The Pearl of Bengal (4 page)

“The ‘dear friend’ in the message?”

“Exactly.” Dash nodded as he laid out photographs he had downloaded.

Agatha and Chandler stared in silence at the wild mangrove jungle surrounding the temple. Chotoka village seemed to be swallowed by bright green foliage. There were no roads around it, only some winding dirt paths and wide waterways navigated by fishermen in small wooden boats. Fortunately among the thatched huts was a large bungalow with a hand-painted sign reading
TIGER HOTEL
.

“Uncle Rudyard suggested we stay there,” Agatha murmured to her cousin. “Back to our case. Who are the suspects?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” spluttered Dash, holding a grape halfway to his mouth. “That’s all there was in the file. We’ve got nothing to go on!”

Agatha glanced at the clock and took the situation in hand. “To recap, twenty-four hours ago, a rare pearl of incalculable value was
stolen from a Hindu temple.”

She picked up a photo of the precious pearl. It was a perfect sphere, nearly black, with silvery highlights.

“Just before the theft occurred, the custodian, Amitav Chandra, called Eye International from his home,” she said, closing her eyelids. “Someone broke into his home, forced open the door of the temple, stole the Bengal Pearl, and then…”

“…killed Mr. Chandra?” Dash guessed, sounding worried.

“We don’t know that,” said Agatha, laying her hands on the table. “We only know that he’s disappeared into thin air. But in his phone call, Chandra said to contact Deshpande, the captain of the forest guard. This Captain Deshpande should be able to give us more information about suspects once we arrive in the village,” she concluded.

At that moment, Chandler started clearing dessert.

Agatha stopped him. “Leave that, Chandler,” she told him. “Dash will finish it. Go pack some sunscreen and mosquito repellent. We’re going to need it!”

“Of course, Miss Agatha.” The butler nodded.

Minutes later, they were in a limousine speeding to Heathrow Airport.

Dash had told his parents that he’d be staying at Agatha’s for a few days to prepare for an important and difficult exam, which was almost the truth. To save time, he had not gone back to his penthouse. He’d stick with the clothes he was wearing. In place of the hair gel he usually used on his floppy dark hair, he’d tried olive oil.

“Oh, the mosquitoes are going to love you,” laughed Agatha as they boarded the Air India jet. As always, she had Watson’s traveling case in one hand.

“Don’t mock my style,” said Dash, taking a seat by the window and burrowing under a blanket. Before they even took off, he was out like a light.

For the first hour, Agatha read guidebooks about Kolkata and Sundarbans National Park. Then she, too, fell into a deep sleep, with Watson curled up in her lap.

Chandler didn’t even close his eyes. The seats were too narrow for him to make himself comfortable, so he passed his time poring over a dog-eared flight instruction manual, making notes with a highlighter pen.

They landed in Kolkata the following morning. Agatha was as fresh as a daisy, while Dash had dark circles under his eyes. He couldn’t stop yawning.

“One of these days you’ll make it into the
Guinness Book of World Records
,” Agatha teased him cheerfully as they rode the escalator to the
baggage claim. “World champion sleeper!”

Dash gave his millionth yawn in reply. “It’s changing time zones that destroys me,” he moaned.

“Right.” Agatha smirked. “Four and a half hours’ difference isn’t that much.”

“It’s the extra half hour!”

They picked up their luggage in no time. Chandler showed their passports to the customs officials, and they emerged into the airport’s central atrium.

It was like a miniature city, crowded and bustling with color. Glittering displays of designer cosmetics sat next to narrow stands selling orange and pink silks, silver bracelets, and beaded necklaces. Women of all shapes and sizes walked past, wrapped in brightly patterned saris. Some of the men wore traditional white or brown clothing and turbans, while others wore business suits.

In the midst of the crowded bazaar, they spotted a young Indian with bulging calf muscles waving a sign that said
RASHID’S RICKSHAW—FASTEST IN KOLKATA!

“The only thing missing is a snake charmer,” joked Dash.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” a cheerful voice boomed behind him. “I can charm anything, even a cobra.”

They turned to see a broad-shouldered man with unruly blond hair, a ruddy tan, and a welcoming grin. He looked about thirty years old, and in
spite of a little potbelly, he looked very fit. In his beige shorts, tan shirt, and hiking boots, he was the very image of an adventurer.

“Welcome to India, the most exciting place on the planet!” exclaimed Rudyard Mistery.

A
fter vigorously shaking Chandler’s hand, hugging his niece and nephew, and cracking a few jokes about Dash’s olive-oiled hair, Uncle Rudyard reached into his camera bag for an aviator cap and goggles. “Okay, which one of you knows how to pilot a plane?” he asked without preamble. Apparently he couldn’t wait to get back to the wilds of Bengal.

