The moments that followed became etched in her mind like a series of minutely detailed sketches.
Sheere covered the six metres that separated her from her brother at breakneck speed, avoiding the remaining three members of the Chowbar Society, who lay manacled on the floor. As Ben turned round, his first look was of confusion and surprise, then of horror. Jawahal had risen and each finger of his right hand was ablaze, transforming it into a fiery claw. Sheere heard Ben’s scream fade into a distant echo as she crashed against him, pushing him down and pulling his hand away from the hole in the red box. Ben fell to the floor and Sheere saw Jawahal rising above her, stretching out his burning claw towards her face. She fixed her eyes on the eyes of the murderer and read the despairing refusal taking shape on his lips. Time seemed to stand still around her.
Tenths of a second later Sheere was thrusting her hand through the opening in the scarlet box. She felt the flap close over her wrist like the petals of a poisonous flower. Ben yelled out and Jawahal clenched his fiery fist in his face, but Sheere smiled triumphantly and at some point she felt the asp strike her with its mortal kiss. The blast of poison lit up the blood running through her veins like a spark igniting a stream of petrol.
Ben put his arms round his sister and pulled her hand out of the red box, but it was already too late. Two bleeding puncture wounds shone on the pale skin on the back of her wrist. Sheere gave a brief smile as she began to lose consciousness.
‘I’m fine,’ she mumbled, but before she could utter another syllable her body started shaking, her legs gave way and she collapsed on top of him.
‘Sheere!’ shouted Ben.
He felt an indescribable nausea take hold of his whole being and the strength seemed to be running out of his body. He held Sheere and settled her on his lap, stroking her face.
Sheere opened her eyes and smiled weakly, her face as white as chalk.
‘It doesn’t hurt, Ben,’ she whispered.
Each of her words felt like a kick to the stomach. Ben looked up in search of Jawahal. The spectre was observing the scene, his expression impenetrable. Their eyes met.
‘I never planned it this way, Ben,’ he said. ‘This is going to complicate matters.’
Ben felt the anger growing inside him like an enormous crack, parting his soul in two.
‘You’re nothing but a murderer,’ he muttered.
Jawahal took one last look at Sheere, who was trembling in Ben’s arms, and shook his head. His thoughts seemed to be far away.
‘Now only you and I remain, Ben,’ said Jawahal. ‘It’s heads or tails. Say goodbye to her then come in search of your revenge.’
Jawahal’s face was suddenly swathed in a veil of flames and he turned away, passing through the door that connected the guard’s van to the rest of the train and leaving behind a breach that dripped with red-hot steel.
Ben heard a crunch as the lock on Ian, Michael and Roshan’s handcuffs was released. Ian ran over and, grabbing hold of Sheere’s arm, he brought her wound to his mouth. He sucked hard and spat out the poisoned blood, which burnt his tongue. Michael and Roshan knelt down in front of the girl and looked at Ben in despair. He was cursing himself for having allowed precious seconds to go by without realising that he should have done what his friend was doing now.
Ben raised his eyes and noticed the trail of flames Jawahal had left behind him, melting the metal like a cigar burning through paper. The train gave a sudden jolt and began to move through the tunnel as the engine’s thunderous roar filled the labyrinth of Jheeter’s Gate. Ben looked intently at Ian.
‘Take care of her.’
‘No, Ben,’ Ian pleaded, reading Ben’s thoughts. ‘Don’t go.’
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.