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His smile suddenly disappeared, and at a signal from his hand, Sheere was sent flying towards the other end of the van, as if she’d been hit by an invisible battering ram.

‘Now get some rest. Soon we’ll be together for ever …’

Sheere crashed against the metal wall and fell unconscious to the ground. Ben rushed towards her, but the iron pressure of Jawahal’s hand restrained him.

‘You’re not going anywhere,’ he said. Then, throwing an icy glance at the others, he added, ‘The next person to say anything will have his lips sealed by fire.’

‘Let go of me,’ groaned Ben. He felt as if the hand holding him by the scruff of the neck was about to dislocate his vertebrae.

Suddenly Jawahal let go, and Ben collapsed on the floor.

‘Get up and listen to me,’ Jawahal ordered. ‘I hear you have some kind of secret fraternity in which you’ve sworn to protect one another until death. Is that right?’

‘It is,’ said Siraj from the floor.

An invisible fist hit the boy hard, knocking him over like a rag doll.

‘I didn’t ask you, boy. Ben, are you going to reply, or shall we play a little game with your friend’s asthma?’

‘Leave him alone. It’s true,’ replied Ben.

‘Good. Then allow me to congratulate you on the fabulous job you’ve done so far by bringing your friends here. First-class protection.’

‘You said you’d give us a chance,’ Ben reminded him.

‘I know what I said. How much do you value the life of your friends, Ben?’

The boy turned pale.

‘Do you not understand the question, or do you want me to discover the answer in some other way?’

‘I value their lives as I value my own.’

Jawahal gave a fiendish grin.

‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘I don’t care what you believe.’

‘Then let’s see if your fine words tally with reality,’ said Jawahal. ‘I promised this was going to be fun, so here’s the deal. There are seven of you, not counting Sheere. She’s out of the game. For each one of you, there’s a closed box containing … a mystery.’

Jawahal pointed to a row of wooden boxes painted different colours that resembled a set of small letter boxes.

‘Each one has a hole in the front that allows you to stick your hand in, but you can’t remove it for a few seconds. It’s like a trap for inquisitive people. Imagine that each one of these boxes contains the life of one of your friends, Ben. In fact, that’s true, for in each one there’s a small wooden board bearing a name. You can put your hand in and remove it. Every time you pull out someone’s name, I will free them. But, of course, there’s a risk. One of the boxes, instead of life, holds death.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ asked Ben.

‘Have you ever seen an asp, Ben? A small beast with a volatile temper. Do you know anything about snakes?’

‘I know what an asp is,’ replied Ben, feeling weak.

‘Then I’ll spare you the details. All you need to know is that one of the boxes contains an asp.’

‘Don’t do it, Ben,’ said Ian.

Jawahal gave him an evil stare.

‘Ben, I’m waiting. I don’t think anyone in the whole of Calcutta could make you a more generous offer. Seven lives and only one possibility for error.’