Hell Is Too Crowded - Jack Higgins [19]
They crossed a hall, the walls of which were hung with rich tapestries, and the woman knocked gently on a door and entered.
Brady moved in after her and stood there, hat in hand. The walls were draped in hand-embroidered Chinese dragon tapestries, and the floor was covered with a superb black carpet.
At one end of the room in an alcove, a small Buddha stood on an altar, incense burning in a bowl before it and Das knelt there, head bowed.
"Wait here until he is ready for you," the woman whispered and went out, quietly closing the door behind her.
In the centre of the room stood a beautiful handcarved desk with a polished ebony top and round the walls on every side, was ranged a superb collection of Chinese pottery on specially constructed shelves.
Brady moved forward and examined a delicate porcelain vase. Behind him, there was a slight movement and Das said, "I see you are admiring my little collection. Are you an artist, by any chance?"
Brady shook his head. "You couldn't be more wrong. I'm an engineer, but I happen to admire anything that's beautifully constructed."
"Even a bridge can be a work of art," Das conceded. "If you are interested, the vase you were admiring is of the Ming Dynasty and worth well over a thousand pounds. It is the gem of my collection."
He caressed it lovingly with one slender hand then moved across to the desk and sat down. He pointed to a chair opposite. "Mahroon tells me that you have a problem, my friend. That you require guidance."
"You could put it that way," Brady said, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. He sat down in the chair and dropped his hat to the floor. "My name's Matthew Brady. Does that mean anything to you?"
Das looked faintly surprised. "Should it do?"
"I should have thought so," Brady told him. "Considering the fact that you offered a fair price to see me dead this week."
Deep pain showed in the Hindu's fine liquid eyes. "I'm afraid I haven't the slightest idea of what you're talking about, Mr. Brady. Here we are concerned only with the conquest of self, we desire only to discover the truth which is to be found for each man in his own soul. The destruction of a fellow human being would be anathema to us."
"You can keep that kind of talk for the paying customers," Brady said.
Das sighed and pressed a buzzer on his desk. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask Mahroon to show you out."
"I should have thought you could have done rather better in the temple virgin line," Brady said. "She looks as if the sap's dried in her a long time ago. What was she when you roped her in--a schoolmistress?"
"You know you're really very insulting, Mr. Brady," Das said. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to do something about you. Something unpleasant."
There was a slight movement behind Brady, a brawny forearm slid round his neck, forcing back his chin, and he was jerked to his feet
He was held as in a vice, unable even to turn round to see his assailant and Das leaned back in his chair and smiled. "I think the river, Mr. Brady. Yes, that will do very nicely. You slipped and fell crossing one of the wharves and the floodwaters carried you away. I'm really performing a public service."
"You'll never get away with it," Brady said desperately.
"Oh, but I will," Das assured him. "Sorry I can't hear how you managed to get out of Manningham, but we're rather short on time."
The chair was kicked out of the way and Brady was dragged backwards towards the door. He tried to struggle, but found himself helpless in that vice-like grip. In desperation he raised his right foot and ran it down the man's shin, crunching it into the instep with all his force.
His assailant gave a shriek of agony and released him. Brady turned quickly and looked up into the face of one of the biggest men he had ever seen in his life. Tiny pig-like eyes sparkled with rage in the flat, moronic face and a fist flailed out, catching Brady on the shoulder, sending