The Mountain Shadow (94 page)

‘Attractive and all as that sounds . . . ’ I began, but he cut me off.

‘There are two families, of aggrieved daughters, who will pay us handsomely if Ranjit is in my hands.’

‘No.’

‘I understand,’ he said softly. ‘And that’s a test I didn’t even consider. Thank you. I have enjoyed this very much. Here is the address of the Irishman.’

He slipped a small sheet of paper from his cuff, and passed it to me.

‘Tonight, the Irishman will be in the company of only one or two men. He will be vulnerable. Tonight, at midnight, is the time to strike.’

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘But I’m not handing Ranjit over to you, Tuareg, if I find him.’

‘That’s clear. Do you need help, to kidnap the Irishman?’

‘I don’t want to kidnap him. I want to make him reconsider his options.’

‘Oh, I see. Then, may Allah be with you, and let us smoke one last bowl.’

‘You know, I really should be going.’

‘Oh, please! Stay, for one more pipe.’

Cousins and nephews replaced the old hookah pipe with a new one, filled with pure Himalayan water, they told me, and then filled the pipe with pure Himalayan herb.

‘I taught the mind,’ he said, lying back on silk cushions, the tray of tea and dates between us, ‘and I’ve tortured the mind. And you know what? There is no difference. It’s funny, isn’t it?’

‘Not for the patients.’

He laughed that mechanical laugh.

‘You know what the elephant in the room is, when it comes to psychiatry?’ he asked.

‘The success rate?’ I suggested.

‘No,’ he said. ‘The success rate only reveals those who
can
be helped by this, and those who
can’t
. The elephant in the room is that we can
shape
behaviour more fluently than we can
understand
it. When you know how to make anyone do anything, it makes you start to wonder what we really are.’

‘You can’t make anyone do anything, Tuareg. Not even you. Fact is, some of us are impossible to predict, and impossible to control, and I like it that way.’

‘You’ve been there,’ he said, sitting up again. ‘You know what it is.’

‘Been where?’

‘Torture,’ he said, his eyes gleaming.

‘So that’s what this last bowl is about, huh?’

‘You’ve been there,’ he said. ‘Tell me what you learned. Please, confide in me.’

‘I know that men you might think are weak, turn out to be strong, and vice versa.’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Are you willing to let me . . .
question
you, about it?’

‘Actually . . . no,’ I said, struggling jellyfish into action.

‘Would you like me to make a revelation?’ he asked. ‘It will bond us, on this day.’

‘Actually . . . no,’ I said, finding the stuff to stand.

‘I took the children’s toy shop, because that’s what I want to do,’ he said. ‘I only accepted the Company lottery franchise to make sure they know I’m still a loyal Company man. It’s the toy shop, actually, that I wanted, and the crime is just a front.’

‘Okay . . . ’

‘And my name is Mustapha,’ he said. ‘It was Khaderbhai who gave me the name Tuareg. He said that it means
Abandoned by God
, and was a name for the Blue People, because they would not be subdued. But my name is Mustapha.’

‘I . . . ’

‘There, I have confessed two things to you, and we are brothers.’

‘Okay . . . ’

‘And based on the profile I compiled in our meeting today, I will know exactly what to do to you, if you ever speak to anyone of my home.’

He glanced at the clock.

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘I see our time is up.’

Chapter Fifty-Nine

T
HERE’S A THING THAT HAPPENS
when you ride stoned, which no sane person would do, where time vanishes. I arrived in Colaba, from distant Khar, and I had no recollection of the trip. If the destination is the journey, I never arrived.

Whatever happened on the way, I felt freed of worry, and emptied of need when I cruised back into the Island City peninsula. Or maybe it was just because I had Concannon’s address, and all I had to do was wait for midnight, to visit it.

I tried to find Karla. She hadn’t been avoiding me, but she hadn’t been colliding with me. I knew she sometimes had a drink with Didier at Leopold’s, late in the night.

I parked the bike outside and walked in, hoping my disappointment didn’t show when I saw Didier sitting alone. He gave me a golden smile, and I smiled back, walking toward him. I was glad, on second thoughts, that Karla wasn’t there: not if I wanted to reckon with Concannon that night.

Didier rose to greet me, shaking hands strenuously.

‘I am
so
glad to see you, Lin,’ he said. ‘I was wondering where you were. I felt so bad when you left earlier, after that talk with Kavita. It wounded me. Did you not think of
my
feelings?’

‘Did you know about Lisa and Kavita?’ I asked.

‘Of course,’ he puffed. ‘Didier knows everything. What is the point of Didier, if he does not know every scandalous thing?’

‘I’m not sure I understand the question. Why don’t we stay with mine.’

‘I . . . I knew, Lin. My first thought, when Lisa tricked me, was that she was with Kavita. I checked, but Kavita was at a different party that night, close to here.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t
she
tell me?’

‘Waiter!’ Didier called out.

‘You’re ducking the question, Didier.’

‘There were
two
questions, Lin. Waiter!’

‘Still ducking, Didier.’

‘Certainly not,’ he replied. ‘I’m simply electing to answer your question
after
I have had two strong drinks. That is not the same thing. Waiter!’

‘How can I be of service, sir?’ Sweetie asked sweetly.

‘Stop with the politeness, Sweetie!’ Didier snapped. ‘And bring us two cold beers.’

‘I am here to serve,’ Sweetie said, backing away obsequiously.

It was infuriatingly polite, and Didier was infuriated.

‘Get out of my sight!’ he shouted. ‘Bring my bloody drinks, man!’

Sweetie smiled, too sweetly, backing away.

