A Walk Across the Sun (31 page)

The break came when no one expected it. In the third week of February, Thomas was eating lunch at the CASE office with Nigel McPhee and a few of the expats when Nigel's mobile phone rang. He fished the phone out of his pocket, and looked at the screen.

“Talk to me,” he said, putting the phone to his ear. He listened for a few seconds, and his eyes widened. “Tonight? I'll let Greer know.”

“What's going on?” Thomas asked when Nigel hung up the phone. The field operations director ignored him and walked immediately to Greer's office. Thomas set aside his lunch and followed on his heels, wondering whether it had something to do with Sita.

Greer looked up from a report he was reading.

“Navin is back in Bombay,” Nigel said. “Rohit called in the tip.”

“Has he confirmed it?” Greer asked, his expression turning serious.

Nigel shook his head. “But the pimp is a trusted source. He got the information directly from Sumeera.”

“Navin is a common name. How does he know it's our man?”

“This Navin has a thing for minor girls.”

“That isn't good enough,” Greer objected. “If we're going to move on this, we have to be absolutely sure.”

Nigel smiled. “Navin doesn't come for sex. He takes the girls away.”

Greer's skepticism seemed to abate. “Did he say where?”

“The pimp said Europe.”

Greer picked up the phone. “Send the rest of the guys down there. I'll call the CBI.”

Nigel nodded and left the office, but Thomas stayed put. “I want in on this,” he said.

Greer seemed nonplussed. “We don't know what kind of character Navin is. I can't guarantee your safety.”

Thomas touched the rakhi bracelet. The band had begun to itch in the heat, and the rash it left reminded him constantly of his promise.

“It doesn't matter,” he replied. “I want to be there when you take him down.”

Greer thought about this for a long moment. “Okay, you're in. But do me a favor and stay the hell out of the way.”

Thomas kept close to Greer while CASE prepared for the raid. On Greer's order, Nigel sent the entire division of field agents into Kamathipura to squeeze the locals for information. In the meantime, the field office director contacted the CBI about leading the operation. The CBI chief agreed but only after Greer assured him that Nigel's team would verify the tip.

Two hours later, however, the field agents had uncovered no new information. They had approached the usual suspects—the beshyas, madams, and pimps who were their unofficial informants—but no one had heard of Navin. Nigel paced the floor and made increasingly terse calls on his mobile phone. Greer looked at the clock and clenched his fists as the minutes ticked away. Thomas had never seen him so unnerved.

Late in the afternoon, Greer called the CBI superintendent with the news that the tip still had not been confirmed. The conversation was tense, and Thomas could see the strain on Greer's face. He placated, cajoled, flattered, and ultimately begged the CBI chief not to give up on the operation. At last, the man acquiesced, but he cut his squad by a third and swore that they were wasting their time.

The CASE field agents were in position by six o'clock. Thomas rode with Greer to the Nagpada police station, where they met the CBI team and Inspector Khan. Greer explained that though the CBI had national jurisdiction, Kamathipura was the inspector's turf. The CBI chief had involved Khan to prevent interdepartmental squabbling later on.

The CBI agents drove to M. R. Road in three unmarked vans as darkness was falling. Khan followed in a separate vehicle with Greer and Thomas. To avoid being noticed by the pimps working the street, Khan was dressed in plainclothes, and the Americans both wore baseball caps and had darkened the stubble on their cheeks.

“Assuming this works,” Thomas asked in the dim cabin of the car, “who gets jurisdiction over Navin?”

“We do,” the inspector replied.

“Not the CBI?”

Khan shook his head. “The CBI doesn't have the stomach for dirty work. We will find out what he did with the girl.”

“And if he doesn't talk?”

Khan smiled thinly. “We have our ways, Mr. Clarke.”

The inspector turned down M. R. Road and pulled his car over to the curb within sight of Suchir's brothel. It was a Tuesday, and the streets were crawling with men looking for a “short-time,” or quickie, before heading home after work. Looking down the street, Thomas saw Rohit and two other CASE field agents watching the brothel entrance. Suchir stood by the door, smoking a
chillum
, or hashish pipe.

When seven o'clock came and went, one of the field agents approached Suchir to light his cigarette. They chatted for a while before the agent sauntered away. Greer's mobile rang a few seconds later. He listened briefly and then hung up.

“Suchir said he's expecting a good customer in the next hour,” Greer told Khan.

The inspector picked up his radio and relayed the information to the CBI.

