Page 68 of Into the Gray Zone (Pike Logan #19)

Sledge stared at the crack of light coming through the corrugated tin roof. A seam that represented freedom. The metal roof

was only four and a half feet from the top of the CONEX container he now called his cell, and the light told him that the

section might merely be laid on top of the concrete walls instead of screwed together, like metal palm fronds someone put

up to keep out the sun and rain.

Sitting next to the electric lantern, Manjit said, “What are you looking at?”

Startled, Sledge said, “Nothing. Just thinking.”

Between the two terrorists, Manjit was the kind one, if that was even possible. Sledge knew that Kamal would kill him without

a moment’s hesitation, but Manjit appeared to be reluctant in his position as his guard. He was definitely the only one willing

to converse.

Kamal had gone out to get their dinner—another plate of barely digestible slop, Sledge was sure—leaving Manjit to provide

guard duties. Sledge had begun to enjoy the brief interludes when this happened. Kamal wouldn’t say a word except for commands,

and had snapped at Manjit when he’d tried to answer a question. But Manjit would talk when Kamal was gone.

Sledge said, “Why are you guys doing this? What’s the point?”

Manjit said, “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me. You know, I’ve spent a lot of time in this country. I’ve seen the poverty, and I’ve tried to help.”

Manjit scoffed and said, “What have you ever done to help here?”

A little miffed, Sledge said, “I started a foundation called Everclear. It brings clean water to rural areas in India. I’ve

dug more wells than anyone.”

He saw recognition on Manjit’s face. “ You started Everclear?”

“Yes. You know of it?”

“I’ve seen the wells in my home state.”

“Where is that?”

“Punjab.”

“I know it well. Enjoyed my time there.”

Manjit started to ask a question, then shook his head, saying, “I know what you’re doing. Don’t try to sway me. You know nothing

about my home.”

Sledge remained quiet for a moment, then asked, “So why are you doing this?”

“You said you’ve been to Punjab, so you know the plight of the Sikhs.”

“But you’re not Sikh. You don’t have a turban or a beard. I thought you were Muslim.”

“We’re Sikh, and I don’t wear a dastaar or grow a beard precisely because it would mark me. The government has hounded us for generations and now, with this government, it only gets worse. You’re either Hindu, or you’re dirt, just like it is for the Muslims. Unlike the Muslims, who have plenty of places to go outside of India, there is no homeland for the Sikh. We can’t go to Pakistan and be welcomed. There is no government fighting for us like the Muslims have in Kashmir. We suffer in silence, only now, we’re fighting for ourselves, and our voice is being heard.”

“But slaughtering innocents isn’t the answer. Killing me won’t do anything for your cause. It’ll only bring the United States

down on your head.”

Manjit spit on the metal floor and said, “Tell that to the Palestinians. It seems to be working for them.”

Sledge heard Kamal’s voice shouting in Hindi from below. Manjit said, “Be quiet. I’m going to retrieve your food.”

He disappeared down the ladder and Sledge waited, listening. The luggage shop workers had left a half hour ago, the noise

of the machinery quiet. He heard Kamal talking to Manjit at the front of the shop and sidled over to the crack he’d seen earlier.

He poked it with a finger, and it moved up an inch. He put both hands on it and pushed, finding the entire section was only

laid on top, without any fasteners. He gathered up his courage, his brain wanting to fling it open but his muscles refusing

to commit.

He heard Kamal shout and then Manjit coming back in a hurry. He immediately dropped the section back in place and sat on his

thin mattress.

Then the gunfire started.

***

Manjit crawled down the ladder, hoping that Kamal hadn’t heard him talking to the hostage. He reached the front of the shop

and saw Kamal near the open door holding two plastic bags of food, a scowl on his face, which answered that question.

Kamal said, “What did I tell you about talking to the hostage?”

Chagrined, Manjit said, “I can’t just sit up there staring at him in silence. I was telling him about what we were trying to do here.”

Kamal glanced out the door to the alley beyond, saying, “Trust me, he doesn’t care.”

“I think this guy actually might. He could be on our side.”

Kamal turned back to him, dropped the food, and put his hands on his shoulders, saying, “Manjit, you may have to kill this

man. When the time comes, I might not be around and it’ll be up to you.”

Manjit said, “Wait a minute. Listen to me. You remember that new well in our hometown? The one with the Everclear logo? That’s

him! He did that with his own money.”

“I don’t give a shit if he turned the Ganges into gold, he was with Thakkar, which means he’s with the state. He is not your friend. If you don’t believe me, google Everclear. We got one well, but I’ll bet the Hindu areas got a hundred. He’s

not saving himself by some good works, because the bad far outweigh him.”

Manjit glanced away, remaining quiet. Kamal said, “If I tell you to kill him, can you? Or is it too late for that?”

Manjit said, “He’s an American. He’s worth more alive than dead.”

“I know that, it’s why he’s still breathing, but I need to know you’re capable.”

“I’m capable. I understand. If you give the word, I can do it.”

“You didn’t kill the woman at the party.”

“That was different.”

Kamal glanced out the door again and said, “You get the food from now on. I’ll watch him.”

Manjit started to respond when Kamal pushed him out of the light. Manjit said, “What are you doing?”

Kamal held a finger to his lips and pointed to the door. Outside in the alley Manjit saw two uniformed policemen walking past. Manjit sank deeper into the shadows, whispering, “It’s got to be a coincidence.”

They kept walking and Kamal went to the side of the open doorway, peering out. Manjit came up behind him, looking as well.

Both men were wearing sunglasses even as the sun had already dropped behind the buildings. They walked another thirty feet,

then stopped, standing still and appearing to simply be talking to themselves.

Kamal said, “Take a hard look at them. What do you see?”

Manjit said, “A little late in the day for sunglasses.”

“True, but that’s not what I mean. Look at their belts.”

Manjit did, and saw both had Glock pistols in a holster on one side, a baton on the other. He said, “Police equipment?”

“No, that’s definitely not police equipment. The patrol officers are never armed. They don’t carry guns.”

Manjit said, “What are you saying?”

He pulled a pistol from his waistband. “I’m saying those guys aren’t cops on a beat. They’re here for us. Go back to Sledge.

If I go down, or I give the word, kill him.”

Manjit started to turn back to the hallway when Kamal said, “What the fuck?”

Manjit whipped back to the doorway in time to see a Caucasian man and woman attack the policemen. His mouth fell open as they

struggled, then gunfire erupted from farther up the alley.

Kamal backed up, screaming, “Go to Sledge, go to Sledge!”

Manjit took off running to the narrow hallway and the ladder.