Invisible Armies

Chapter 13

Keiran stands with his hands up as the Indian men approach, trying to process the situation, think of a way out, an elegant hack. But there is no solution and no escape. If he runs he will never make it into darkness, not if they are willing to shoot, and they have shown that willingness already. If he could somehow knock out the lights – but he can't do anything without being knocked out or shot himself. He is furious at himself for not insisting they turn around the moment he noticed they were going in the wrong direction. If he dies here, it will be his own fault.

The leader of Kishkinda's men, they must be Kishkinda's, is taller, thicker, and better dressed than the others, and carries a gleaming automatic pistol instead of a revolver. And he knows Danielle. This must be the man who captured her before, who Laurent thinks is Vijay from the Mumbai office. That's something. A chance, however small, for some social engineering.

"Vijay," Keiran says. "Good work."

The man's expression flickers, confirming his name, and he stops.

"Who are you?"

"I'm your only hope of surviving the next seven days."

Keiran isn't sure exactly where he's going with this, but at least he has Vijay's undivided attention. "Who are you and what the devil do you mean?" Vijay demands.

"You've been betrayed. Kishkinda sold you out. After you do this job they're cutting you loose. I have proof."

Vijay relaxes. Something Keiran said gave the bluff away.

"If he says another word," Vijay directs one of his men, "shoot him dead."

Then he says something in Hindi, and two of his men start around the car, presumably to fetch Laurent. Vijay digs into his shoulder bag and unearths a large, clanking pair of handcuffs that look like they belong in the Middle Ages.

There is a clunking sound from the other side of the car, and a gasp of pain. Keiran grimly figures it is Laurent, wounded, being forced to his feet. But then it is followed by a single gasped word in Hindi, and another clunking noise.

Keiran looks over to the shot-up taxi. The headlights and flashlights illuminate this side clearly. The heads of the two Indians who went to collect Laurent are no longer visible above the car. As if both of them have disappeared into the patch of shadow, on the other side of the vehicle, where Laurent fell.

Vijay barks two sharp Hindi words, turns, aims his gun at the taxi. He repeats his order. There is no reply. Keiran's heart fills with hope. Maybe Laurent was not wounded after all. Maybe his stumble and groan were only a ruse.

His suspicion is confirmed when Laurent's face appears above the edge of the taxi, behind a revolver held two-handed, and fires four times before any of Kishkinda's men react.

The Jeep's headlights wink out. Showers of sparks tumble like fireworks from the shattered fluorescent lights. Then darkness covers them all like a thick blanket, and everyone is blind.

Keiran doesn't hesitate. They don't have much time, Kishkinda's men may have flashlights. He already picked out his escape route. He reaches blindly for Danielle, grabs her arm, and pulls her along with him, towards the jungle. Instead of running, he walks on the gravel as silently as he can. She resists at first, scuffing the gravel, but then catches on. There are several gunshots behind them, each of which cause Keiran to twitch with panic, despite reminding himself that you never hear the bullet that hits you.

It is only fifty paces to the end of the parking lot, but the walk feels like it takes hours. Then he feels vegetation beneath his feet. He leads Danielle into the jungle, still walking, they dare not run until they are out of earshot, heedless of the leaves and branches that slash at his face and arms, the muddy inconsistent footing, the fetid mosquito-filled air. Better malaria than murder.