Gregory Roberts - The Mountain Shadow

‘But watches , Lin?’ he said, suddenly almost angry. ‘You were a soldier, with Khaderbhai.’

‘I’m not a soldier, Abdullah. I’m a gangster, and so are you.’

‘You were one of his sons. How can you sit here, and talk to me of watches?’

‘Okay,’ I said, trying to make it light. ‘How about we ride our bikes to Nariman Point, and I’ll sit there , and talk of watches?’

He rose from the table, left the restaurant, and strode to his motorcycle. He didn’t pay a bill in any restaurant in South Bombay. No gangster ever did. I paid, left a tip for the waiters, and caught up to him.

‘A ride is necessary,’ he said.

I followed him to Bombay University, where we parked the bikes, walked through the colonnades and leafy laneways, and entered the open playing fields called Azad Maidan, behind the campus and other buildings.

There was a fence of iron spears between the vast expanse of the playing fields and the street outside, with only one other entry point, served by a long path across the lawns to the university. The sun’s invisible lake of light reflected gold off every surface and feature.

Abdullah and I walked the fence line, side by side, just away from the shaggy weeds that gathered at the base.

It was almost exactly like the walks I’d made with other men every day, in prison, walking and talking, walking and talking in circles of years.

‘How bad has it been?’ I asked him. ‘I heard some stuff on the mountain. What’s the deal with the fire, at the Scorpion house?’

He pursed his lips. He’d anticipated that I’d ask him about the fighting in Colaba, and the fire that killed a nurse in Vishnu’s house. I knew why that nurse was in the house. I wondered if Abdullah or anyone in the Company knew that civilians were in the house. I hadn’t known, when I rang the bell, and I hadn’t told Abdullah or anyone else about it.

He let a deep breath escape through his nose, his lips pressed firmly in a rumpled frown.

‘Lin, I am going to trust you, as if you are still in the family. It is not what I should do, but it is what I must do.’

‘Abdullah, I’m a broad strokes guy, you know that. I don’t want intimate details about anything except intimacy, if I can help it. And don’t go breaking your oath for me, although I love you for it, man. Just let me know the big picture details, so I know who’s shooting at who.’

‘It was Farid,’ Abdullah said. ‘I counselled against it. Fire is indiscriminate. I wanted to discriminate, and kill them personally. All of them, once and for all. Sanjay decided to use fire. Farid set it, and the Scorpions escaped, but a nurse, who was not supposed to be there, she died in the flames.’

‘Where’s Farid now?’

‘He is still here, at Sanjay’s side. He refuses to leave the city, when it would be far wiser if he did.’

‘There’s a lot of that going around at the moment.’

‘What is going around?’

‘Nothing. Just a stray thought in the wind. The Scorpions will hit back hard, Abdullah. I’ve met this guy, Vishnu. He’s no lightweight. He’s smart, and he’s got a political agenda. That gives him allies in unlikely places. Don’t underestimate his revenge.’

‘What does he want?’

‘He wants what you want, up to a point. He wants Sanjay dead. But he wants the whole Company dead with him. And he’s got a thing about Pakistan.’

‘Pakistan?’

‘Pakistan,’ I repeated. ‘Neighbour country, kind people, nice language, great music, secret police. Pakistan.’

‘That is not a good thing,’ Abdullah frowned. ‘Sanjay has made many friends in Pakistan. It was those friends who sent the Afghan guards to protect him.’

We were approaching a curve in the fence. A young couple sat on a blanket in the warm, plush grass. They had several books open in front of them. A message of crows was hopping around them, basking in the morning sun and searching for worms.

Abdullah began to turn away to avoid the couple.

‘Wait a minute,’ I said. ‘I know those guys.’

Vinson and Rannveig looked up, smiling, as we approached. I introduced Abdullah, and stooped to pick up one of the books. It was Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces .

‘How did you get into Campbell?’

‘We studied him at university,’ Rannveig said. ‘I’m teaching a crash course to Stuart.’

‘It’s over my head,’ Vinson grinned, waving a hand over the blonde waves of his hair.

‘Carlos Castaneda,’ I said, reading the covers of other books. ‘Robert Pirsig, Emmett Grogan, Eldridge Cleaver, and the Buddha. Nice bunch. You could throw Socrates and Howard Zinn onto that list. I didn’t know you’re a student here.’

‘I’m not,’ Rannveig said quickly.

‘Technically, I’m the student,’ Vinson said. ‘I enrolled here nearly two years ago, but I’ve bunked all my classes. Still have the library card, though.’

‘Well, happy reading, guys,’ I said, turning away.

‘It worked,’ Rannveig said. ‘That thing, with the plate of food.’

I turned back.

‘It did?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Sweet Tooth was happy, I guess. He’s gone. Thank you.’

‘What are you guys talking about?’ Vinson asked, his face as perplexed as a ten-year-old kid’s.

One of the things I liked most about Vinson was that his face was so wide open that it gave nowhere for his feelings to hide. Whatever he thought or felt started in his face. He was his own straight man.

‘Tell you later,’ Rannveig said, waving goodbye.

‘Do those people also buy and sell watches?’ Abdullah asked, as we continued the loop of the playing fields back toward the campus entrance.

‘Are we back to that again?’

Abdullah harrumphed. There actually are people who harrumph. I know quite a few, as it turns out. My theory is that harrumphers have a tiny pinch of extra bear DNA than the rest of us, in their setup.

‘I have your guns for you,’ he said grudgingly. ‘Tell me where you want me to deliver them.’

‘I know a guy who’ll keep them safe, for ten per cent. I’ll give you the details. Thanks, Abdullah. Let me know what I owe you.’

‘The weapons are a gift,’ he said, stung.

‘I’m sorry, brother, of course. Damn nice. And speaking of weapons, I’ve got a meeting with Vikrant, my knife guy, in Sassoon Dock. Is there anything I can do for you?’

We approached the archway leading back through the campus to the street, but he stopped me before I could join the mill of students passing through the arch.

‘There is something,’ Abdullah began, but he closed his mouth firmly again, breathing hard through his nose. ‘Sanjay has forbidden us from befriending you, or contacting you, for any reason other than Company business.’

‘I see.’

‘You understand what this means?’

‘I… guess so.’

‘It means that the next time we meet openly, Sanjay will be dead.’

‘What?’

‘Be confident and unafraid,’ he said, hugging me fiercely, and then holding me in his outstretched arms, as solid as a doorjamb. ‘You have eyes watching you.’

‘You got that right.’

‘No. I mean that I have paid some eyes to watch you, for some time,’ he said patiently.

‘You have? Who?’

‘The Cycle Killers.’

‘You paid homicidal maniacs to watch out for me?’

‘I did.’

‘That’s very thoughtful. And expensive. Maniacs don’t come cheap.’

‘You are right. I took some money from Khaled’s treasure, to pay for it.’

‘How did Khaled feel about that?’

‘He agreed. My feeling is that the only way I can lure him back to Bombay, and his true destiny, is to bring his treasure from the mountain to the city, one piece at a time.’