Free Assignmnt - Ceylon by Edward S. Aarons

made. He was sure of it.
    “Dear Sam?”
    “Yes,” he said.
    “This man you say is looking for you—hunting you? This American—”
    “A black,” Durell said. “Very good at the job.”
    “A hired killer, you said.”
    “In a way.”
    “He can’t possibly know you’ve come to Kandy, can he?”
    “He can guess. He’s smart and fast, and he’ll be here soon enough—or he’s here already.”
    “Perhaps the police—”
    “They’re looking for me, too. My two men—”
    “What can you hope to had at Ira’s walauwa ?”
    “I don’t know.”
    He felt impatient with the procession that blocked their way. The crowd was thicker, excited, filled with religious fervor that exploded in noise and chanting, in drums and reed flutes. The great gray elephants swayed by, their heads and trunks covered with red and gold and silver, their small eyes visible through ornate holes cut in their face masks. Miniature temples, all jingling silver bells and jeweled tassels and ornaments, moved on their backs, protected by parasols and canopies supported by men and women in white turbans and long white scarves that came forward over their right shoulders. The monks in their saffron robes and priests of the temple in flat red hats and embroidered shawls over their white skirts made a sudden line across the intersection.
    Far in the distance, a police siren hooted, coming around the Kiri Muhuda, the rectangular lake called the Milky Sea. In the black waters were reflected the lights from the creamy, octagonal dome of the Delada Maligawa, with its moat and high walls. From all the hillsides around the lake and its wide walk with flowering trees, the houses of the city sent down their own lights, reflecting in the black, silent water.
    “Back up,” Durell said suddenly. “Let’s get out of here.”
    George snickered.
    Aspara said, “I don’t think I can. The crowds—”
    George said, “The spook is scared of crowds, huh?” Aspara reversed the big Rolls and slowly backed up a few feet. The people shoved and shouted, swarming 66
    around the car to get to the avenue where the elephants lumbered by.
    “Sam?”
    “Keep going. Is there another way around—?”
    “Perhaps. The university grounds—”
    Durell said tightly, “Try it.”
    She eased the heavy, open car backward through the chanting, shouting crowd. Elephants in velvet, satin, and silk paced by, enormous, silvered and gilded, with dancers on every hand. A block or two behind them, the shops that normally sold everything from mangos to jeweled caskets were tightly shuttered, closed against this night that followed the full moon.
    At last Aspara found a side alley, turned the Rolls into it, eased her way down for another block, turned left, found a less crowded street beyond the King’s Pavilion, and accelerated toward the Mahaiyava Railway Station.
    A large black car waited for them at the next intersection. Headlights winked on and off. The signal was repeated from another car a block behind them.
    Aspara drew a quick breath. “Who can they be?” She touched the brake, and Durell said sharply, “Keep going.” “I can’t. That other car—
    “Then stop right here. Right now.”
    She slammed on the brakes so hard that George tumbled from the back seat with a yelp. Durell had the door open and was running around the Rolls before it quite stopped. The big car ahead nosed slowly forward, almost blocking the way. Durell could not see through the black windshield to identify anyone in it. Overhead, the full moon shone down on the celebrating city of the Five-Kingdoms-On-The-Hill. From far away, he heard the deep chanting of a processional crowd shouting, “Sadhu! Sadhu!Sadhu!”
    He saw the other car moving toward them from behind, down the narrow street Aspara had chosen. He felt a moment of sharp suspicion toward her, then put it aside, jumped in behind the wheel of the Rolls as the girl slid over on the front seat. Then he slammed his foot down on the gas