A Killer in Kailash: Adventures of Feluda (5 page)

Lalmohan Babu provided the answer.

‘Rocks,’ he said, still whispering, ‘or tools to break something made of stone. Didn't your cousin tell us there was a large gang working behind this whole business? I believe Bose is one of them. Did you see his nose? It's exactly like Ghanashyam Karkat’s.’

‘Who is Ghanashyam Karkat?’

‘Oh ho, didn't I tell you? He is the villain in my next book. Do you know how I'm going to describe his nose? “It was like a shark’s fin, rising above the water”.’

I paid no attention to this last bit, but couldn't ignore his remarks about Mr Bose. I would not have suspected him at all. How could a man who knew so much about art be a criminal? But then, those who go about stealing works of art must know something about the subject. Besides, there really was something sharp about his appearance.

‘I only wanted to warn you,’ Lalmohan Babu went on speaking, ‘just keep an eye on him. He offered me a toffee, but I didn't take it. What if it was poisoned? Tell your cousin not to let on that he is a detective. If he does, his life may be at risk.’

The next day, we left in a taxi at half past six in the morning and went to see Bibi ka Makbara (also known as the ‘second Taj Mahal’). Then we went to the Buddhist caves. The taxi dropped us at the bottom of a hill. A series of steps led to the caves. Mr Bose had accompanied us and, was talking constantly about ancient art, most of which went over my head. I still couldn't think of him as a criminal, but caught Lalmohan Babu giving him sidelong glances. This often made him stumble, but he did not stop.

Two other men had already gone into the caves. I had seen them climbing the steps before us. One of them was a bald American tourist, dressed in a colourful bush shirt and shorts; the other was a guide from the tourist department.

Feluda took out his Pentax camera from his shoulder bag and began taking photos of the hills, the view and, occasionally, of us. Each time he peered at us through the camera, Lalmohan Babu stopped and smiled, looking somewhat self-conscious. After a while, I was obliged to tell him that he didn't necessarily have to stop walking and, in fact, photos often came out quite well even if one didn't smile.

When we reached the caves, Feluda suddenly said, ‘You two carry on, I’ll join you in a minute. I must take a few photos from the other side.’

‘Don't miss the second and the seventh cave,’ Mr Bose called out to us. ‘The first five are all in this area, but numbers six to nine are half a mile away, on the eastern side. A road runs round the edge of the hill.’

The bright sun outside was making me feel uncomfortably hot, but once I stepped into the first cave, I realized it was refreshingly cool inside. But there wasn’t much to see. It was obvious that it had been left incomplete, and what little work had been done had started to crumble. Even so, Mr Bose began inspecting the ceiling and the pillars with great interest, jotting things down in his notebook. Lalmohan Babu and I went into the second cave. Feluda had given us a torch. We now had to switch it on. We were in a large hall, at the end of which was a huge statue of the Buddha. I shone the torch on the walls, to find that beautiful figures had been carved on these. Lalmohan Babu was silent for a few moments, taking it all in. Then he remarked, ‘Did you realize, Tapesh, how physically strong these ancient artists must have been? I mean, a knowledge of art and a creative imagination alone wasn’t enough, was it? They had to pick up hammers and chisels and knock through such hard rock … makes the mind boggle, doesn't it?’

The third cave was even larger, but the guide was speaking so loudly and rapidly that we couldn't stay in it for more than a few seconds. ‘Where did your cousin go?’ Lalmohan Babu asked as we emerged. ‘I can’t see him anywhere.’

This was true. I had assumed Feluda would catch up with us, but he was nowhere to be seen. Nor was Mr Bose. ‘Let's check the other caves,’ Lalmohan Babu suggested.

The fourth and the fifth caves were not far, but something told me Feluda had not gone there. I began to feel faintly uneasy. We started walking towards cave number six, which was half a mile away. This side of the hill was barren and rocky, there were few plants apart from the occasional small bush. I glanced at my watch. It was only a quarter past eight, but we could not afford to stay here beyond 10 a.m., for Mr Mallik was to arrive at eleven.

