Angel of the Dark

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

GOOD MORNING, MR. ISHAG. WELCOME BACK!”

David Ishag smiled at his secretary. “Thank you, Sasha. It’s good to be back.”

Oddly, it was good to be back. As perfect as his life was right now, David Ishag was ready for a return to something like normality.

His honeymoon with Sarah Jane had been utterly magical. After an intimate, very private wedding service at the Catholic chaplaincy on Vidyanagara—only David’s best man, Kavi, and Sarah Jane’s colleague Rachel had attended—the happy couple flew to England to break the news to David’s elderly mother before jetting off on a grand European tour.

“Do you think she’ll ever get over it?”

Sarah Jane turned to David as they were touring St. Mark’s cathedral in Venice.

“Who? Get over what? You must stop being so cryptic, my darling. I feel as if I’ve married a Times crossword setter.”

“Your mother. Do you think she’ll ever get over you marrying a Catholic? And one so far beneath you too?”

David stopped, cupping Sarah Jane’s perfect angel’s face in his hands. “Beneath me? You’re so far above me I get vertigo just looking at you.” He kissed her, then staggered backward, clutching at his head. “See? I’m dizzy already.”

Sarah Jane giggled. “Idiot.”

David Ishag had never been one to play the fool, or to go gaga over a woman. But he was a fool for his new wife and he wanted the world to know it. He took Sarah Jane to the finest hotels in the most romantic cities—the Georges V in Paris, the Hassler in Rome, the Dorchester in London, the Danieli in Venice. He made love to her in penthouse suites, on his newly refurbished Learjet and on the deck of his superyacht, Clotilde, as they cruised the Mediterranean together. But as joyous as the trip was, coming home to Mumbai was equall

y special, because it marked the start of their real life together.

David had expected them to start trying for a baby right away. Sarah Jane was over forty, so they didn’t have time to waste, but surprisingly she was hesitant, insisting on going straight back to work at her school and taking things “day by day.” While David adored her independent spirit, and the fact that clearly her head had not been turned by his immense wealth, part of him wished he could lock her up in his castle and keep her all for himself.

“You need to get back to your other love: work,” Sarah Jane told him. As usual, she was right. Walking into Ishag Electronics offices this morning David had felt a renewed fervor and sense of purpose. He had the energy of a teenager again, which could only mean better times ahead for the business.

I should have gotten married years ago.

“So,” he asked his secretary, “what’s on the agenda?”

As ever, his schedule was packed. After an hour to respond to the most pressing of his thousands of new e-mails, David had a board meeting at nine, a business development presentation at ten fifteen, lunch with the CEO of Zenon Technology, one of Ishag Electronics’ clients, at one, then an afternoon reviewing new product sales figures with his head of components, Johnathan Wray. A board meeting at the end of the day meant David would be lucky if he got home to Sarah Jane before eight o’clock that night.

Sitting down at his desk, he turned on his computer and immediately buzzed Sasha again.

“Book me a table for two at Jamavar for eight thirty tonight. Something secluded, by the fire, if they can do it.”

“Yes, Mr. Ishag. By the way, there’s a gentleman here to see you.”

“There is? Who?”

“He won’t give me his name and he’s not on your schedule.” There was no mistaking the disapproval in Sasha’s voice. “I’ve asked him to leave, but he refuses. He says he must see you in person. Shall I call security?”

David hesitated. A mystery! He’d had a feeling today was going to be interesting. Since he married Sarah Jane—actually, since the day he met her—his life had become one long series of unexpected events. He hadn’t realized quite how dull it had been before.

“No, that’s all right. The e-mails can wait a few minutes. Send him in.”

A few moments later, David Ishag’s office door opened. He stood up, smiling broadly.

“Hello there. I’m David. And you are?”

The smile died on his lips when he saw the gun.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

WHO ARE YOU? WHAT DO YOU want?”