Chapter Thirty-Nine
I parked the bike a block away from the mansion, and waited in the quiet side street. Moonlight wrote tree poems on the road. A thin, black cat ran through the streaks of light and shadow in front of us, sprinting to safety.
‘Thank you, Fate,’ Didier said. ‘A black cat. Of course.’
We approached the gate. I paused, looking up and down the long street. Cars passed, but it was quiet.
‘You sure you want to do this, Didier?’
‘How dare you!’ Didier said.
‘Okay. Okay. Sorry.’
I pushed open the gate, and walked to the front door. I was about to press the buzzer but Didier stopped me. He smiled, paused, and then pressed the buzzer himself.
A man approached the door. There were pieces of stained glass and frosted scroll panels on the door. I saw through the glass that he was a big man: a big man, walking slowly, with a cane. Hanuman.
He opened the door, saw me, and sneered.
‘You again,’ he said.
‘Tell me about Pakistan,’ I said.
He grabbed my shoulder as if it was a grapefruit, and shoved me along the corridor. Fit, crazy-eyed henchmen appeared from rooms at the end of the hall. Goons appeared on the stairs. Hanuman shoved me toward a door near the end of the hall.
‘Madachudh! Bahinchudh! Gandu! Saala!’ they shouted back at me, itching to rush me.
Every gun in the world is a death wish, and they were all armed, and wishing us harm. I was scared, because I hadn’t expected guns, and because outlaws, by definition, don’t go by the rules.
There was a heavy, hairy guy in a white undershirt standing closest to me in the hallway. He slowly raised a crowd pleaser, a sawn-off twelve-gauge shotgun, and pointed it at me. Hanuman frisked me. Satisfied that I wasn’t carrying a gun, he lifted my shirt to show the two knives at my back, and let the shirt fall again, stifling a yawn. The gangsters laughed, pretty hard. He turned to Didier, who stopped him with a raised palm. He took his automatic pistol from his pocket and handed it to Hanuman.
A door opened, a little way along the hallway in front of me. Vishnu walked out into the hall, standing with his men.
‘You don’t just wear out the welcome mat,’ he said calmly. ‘You cremate it. Come in, before you cause a riot.’
He walked back into the room, Hanuman shoved me forward, and we joined Vishnu in his study.
There was a mahogany desk, two plush visitor chairs and a row of wooden chairs behind them. Political and religious posters competed for space on the walls, but there were no books. A screen on the desk gave different views around the mansion, one image of security after another.
Vishnu paused at the entrance to speak with Hanuman. The tall man stooped to listen, wagging his head.
When Vishnu rejoined us he was alone. It was very confident, or very foolish. He poured three bourbons on the rocks and passed them to us, taking his place behind the desk in a high-backed office chair.
‘Mr Levy, isn’t it?’ Vishnu asked as we took our seats in front of his desk. ‘We haven’t met, but I’ve heard reports of you.’
‘Enchanté, monsieur,’ Didier replied.
‘My wife is ill,’ Vishnu said, turning to me. ‘She is being attended by our doctor, and two nurses. That’s why I keep her close to me. That’s why my men wanted to kill you, just now. Because my wife is in this house. That’s why I’m thinking about killing you. Are you quite mad, to come here?’
‘I’m sorry that your wife is ill, and that I disturbed her peace,’ I said, standing to leave. ‘I’ll find another way.’
‘You give up so easily?’ Vishnu sneered.
‘Look, Vishnu, I thought this was your gambling den, your club, I didn’t know it was your home. I’ll find another way.’
‘Sit down,’ Vishnu said. ‘Tell me what this is all about.’
‘I know how you would feel if anything happened to your wife,’ I began, sitting again, ‘because something happened to my girlfriend. She died. The man who provided the pills that killed her is under your protection. I came into your clubhouse to ask you to let me talk to him, out on the street.’
‘Why don’t you just wait for him, outside?’
‘I don’t lie in wait for people. I’m a front door guy. That’s why I asked to see you. The man’s working for you, so I’m asking.’
‘What do you want to know?’
‘I want to know what he knows. The name of the man who was with him, the one who gave my girlfriend the pills.’
‘And what could you give me in return?’
‘Whatever you ask of me, that we both think is fair.’
‘A favour?’
He laughed a grin at me.
‘It’s not a small thing,’ I said. ‘If you let me have time with this man, I’ll do anything you ask that we both think is fair. You have my word.’
‘Cigar?’ he asked.
‘No thanks.’
‘Very gracious,’ Didier said, reaching for one, and inhaling its fragrance. ‘You know, Vishnudada, if you plan to kill us, this is almost exactly how I would choose to go.’
Vishnu laughed.
‘I did something like this myself, once, when I was seventeen,’ he said, staring an unsatisfactory smile at me. ‘I carried a tray of chai glasses, all the way to the local don’s living room, put down the tray, and put my knife to the don’s throat.’
‘What happened?’ Didier asked, engrossed.
‘I told him that if his goondas didn’t stop molesting my sister, I’d come back, just as silently, and cut his throat.’
‘Did he punish you?’ Didier asked.
‘Yes, he did. He recruited me,’ Vishnu replied, taking a sip of his drink. ‘But even though it reminds me of my youthful self, I cannot approve of what you have done, in coming to my home. Who is this man, under my protection?’
‘The Irishman. Concannon.’
‘Ah, then you are too late. He is gone.’
‘He was here today, monsieur,’ Didier said quietly.
