Meeting Max (25 page)

“Did Abhasa supply you with any information about Kamran?”

“He told us what little he could. There would be an attack, he didn’t know where, but a man named Kamran would orchestrate it, and he also might be associated with an attack taking place at the end of November against rich people and foreigners, in Bombay or Delhi.”

“Was this Abhasa on Kamran’s team, or was he a double agent? At least tell me that.”

“Maybe he was, and maybe he wasn’t. I cannot say more.”

Chapter 21

Rick walked out of the hospital overwhelmed, exhausted, and alone. He had to sleep. His body and heart were drained. He got a room at a small guesthouse called the Desert Moon in Jaisalmer. His phone rang and Rick recognized Sylvia Weisz’s Hungarian accent, the same accent as his mother.

“Hello, Rick. How are you doing?” She spoke in a low voice.

“It’s not easy, but I’m doing okay. Please tell me how you and Laszlo are doing.”

“I’m at St. John’s Hospital and the ambulance brought us here. Laszlo had a heart attack. They did emergency surgery and removed blockage from his arteries. He is sedated and asleep now. First my little girl, now my husband. It’s the end of my life.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing. I know it’s not easy for you, either. She was taken away from all of us. Thank you for making the arrangements to bring her home. We will contact the Rabbi.” She hung up.

No human being should have to endure the pain Elena’s parents have to bear because of evil people. How can I get through life without her? She breathed her last breath of life into me during that final kiss.

Rick swallowed two lorazepam tablets and fell into a deep sleep.

Meher arranged for Elena’s Air India flight from Delhi to New York. Rick would be on the same plane. He was consumed with thoughts of Elena and his heart ached. He relived their first moments: when they met on the plane, their surprise meeting at Mrs. Vidya’s restaurant, and their sweet kisses in the desert. He sat in his seat, feeling his pain.

Elena, you are not alone. I am here with you.

***

The plane landed in the morning. Rick watched as her casket was placed into a waiting hearse. Elena’s face and smile flashed through his mind. He rented a car and drove to Kew Gardens to meet Elena’s parents.

Rick and Sylvia embraced each other as he looked into Sylvia’s red, swollen eyes. Laszlo was still in the intensive care unit of the hospital. The funeral service would take place at noon the next day and the internment would be at a Jewish cemetery in Elmont with Rabbi Math officiating at the services.

The Weisz family have known him for many years. He was Elena’s dear friend and confident. She would be pleased to know that Rabbi Math was now bringing comfort to the family.

Rick spent the night with close friends who lived in Katonah, New York, an upscale town in Westchester. They drove him to the funeral home the next morning and stayed with him.

At the service, Rick met Elena’s family and friends. He saw her closed wooden casket at one end of the small room. Pain ripped through him. There were pictures of Elena everywhere. A monitor showed a slideshow of her life, starting from the time she was a baby.

He saw her when she was five with her pail and shovel at the beach, and later, a little older, with her friends at Halloween, where she was dressed as a princess. One picture showed a smiling teenaged Elena holding hands with a boy.

Perhaps it was Dan, her first love
.

Rick was introduced to everyone as Elena’s fiancé, which made him feel like he was part of the family. He met Rabbi Math, a man in his early sixties with silver hair and a kind face. He began the service with a prayer in Hebrew.

As he listened to the Rabbi, Rick reflected on his disbelief in God, but there was still a space in his thinking where he felt some sense of spirituality. He listened to the Rabbi’s Hebrew chant as his mind slipped back to the wonderful warmth of his childhood, where he’d felt the peace and serenity his belief in God had offered.

Several members of Elena’s family and friends spoke at the podium with glowing words of their love for her and shared their personal experiences.

When Rick’s turn came, tears were already running down his cheeks. This would not be his last time with Elena. She would always be with him. He took a deep breath.

“Thank you, Rabbi. As I look at all of you in front of me, I see faces full of love and sadness for Elena.” Rick put his hands on the podium and looked down.

