18.7

Max lay down and slept for a while and woke to see the courtyard full of bearded old men with stern, perplexed expressions, huddled conspiratorially in small groups, staring at him with suspicious curiosity.

Suddenly a sadhu entered the courtyard and hurried across the terrace to Max.

“Plane crash,” he said quietly.

Max was horrified, remembering the broken tape in the booking office. Surely not…

“Don’t worry, it didn’t happen” the sadhu said, patting him on the back reassuringly.

Thank God for that!

“Come on,” the sadhu said gently. “Let’s go.”