A Rising Man (Sam Wyndham 1) by Abir Mukherjee

Author:Abir Mukherjee [Mukherjee, Abir]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2016-05-04T16:00:00+00:00

TWENTY

THE REAR OF the ambulance was windowless. Inside, Sen lay on a stretcher, his eyes closed, groaning now and again. His skin was grey but his breathing was less ragged than before. That was good. It would have been a shame if he’d died before we got a chance to hang him.

An Indian orderly silently ministered to him a bit too tenderly, and I tried to stay out of his way and nursed my wounded arm. My head was spinning. A combination of blood loss and lack of food probably. At that point, even Mrs Tebbit’s cooking held a certain appeal, though not as much as a hit of O did.

Somewhere along the road I lost my bearings. Eventually there came the rhythmic bumping that indicated we were crossing the bridge back over the Hooghly.

We reached Medical College Hospital shortly after ten. Someone must have told them we were coming as there was quite a party waiting for us, including half a dozen medical personnel and an armed police detachment. Two native orderlies, pristine in white shirts and trousers, gently lowered Sen onto a gurney. A white doctor briskly took his pulse, then held his eyelids open with thumb and forefinger and shone a light in each eye while a nurse wrote down his observations on a clipboard.

The doctor turned to me and held out his hand. Maybe it was the loss of blood, but I had no idea what he wanted. Was I supposed to pay him? Was that the custom here? I reached into my pocket and pulled out the remains of a sodden ten-rupee note. My swim in the canal had rendered it little more than mush. I handed it to him apologetically.

He looked at me like I was an idiot.

‘The key,’ he said forcefully. ‘You’re still handcuffed to the patient. Now, unless you propose to accompany him into the operating theatre, I suggest you give me the key so that I can uncuff him.’

I did as ordered. The doctor deftly unlocked the cuffs, freeing Sen’s wrist. He handed them back to me along with the remains of my ten-rupee note. The medical team quickly took charge of Sen and a gaggle of white coats wheeled him inside, the guards following. With the cavalcade gone, I was suddenly alone. The exhilaration of the chase and capture of Sen had quickly dissipated and now I stood there, damp and bleeding. As heroes’ welcomes go, it left quite a lot to be desired.

I looked around. The orderly from the ambulance was leaning against the building, smoking. He eyed me sullenly as I walked over to him.

‘I need to get my arm seen to.’

He stubbed out the cigarette and let the butt fall.

‘Come with me, sahib.’

I followed him into the hospital reception, through swing doors and along a dimly lit passageway, his shoes squeaking on the tiled floor. An overpowering smell of disinfectant clawed at my throat. Someone had used it liberally, like a priest sprinkling holy water to ward off disease.

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