“Elena and I planned to get married and share our lives. Many of you would have been at our wedding. I know the special love she shared with each one of you. She loved life, every moment of it, and as many of you know, she pushed aside her own interests and fought for other people’s causes.”

Rick looked toward her casket and spoke in a soft voice.

“Elena, we shared so much together, but it’s not over. Our love will go on. We both know that, and it will never change. We were given a rare and special gift.

“In the scheme of things, we shared a brief moment together. But it was
our
moment to share the gift God has given us. You were the one who made me believe in Him again. You changed my life. You made me feel emotion. Thank you for that.

“I thought I knew about life, but you knew more, much more, and I learned about love from your heart—True love.” Rick heaved a deep sigh.

“We shared a kiss in your last breath.” He bit his lip and wiped his eyes. “It’s still part of me. When our eyes met on our flight to India, we knew it was our beginning, and we confided to each other on a star-filled night in the desert that it was love at first sight. Thank you for loving me.

“I’m happy to be standing here with all your friends and family and seeing the same faces you had once looked upon. The most beautiful days I’ve ever had in my life were when we rode our camels through the hot desert sands in India and slept in a tent under a sky full of stars. The stars were so close to each other, they looked as if they touched. But it was our hearts that touched, giving us the warmth we needed.

“Sitting on the dunes at sunset, we watched each day end, our camels standing by as silhouettes against the deep orange sun as we gazed at its amber glow burning itself into the sand. As if in a fairy tale, the moon lifted itself from the horizon and rose into the black, starry sky. We sat, awed, by its magnificence, and yet remained silent because we knew that moment told us that just being together was always enough.”

Rick lifted his head. “There’s good luck and bad luck for people in this world. Our good fortune was simple. The good luck was that we had seats assigned next to each other on our flight to India. The bad luck was for us to be here today. It seems God compressed a lifetime of love, passion, and sweetness into the few moments we shared, and we thank Him for that gift.

“Elena, remember when we arrived in India, and we lost contact with each other? I was deeply hurt. Then you reappeared, out of the blue, in a small desert town not far from the Pakistan border. How could that have happened in a country so big? Why weren’t we swallowed up by the masses of people in India, never to see each other again? I don’t know the answer to that question. I said it was luck. You said, ‘Maybe the universe conspired to make it happen.’”

Rick faced the casket and wiped away his tears. “Whether it was luck or the universe, we were drawn to the same place at the same time in this country of over a billion people. I love you, Elena. We said it would be forever. You had to leave before me, but our paths will cross again. The best is yet to be. I love you and always will.”

Rick walked to his seat. Rabbi Math hugged him.

The casket was covered with a blue velvet cloth with a large, gold Star of David woven into the center. Sylvia walked to the casket, kissed the covering, and whispered a few words in Hungarian.

The congregation left for the cemetery, her final resting place. Elena’s casket was lowered into the ground. It was a cold, sunny day. Everyone took turns throwing soil over her casket as Rabbi Math chanted the mourning Kaddish prayer, the central blessing in the Jewish prayer service.

Rick hugged Sylvia. Her eyes were red from crying, her face wet with tears. She told Rick he was part of the family and wanted to know about the things he and Elena shared. Rick said he would call her often and would say a prayer for Laszlo for a speedy recovery.

Rick had time before his flight to Bombay and asked Sylvia if he could accompany her to the hospital.

When they arrived, Laszlo was asleep, but he awoke when they walked into his room. Sylvia introduced Rick.

“Call me Laszlo,” he said with a hoarse voice.

“Yes, uh, Laszlo. I’m terribly sorry about Elena.”

“She was all we had, our wonderful, beautiful daughter, always full of life with new ideas and different thinking. She was beautiful. My little girl said nice things about you, Rick. I can see you’re a nice man.”

“Thank you. I loved your daughter and we planned to get married.”

“Yes, Sylvia told me. It made us very happy. Tell me what happened.”

“No, no, maybe another time, when you feel better. I’m going back to India tonight, and when I come back we can sit and talk.”

“Please, Rick, tell me something, anything, about her last moments. Did she suffer?”