The minutes passed sluggishly in the unairconditioned car. The moist air filtering through half-open windows was thick with the stench of garbage and cigarette smoke. Men walked along the street in clumps, fending off propositions from pimps. Brothel owners like Suchir stood idly, observing the marketing ritual but not participating in it. Thomas kept his head down, but his eyes were alert, observing everything.

At ten minutes past eight, a taxi pulled up to the brothel and Suchir put away his pipe.

A voice came over the radio. “We have a suspect. Mid-thirties, dark hair, fashionably dressed.”

Thomas watched as a man in a pink shirt climbed out of a taxi and greeted Suchir on the street. The man handed Suchir a duffel bag, and the malik took it and opened it. Thomas felt his body tense. He was certain it was Navin.

The radio crackled again. “All units, move in.”

At once field agents converged on the brothel. Suchir clutched the duffel bag and fled up the stairs. At the same time, the man in the pink shirt moved toward an alleyway. Rohit stepped out of a doorwayand blocked the man's path, but the man put his shoulder down and crashed into the field agent, bowling him over. Rohit landed hard and lost hold of the man's shirt. Scrambling to his feet, the man ran headlong into the maze.

In that instant, something snapped inside of Thomas. Before he could think, before his mind could calculate the risk or comprehend the instinct that had overtaken him, he threw open the car door and stepped into the street. Ignoring the shouts of Greer and Khan, he took off toward the spot where the man had disappeared. The man had a ten-second head-start, but Thomas was fast. He was confident that he could catch him.

Dancing around Rohit, who had lurched to his feet looking dazed, he ran down the lane, dodging bullock carts, customers, and clotheslines hung so close together they obscured the sky. All around him people stared, but Thomas paid no attention to them. As long as he could hear the man's feet pounding the dirt, his only interest was speed.

Time stretched out as he raced down the gully. As he moved, he scanned the path in front of him for a glimpse of his target. He heard a crash and moments later came upon an overturned vendor cart. He jumped it without breaking stride and ducked under a line of saris hanging out to dry. Rounding a bend in the lane, he caught sight of the man about fifteen paces away. He was moving quickly, but he appeared to be favoring his right leg. Thomas increased his speed, ignoring the pimps and brothel owners glaring at him from the shadows.

The man changed direction and darted into a brothel. Thomas hesitated only a moment before following him. The man disappeared through a door at the far end of the hall and Thomas ran after him, barely glancing at the lineup of girls loitering along the wall. He charged through the door, scaled a flight of steps, and entered a second hallway lined with girls. They laughed and blew him kisses, but he shrugged them off, concentrating on gaining ground.

The second hallway led to a third and then a fourth. All around were girls and sex rooms. The fourth hallway emptied into a larger space cluttered with mattresses and partitioned by sheets hanging from the ceiling. A number of the beds were occupied. He heard squeals and an angry shout and saw a girl and her customer scrambling to cover themselves. The man jumped over their bed, angling for a door in the far wall.

Thomas followed the man into another spider web of hallways. He ran down a set of stairs and felt a draft of cooler air. At last, he saw a doorway at the end of the tunnel. A brothel owner stepped in front of the exit, trying to impede his passage, but Thomas shoved him aside and ran into the street.

The man was only a few steps ahead of him and limping more obviously now.

“Navin!”
he shouted. The man looked back.

Thomas poured all his remaining strength into half a dozen strides. When Navin came within reach, he launched himself through the air and hit him with an open-field tackle. They tumbled into the dirt and rolled into a cluster of pimps who were sharing a hash joint. In the melee, Navin tried to slither out of Thomas's grasp, but Thomas wrapped his arms around Navin's midsection and held fast. In the rush of adrenaline, he was overcome with anger.

“What did you do with her, you bastard? Where did you take her?”

Instead of answering, Navin lashed out with his elbow and connected with Thomas's head. Thomas thought he was going to black out, but the moment passed and he tightened his grip. He heard shouts in the distance and, after that, footsteps. Rohit was the first to reach them. The field officer dragged Navin to his feet and threw him against a wall. A CBI agent stepped forward and put him in handcuffs.

Another CBI agent helped Thomas to his feet. “Okay?” he asked.

Thomas nodded, heaving in air and feeling sore all over. He wiped dirt from his face and watched CBI men lead Navin down the lane. Rohit approached Thomas, wearing a look that was part congratulatory and part embarrassed.

“Fine work,” he said.

Thomas grinned. “It felt good to do that again.”

Rohit frowned. “Again?”

“I was an all-state cornerback in high school.”

When Rohit gave him a blank look, Thomas shook his head. “Never mind.”