Chapter IV
“What do we do now, DJ?”, I asked, terror-stricken.
“Stay calm, Doctor. He has missed once. And that will be his downfall.”
“Do you have a plan, DJ?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I do”, said DJ pulling out a peashooter from somewhere inside the UMM shirt. “This room has too much lighting. Try to locate the switches, Doctor.”
We looked around and found them on the wall across the room, about eleven feet away.
“Close enough”, muttered DJ as he scratched his head violently.
“Do you have lice, DJ?” I asked in alarm, a life of itching, if I were to survive the sniper, flashing before my eyes.
“No, I need a hair”, hissed DJ in irriatation1. He finally managed to pull one out. He then inserted it carefully into the peashooter. Leaning forward and taking careful aim, DJ blew. The lights went out.
“Now, Doctor”, growled DJ and we scampered out of the room into safety.
“Hmm”, remarked DJ standing up and brushing dust off the UMM shirt. “This is stranger than I thought.” He had the air of a man who had been told that his cab would be five minutes late, not one who had narrowly escaped death. A lady with a broken heel would have been more worried2.
We found our way back to the grand hall, where Sheikh Madar was anxiously waiting for us.
“What happened?” he enquired as we walked in.
“Nothing new, my good Sheikh. Just a few badly aimed bullets flying about.”
The simple sheikh let it go. “I’ve arranged quarters for you. Come with me.”
We followed him into a large cozy bedroom where we promptly changed and took to our beds. The exhaustion quickly lulled me into a deep slumber.
It was past midnight when I was awoken by DJ who was violently shaking my arm. “Wake up, Doctor.”
“DJ, its still night. Are you on yet another one of those chemical concoctions of yours that makes you sleepless?” I asked, my annoyance clearly expressed in my voice and on my face.
“No Doctor, I need to see the Sheikha. There are things of importance that I must tell her. It cannot wait. Please Doctor, you are the closest I have to a friend.”
This last statement strangely seemed to cheer me up and I got out of bed and dressed.
“Her room is on the second floor”, whispered DJ as we crept out. We made our way up the stairs listening intently for the smallest of noises. The empty suits of armor on the stairs provided us ample cover. In the end, we reached our destination. DJ, making sure the coast was clear, gently turned the door handle. As expected, the door was not locked3.
A single candle at the far end of the room was the only source of light in the room. As I was about to be step in, DJ stopped me.
“Be careful where you step, Doctor”, warned DJ, “The eunuchs sleep on the floor.”
Sure enough, as we entered we spied them sleeping on the floor. There were eight of them and they all looked identical in the poor light. They were unclothed save for a skirt made of goose feathers loosely strung together.
There was a large bed in the corner of the room beside the burning candle. We silently approached the bed. A woman of exquisite beauty was sleeping in it. She had flawless skin that made it impossible to determine her biological age accurately. I took in the sight of her high forehead, arched eyebrows and slightly pouty lips with much delight. DJ simply stared. As if our looks pricked her, she opened her eyes.
Like a black panther, DJ quickly pounced upon her and cupped his hand around her mouth.
“I’m not here to harm you”, informed DJ in a low voice, “All I need is to show you something, and then say something. I will remove my hand if you agree to keep quiet. Do you understand?”
She gently nodded, fear intruding her eyes. DJ slowly removed his hand.
And then, he began to disrobe.
1. Having to explain every tiny detail of a meticulously hatched escape plan to a minion of inferior intellect always drove DJ to frustration. In time, I stopped plaguing the detective with unnecessary queries thus delaying the explanation of many of his seemingly bird-brained actions to the end when he would gleefully narrate them with an exhilaration matched only by that of an eighty year old man waking up with an erection after two decades.
2. Prof. Woodman in his landmark book, The Interpretation of Sex Dreams, classifies male personality types. After careful scrutiny, I must note here that DJ fits the Delta profile and that his lack of emotions is probably on account of some grave trauma suffered during childhood.
3. Who would dare to walk in, anyway?
