Gregory Roberts - The Mountain Shadow

‘Billy Bhasu is a bringer,’ Vikram announced. ‘He’ll bring whatever you want. Anything at all, from a girl to an ice cream. Test him. It’s true. Ask him to fetch you an ice cream. He’ll bring it, right now. Ask him!’

‘I don’t want -’

‘Billy, go get Lin an ice cream!’

‘At once,’ Billy replied, putting the chillum aside.

‘No, Billy,’ I said, raising a palm. ‘I don’t want an ice cream.’

‘But you love ice cream,’ Vikram observed.

‘Not enough to send somebody for it, Vikram. Settle down, man.’

‘If he’s gonna bring somethin’,’ Concannon called from the shadows, ‘my vote’s for the ice cream and the girl. Two girls. And he should fuckin’ get on with it.’

‘You hear that, Billy?’ Vikram urged.

He stepped closer to Billy, and began to drag him from the bed for the ice cream, but a voice, deep and resonant, came from the prone figure on the bed, and Vikram froze as if he was facing a gun.

‘Vikram,’ the voice said. ‘You’re killing my high , man.’

‘Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Sorry , Dennis,’ Vikram stuttered. ‘I was just introducing Lin around, to all the guys, and -’

‘Lin,’ the figure on the bed said, opening his eyes to stare at me.

They were surprisingly light, grey-coloured eyes, with a velvet radiance.

‘My name’s Dennis. I’m glad to meet you. Make yourself at home. Mi casa, es su casa. ’

I stepped forward, shook the limp bird’s wing that Dennis raised for me, and stepped back again to the foot of the bed. Dennis followed me with his eyes. His mouth settled into a gentle smile of benediction.

‘Wow!’ Vinson said softly, coming to stand beside me. ‘Dennis, man! Good to see you back! Like, how was it on the other side?’

‘Quiet,’ Dennis intoned, still smiling at me. ‘Very quiet. Until a few moments ago.’

Concannon and Naveen Adair, the young detective, joined us. Everyone was staring at Dennis.

‘This is a big honour, Lin,’ Vikram said. ‘Dennis is looking at you.’

There was a little silence. Concannon broke it.

‘That’s nice, that is!’ he growled, through a toothy smile. ‘I sit here for six fuckin’ months, share my wit and wisdom, smokin’ your dope and drinkin’ your whiskey, and you only open your eyes twice. Lin walks in the door and you’re staring at him like he was on fuckin’ fire. What am I, Dennis, a total cunt ?’

‘Like, totally, man,’ Vinson said quietly.

Concannon laughed hard. Dennis winced.

‘Concannon,’ he whispered, ‘I love you like a friendly ghost, but you’re killing my high.’

‘Sorry, Dennis lad,’ Concannon grinned.

‘Lin,’ Dennis murmured, his head and body perfectly still, ‘please don’t think me rude. I’ll have to rest now. It was a pleasure to meet you.’

He turned his head one degree toward Vikram.

‘Vikram,’ he murmured, in that sonorous, rumbling basso. ‘Please keep it down. You’re killing my high, man. I’d appreciate it if you’d stop.’

‘Of course, Dennis. Sorry.’

‘Billy Bhasu?’ Dennis said softly.

‘Yes, Dennis?’

‘Fuck the ice cream.’

‘Fuck the ice cream, Dennis?’

‘Fuck the ice cream. Nobody gets ice cream. Not today.’

‘Yes, Dennis.’

‘Are we clear on the ice cream?’

‘Fuck the ice cream, Dennis.’

‘I don’t want to hear the words ice cream for at least three months.’

‘Yes, Dennis.’

‘Good. Now, Jamal, please make me another chillum. A big, strong one. A gigantic one. A legendary one. It would be an act of compassion, not far from a miracle. Goodbye, all and everyone, here and there.’

Dennis folded his hands across his chest, closed his eyes and settled into his resting state: death-like rigidity at five breaths a minute.

No-one moved or spoke. Jamal, lip-lock urgent, prepared a legendary chillum. The room stared at Dennis. I seized Vikram by the shirt.

‘Come on, we’re outta here,’ I said, pulling Vikram with me out of the room. ‘Goodbye, all and everyone, here and there.’

‘Hey, wait for me!’ Naveen called after us, rushing out through the French doors.

Back on the street, fresh air stirred Vikram and Naveen awake. Their steps quickened, matching mine.

The breeze driven through a shaded corridor of three-storey buildings and leafy plane trees brought with it the strong, working scent of the fishing fleet at nearby Sassoon Dock.

Pools of sunlight spilled through gaps between the trees. As I passed from shade to light, splashing into each new pool of white heat, I felt the sun flooding into me and then draining away with the shadow tide, beneath the trees.

The sky was haze-blue: glass washed up from the sea. Crows rode on the rooftops of buses to cooler parts of the city. The cries of handcart pullers were confident and fierce.

It was the kind of clear Bombay day that makes Bombay people, Mumbaikars, sing out loud, and as I passed a man walking in the opposite direction, I noticed that we were both humming the same Hindi love song.

‘That’s funny,’ Naveen remarked. ‘You were both on the same song, man.’

I smiled, and was about to sing a few more lines, as we do on blue glass Bombay days, when Vikram cut across us with a question.

‘So, how did it go? Did you get it?’

One of the reasons why I don’t go to Goa very often is that every time I go to Goa, someone asks me to do something down there. When I’d told Vikram, three weeks earlier, that I had a mission in Goa, he’d asked me to do something for him.

He’d left one of his mother’s wedding jewels with a loan shark, as collateral for a cash loan. It was a necklace inset with small rubies. Vikram repaid the debt, but the shark refused to return the necklace. He told him to collect it in Goa, in person. Knowing that the shark respected the Sanjay Company mafia gang I worked for, Vikram asked me to visit him.

I’d done it, and I’d retrieved the necklace, but Vikram had overestimated the loan shark’s respect for the mafia Company. He kept me waiting for a week of wasted time, ducking out of one meeting after another, leaving offensive messages about me and the Sanjay Company until finally agreeing to hand the necklace over.

By then, it was too late. He was a shark, and the mafia Company he’d insulted was a shark boat. I called in four local guys who worked for the Sanjay Company. We beat the gangsters that stood between him and us until they ran.

We confronted the shark. He handed over the necklace. Then one of the local guys beat him, in a fair fight, and kept on beating him, in an unfair fight, until the wider point about respect was made.

‘Well?’ Vikram asked. ‘Did you get it, or not?’

‘Here,’ I said, taking the necklace from my jacket pocket and handing it to Vikram.

‘Wow! You got it! I knew I could count on you. Did Danny give you any trouble?’

‘Scratch that source of loans from your list, Vikram.’

‘ Thik ,’ he said. Okay.

He poured the jewelled necklace from its blue silk pouch. The rubies, fired with sunlight, bled into his cupped palms.

‘Listen, I’m… I’m gonna take this home to my Mom. Right now. Can I give you guys a lift in my cab?’

‘You’re going the other way,’ I said, as Vikram flagged down a passing cab. ‘I’m gonna walk back to my bike, at Leopold’s.’

‘If you don’t mind,’ Naveen asked softly, ‘I’d like to walk some of the way with you.’

‘Suit yourself,’ I replied, watching Vikram put the silk pouch inside his shirt for safekeeping.

He was about to step into the taxi but I stopped him, leaning in close to speak quietly.