Fifteen minutes later, we looked up and saw another cave. It was probably cave number six. There was no way of telling whether Feluda had come this way. Lalmohan Babu kept peering at the ground in the hope of finding footprints. It was a futile exercise, really, since the ground was absolutely dry.

Was there any point in going any further? Might it help if we called his name?

‘Feluda! Feluda!’ I started shouting.

‘Pradosh Babu! Felu Babu! Mr Mit-te-er!’ Lalmohan Babu joined me.

There was no answer. I began to get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Had he climbed up the hill and gone to the other side? Had he seen or heard something that made him forget all about us?

After a while, Lalmohan Babu gave up. ‘He's obviously nowhere here,’ he said, shaking his head, ‘or he'd have heard us. Let's go back. I'm sure we'll find him this time. He couldn't have left us without a word. He would not do an irresponsible thing like that, would he?’

We turned back and retraced our steps. In a few minutes, we saw the foreigner and his guide making their way to the sixth cave. I could see that the American was finding it difficult to cope with the guide and his endless patter. ‘Look, here’s Mr Bose!’ Lalmohan Babu cried. Mr Bose was walking towards us with a preoccupied air. He raised his eyes as he heard his name. I went to him quickly and asked, ‘Have you seen my cousin?’

‘No. Didn't he say he was going off to take pictures?’

‘Yes, but that was a long time ago. Maybe he's in one of these caves?’

‘No. I have been to each one of them. If he was there, I would certainly have seen him.’

Perhaps my face registered my anxiety, for his tone softened. ‘He may have climbed a little higher. There is, in fact, a fantastic view of the whole city of Aurangabad if you can get to the top of the hill. Why don't you walk on and keep calling his name? He's bound to hear you sooner or later,’ Mr Bose said reassuringly, and went off in the direction of cave number six.

Lalmohan Babu lowered his voice. ‘I don't like this, Tapesh,’ he said. ‘I never thought there would be cause for anxiety even before we got to Ellora.’

I pulled myself together and kept walking. My speed had automatically become faster. All I could think of was that we were running out of time, we had to get back to the hotel by eleven to find out if Mr Mallik had arrived, but what were we to do if we couldn't find Feluda?

Without him …

‘Charminar!’ Lalmohan Babu cried suddenly, making me jump.

We were standing near the pillars of the fifth cave. A yellow packet of Charminar was lying under a bush a few feet away from the pillars. It had either not been there when we were here earlier, or we had somehow missed it. Had it dropped out of Feluda's pocket? I picked it up quickly and opened its top. It was empty. Just as I was about to throw it away, Lalmohan Babu said, ‘Let me see, let me see!’ and took it from me. Then he opened it fully, and a small piece of paper slipped out. There was a brief message scribbled on it in Feluda's handwriting.

‘Go back to the hotel’, it said.

Considerably relieved, we debated on what to do next. I couldn't think very clearly as Feluda's message said nothing about where he was or why he was asking us to go back. The empty feeling in my stomach continued to linger.

‘How can we go back?’ Lalmohan Babu said. ‘Mr Bose is with us, and he has four more caves to see.’

‘Why don't we return to the hotel,’ I said slowly, forcing myself to think, ‘and send the taxi back to fetch him?’

‘Ye-es, we could do that, but shouldn't we stay here to watch his movements?’

‘No. I don't think so, Lalmohan Babu. Feluda said nothing about Mr Bose. He just wanted us to go back, and that's what we ought to do.’

‘Very well. So be it,’ Lalmohan Babu replied, sounding a little disappointed.

Since he wrote mystery stories, Lalmohan Babu occasionally took it into his head to act like a professional sleuth. I could see that he wanted to follow Mr Bose, but I felt obliged to stop him. Our taxi dropped us at the hotel, then went back to the caves. It was 9 a.m. God knew how long we’d have to wait for Feluda.

Neither of us could remain in our room, so we came out of the hotel and began strolling on the road outside. The sky had started to cloud over. If it rained, it might cool down a bit, I thought.

