They stopped inside a crumbling bunker, left over from the war. Kakababu leaned against the wall, breath ragged, but triumphant.
“I used everything available,” Kakababu corrected, his eyes twinkling. “That is the first rule of field archaeology, Santu. Now help me up. We have a boat to catch before the tiger claims this bunker as his own.” Kakababu O Santu
Kakababu reached under his own gamchha and pulled out a wax-cloth parcel. “I dug it up yesterday morning, before they even arrived. What those fools chased tonight was a decoy—a brick wrapped in old newspaper.” They stopped inside a crumbling bunker, left over