‘Do you know that you get very English, when you get angry?’ I remarked.

‘These swine!’ Didier protested. ‘They are only being nice to me, because it hurts me. It is like a strike, but in reverse. It is the most despicable use of courtesy, and courtesy defines us, is it not so?’

‘Love defines us, Didier.’

‘Of course, it does!’ he said, stamping his foot under the table. ‘That is exactly why reverse-politeness is so painful. Please, Lin, while you are here, make them more surly and impolite. I beg you.’

‘I’ll see what I can do, Didier. But, hey, you’re a hard act to sell. I might have to
embellish
you, like you did for me, when you sold me to the Divas. Which one of your shootings should I use?’

‘Lin, you abuse my sensitivities.’

‘Everything abuses your sensitivities, Didier. It’s one of the reasons why we love you. What abuses my sensitivities is that you didn’t tell me about Lisa.’

‘But, Lin, it is such a delicate matter. It is a difficult thing to just say it out loud, like that. Your girlfriend is bisexual, and has a lesbian lover. Was I supposed to make a joke, perhaps? Hey, Lin, the tongue got your cat, so to say?’

‘I’m not talking about sex. Lisa told me she was bisexual the first time we got together. I’m talking about relationships. The way it looks to me is that you and Lisa and Kavita all knew something that I should’ve known, but didn’t.’

‘I . . . I’m sorry, Lin. Sometimes, a secret is too precious to tell. Do you forgive me?’

‘No more secrets, Didier. You’re my brother. If it affects you, or me, we have to be straight with each other.’

He couldn’t help it. He started giggling.

‘Straight with each other?’

His pale blue eyes glittered, lighthouses calling the wanderer home. Worry hid again in laugh lines.

Habits too diligently indulged made caves of his cheeks, but his skin was still taut, his mouth still determined, and his nose imperial. He’d cut his curly hair short, and wore it parted on the side. Diva’s influence, I guessed.

The cut made Didier look like Dirk Bogarde at the same age, and it suited him. I knew it would sprinkle new suitors on him at parties.

‘Am I forgiven?’

‘You’re always forgiven, Didier, before you sin.’

‘I am so delighted that you came to visit tonight, Lin,’ he said, slapping his thighs. ‘I feel big things coming in the air. Can you stay, or will you rush off again, as always?’

‘I’m sitting here until midnight. You’ve got me for the duration.’

‘Wonderful!’

Sweetie slammed a cold beer in front of me on the table.

‘
Aur kuch?
’ Sweetie grunted at me.
Anything else?

‘Go away,’ Didier snapped.

‘Oh, certainly, Mr Didier-
sahib
,’ Sweetie said. ‘Anything to serve you, Mr Didier-
sahib
.’

‘I see what you mean,’ I said to Didier. ‘This is serious. You’re gonna have to do something pretty spectacular, to win back their disrespect.’

‘I know,’ he pleaded. ‘But what?’

A man approached our table. He was tall, and broad, with close-clipped blonde hair and a very short nose that flattened his face, making it seem two-dimensional.

When he got looming-close, I saw that his nose had been squashed flat: broken so many times that the gristle had collapsed. He was either a very bad fighter, or he’d had so many bad fights that the law of averages put a thumbprint where his nose had been.

Either way, it wasn’t a pretty sight, looming over our table. Looming over me, in fact.

‘How can you sit next to this filthy gay?’ he asked me.

‘It’s called gravity,’ I said. ‘Look it up, when you have an afternoon to spare.’

He turned to Didier.

‘You make me sick!’ the big man hissed.

‘Not yet,’ Didier replied. ‘But it happens.’

‘How about something happens to your face?’ the tall man said, his jaw like a shovel.

‘Careful,’ I warned. ‘My boyfriend has a temper.’

‘Fuck you,’ the big man said.

There was a second man, standing some distance away. I left him in the periphery, and focused on the flattened moon above our table.

‘You know what we do with your kind in Leningrad?’ the tall man asked Didier.

‘The same thing you do with my kind, everywhere,’ Didier said calmly, his hand in his jacket pocket as he leaned back in his chair. ‘Until we stop you.’

Leningrad. Russians. I risked a clear look at the second man, standing a few steps behind. He wore a thin black shirt, like his friend. His short brown hair was a little messed, his pale green eyes were bright, and his expressive mouth lifted easily in a smile. His thumbs were hooked in the loops of his faded jeans.

He was leaner and faster than his friend, and much calmer. That made him the most dangerous man in the room, excluding Didier, because everyone else in the room, including me, was nervous. He looked at me, made eye contact, and smiled genially.

I looked back at the man who was blocking out several overhead lights with his face.

‘Show me what you’ve got,’ the tall Russian shouted, slapping at his chest. ‘Fight me!’

Patrons hastily vacated neighbouring tables. The tall Russian shoved empty tables and chairs aside, and stood in an open space, challenging Didier.

‘Come here, little man,’ he teased.

Didier lit a cigarette.

‘Double abomination!’ the tall Russian shouted. ‘A gay, and a Jew. A
Jew
gay. The worst kind of gay.’

Waiters established a wide perimeter. They were ready to pounce if the shouting turned to fighting, but no-one wanted to be the first pouncer, punched away by the big, angry Russian.

‘Come on, little man. Come here.’

‘Certainly,’ Didier replied equably. ‘When I have finished my cigarette.’

Oh, shit
, I thought, and knew that I wasn’t the only one in Leopold’s thinking it. Didier puffed contentedly, gently easing an urn of ash into his glass ashtray.

In the silence, the Russian companion moved quickly to stand beside me. He held his hands open in front of him, gesturing toward the chair next to mine.