he is a child molester who stole that girl. I’m trying to stop him!”
To the co-ed’s credit, she tried translating for the crowd, but the naked man was louder, and already speaking in their language. Nichols tried taking a step forward, but suddenly she was confronted by several angry, suspicious young men advancing on her. She recognized the look of distrusting amazement. She had seen it wherever redheads were not the norm—which made up most of the world.
She heard the co-ed’s shrill admonitions cut off, then found out why. Daniels was right beside her, his back bent, his fists clenched, and a ravenous grin on his otherwise mirthless face.
“What’s Punjabi for ‘bring it on’?” he growled.
Nichols didn’t want a riot, but left that to Daniels. She took another step toward the naked man, who started shoving the nearest young men in front of him, all while still babbling in despair and fear. She could see exactly what he was doing but was nearly powerless to stop him. Even with her heightened speed, she saw no way to get to him without becoming entangled in the encroaching crowd.
As Daniels looked ready to take them all on, Nichols kept her gaze locked onto the child snatcher. To her angry despair she saw him take the final step toward the fairground’s north-most exit, all while looking directly back at her with a triumphant, knowing grin on his face. That’s when she saw Josiah Key appear behind him.
To her regret, she let her relief and pleasure infuse her own face, alerting the man. He ducked, crouched, and scrambled like a wet pig, shaking off Key’s hands, and started running again. Infuriated at herself, Nichols stepped before Daniels while pulling her Sig Sauer P239 from its shoulder holster. As she saw Key go after the naked man, she pointed it straight up and fired.
“Make way for the redheaded demon with a gun,” she cried, and used the crowd’s momentary shock to race through them.
She heard Daniels following suit, accompanied by the exclamations of a foolhardy few who tried to stop him, but by then she was already out the fairground’s other side—hardly noticing that it led to a stony, root-veined, vine-covered path. If the information she had gleaned on the drive here was to be trusted, this had to be the trail to the temple fort, which stood between the town and the river.
A second later she was past Key, wishing she also had the time to take a shot at the naked man, but knowing that she couldn’t risk hitting the child. Dead or not, that was why they were here, and any further damage to her might negate the whole mission. Her speed was being turbo-charged by her anger and resentment, so she no longer had time to question anything because she was on the guy.
His surprise was almost gratifying as she grabbed his neck with one hand and brought the gun butt down on his head with the other. They both went down on mossy ground in front of three stories of crumbling brickwork surrounded by leafy shade trees. Nichols mirrored the man’s triumphant, knowing grin as she landed across his back, but then also mirrored his surprised expression when, rather than stay down, rendered unconscious by her blow, he rolled, twisting, and came up in a crouch, still holding the child.
Nichols was so shocked she didn’t take the moment to just shoot him in the face, and then lost her chance as Daniels cannoned by her and brought his fist directly toward the naked man’s nose, point-blank, with all the force he had gathered from wanting to take on an entire festival crowd.
He missed.
Daniels was stunned when he found his target was no longer directly in front of him, and was aghast when his momentum and lack of balance sent him flying forward like a hurled javelin. Nichols, who was directly behind him, was so confused by the big man’s collapse that, once again, her gun remained unused.
Finally, both Westerners managed to catch sight of the naked man, who was scrambling toward the main archway, which framed the sparkling, dirty, roiling river beyond. They hadn’t even started to regain their footing to continue the chase when Key stepped out from a rocky wash to block the naked man’s escape.
He didn’t rush the man, try to tackle him, or even shoot him. He just stepped out, far enough in front to go in any direction the man might choose, but also essentially cornering him within the small hall of the archway, since Daniels and Nichols were still blocking any retreat. Key’s expression was not antagonistic in the slightest. If anything, it was curiously interested.
“We must’ve caught you within seconds of your entry,” he said mildly. “You probably just threw your robe under the shelves and lay there, right?” Key shrugged, appreciating the naked man’s blank face. “Who would have thought that whoever followed you in there would be after the same thing you were? Bad luck, yes?”
Key continued to stand still, casually surveying the man, and waited. The naked man didn’t move for several seconds, but then they all saw his back curve and heard a strange animal sound. Key’s eyebrows rose and his head shifted back on his neck.
“Are you snarling at me?” he asked in mock incredulity, before making a tsking noise and shaking his head sadly. “You shouldn’t be growling at me. Not when you’re so close to fulfilling your assignment.” Key jutted his chin at the man. “Are you the only one sent to collect these corpses? Or did you go, on your own, by yourself, to clean up your mess? I mean, why else would you do it? Why not just leave well enough alone?” Key let his expression change to one of realization; then he smiled sadly and nodded with sympathetic understanding. “Or did you hear about some people”—he motioned to the strongman and redhead behind them—“who were showing interest?”
The naked man’s lips came off his teeth, and the growl snapped off as both he and Key charged.
But to the surprise of all the others, Key did not leap toward the naked man. He leaped to the left of the naked man. Nichols and Daniels had hardly started to react when the big man felt disappointment that his superior had so blatantly missed the mark. The child snatcher would clearly get away, having made them all look like fools.
The naked man seemed to think that too, if his renewed
