THE BROTHERS SHIKOKU

Calcutta, India:

Stripping off her Marine uniform, Janet Hurlbut crossed David Dean's hotel room. In the bathroom, sweating, naked, she held the mildewed shower curtain in front of her as a shield from the anticipated blast of cold water. Hiss, gurgle - the pipe ejaculated a stream of lukewarm, red, stagnant water. Gagging at the smell, she twisted the handles to the right and sat down. The sting of the cold porcelain seat-less toilet turned her revulsion to anger.

"Get me out of this shit hole, I want another room." No, it will be the same everywhere in the hotel. If only Dean were here to…

She glared at the shower.

She twisted the knobs wide open and jumped back. The water burped out, slowly losing its color and odor. She let it run until the corruption was indiscernible, then showered.

The water washed away grit and oils, but didn't relieve her tension. She toweled droplets from her breasts and legs, let others evaporate, the coolness a luxury. Wandering the hotel room naked, studying the heavy wooden furniture and the framed prints of forts labeled Moghul Empire. 16th Century, she absorbed the strangeness of the place. Through the lace curtains, the open French doors, the balcony and beyond, a maze of dun-colored buildings spread farther than her eye could see.

The din from the street sounded like the old D-C3 that brought her from Bangkok. She looked at her watch, then at the clock near the bedstead. Seven. David's flight should arrive at Dum Dum Airport at eleven. By twelve-thirty he'll be here. I'll make this surprise one he'll never forget.

She pulled the sheet over her and slept.

David Dean boarded a 727 jet in Bangkok at nine-thirty on a steamy evening. On board, the JAL crew and the air conditioning made him forget it was October in hot, humid, Southeast Asia.

The controlled environment of the jet didn't ease his fear of Calcutta. He had known about the Black Hole, the old capitol of British India, since he was a kid. It was a place where over eight million people were jammed into an area that could not house one million. Calcutta slums, bustees, were the most appalling in the world. It was a city of castes, in a country that had technically outlawed the caste system. He recalled reading that Calcutta destroys the idealism of angels.

Too soon, the plane touched down on the concrete runway. As he deplaned, the suffocating humidity of Bengal and its cargo of sweet and sour odors stung him. He entered immigration, weakened. Immigration officers - tall, bearded, turbaned - guarded the departure gate. Protectors of a Mogul Empire or the welcoming committee to hell? Definitely hell, he decided.