Still, he wasn’t there for art appreciation, and his interest wasn’t due to its sophistication. He squinted through the camera lens and then tried using the display on the back, with equally dismal results. It was simply too dark, so he flicked on his cell again and, using that light and the camera screen, framed a shot and snapped a picture.
The flash lit the room and he blinked away stars and then took another photo, and another. After taking five, he thumbed through the camera menu and found the icon for photo review and brought up his first shot. On the tiny screen it was hard to make out, but the second and third looked clearer — far more so than the old black and white had been on Carson’s phone.
Spencer was considering another round of photographs when he heard a noise from the main temple, and he stopped in mid-step, ears straining to identify the sound.
A scrape.
Perhaps the wind blowing refuse around in the interior?
Whatever it was, as he stood motionless, he didn’t hear anything further. He waited half a minute, and when he was sure that he’d overreacted, he raised the camera and took another photo.
He blinked from the flash and then spun, half blind, his night vision temporarily shot. He’d heard the sound again, and this time… closer.
A flashlight beam cut through the darkness. He instinctively shielded his eyes with his hand and slid the camera into his breast pocket with the other.
“That’s far enough. Keep your mitts where I can see them, or I’ll blow your kneecaps off,” Oliver Helms said from the doorway, the dull gleam of the chrome snub-nosed revolver in his hand making it clear that he was deadly serious.
Chapter 42
Jadhav stared suspiciously at Drake and Allie. “What are you doing in this man’s room?” he demanded.
“He’s my brother,” Allie said. “I told him I’m having an attack. What’s it to you?”
“It is frowned upon for women to visit men after dark,” he snapped, looking around the barren room as he spoke.
“Nobody told us,” Drake said, coming to Allie’s defense. “She’s in anaphylactic shock. If she gets any worse, she’ll have to go to the emergency room. What was she supposed to do — lie in her room and hope she recovers?”
Jadhav looked less sure of himself. “It is almost time for lights out. If she needs transport to a hospital, we will, of course, see to it.”
“Let’s see how I feel over the next fifteen minutes,” Allie said. “I took a Benadryl. That’s usually enough to open my throat and lungs so I can breathe.”
“I can check and see whether any of the staff have that drug, if you require more,” Jadhav offered, realizing that his alarm had been misguided.
“Would you?” Allie asked.
“Certainly. But I can’t allow you to remain here. There are rules…”
“Which would have been helpful to know in advance,” Drake said. “Hard to follow them if you don’t know they exist.”
“It was an oversight that will not happen again.”
“Are there any others? No late night walks? No drinking water after dinner?” Drake asked, goading the little man.
“No, just no comingling. The purpose of the ashram is spiritual awakening, and all else must be subordinate to that objective,” he announced with self-important assurance. “I would be happy to escort you to your room and will ask the staff in the morning whether they have this Benadryl you require.”
She looked to Drake. “I feel better already. Just really out of it for some reason. Maybe I should go. I’ll be okay — I just want to sleep now.”
Drake frowned. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.” She looked to Jadhav. “I’ll take you up on your offer. I’m a little wobbly.”
“Of course,” Jadhav said, and took her arm, supporting her, no doubt thinking that the drugs the swami had fed her were having a delayed effect.
Drake watched them go and closed his door. Allie would be back, he was sure, and he’d be ready when she appeared.
Three hours later, a single tap at the door echoed through the room. He rushed to open it, the lights extinguished so as to avoid alerting anyone watching that he was awake, and slipped out to where Allie was waiting for him in the gloom.
When they were near the swami’s residence building, she whispered to him, “The windows would be on the other side. They’re about six feet off the ground. Skinny and tall.”
They stopped when they spotted a guard near the admissions area, but the man kept walking, his attention elsewhere. Drake exhaled in relief and resumed creeping along the edge of the residence, which was dark, the staff apparently asleep, the swami’s little orgy of love energy concluded.
The windows were around the back of the building, and when they arrived, Drake eyed the distance from the lawn beneath them and murmured to Allie, “They look like they’re open, but that’s more than six feet. More like eight.”
“I’m not great with distances.”
“Or height, apparently.” He backed up and took a run at the wall. His fingers almost touched the sill before he dropped back to the ground, where Allie waited in a crouch.
“That’s not going to work,” she said. “Give me a boost.”
“How am I supposed to get up there, even if you can make it?”
“One obstacle at a time, okay?”
Drake locked his fingers together and she stepped onto his palms. He lifted her as high as he could, but it still wasn’t enough. She hopped down and faced him. “Squat down in front of the wall. I’ll stand on your shoulders, and when you straighten, stabilize my ankles and I’ll test the window.”
“Are you serious?”
“Just do it, Drake.”
He complied and, when Allie’s feet were on his shoulders and she was leaning with her hands against the wall, slowly rose, his hands on the backs of her ankles while she worked her way up until the windows were at her chest level. Allie gripped the window frame and pulled herself upward until she was halfway through the gap.
“What are you doing?” Drake hissed from below.
She didn’t answer, reserving her energy for what was to come, and dragged herself the remainder of the way through the window before coming to rest on one of the thick carpets. She lay there and listened to the soft snoring from the canopy bed, the mosquito netting dropped into place to protect the occupants. To her left, a dim glow emanated from the display case, where Kali danced for eternity, now absent her sword.
Allie spotted a silk robe discarded on a chair. She crawled to it and pulled it off the back, and then made her way back to the window. Drake was looking up at her when she dropped one end toward him and gripped the other. “Climb up,” she said.
He shook his head, and she gestured impatiently. He sighed and reached up, and then, after testing his grip on the robe, used it for leverage and scrambled up the wall, Allie’s feet wedged against the stone base of the window, her arms burning from the strain of supporting his weight.
When he was through the aperture, he lay beside Allie, neither of them daring to move for fear of waking the sleeping holy man. After what seemed like hours she motioned at the case and slid closer to him, her words in his ear soft as a butterfly’s breath.
“Let me get my camera ready. You lift me and I’ll take a shot.”
He shook his head. “The flash will wake him.”
“I can turn it off. There should be enough light from the lamp in the case.”