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Ben hugged his sister and kissed her on the forehead.
‘Will you return to say goodbye to me?’ she asked with a trembling voice.
Tears were welling in Ben’s eyes.
‘I love you, Ben,’ she whispered.
‘And I love you,’ he replied, realising he’d never said those words to anyone before.
The train began to accelerate furiously through the tunnel. Ben ran to the door and jumped through the fresh breach in the metal in pursuit of Jawahal.
As he raced through the next carriage he realised that Michael and Roshan were behind him. Quickly, he stopped on the platform separating the last two carriages, pulled out the bolt that coupled them together and flung it into the void. For a split second Roshan’s fingers brushed Ben’s hand, but when Ben looked up again, the despairing eyes of his friends had been left behind as the train carried him and Jawahal at full pelt towards the dark heart of Jheeter’s Gate. Now only the two of them remained.
WITH EVERY STEP BEN took, the train gathered speed in its descent into the tunnels. The vibrations threw him off balance as he lurched through the carriage, following the glowing trail of Jawahal’s footsteps. Ben managed to reach the next connecting platform, holding firmly on to the metal handrail just as the train rounded a crescent-shaped bend and plunged down a slope that seemed to lead to the very bowels of the earth. With another jolt, the train speeded up, careering into the darkness. Ben straightened up and resumed his pursuit of Jawahal as the wheels of the train produced a shower of sparks from the rails.
There was a small explosion beneath his feet and Ben noticed that thick tongues of fire were now flickering along the entire skeleton of the train, tearing away any remnants of charred wood. Flames also fractured the shards of glass that still surrounded the windows, and Ben had to throw himself to the floor to avoid the storm of glass splinters cascading off the walls of the tunnel.
When he was able to stand up, he saw Jawahal advancing through the flames and realised he was very close to the engine. Jawahal turned, and even through a new series of explosions that sent rings of blue fire swirling through the train Ben could make out his criminal smile.
‘Come and get me,’ he heard in his thoughts.
Sheere’s face came alive in Ben’s mind, and he began to claw his way towards the last remaining carriage. When he crossed the connecting platform he felt a gust of fresh air; the train must be about to leave the tunnels, he thought. They were heading straight towards the centre of Jheeter’s Gate.
IAN DIDN’T STOP TALKING to Sheere during the whole of their return journey. He knew that if she abandoned herself to the sleep that was laying siege to her body, she’d barely live long enough to see the light beyond those tunnels. Michael and Roshan helped him to carry Sheere, but neither of them managed to get a word out of her. Ignoring the anguish that was consuming him and burying it in the depths of his soul, Ian told her amusing anecdotes and made witty remarks, mining every last word in his brain just to keep her awake. Sheere listened to him and moved her head slightly, half-opening her glazed sleepy eyes. Ian held her hand between his, feeling her pulse as it weakened, slowly but inexorably.
‘Where’s Ben?’ she asked.
Michael looked at Ian, who smiled broadly.
‘Ben is safe, Sheere. He’s gone to fetch a doctor, which, in the circumstances, I find insulting. I’m supposed to be the doctor here! At least I will be one day. What kind of a friend is that? It’s not exactly encouraging. At the first sign of trouble he disappears in search of a doctor. Luckily, there aren’t many doctors like me. It’s something you’re born with. That’s why I know, instinctively, that you’ll get better. On one condition: if you don’t fall asleep. You’re not asleep, are you? You can’t fall asleep now! Your grandmother is waiting for us two hundred metres from here and there’s no way I can tell her what happened. If I try, she’ll throw me into the Hooghly, and I have a boat to catch in a few hours’ time. So please stay awake and help me with your grandmother. All right? Say something.’
Sheere started to pant heavily. All the colour drained from Ian’s face and he shook her. Sheere’s eyes opened again.
‘Where’s Jawahal?’ she asked.
‘He’s dead,’ lied Ian.
‘How did he die?’
Ian hesitated for a moment.
‘He fell under the wheels of the train. There was nothing we could do.’
‘You don’t know how to lie, Ian,’ she whispered, struggling with each word.
Ian felt he might not be able to go on pretending much longer.
‘The accomplished liar in the group is Ben,’ he said. ‘I always tell the truth. Jawahal is dead.’
Sheere closed her eyes. Ian told Michael and Roshan to quicken their pace. Half a minute later they reached the end of the tunnel and could see the station clock silhouetted in the distance. When they got there, Siraj, Isobel and Seth were waiting for them. The first rays of dawn were appearing, a crimson line on the horizon, beyond the large metal arches of Jheeter’s Gate.
BEN STOPPED AT THE entrance to the engine and placed his hand on the wheel that locked the door. The ring was burning hot so he had to turn it slowly, the metal biting into his skin. A cloud of steam was exhaled as Ben kicked open the door, but through the humidity Ben could see Jawahal standing by the boilers and gazing silently at him. Ben looked at the machinery and noticed a symbol carved on the metal: a bird rising from the flames. Jawahal’s hand was resting on the top of one of the boilers, seemingly absorbing the power that blazed within. Ben peered at the complex framework of pipes, valves and gas tanks.
‘In another life I was an inventor,’ said Jawahal. ‘My hands and my mind could create things; now they only destroy them. This is my soul, Ben. Come closer and you’ll see your father’s heart beating. I created it myself. Do you know why I called it the Firebird?’
Ben stared at Jawahal without replying.
‘Thousands of years ago there was a doomed city almost as wretched as Calcutta,’ Jawahal explained. ‘It was called Carthage. When the Romans conquered it, such was the hatred aroused in them by the spirited Phoenicians, they were not content with ravaging the town or murdering its women, men and children; the Romans also had to destroy every stone, reducing it to dust. Yet even that wasn’t enough to placate their loathing. That is why Cato, the general in charge of the Roman troops, ordered his soldiers to sprinkle salt through every crack in the city, so that not a single sign of life could grow from its accursed soil.’