“No, sir, she did not suffer at all. It was very quick. We were at the airport at a place called Jaisalmer, and we were going to take an early morning flight. There was a terrorist attack. Many people were killed and injured. She died instantly. I’m so sorry.”

Tears ran down his cheeks. “It’s a bad world now. They took my girl. What did she know about life? Nothing. She was an innocent, sweet girl, trusting, loving, smart, and full of life. Please, Rick, be part of us. We all loved her. Never lose touch with us. Because she loved you, we love you.”

“I’ll never lose touch, never.
Anyám magyar
.”

“Oh, yes, she told us. Your mother is Hungarian. Do you speak?”

“
Beszélek egy kicsit a magyar
. I speak a little Hungarian.”

“
Nagyon jó,
very good. Welcome to the family. You’re important to us, Rick. You loved our little girl. No one can replace her, but she was always very particular about the men she went out with, and it wasn’t that many,” he said in a weak voice. “If she chose you, you must be special. We don’t want to lose you.”

That night, Rick called his parents from the airport and then left on a direct flight to Bombay.

Chapter 22

It was time for Rick to explore Bombay and find his son. His gut feeling told him this was where he would find Eric.

After landing, he found a nice homestay in Colaba, one of the seven islands in the Arabian Sea that make up Bombay, or, as it’s now called, Mumbai.

Bahula and his wife, Madhur, ran the homestay. They both spoke Hindi, Marathi, and English. Bahula’s passion, aside from sports, was the study of foreign cultures.

The morning after Rick arrived, he walked to the nearby Colaba Causeway market and visited the stalls, which sold everything from saris, jewelry, watches, and antiques to the finest gold coins. He walked through the market in a daze. He thought of Elena.

She will always be with me
.

He imagined them together as he watched an event where a tourist paid a few rupees to have his name put on a grain of rice. Elena would have enjoyed doing the same. He could hear her saying, “Let’s do it, Rick!”

As he wandered through the market, Rick often heard the words
sab kuch milega,
which he learned meant, “Where you’ll find everything.”

Also in this area was the famous Taj Mahal Palace Hotel and Tower, an exclusive, five-hundred-dollar-a-night hotel that overlooked the Arabian Sea on one side and the causeway on the other. It was another reminder of Elena. He remembered her telling him that she had stayed there when she’d visited Bombay.

Rick stopped for lunch at the Leopold Café, a popular restaurant and bar on the causeway. He ate the Shezwan fried rice and, with it, drank a Kingfisher beer.

When he returned to the house, Madhur was preparing dinner. He asked her if she knew an Indian who spoke reasonably fluent English who could help him find his way around Bombay for a few days to assist him with a delicate matter.

Madhur suggested they talk together with Bahula after dinner. Rick went to his room to rest and swallowed an alprazolam. It relaxed him and relieved his anxiety.

After dinner, Madhur brought a tray of tea and Besan Laddu, an Indian sweet made of round balls of dough. Rick smiled to himself.

Indian people seem to have a penchant for round-shaped desserts.

They sipped their tea. Rick explained the reason he was in India and added that he needed help finding his son, Eric.

“My wife and I will be of great help to you. If your son is in Bombay, we will find him. There is no doubt,” Bahula assured him.

Madhur leaned forward with sincerity in her eyes. “We are very familiar with all the areas of Bombay and most of Maharashtra. We also know people who live a little outside of the law who will help us. What is your son’s good name?”

“It’s Eric. Thank you, I will be happy to pay you.”

“Please, please do not say these things,” Bahula replied, shaking his head. “Family is the most important thing to an Indian person. We did what we needed to do to provide our children with a good education and help them find a proper partner in marriage, so we understand everything about these things. Because you have crossed our path and asked our help to find your child, we will give of ourselves freely and will help you. Please, tell us what you know about him.”

“Thank you for your kind words. I believe he may be working in Bombay as a recording engineer.”

“So, he works with musicians. What does he do exactly?”

“I’m not sure about the details, but he must use sophisticated equipment to make a recording flawless.”

“How can we help you?” Bahula inquired.

