PRIMAL Mirza (The PRIMAL Series) by Jack Silkstone

Author:Jack Silkstone [Silkstone, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: azw
Published: 2014-05-22T00:00:00+00:00

***

CHANDNI CHOWK

Mirza tried to wind a scarf around the cut on his arm as they rushed back to the hostel. The bastard had got the drop on him and he was not happy about it.

“Stop beating yourself up. You held your own,” Himesh said.

“Who are you guys?” Atal asked as they raced through the streets. “Cops? Because I’ve never seen cops like you before. Most are fat and stupid. But you messed those guys up good. Did you kill them all? It sure looked like you did, mister. I’ve never seen anyone move as fast as you.”

“You don’t ever stop talking do you?” Seeing the kid open his mouth, Mirza shook his head. “That wasn’t a question.”

Himesh stopped at a street corner and glanced around. “I’m sure we came this way.”

“I thought it was the next street.”

“What you looking for?” Atal asked.

“The Palace Hotel,” Himesh snapped.

“That dump?”

Mirza shook his head again. Atal almost sounded disappointed his new heroes didn’t have a secret lair. “You know where it is?”

“Yes.” Atal held out his hand. “For ten rupee I’ll show you.”

“We just saved your life,” said Himesh.

The kid shrugged. “If I can’t eat I may as well be dead.”

Himesh took a note from his pocket and gave it to him. “Regular little entrepreneur, aren’t you?”

“This way.” Atal led them down the street, around a corner and into the entrance of the hostel.

“You’re kidding me,” mumbled Himesh as they climbed the stairs. Unlocking their room, he waved Atal to one of the beds. “Take a seat.”

Mirza offered him a plastic container filled with last night’s leftovers of naan and curry. “Are you hungry?” When the street urchin snatched it from his hands and attacked it with vigor, he chuckled. “I guess that’s a yes.”

He smiled as he watched the boy devour the meal. He put his age at about twelve but he could have been older. Slightly built, the boy had a gaunt face with innocent brown eyes and a nasty bruise on his cheek. “Your name’s Atal, right? I’m Mirza and this is Himesh.”

The youngster looked up from the bowl. “You cops? You don’t look like cops.”

“No we’re not cops. We’re Special Agents,” said Himesh as he handed Mirza a medical kit from his bag.

He eyed them curiously as he chewed. “You mean like CIA? Like in the movies? James Bond, Jason Bourne? Lots of guns and gadgets. You got guns?”

“Yes, just like the movies.”

“So cool.”

Mirza finished cleaning his wound and wrapped a bandage around it. “Atal, the men that attacked you, do you know who they are?”

“They’re with a gang.”

“Criminals?”

“Yeah, thieves and body snatchers.”

“Body snatchers?”

The youth stopped with a hunk of the flat bread half way to his mouth. “They take people. Cut out their parts to sell to rich people needing new bits. They sell anything.” He lowered his head and continued eating.

Mirza glanced at Himesh who nodded grimly.

Atal kept talking with food in his mouth. “That’s why they were after me.” He shrugged. “Or maybe it’s because of those Pakis.

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