He shrugged. “He was doing his job, of course, but unfortunately many airport officials tend to live out their power-hungry fantasies at the expense of naive travelers.”
Frank didn’t say a word from the backseat.
“Your timing was impeccable.”
Pradesh grinned. “Actually, I was watching for a few minutes before I intervened.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to see what the two of you were like. How you handled the challenge and what you might do. I’m something of an observer of people, you see. I like knowing who I’m about to get involved with.”
“Get involved with?”
Pradesh nodded as he zipped the Mercedes around a large cargo truck. A blare of a horn followed them, but Pradesh seemed unmoved by it. “I’ve been assigned to help you.”
Annja shook her head. “I don’t think we need any help.”
Pradesh held up one hand. “I promise I won’t interfere with your investigation. There are a lot of jurisdictions involved in this case right now.”
“I get the feeling this isn’t a request.”
Pradesh shrugged. “I have people I answer to, as well. Orders are orders, as they say.”
Annja sighed. “I’m not exactly thrilled with this.”
“See it from our angle, Annja. We’re dealing with a crime scene. Two foreigners—one who is, forgive me, less than culturally perceptive—with a television program coming into our jurisdiction to investigate a series of crimes we haven’t been able to make much headway on yet. Imagine how bad we would look if television researchers—one with archaeology accreditation—were able to figure it out and we were not. Such disgrace would be intolerable for us, I’m afraid.”
“So, you’re here to babysit us.”
“If that is how you wish to view it, that is fine with me.” Pradesh shrugged. “But I do sincerely wish to assist you in any way that I might. I have been intrigued with the idea of a giant tiger roaming our city since the first body was found. But my requests for additional manpower to track it have gone unanswered.”
“Why?”
Pradesh pointed out a sprawling new construction project to their left. “Hyderabad is in the midst of unparalleled economic growth. Several key industries for the city have the potential to make this part of India one of the country’s richest.”
“I would think the powers that be would want anything that threatened it to be taken care of at once.”
“It’s something of a fine line.” Pradesh reduced the air-conditioning. “The city leaders are publicity clamoring for action. But behind the scenes, they don’t want anything to disrupt progress. And the development where these attacks have occurred belong to some of the city’s wealthiest, so it’s a double-edged sword. The residents obviously want the tiger—or creature—found and killed, but they don’t want a stigma attached to their homes. They would lose all cachet. And that’s why they bought here.”
Annja shook her head. “Bizarre. They’ve potentially got a man-eating tiger looking for its next meal and they’re worried about what their friends will say.”
“I am not even close to being in that financial realm. So perhaps my perspective is somewhat different.”
“More like realistic,” she said.
“We will have to proceed with discretion,” Pradesh said. “There are people who already think the city leaders have been too vocal about finding the tiger. For them, it would be better if the tiger was lured away to some other section of the city. If it found a poorer place to settle down and hunt, they’d be quite happy.”
“Don’t tell me someone actually suggested that.”
Pradesh smiled. “As I said, my perspective is not nearly the same as those with money.”
“I guess the sooner we figure it out, then the better it will be for everyone involved.”
“Absolutely. Now, let me get you settled at your hotel. I’m certain your cameraman would like to have a shower and a fresh change of clothes.”
“He would,” Frank said. “Thank you very much.”
“What happens next?” Annja asked.
“There’s a function tonight to welcome you and Frank to our city,” Pradesh explained. “I don’t suppose you have an evening gown with you?”
“An evening gown?” Annja frowned. “I’m here to find a tiger, not dance.”
Pradesh smiled. “This will be something of a challenge.” He wheeled them toward a gleaming white hotel. “But I think we will manage.”
Chapter 3
The hotel was gorgeous. As Annja walked into the bedroom from the steaming-hot shower she’d just enjoyed, she couldn’t help but appreciate the thick shag carpet. She curled up on the bed and gave serious thought to falling right to sleep. The flight had been long, and with the stress of having to shepherd Frank through customs, she was exhausted.
Thank goodness Pradesh showed up. She smiled. He was a handsome man, and she hadn’t seen a wedding ring on his finger. Although maybe that was because he didn’t wear one while he worked.
Not that she was here to flirt. She had a job to do. And finding the killer was the only important thing to her right now.
Except Pradesh was picking them up in an hour for the party in their honor.
Annja sighed. Nothing worse than having to put on a show for people. All she wanted to do was get out to the site of the murders. Apparently that would have to wait.
Her more immediate problem was what she was going to wear. Pradesh had been correct—she hadn’t brought a cocktail dress with her. Why would she? When Annja had booked her flight, the only thing she thought she’d need were a good pair of boots and her usual gear.
Mingling with high society hadn’t been on the agenda.
Until now.
Annja laid out her best shirt and pants. Eyeing them, she frowned. There was no way that outfit was going to pass muster with Hyderabad’s elite. Not a chance.
She wondered what time the stores downstairs closed. She had the credit card from the show and she could expense a new dress. But—
A knock at her door jarred her out of her thoughts. She peered through the peephole. One of the bellhops stood outside. Annja wrapped the robe a little tighter around herself and cracked the door.
“Yes?”
“Excuse me for disturbing you, Miss Creed. This was just delivered for you.”
He held out a garment bag and Annja reached for it. “Thank you.” She closed the door and laid the bag on the bed. A small card was tied to the hanger. Annja opened it.
I hope you don’t mind my taking the liberty of getting this for you.
—Dunraj
“Who the hell is Dunraj?” Annja asked aloud. She unzipped the garment bag.
The dress inside was gorgeous. A spaghetti-strap number in black with a line of understated jewels that wound down the dress. Annja recognized it immediately as one of Paris designer Nikolai Depue’s latest designs.
It must have cost a fortune.
She slipped the bathrobe off and stepped into the dress. It fit her like a glove and she couldn’t help but appreciate how good she looked