‘Yes, Mr Levy. But here today, gone tonight, that is the nature of our business, isn’t it? The Irishman left three hours ago. Where he went, or if I ever see him again, I don’t really care.’
‘Then, I’ll take my leave, and I apologise again, if I disturbed your wife.’
‘Is it true,’ he asked, waving me back into my seat, ‘that you’re no longer with the Sanjay Company?’
‘It is,’ I said.
‘If you will permit me, Vishnudada,’ Didier said, trying to change the subject, ‘you did not know this girl, who died. But I had the honour to know her. She was a jewel, a very rare human flower. Her loss is simply insupportable.’
‘And this intrusion is insupportable, Mr Levy. Order must be maintained. Rules must be obeyed.’
‘Regrettably so,’ Didier replied. ‘But love is a poor master, and a poorer slave.’
‘Shall I tell you something about the poor,’ Vishnu said, rising to top up our glasses, but keeping an eye on me.
‘With pleasure,’ Didier said, puffing the cigar.
‘If you build a nice house,’ Vishnu said, sitting again, ‘they break the floor, so they can sit in the dirt. If you build it up stronger, they bring dirt in from outside, so they can sit in the dirt again. I run a construction business. I know. What do you think, Shantaram?’
What did I think? You’re a megalomaniac, and you’ll die violently.
‘I think it sounds like you’re a man who hates the poor.’
‘Oh, come on,’ he protested. ‘Everyone hates the poor. Even the poor hate the poor. My point is that some are born to lead, and most are born to follow. You have taken a big step in the right direction.’
‘What step?’
‘Leaving the Sanjay Company. There is only one small step, now, between you and me. If you were to join me, and tell me everything you know about the Sanjay Company, you would be a leader, and not a follower. And I would make you richer than you can imagine.’
I stood up.
‘I apologise again for busting in on you. If I’d known you had family here, I wouldn’t have come. Will your men let us leave, without waking everyone upstairs?’
‘My men?’ Vishnu laughed.
‘Your men.’
‘My men won’t lay a finger on you,’ he said. ‘You have my word.’
I turned to leave, but he stopped me.
‘The Irishman isn’t the only one who knows,’ he said.
I faced him again. Didier was standing beside me.
‘There was a driver,’ he said. ‘My driver. The black car was one of mine.’
‘Yours?’
‘The Irishman borrowed it that night. He’d been shot the day before, I understand, but still insisted on going out. I let him have my driver.’
‘Where do I find this driver?’
‘He will not tell you anything,’ Vishnu said.
‘He might,’ I said through clenched teeth.
‘He’s dead. But, he did tell me everything he knew, before he died.’
‘What do you want, Vishnu?’
‘You know what I want. I want to stop the Sanjay Company from pumping weapons and bomb-makers from Pakistan into Bombay’s streets.’
‘That’s a little exaggerated –’ I began, but he cut me off, standing behind his desk with his fists on his hips.
‘You can’t deny it, because it’s happening everywhere,’ he said, raising his voice to a shout as he warmed to his theme. ‘Money from the Arabs, training in Pakistan, an army already on the move across the world. They’re about to take their first country, Afghanistan. It won’t be the last country the Islamic army takes, before this is over. If you can’t see what that means, you’re an idiot.’
‘Now you’re the one who’s disturbing your wife. I don’t want a political debate with you, Vishnu. I want the Irishman.’
‘Forget my wife, motherfucker, and forget the Irishman. Tell me what you think about all this. You’ve both been here long enough to feel the love of Mother India. Where do you stand?’
I looked at Didier. He shrugged.
‘The real fight,’ I replied, ‘is between Sunni and Shia Islam. Muslims are killing a hundred or more Muslims for every non-Muslim, one mosque and marketplace at a time. We don’t have a dog in that fight. We should stay out of it. And we definitely shouldn’t bomb or invade their countries, while they’re fighting that family feud. Or at any other time, for that matter.’
‘We Indians do have a dog in the fight,’ he said more seriously, his hands working. ‘Kashmir. That’s why they are hitting us, again and again. They want Kashmir as an independent Islamic State. Where do you stand on Kashmir?’
‘Kashmir is a war no-one can win. There should be blue United Nations helmets everywhere in Kashmir, protecting the people until it gets worked out.’
‘And would you feel the same way, if it was a state from your country?’
‘He has a point,’ Didier observed, gesturing with his cigar.
I looked at him, then back to Vishnu.
‘I don’t have a country. And I don’t have a girlfriend any more. Do you know anything that can help me find the man who killed her?’
He laughed, and his eyes flickered to the clock on the wall. It occurred to me, too late, that he was stalling.
The door opened behind us, and Lightning Dilip walked through. Six cops crowded into the room. Two cops grabbed me. Two cops grabbed Didier.
Lightning Dilip came to stand close to me, his belly bursting through his shirt.
‘I’ve been searching for you, Shantaram,’ he said. ‘I’ve got some unhappy questions to ask you.’
I looked at Vishnu. He was smiling. Lightning Dilip began to shove us toward the door.
‘Wait!’ Vishnu commanded, pointing at Didier. ‘I need Mr Levy. We have matters to discuss.’
‘Jarur!’ Lightning responded.
The cops released Didier. He looked at me, asking me with his eyes if we should fight and die, there and then. I shook my head, and he gave me a broken half-smile, sending courage into the prairie in my heart where fear was already running. It was okay. We’d both been in Lightning Dilip’s custodial care, and we both knew what to expect: the boot and the baton and exhaustion as the only mercy.