Mr Bose returned at nine forty-five and looked rather puzzled when we told him Feluda had not returned. Naturally, we could not tell him the real reason why we were worried. After all, we did not know him well and Lalmohan Babu was still convinced he was one of the criminals involved. In order to stop him from asking further questions, I said quickly, ‘I'm afraid my cousin often does things without telling others. He's done this before—I mean, he's gone off like this, but has returned later. I'm sure he'll be back soon.’

We stayed out for nearly an hour, then I went back to my room and began reading
Tintin in Tibet
. Just after eleven, I thought I heard a train whistle, and at quarter to twelve, a car drew up outside in the porch. Unable to contain myself, I went out to have a look.

Two men got out of the taxi. One of them was of medium height and pretty stout. His broad shoulders seemed to start just below his jaws; his neck was almost non-existent. For some reason, he seemed as if he might easily fly into a temper. The other man was just the opposite: tall, lanky, wearing bell-bottoms and a loose, cotton embroidered shirt. His face was covered by an unkempt beard and his hair rippled down to his shoulders. He looked like a hippie. The stout man had an old leather suitcase; the hippie had a new canvas bag. Both walked into the hotel. Another taxi arrived as soon as these men had gone in.

Jayant Mallik got out of it.

A sudden surge of relief swept over me. At least, this meant that we were on the right track. Our journey from Calcutta had not simply been a wild-goose chase.

But where on earth was Feluda?

C
HAPTER
6

I
waited for another ten minutes to see if Feluda turned up. When he didn't, I went in and knocked on Lalmohan Babu's door. He opened it at once and said with large, round eyes, ‘I've seen it all from the lobby! Don't both those characters look highly suspicious? I wonder if they’ll go to Ellora? One of them—you know, the bearded one—might well be into ganja and other drugs.’

I nodded. ‘Jayant Mallik has also arrived and checked in,’ I told him.

‘Really? I didn't see him. I came back to my room as soon as that hippie walked in. What does Mallik look like?’

When I described him, Lalmohan Babu grew even more excited. ‘Oh, I think he's been given the room next to mine. I saw him arrive and something struck me as very odd. A bearer was carrying his suitcase, but it was obviously extremely heavy. The poor man could hardly move. And no wonder. Isn't the yakshi's head supposed to be in it?’

I could think of nothing except Feluda's disappearance, so I said, ‘What is much more important now is finding Feluda. Never mind about Mallik's suitcase. We’ve made no arrangements to go to Ellora. Mallik, I am sure, hasn’t come here simply to see the sights of Aurangabad. If he reaches Ellora before us, he might damage more—’

‘What's that?’ Lalmohan Babu interrupted me, staring at the door. I had shut it after coming into the room. Someone had slipped a piece of paper under it. I leapt and grabbed it quickly. It was another note, written by Feluda:

Collect all our luggage and wait outside the hotel at one-thirty. Look out for a black Ambassador taxi, number 530. Have your lunch before you leave. All hotel bills have been paid in advance.

I ran my eyes over these few lines and opened the door. There was no one in sight. A second later, however, Jayant Mallik came out of his room and went busily towards the reception desk. He caught my eye briefly, but did not seem to recognize me.

‘He didn't lock his room,’ Lalmohan Babu whispered. ‘There's no one about. Shall I go in and have a look? Think of the stolen statue—!’

‘No! We mustn't do anything like that without telling Feluda. It's nearly one o’clock now. I think we should both be getting ready to leave.’

Sometimes, Lalmohan Babu's enthusiasm caused serious problems. Luckily, he agreed to restrain himself.

We had a quick lunch and came out with our luggage—including Feluda's—at one twenty-five. An empty taxi arrived in a few minutes, but it was green and had a different number. Its driver stopped it a few feet away from us. I saw him raise his arms and stretch lazily.

Three minutes later, another taxi drove up to us. A black Ambassador, number 530. Its driver peered out of the window and said, ‘Mr Mitter’s party?’

‘Yes, yes,’ Lalmohan Babu replied with an important air. The driver got out and opened the boot for us. I put the three suitcases in it.