“I would like to find a knowledgeable driver who speaks English and knows every part of Bombay. It would be good if he was a musician himself or he knows places where groups of musicians and singers make recordings. He must also have a good understanding of the importance of my search.”

“It is not a problem,” Madhur said in her soft voice. “Please believe us when we say that. If your son is in Bombay, you will find him. I know such a man, and my husband and I, we are thinking of the same person right now.”

“Yes, it is Rajit,” Bahula added. “He is a very good friend of ours and will help you. Rajit drives an auto rickshaw and he sometimes takes tourists to look around Bombay. He knows all of the city. He plays the guitar, the sitar, and perhaps some other instruments, I don’t know, but I
do
know he plays and sings with many bands here in Bombay, so that will be a good thing.

“He is from a fine family. He will help you find your child, and his English is very good. He went to the University of Mumbai, so he is well-educated. He works hard because he has to support a large family.”

“Bahula, when should we call him?” Rick asked.

“I will call his mobile tonight and see when he can come. He will be a very good man for you, so it would be good to see to his expenses.”

“I will do more than see to his expenses, my friends. From what you say, Rajit is the right person. I will do right by him.”

“And please count on us to help you as well,” Bahula said. “We ask nothing in return but your friendship, and, when you find Eric, we will be honored to prepare a special meal.”

Bahula made the call. Rajit said he would arrive the following morning. Meanwhile, Madhur excused herself. She had to arise early to take care of the house and do the cooking.

“Bahula, I can’t thank you enough for what you are doing. I should have come directly to Bombay from the US. He would probably have been attracted to Bollywood to earn a living here. When I reserved my air flight, I only knew of Delhi and did not know that Mumbai was Bombay.”

“Do not blame yourself for any bad judgments.” Bahula shook his head.

“Yes, you’re right, but I’m glad I’m here in Bombay with you. My friend, Permanand, guided me through Delhi. He was a wonderful person. He spoke to many people and leaders of rock groups for information about my son. Two people thought they knew his name and believed he was in Bombay.”

“Yes, yes, it must be true,” Bahula said.

It was still early. They talked for an hour, and Rick told Bahula the whole story about Eric. He told him about Julie and shared his feelings about Elena and how she enabled him to open his heart to love once again. Tears came to Bahula’s eyes when Rick told him how she had died in his arms.

“I am so sorry, my friend. The agony must be terrible for you. She will be in your heart always. We have read about the incident at the airport in Jaisalmer. It was a terrible tragedy.

“It is my pleasure to help. Would you like a cognac before you retire? I have a very fine Remy. It is quite good.”

“Thank you, Bahula, but I’m exhausted from the day. Perhaps tomorrow night.”

“I will look forward to it.”

Rick showered and then fell into a deep sleep in his clean, air-cooled room.

It was late morning when he awoke. Tea, crumpets and a newspaper awaited him on the patio.
The Mumbai Mirror
contained an article about the terrorism that transpired in Jaisalmer. It mentioned that India’s external intelligence agency, the Research and Analysis Wing, was investigating the matter. Rick was reading about it when Bahula came to join him with the good news that Rajit would soon arrive.

“He will be your dedicated servant. I have spoken to him. You must understand that Bombay is a safe place, and you do not have to be afraid. There are some places where you have to be careful, but very few. Rajit will look after that.”

“I’m sure he will, but I heard about the Indian Mafia and…”

“You are not to worry about these things. You will be invisible to this group of people. They are not interested in you. They are concerned only in their drug business, diamond smuggling, and maybe some connection to the Indian Cinema, but they are not interested in you or me.”

“That’s good to know. I’ve heard stories about the slum areas. Are they safe places?”

“Yes, very safe. It is unfortunate that thousands of people must live that way, but no harm will come to you as long as you are with Rajit. You will be alarmed when you see these people living there with the rats, but for them the rats perform a service and eat all the scraps and garbage and keep the place a little cleaner.”

“I could never live with rats.”

“Yes, you are not used to that life, and you could never adapt to it. If you go there, you must know that you cannot change things for them. You cannot fix their lives. You can only embrace it.”

