THE STERADIAN TRAIL: BOOK #0 OF THE INFINITY CYCLE by M.N. KRISH Read Free Book Online Page B

squirming in his boots indecisively, keeping a vigilant eye on the luggage, just as he’d done at the airport when the cops whisked Joshua away, wondering what on earth was running in the professor’s mind.
    Joshua finally snapped out of his silence. ‘All right Durai, I’ll take it from here,’ he said and stretched out his hand.
    It was a crispy roll of a few hundred rupee bills and Durai accepted it with a toothy smile. ‘Thank you, sir. Thank you very much,’ he said.
    All his malaise vanished instantly like magic. He saw the security guard arriving with the concierge in tow and quickly tucked the money into his pocket. He handed over the charge to the concierge and drove away.
    The concierge was a stout man who appeared stouter in a colonial-looking costume – a billowy white overcoat that dropped down to the knees and a red cummerbund – a perfect foil for the security guard who wore a navy blue uniform and an artistically done turban crested with crisp accordion folds that swayed and rasped in the wind. The garish, overdone uniforms of guards and concierges in Indian hotels never failed to amuse Joshua. The current specimens almost made him feel like a maharaja returning to his palace and it brought a faint smile to his lips. Letting the concierge cart his suitcases, he took off his jacket, slung on his laptop and made for the reception desk.
    He didn’t have much trouble getting a room. The management welcomed him back as if he were the prodigal son returning to the family fold. The fact that he insisted on the same suite he’d stayed in earlier made it a whole lot easier. The clerk didn’t even keep him waiting, saying all rooms were taken, pretending to look into the system for cancellations. She pinged the manager right away and he came out of his office to personally welcome his most valuable guest for the night. It truly felt like a homecoming for Joshua.
    The first thing he did upon re-entering the suite was to pick up the phone and call Becky at her kibbutz hotel in Jerusalem. She wasn’t available in the room or on her mobile though. He hung up after leaving a worried message with the operator and on her voice mail.
    He had talked to Becky and Katie only a few hours ago and mom and daughter were doing great and thoroughly enjoying their day. But being unable to reach them when he wanted made Joshua jittery. He took a swig of water from the mini bar and tried diverting himself watching the news channel. An Indian economist with a hard-acquired accent was on air from the cosy cocoon of an American campus, belting out advice to the Indian government on pretty much everything: how to raise interest rates and tame inflation, how to lower expenditure to control inflation, how to attract foreign investment with a falling rupee, how to lower interest rates to stimulate investment, how to let inflation rein in consumption, how to increase expenditure to stimulate growth . . . Joshua clicked the remote and started watching a Bollywood music channel.
    The concierge wheeled in his luggage and stowed them in the closet. Joshua tipped him and resumed waiting for Becky’s call.
    Tired and restless, the songs and swaying hips failed to hold his attention. The suite too seemed to close in and stifle him. He switched off the TV and slipped out of the suite onto the balcony. One foot resting on the balustrade, he remained there for some time, lost in thought, in the vise-grip of a vague, faceless fear that stood in the way of enjoying the night-time view of the city, lights going out sporadically on the landscape, the hustle and bustle grinding to a halt.
    One thing the placard made clear to Joshua was that someone named William J. or Williams J. had come to stay at the Oceanic very recently. The first thing to do was to determine if he was indeed the Jeffrey Williams. If he indeed was, Joshua knew what to do next. What were the odds that Jeffrey would get killed in a random incident after a visit to India? It had