“I, er, failed my pilot’s license three times,” Chandler began, rubbing his jaw. “But I know how to steer with a joystick and check the altimeter…”

“Excellent! Good man!” Uncle Rudyard said,
thumping his shoulder. “They won’t let us take off without a backup pilot!”

The butler solemnly put on the aviator cap, tinted goggles, and an oversize brown leather jacket he’d brought with him from London.

“You’re a vision, big man!” Rudyard Mistery grinned. “Who’s going to argue with
that?”

Agatha laughed heartily, but Dash looked uncertain.

“Don’t you think this uncle of ours is being a bit optimistic?” he whispered in his cousin’s ear as they walked to the hangar where their private plane was waiting. “Chandler did say he failed three times.”

“Uncle Rudyard’s terrific! A real force of nature,” Agatha said, glowing.

Dash rolled his eyes. Apparently Rudyard could charm cousins as well as snakes.

Suitcases in hand, they went out through a side door and walked across the hot tarmac, passing a small fleet of maintenance vehicles unloading luggage from planes. Uncle Rudyard stopped next to a hangar to greet a few grease-stained mechanics in Hindi and English. Then he pointed to the flight inspector’s office.

“Come on, big man!” he invited Chandler. “Let’s go convince them you’re an RAF ace!”

A few minutes passed. Agatha reached down to stroke Watson’s paw, which the cat had stuck out through the mesh of his carrier.

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you out soon!” she consoled him.

“Fine with me if you don’t,” grumbled Dash. “I’d almost forgotten that lousy beast!”

As Agatha glared, the others emerged from the office, flashing thumbs-ups.

As soon as Uncle Rudyard gestured proudly toward his plane, the children understood why he needed a backup pilot.

It was a gigantic yellow Canadair with bright red stripes, almost entirely covered in stickers. It was sixty feet long with a ninety-foot wingspan, an amphibious beast capable of landing on a jungle runway or body of water with equal ease.

“That’s my honey. She used to be a water bomber for fighting wildfires, but I had her refitted for photo expeditions,” explained
Rudyard Mistery proudly. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

“What a spectacular plane!” Agatha cried. “Mom and Dad would adore it. They’re nuts about vintage aircraft!”

Chandler just stared at the plane, sweating profusely in his leather jacket.

They climbed into the Canadair’s roomy cabin and immediately noted that it was furnished like a hiker’s cabin. There was a hammock, a gas stove, food supplies (mostly rice and canned tuna),
bottled water, fishing rods, tripods, and waterproof camera equipment.

“I don’t just shoot tigers, you know,” their uncle explained, showing them his scuba gear. “The Irrawaddy dolphins migrate back to the Ganges from the Bay of Bengal at this time of year. I want to get some underwater shots.”

“What’s in those colored vials?” asked Dash.

“Snake serum.”

“You mean, to treat snakebites?”

Rudyard shook his head. “To attract snakes so I can shoot close-ups.”

Dash’s eyes got big. “P-p-poisonous snakes?”

“Deadly.” Rudyard grinned.

Dash’s knees started to shake. They shook even more when Uncle Rudyard and Chandler strapped themselves into the copilot seats, and the seaplane’s propellers began to spin.

It was the worst takeoff the boy could remember.

The Canadair swung back and forth, lurching wildly from left to right, thumping and creaking. Dash grabbed hold of a large metal handle, while Agatha calmly gazed out the window.

When they finally reached cruising altitude in the clear skies above Kolkata, Uncle Rudyard entrusted the stick to the butler. “Put her on a bearing of one twenty south,” he shouted in incomprehensible pilot jargon. “I’m going to go chat with the youngsters.”

Nervous as he was, Chandler kept his eye on the control panel, obeying him to the letter.

“Now, Agatha. What can you tell me about your investigation?” asked Uncle Rudyard as he relaxed in his hammock. Watson jumped onto his belly, where he was welcomed with plenty of cuddles.

“It’s a tough one,” replied the girl, tugging on her cousin’s sleeve. “Dash can fill you in.” She tugged harder. “Right, Agent DM14?”

“Uh, me?”

“You’re the detective!” Agatha grinned. “Go on, lazy, tell him!”

She knew there was only one way to calm down her cousin. In fact, as he recapped the details of their mission, he started to loosen up, bit by bit. At one point, he pulled out his EyeNet to show Rudyard the pictures of Chotoka, the Temple of Kali, and the magnificent missing black pearl.

“What an amazing doohickey!” Rudyard Mistery enthused. “Go back a few frames. Can you zoom in?”

Dash zoomed in on the image of Deshpande, captain of the forest guard.

Rudyard nodded. “I know him. He was mauled by a tiger last year. He was an expert at tracking down poachers, but he hasn’t been the same since that bite on the leg.”

“Mr. Chandra told us to contact him,” Agatha said. “Uncle, what can you tell us about the villagers of Chotoka?”