Vikram Chandra - Sacred Games

'Where are we?' she said. 'Why do you have that gun?'

I could see why she was confused. I had four of the monitors on, American and Indian and Chinese news on three of them, the internet on the other. She was disorientated, she had blacked out and didn't know how much time had passed. She thought she was maybe in Malaysia, or Spain. It could be anywhere.

'Don't worry, Jojo,' I said. 'We're still in Bombay. But we're safe. Don't worry.'

Now she turned to me. She was shorter than I was, but she stood very straight and drew her shoulders back and threw her hair back over her shoulder with a swaying toss of the head. Watching that one little movement gave me an instant understanding of why she always had a queue of men waiting to be her next thoku. I noted this objectively, as a fact about Jojo. In that moment, in the condition I was in, there was no stirring of physical desire in me, least of all for Jojo. All I wanted was for her to talk to me.

'Gaitonde,' she said, 'you're insane.' She spoke to me in the voice she used for scolding her servants, which was low, decisive and unrelenting. 'You need to have your bheja checked by a doctor. Forget that, it's too late for that, you should just march to a madhouse and admit yourself. Tell the nurses to put chains on your hands and feet so you won't go bothering other people…'

'Jojo, listen to me.'

'No, you listen to me. Who do you think you are? You think you're some king, you can just kidnap people? You can just shock somebody like they were some animal and have them dragged down to you? You bastard, just because everyone in the world is afraid of you, you think you can do anything? I'm not afraid of you, maderchod.'

She had her face thrust up into mine, her fingers jabbing towards my eyes. She cursed me again, and a burst of spit stung my cheek, and then another.

I wanted to hit her.

But this was Jojo, I wanted to take care of her. I pulled myself away, I put up my hands, I took a breath. 'You're disturbed right now. I understand. But let me explain to you, Jojo. We have been friends for many years. Think how long it has been. I could have done this at any time, I never did. So just calmly listen to me. Afterwards, if you don't agree, you can do whatever you want.'

She tilted her head down and watched me. I could see that she was calculating and weighing, taking in me and the room and her chances. But I couldn't tell whether she was going to give in or give me a slap. I should have set her up with a video-conferencing camera, so I could have watched her neck and her angry shoulders all these years. I thought I knew her, but I should have known more of her.

'Okay,' she said. 'But talk fast. I have lots of work to do today.'

I sat her down in an armchair in the control room, and got her a fresh glass of water. I asked if she was cold, and turned down the air-conditioner. Then I gave her the reality of what was happening. I told her everything, point by point. I showed her a chart in an old edition of India Today in which they had printed the possible numbers of dead and wounded in Mumbai after a nuclear blast. I found her a website which showed actual footage of explosions and trembling survivors. I showed her recommendations for safety procedures, and lists of materials necessary for survival.

'Wait,' she said. 'Wait.'

'What?'

'You want me to stay down here? You mean, live in this thing?'

She was incredulous, disbelieving and then contemptuous. Now I had no difficulty in deciphering the furrows on her forehead, the quality of her scowl. And suddenly, this hardened haven on which I had lavished untold suitcases of money seemed small and inhospitable. 'It's not so bad,' I said. 'It's very comfortable, actually. You've got the best beds, everything is air-conditioned. There is a gym, you can exercise. There is filtered water. Communications are excellent. You can work easily from down here.'

'Till when?'

'What?'

'How long are you going to stay down here?'

I was surprised. The answer was obvious. The Jojo on the phone had always been smarter than this one, she had never needed so many explanations. 'Till it's over,' I said. 'Or not over.'

Now Jojo disappeared. She vanished behind that incomprehensible face, and I couldn't tell what she was thinking. But when she spoke, I recognized her again. She was very soft now, she was the gentle, generous-hearted woman who spoke to me about my problems and my stress and what kind of food I should be eating. 'Gaitonde, why don't you sit down? You need to relax, or you'll give yourself piles again.'

She had a grin on her face, and I thought, this is what she looks like when she gives out that gurgly chuckle. I hadn't realized I was standing. 'Yes, yes.' I sat.

She drew up her chair close to me, pulled up her feet and sat cross-legged. I laughed, because this I knew about her – she had told me that sometimes during official meetings with important types she forgot where she was and sat like that, like a proper Konkani bai straight from the village. She nodded, and gave me a smile. I felt better instantly. This was the Jojo I knew. 'Okay, Gaitonde,' she said. 'Tell me – till what's over?'

'Haven't you been listening? The whole thing,' I said. 'If I find him, then I can stop it. Then it's over. If I can't find him, then it doesn't stop. Until it all stops.'

'Okay,' she said. 'There's this Guru-ji. You need to find him. Right, right. And how long will that take?'

'I don't know. It could happen at any time.'

'Today, you mean?'

'Or tomorrow.'

'Or a few days?'

'Months, maybe. But if I can't find him, it has to stop sometime. It's inevitable. You can see that.'

'But Gaitonde, I can't stay here for that long. I have a business. I can't run it from here. I have to meet people, I have to see girls. I have to run around everywhere.'

'You can call them from here. We can set up the room upstairs like a reception room. A sofa, a desk. Very easy.'

'But,' she said, 'but, Gaitonde.'

She wasn't fighting me any more, but of course she thought that the task ahead was impossible. Anybody would who hadn't led my life, who hadn't achieved my level of understanding, who hadn't left behind so many certainties that turned out to be illusions. I knew the truth, that finally safety was a room on a yacht, or a cave under the earth. I had to bring her along slowly. 'Jojo,' I said, 'just try it for a day.'

'Just a day?'

'One day and one night. Tomorrow if you want to go, you go home.'

'Promise?'

'You need me to promise? When Ganesh Gaitonde says he'll do something, he does it. But for you, Jojo,' – I touched my throat – 'I swear.'

I showed her the treadmill, and the weights. She didn't want to exercise, though, said it was too late in the day now and she was going to miss some phone calls and appointments. So I cleared a desk for her – swept away newspapers and maps, magazines and financial charts – and gave her a phone for herself. I did my own work as she made her calls. At two o'clock – precisely her preferred time – I brought her lunch. It was the Konkani food that she loved, all kokum and fiery fish. She picked at her plate, and I watched her. Somehow it was hard to speak to her. We had had lunch together before, with me on the yacht and her at her house. Then, we crunched and munched into each other's ears, and talked and talked. Jojo called this our gazali sessions, during which she would give me the latest gossip about friends of hers, and I would make her laugh with the new idiocies committed by my boys. There was no reason why we couldn't have those easy jokes again, that laughter. I had collected new escapades, I wanted to tell her about an idea I had for a new television serial. And yet the silence sat between us, like a great black dog on the table. But I was Ganesh Gaitonde, I wasn't scared of anything, I tossed aside the discomfort. 'Jojo,' I said, 'you want to watch a film tonight? We can get pre-release prints, the very latest ones.'