Out of Order by Charles Benoit Read Free Book Online Page B

changed when the son died and a stranger delivered the gift. He still did not have an address for Sriram’s family in Bangalore or any idea what he would say when they asked him how their son and his wife had died. He didn’t have a four-star hotel bed waiting for him in Jaipur, didn’t have as much money as he feared he would end up needing, and he didn’t have a clue why he found himself drawn to this bossy Canadian.
    What he did have were emails from people who seemed quite eager to help, any one of whom, Ravi had warned, might be waiting to kill him.

Chapter Six
    “This is why I came to India,” Rachel said as she leaned over Jason to get a better view of the Jaipur train station. Despite daylong temperatures in the eighties and the dirt blown in through the open windows, her hair still smelled of citrus shampoo. “Forget the tourist crap, give me trains.”
    “From what I’ve seen,” Jason said, looking between the bars on the window as the grimy walls of the station’s outer buildings came into view, “you can have ‘em.”
    She pulled her thick guidebook from her pack. “Cute. But you’ll learn to love it yet.”
    The locals began jumping off the train as it was still pulling into the station, a good way to twist an ankle, Jason thought. He kept his seat, watching the crowd that stood waiting on the long concrete platform, everyone scanning the windows of the incoming train for a face they knew. A white-haired old man pulled his extended family down the line, laughing, crying, shouting greetings to someone Jason couldn’t see while nearby a teenaged boy stooped down to touch the cuff of his father’s trousers, the man placing his hand on the boy’s head to complete the silent greeting. A young bride, holding a naked infant, waited as her husband pushed through the crowd, their public greeting limited to an exchange of smiles. There were dozens of men watching the train, any one of whom, Jason realized, might be waiting for him.
    Jason sat until the train came to a complete stop, stood up, stretched and made his way to the door, Rachel close behind him.
    “It says there’re lots of places to stay, some with their own toilets. Remember,” she said, bumping into him as the train gave one last jolt, “we’ve got to keep it on the cheap. Any way we can save a few rupees will help us out in the long run.”
    Jason ran several responses through his head, deciding it was best to say nothing. He stepped off the train and turned to wait as Rachel stopped to take one last interior shot. As he watched her camera flash light up the empty compartment, he sensed someone step up behind him.
    “This is for you, Mr. Jason Talley,” the man said and Jason spun around, expecting the point of a stiletto or the black hole of a gun barrel.
    In his right hand the man held a small bouquet of fresh flowers.
    “Not for you so much as for your wife,” the man said, nodding as Rachel joined them.
    “They’re beautiful,” Rachel said, accepting the flowers.
    The man smiled a nervous smile. “I am afraid that they will wilt before long in this heat.” Despite his concern for the flowers, the man was wearing a navy blazer, white shirt and a striped tie, the sandals that poked out from under the cuffed khakis his only concession to the weather. His hair was jet black, parted on the side, the sharp lines of recent haircut visible around his large ears.
    “Then I’ll enjoy them while they last,” Rachel said, closing her eyes as she inhaled their fragrance.
    Jason lowered his backpack, holding it so that it hid his shaking knees. He forced a dry swallow before saying, “How did you know my name?”
    The man smiled again, thin lines appearing at the corner of his eyes, hinting at his age. “You sent an email saying you would be coming to India. I am cyberchief twenty-two at Hotmail dot com, also known as A.S. Singh, but you can call me Attar.” He held out his arm as he spoke, and Jason had to drop his backpack to