an unexpected chill rippling along Takeri’s spine.
“You would approach him directly?”
“That’s right.”
“And if he’s being watched? Guarded?”
“We’ll have to take that chance.”
Takeri’s frown deepened. “When you say ‘we’—”
“You’ll need to show me where Vyasa lives and point him out. Aside from that, I’ll need details of what your Captain Gupta has on him, what links him to Naraka. Dates, facts, figures. Anything at all to crack him open, make him feel cooperative.”
“I see.” From where Takeri sat, it was a grim vision indeed. “But once again I ask, if he is guarded?”
“We’ll see how it goes,” Bolan replied. “You did okay tonight against those cutters.”
“Still, if you had not arrived just when you did, the outcome may have been a disappointment.”
“We’ll avoid that in the future if we can.”
“If I am permitted to inquire, what are you, Mr. Cooper? Surely not an analyst.”
“I wouldn’t say that. No.”
“What, then?”
“A trouble-shooter,” the American replied. “We’ll let it go at that, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course.”
“About those details on Vyasa—”
“Captain Gupta did not favor me with all specifics of the case, you understand.”
“Just give me what you have.”
“On several occasions—five or six, I think he said—Vyasa has been seen with export dealers linked to the Naraka group. In normal circumstances, these are men Vyasa should have been investigating, possibly arresting, but he seemed to be on cordial terms with all of them. At two meetings, police observed the passage of an envelope into Vyasa’s hands.”
“Containing money?” Bolan asked.
Takeri shrugged. “Sadly, they did not stop him to inquire. There is a mystery of sorts in that respect. His bank accounts—those known to the authorities, at least—show no unusual or unexplained deposits, yet Vyasa lives beyond his means.”
“So, he’s been hiding cash somewhere.”
“Presumably.”
“Maybe we’ll shake some of it loose from him and use it on the next phase of our journey.”
“Which would be?”
“I thought you understood. I’m here to find Naraka.”
“But he almost never leaves the Sundarbans.”
“I guess that’s where we’ll find him, then,” Bolan stated.
Again, the deadly we, Takeri thought. “I should advise you, Mr. Cooper, that my personal experience in fieldwork of this sort is…limited.”
“You spent time in the military, I believe?”
Takeri masked his first rush of surprise. “That’s true.”
“And you’re my guide for the duration, yes?”
“Correct.” Takeri felt the noose settle around his neck.
“No problem, then.”
No problem. The phrase was said as if the words would not only allay Takeri’s fear but turn him into something he was not. A hunting guide, perhaps. A jungle warrior. True, he had been trained for living off the land and fighting in the wilderness, but all of that seemed long ago and far away.
“I will endeavor not to fail you, Mr. Cooper,” he replied.
“It’s Matt. And failure’s not an option.”
“This is all to do with the Americans, I take it? Those Naraka kidnapped?”
“Those he killed. That’s right.”
“If he had not involved your people—”
“Then I likely wouldn’t be here. But he did, I am and we’re together in this thing for better or worse, if you think you can handle it.”
Takeri knew he should resist the challenge, not rise to the bait, but at the moment it seemed irresistible. “I can. I will.”
“Good man. Now, what say you go on and bring me up to speed about Vyasa. I’d like to drop in for a visit tonight, and before we do that I need chapter and verse.”
Takeri had a sense that everything was happening too rapidly, that he was being swept away, but what choice did he have? His working contract with the CIA demanded full cooperation, and he’d gone so far already in the matter that his life was placed in jeopardy. Those who had tried to kill him would already have his home staked out. At least, with the American, he had a better fighting chance.
But the Sundarbans!
“All right,” Takeri said at last.
5
As they discussed their short-range plans, the Executioner took stock of Abhaya Takeri, comparing his reticence to the forceful response he’d witnessed from Takeri in the street a short time earlier.
The change was only natural, of course. When Bolan met the Indian, Takeri had been fighting for his life, with no time to reflect on the advisability of any certain move. A kill-or-be-killed situation always tested humans to the limit. Those who passed the test survived, while those who failed were meat for the machine.
During the street assault, Takeri’s military training and survival instincts had emerged to save him, with some timely help from Bolan. Whether he would have survived alone was something else, a question left unanswered for all time, but it was clear to Bolan that Takeri had the courage, strength and will to fight if motivated properly.
Sitting in the relative security of Bolan’s hotel room, Takeri had a chance to think about what he was getting into, weigh the odds against him, letting worms of doubt nibble at his resolve. He wasn’t balking yet, but Bolan knew it could happen.
Strong men could defeat themselves before a contest started by exaggerating the prospective difficulties in their minds. Some heroes, Bolan realized, were simply men who had no time to stop and think.
What soldier started his day with plans to fall on top of a grenade? Or charge the muzzle-blast of an emplaced machine gun, armed with nothing but a satchel charge? Who got up in the morning, thinking, Man, I’d love to die today?
Bolan recognized Takeri’s hesitancy and sympathized with it, but he couldn’t afford an ally
