Gregory Roberts - The Mountain Shadow

‘You know, Tuareg,’ I said, preparing my jellyfish legs to stand, ‘thanks for the offer, but I’ll find the Irishman, and Ranjit, on my own.’

‘Wait,’ the Tuareg said. ‘I’m sorry. It was my last little test. I promise. I’m finished. Would you like to know the results of my study on you today?’

‘I told you. I didn’t come here as a subject.’

‘Of course,’ he laughed, pulling me down beside him again. ‘Please, stay, and have another cup of hot tea, before you leave.’

Cousins and nephews cleared the dishes, and brought a new samovar of hot tea.

‘You must forgive me,’ the Tuareg said. ‘If you don’t, it will have me in analysis for a year.’

I laughed.

‘No, seriously,’ he said, looking at me earnestly. ‘You must forgive me.’

‘You’re forgiven,’ I said.

‘I don’t feel forgiven,’ he said. ‘Are you really forgiving me?’

‘Come on, Tuareg, who the hell am I to forgive anyone?’

‘Close enough,’ he said. ‘And thank you. In a strictly commercial sense, no tests involved, I’m in a position to pay you a considerable sum for a… private interview with Ranjit Choudhry.’

‘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.’

There’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.’