Читать книгу Ash Mistry and the World of Darkness - Sarwat Chadda - Страница 12

Ash sat in the back of the van with Ashoka. Parvati was up front with Elaine.

It was good to be doing something. Now they knew where Savage lived there was a buzz in the air, a crackle of anticipation.

He’d been here before, at the eve of a battle.

Then why are my hands so sweaty?

Ashoka strummed his bowstrings nervously. He had an arrow clip fixed to the bow, and six arrows, double-stacked, ready and waiting.

How would Ashoka do in battle? Was he really the Eternal Warrior, just like him?

“How much further?” Ash asked. He just wanted to get started now. Then the nerves would go.

“We’re almost there,” said Elaine.

The Docklands in east London were a mixture of old and ultra-modern. Their route took them through Canary Wharf and past the headquarters of Barclays Bank, Credit Suisse, HSBC and all the other global financial houses. In the dark the skyscrapers shone as if covered in crystal.

Beyond the bastions of super-wealth came endless, squalid council estates, low and mean and hidden in the gloom, shadowed by the glass titans and circled by busy ring roads.

“Not surprising Savage would set up here,” said Elaine as she drove. “This was where it all started.”

She was right. Savage had begun as a soldier of the East India Company back in the eighteenth century. From there he’d built his fortune through slavery and drug smuggling and conquest. He’d marched with the likes of Napier and Clive, carving up India, creating what would be the heart of the British Empire. Spice ships had docked here, bringing pepper, once more valuable than gold, but there had been gold aplenty too. Gold, silver, diamonds, ivory, and tea and cotton and countless other treasures of the East.

But the old warehouses had all been turned into offices or fashionable apartments for the merchant bankers, now trading electronically and growing just as rich as the nabobs of the Honourable East India Company.

Snow had just started to fall. The clouds were a deep orange from the city. It never truly became dark in London, and small flurries of snowflakes swirled in the pool of amber from the sodium streetlights.

Elaine slowed down and came to a halt at the corner of the road. “There it is.”

The warehouse took up an entire block. Four storeys tall with a multi-pitched roof with plenty of nooks and crannies among the chimney stacks. As it stood alone they could see the building backed on to a dock: a square, artificial bay with a few designer barges and yachts moored, quiet and idle. Two hundred years ago the basin would have been filled with high-masted clippers and men heaving the fortunes of nations off the boats and into the warehouse.

The windows were dark. A white Humvee stood outside the front door.

Ash slid the side panel open and stepped out of the back of the van. He shivered as the wind whipped along the street, but pulled off his coat and threw it back in. He didn’t want it getting in the way. He touched his katar handle, strapped to the back of his belt. “You ready for this, Ashoka?”

“No, but I’m coming anyway.” He slung his bow across his back.

Parvati smiled at him as she stepped out, hand on her urumi.

Elaine leaned out of the driver’s window. “I’m going to hide over the other side of the dock. Good luck and don’t be long.”

They made their way towards the warehouse. Ashoka was pale, eyes darting everywhere.

Ash flexed his fingers, trying to keep the cold out. This wasn’t how he’d wanted to take on Savage. They were on the back foot, going into unknown territory without all their powers.

But that was just the way it had to be.

What and who was in there? Ashoka’s family? Jackie? Savage even? Ash wished he was more ready; that they all were. The only one who looked at ease was Parvati. Nothing ever phased her. Always cool, always in control.

She peered through the letter box in the front door. “What’s the PIN?”

Ashoka inspected his palm. “040776.”

Parvati shrugged off her coat. “I’ll just be a minute.” Then she reached through the letter box, sliding into her cobra form as she did so. Her tale flicked before vanishing through the slot.

Ashoka glanced up and down the street. “I’ve never done anything illegal, and now I’m breaking and entering.”

“How are you finding it?”

“I feel half sick and half excited, you know?”

“Yes,” said Ash. “I do know.”

A minute later the door opened and Parvati, back in human form, smiled at them. “Come in.”

