He called Wajid. “I am texting you her picture. Can you ask your contacts at the Shankaracharya Temple to see if she is there? I will text you other locations I took them to. Maybe she went to one of them?”
George went to Lal Chowk, then all the nearby gardens, the markets, and other places they’d been to. By now, it was nearing eleven o’clock at night, and there was still no sign of Sharmila. Wajid reported that none of the other tour guides had seen her.
George began to panic. He cursed himself that he should have been more gentle with her, or maybe should have told Vikram’s brother first. Then he wondered if she went to Aru Valley. He called Suraj and tried to talk casually about the wedding. He surmised that she wasn’t there, or Suraj would surely have said something.
Then it occurred to him. There was only one place that he hadn’t checked.
George rushed home to his houseboat.
She was sitting outside the boat with her face buried in her hands. He could tell that she had been crying. He quickly texted Alina to say he had found Sharmila and that she should not worry.
“You found me. Sorry I haven’t returned any calls or messages,” she said as she felt him sitting down with her. She wiped her tears and looked straight ahead, avoiding making eye contact with him. “How did you know I would be here?”
“I thought that if I were you, where could I go where only one person could find me?”
She began to cry uncontrollably again.
“Have you met him? Is he okay? He was shot. Does he remember me? Did he ask about the baby? Did he look okay? Was he healthy? Was he okay? I don’t even know if I am asking the right questions, or what I am supposed to ask.” Her questions came one after the other. He could feel her slipping through his fingers.
“It’s cold out here, Sharmila, and you are shivering. Why don’t we go inside? I will answer all your questions as best as I can.”
She sat at the tiny dining table, and he began to make some kahwa. Slowly he related all that had happened, how Vikram had been carried off by the Nyay group, and how after all these years he could still be in danger from the terrorists who shot him.
***
Wajid’s father-in-law had told him that a police officer who had been instrumental in helping the Nyay group was Prakash Sarkar. Wajid and George had rushed over to try to meet with Officer Sarkar, but it was nearly impossible, even with the informal request from the judge. The officer was simply too busy, they were told by his staff. They spent several hours trying to argue with them, but to no avail.
George kept thinking that he had heard the name before—Sarkar. Then it clicked. That was the last name of the wedding planner, the same wedding planner Sharmila had originally hired. That morning, when they were arguing about his poor wedding planning, Rami Sarkar had threatened them, mentioning that his brother was a bigwig with the local police and could throw them in jail.
“Wajid, you go home and wait. I’ll let you know when—or if—you should meet me back here.” George rushed out. A quick search on his phone told him that Mr. Rami’s office was in the southern part of the Lal Chowk. He zoomed over in his Jeep, hoping and praying that Mr. Rami was there.
“You. I remember you. That Kashmiri man with you stole my client. What do you want? Get out of here.” Mr. Rami would have none of it. “You people think you can steal from me. No, you cannot. I was right. I told everyone you will come crawling back and here you are. Crawling back to me.”
George let him go on for a few minutes, then began to tell him what was going on. He literally began to beg Mr. Rami for help. “Can you please call your brother? Please? Even if I can see him for just a few minutes. We need some help. Please?”
Mr. Rami was adamant, but eventually George appealed to his wedding planner side. “Just think—Vikram Pandit is possibly alive and well and thriving. Now, this estranged father should be able to give his daughter away at the wedding. Can you please assist?”
Mr. Rami stopped arguing and his eyes softened.
“Please, Mr. Rami. This is not for me or for Wajid. This is for that family. One call from you could make that family whole again. It can give Sharmila the love of her life back and Alina her father.”
“You know, you are a smart man. You know you are.” Mr. Rami called his brother and within an hour George and Wajid found themselves seated across from Officer Sarkar, a tall, dominating, and powerful man. He listened patiently to what George had to say and quietly contemplated their request.
“It is not easy to find the locations of Nyay. It isn’t like they publish these addresses. The judge did call me after I heard from my brother. Those addresses the judge has are old and useless. I do have some information on their new location. But, again, I am not sure. Many of the people they held have been coming out of hiding as the new government is helping them.” The police officer was succinct, to the point, and sharp. “Finding him won’t be easy, I can tell you that. And if you do, he may not want to come out of hiding. I am just telling you. People who go through this change—the change is dramatic and, sadly, many times not very pleasant.”
He handed over two addresses and let them go with this caution. “I am giving you these addresses as you came in through the judge, a man I trust and respect. My brother didn’t have nice things to say about the two of you, but then he doesn’t like anyone.”
George and Wajid waited, as it seemed like there was more to come.
“I want only two people to go. Wajid, you, and take the lady, what did you say her name was? Sharmila? Yes, her. No other man. Certainly not a white man. Go in simple clothes. You will be searched. I will call ahead. I am giving you my card. Show them the card. I wish you success.”
That had been the last conversation.
***
“Wajid is ready to take you tomorrow,” George said. Halfway through talking to her he had switched his drink from tea to whisky.
Barely above a whisper, Sharmila said, “I am scared. Do you think he will want to be found?”