Read Online Artifact by Gigi Pandian - Free Book Online Page A

ticket on the next available flight to London, leaving the following afternoon.
    I printed out another copy of the photograph of the bracelet before I realized how tired I was. Now that I’d formed a plan of action, the adrenaline of the day was wearing off. Sanjay had left me several texts and a voicemail message, but I didn’t have the energy to get back to him that night.
    As promised, Nadia fixed my door. The door frame was reinforced, and there was an extra dead bolt. I wouldn’t say I felt good about whatever lay beyond that door, but at least I felt safe inside my apartment. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

     
    In the morning I called Sanjay back.
    “You’re insane,” he said after I told him my plan. “You can’t just leave the country later today in search of a murderer and a treasure.”
    “Why not? I’m not teaching summer session. Besides, you do things like that all the time.”
    “That’s different,” he said. “That’s when I find a historic piece of magic memorabilia. I can’t go around calling myself The Hindi Houdini without real props owned by Houdini, now can I?”
    “You’re impossible to argue with, Sanjay.”
    “Which is why you’re going to call me every day to let me know you’re okay. My next season of shows is starting soon, otherwise I’d go with you myself.”
    “Who said I need help? The breakin is nothing to worry about.”
    Sanjay made choking noises on the other end of the line. “You had a breakin?”
    Damn. I’d forgotten he didn’t know about the burglary. Everything was happening so fast.
    After I calmed Sanjay down and promised to keep him up to date, he grudgingly assured me it was no problem for him to play on his own until I got back.
    He said it would give him an opportunity to try some new things. After I hung up, I wondered if he meant more than music. Restaurant-goers might find themselves watching flowers magically grow from sitar strings before I returned.
    I wasted much of the morning searching for my passport. I know where all of the books in my apartment are located, but not so much when it comes to everything else. The rest of the morning was spent assuring Nadia I wasn’t taking an unplanned vacation because I was worried about staying at the house. I wasn’t left with much time to pack.
    My phone beeped that I’d missed a message. It was my brother, Mahilan. Speaking Hindi. The problem was, I don’t speak Hindi.
    Well, not very well. I remember bits and pieces of the various local languages from my childhood, which included our mother’s Tamil and widespread Hindi, but I’m far from fluent in either. Mahilan is older and remembers more of the languages. Recently he had begun speaking with me only in Hindi.
    This new Hindi phase is the fault of his latest girlfriend, whose parents are Hindi speakers. Mahilan is serious about her and thinks they might start a family. He’s brushing up on his Hindi and insists it will be easier for their kids to be bilingual if I speak it, too.
    Luckily my Hindi is passable enough that I was able to squeak through my higher education language requirements. Most of my research consists of English-language documents, thanks to thorough British colonization of India. The few non-English documents I need, I can spend the time to translate. I didn’t have time to decipher Mahilan’s message that afternoon. He would try me again if it was important.

     
    I called a cab to save time. I hadn’t quite finished packing when I heard what I thought would be the cabbie knocking at the door. I realized my mistake after I opened the door. It was Miles.
    He was outfitted in black cargo pants, black combat boots, and a black t-shirt. The words “je t’aime” were written in blue pen across his left forearm.
    “I heard you were robbed,” he said. “Do you...I thought, maybe, you might want to talk about it?”
    I froze where I was, holding the door. I had encouraged him the day before. Could it have