Savage hadn’t stinted on the decorations. It was an elegant mix of old and modern. The walls were original bare red brick, but full-height portraits lined the hallway, each lit by a discreet spotlight hidden among the old wooden beams across the ceiling. A long, dark red Persian rug ran all the way to a wrought-iron staircase, and the doors leading off the hallway were antique wood, their colour glossy and dark from the varnish.

Ashoka stood facing a life-sized portrait. “It’s Savage.”

Ash had seen it before, back in India. “At the beginning of his career.”

Savage wore the red jacket of an officer of the East India Company. He gazed down at them with half-lidded eyes that were cold blue chips of ice. They burned with all the greed, hunger for power, the sense of destiny, and of superiority that would define his three-hundred-year existence. All present in this first portrait of him as a mortal man in his mid-twenties. He held a tiger-headed cane, and the beast’s own gaze was pure red, two small rubies glistening from the silver face, snarling at the painter. Behind Savage lay a pair of manacles and a bundle of dried poppies, the source of his wealth. Further along the hallway was a portrait of him as an old man, then nearest to the stairs the most recent – just him sitting on a stool, dressed in his customary white suit, wearing his black shades. His skin was pearly white, almost luminescent. Behind him was desert and the faint outline of a vast archaeological excavation. His cane rested across his knees.

“That’s the dig in Rajasthan,” said Ash, “where we found Ravana.”

Parvati stood by a small electrical panel beside the door. A schematic of the building showed all the alarm locations, now all green. She double-checked and sighed. “The entire building is alarmed.”

“Which means no one’s at home,” said Ashoka. “What are we going to do?”

Ash knew Ashoka was gutted, and he was too. But then did he really believe it would have been that easy? This was Savage they were dealing with. The Englishman would have backup plans to his backup plans.

But they were here. In his house. Who knew what they might find?

“We need to have a good look around,” he said. “Maybe we’ll find a clue as to where they’ve gone. We know they were here recently.”

Parvati didn’t look happy. “It’s a big house.”

“We should split up.”

Ashoka shook his head. “Nope. No way. I’ve seen too many movies where that happens and the loser in the party …” he looked to Parvati, then Ash, “… which, under these circumstances, would be me, comes to a bloody and awful end.”

“Which is why you’ll be staying with Parvati,” said Ash.

“How come I get stuck with him?” replied Parvati.

“Hey!” said Ashoka.

“You have him,” she continued.

“No. Hanging out with him, it’s just too … freaky.” Ash smiled. “And look, you dealt with me when I was young and useless, so—”

“Who says I’m useless?”

Parvati put up a finger. “Shh.” She turned to Ash. “OK, then what are we looking for?”

“The house is huge, and I don’t want to stay here a moment longer than necessary, but we need to try to find out where they’ve gone, and we need to work fast, and that means splitting. I don’t like it any more than you do, Ashoka, but otherwise we have no leads. I’ll start at the top, you two start down here, and we’ll meet in the middle. All right?” Ash turned to Ashoka. Yes, it was still odd, staring at himself. “You do exactly as she says. Got it?”

“I am not useless.”

“Whatever.” Ash checked his watch. “We’ll meet in fifteen minutes.”

Parvati nodded, then took the left corridor, Ashoka close behind her.

Ash went directly to the wrought-iron staircase and climbed, moving quickly and keeping to the shadows. A clock chimed somewhere in the house, but all else was silence. He paused at the first floor to listen, gazing down the corridor. There was no one around. He continued on up.

Clues. I’m looking for clues. Now which door leads to clues?

He was at the top of the house. A skylight illuminated a large square patch of the corridor in a silvery blue. The space was mean compared to the rest of the house. The ceiling was low and the doors were plain, without the ornate panelling of the floors below. It smelled musty and a cold breeze sank through the old frame around the skylight.

He peered into the first room, opening the door slowly to minimise the squeak of the hinges. Linen sat in neat white stacks upon a row of shelves and there was the stuffy odour of mothballs. Ash moved on.

He went quickly from room to room, finding nothing of interest. He saw the stairs at the opposite end. One more room to check, then he’d make his way down to the floor below and search there.

The door was oak and the handle a brass curl, different from the rest. Ash opened it and entered.