“Still, seeing poverty and beggar ladies with their babies bothers me. I don’t know how to deal with it emotionally.”

“Poverty is not a good thing. Indians are used to it, and the mafia makes money off it. The baby you see in the mother’s arms is a baby that is passed around from woman to woman to get the sympathy from tourists.”

“I’ve been told that, but the slums…”

“I think the slums will change for the better in the future. Real estate people have been looking at that land for a few years now to make high rises and exclusive hotels. They will buy that land cheap. Maybe they will give some money to the people living there so they might have better lives. Maybe. I do not know.”

Rajit arrived and Madhur showed him into the living room, where Bahula and Rick joined him. The three men enjoyed Hayward’s beer and poppadum crisps as they talked about the places Rick had visited in India.

Rajit was a soft-spoken young man, about thirty-five years old. He was slim with the usual black shiny hair and mustache. He had grown up in Bombay and his wife was a concierge at the Taj Mahal Palace and Tower. He had four children who were very different from each other. The older ones, he said,
knew
everything and the younger ones
felt
everything. Their grandparents looked after them while Rajit and his wife were working.

“Thank you, Mr. Rick, sir, for allowing me to help you. Bahula told me your needs, why you are here, and about the recent tragedies in your life. I am so sorry. I know Bombay well and know many musicians and musical groups. I am active myself making music, and sometimes work at the Oberoi. It is an elegant hotel with classy rooms.

“I speak very well in Marathi, Hindi, and English. I am in that hotel about two times in one month, playing the sitar in the Champagne Lounge. I play in a corner as the guest’s sip their champagne while the colors of my music flow through the air and blend with the sun as it sinks into the Arabian Sea. It is a beautiful sight.”

“You’re a very poetic man, Rajit.”

“What is life without a little poetry in it, sir?”

“True. There is poetry in almost everything we see and do. Sunrises, sunsets, and the look of love on the face of your woman. They are everyday things, but you have to see the beauty in it to feel the poetry.”

“I think we will get along well, Mr. Rick. Indeed, quite well.”

“I know we will. How do you think we should start?”

“It would be my pleasure to accompany you to the music shops here in Bombay and look at the inserts that come with the DVDs, but I do not think recording engineers are very many times listed. The shops in Bombay sometimes have different music recordings than in Delhi.”

“Well, it sounds like a good start, but we must include a visit to the Black Cat studio. I believe they know of Eric and it would put us in motion.”

Rajit called the studio immediately and received a message that they would be opening again in two days.

“We will go there as soon as they are available. Yes, we will do that. If he is here, we will find him. Please know that. I have much knowledge of Bombay and where are the nightclubs and Bollywood studios, here, and in all of Maharashtra.”

“I have good feelings, Rajit. Will you commit your time to me for a week, and if so, how much do I pay you?”

“It is much work and expenses for one week, twenty-four hours a day. We can agree on eight thousand rupees and you pay for the
baksheesh
to people when it is required.”

“That’s more than fair, Rajit, and I will add our meals together as well.”

“
Dhanyāvad
, it will be good. During the day, we will visit some music shops, talk to people who can tell us things, and at night, the nightclubs to talk to the musicians. We can exchange our mobile numbers. You can please call me at anytime. For today, sir, we can look around Bombay, and tonight visit a nightclub where we will find live musicians or a DJ who can help us.”

In addition to an auto rickshaw, Rajit had a sedan with a black body and bright yellow top. He took Rick on a tour of Bombay, saying it would be good for him to know what the different districts were like.

“The more Indian people you will meet, the better your chances would be to find your son.”

Rick wasn’t sure why this kept proving to be true, but Rajit explained that Indian people could be the source of little known knowledge and added that it would help Rick with his
shjprvrutti
, his instincts.

Rick learned quite a bit of Marathi from Rajit. It was spoken mainly in Bombay and had many similarities to Hindi. He had learned enough Hindi to get by, acquiring it mostly by osmosis, so Marathi would come a little easier.