The Mountain Shadow

‘There’s a guy in your lock-up, Farzad Daruwalla by name, I’d like to pay his fine.’

‘Fines are imposed by the court, not by the police,’ Dilip observed, a sly grin wet on his lips.

‘Of course, you’re completely right,’ I smiled, ‘but a man of your vision can see how dealing with this matter in a forceful fashion, right here and now, will save the valuable time of the court, and the public purse.’

‘Why do you want this fellow?’

‘Oh, I can think of five thousand reasons why,’ I replied, pulling a prepared wad of rupee notes from my pocket, and beginning to count them.

‘A man of vision could think of many more reasons than that,’ Dilip frowned.

It was too late. He was already looking at the money.

‘Lightning-ji,’ I said softly, folding the notes over double and sliding them across the desk beneath the cover of my hand. ‘We’ve been doing this dance for almost two years now, and we both know that five thousand reasons is all I’d have to give the sub-inspector to make a full . . . explanation . . . of my interest. I’d be grateful if you’d save me that trouble, and accept the explanation personally.’

Santosh approached with the tea, his footsteps thumping on the floorboards of the wooden veranda. Lightning Dilip flashed his hand out to cover mine. I let my hand slide back across the desk. Dilip’s hand slithered the notes to his side of the desk, and into his pocket.

‘The college man,’ Dilip said to Santosh, as the young constable placed the tea in front of us. ‘The one we brought in from the nightclub, late last night. Bring him here.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Santosh replied, hurrying from the room.

The young cops returned to the office, but Dilip stopped them with an upturned hand.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘We . . . we checked the under barrack, sir, just as you said. All is in order. And we saw that you ordered chai, so we thought we might . . . ’

‘Check it again!’ Lightning Dilip snapped, turning his attention back to me.

The young cops stared at me, then shrugged and slouched out of the office again.

‘Is there anything else I can help you with?’ Dilip asked sarcastically.

‘Matter of fact, there is. Have you heard anything about a man with snow-white hair, and wearing a dark blue suit, asking questions on the street here in Colaba during the last two weeks?’

I was thinking of the Zodiac Georges and their mysterious stalker. If Dilip had any information on the man who was asking about them, it’d be worth buying.

‘A blue suit, and white hair?’ he mused. ‘And if I did see such a man?’

‘I can think of a thousand reasons why I’d like to know about him.’

He smiled. I took the money from my pocket and slid it halfway across the desk, as before, under the cover of my hand.

‘And I think those reasons,’ he smiled, ‘should lead you to see Mr Wilson, at the Mahesh hotel.’

He reached out to cover my hand with his. I hesitated.

‘Who is he? What did he want?’

‘He’s looking for someone. More than that, he would not tell me.’

I let my hand slide backwards. He took the money.

‘Did you help him find someone?’

‘He wouldn’t provide me with a sufficient explanation, so I threw him out of here.’

‘If he –’ I began, but just then Santosh entered the office with Farzad.

The young Parsi forger was unbloodied but significantly bowed. His eyes were wide with fear, and his chest was rising and falling quickly in shuddering little breaths. I’ve seen the look many times: the look of a man who thinks he’s about to get a beating. Then he saw me, his face brightened, and he rushed toward me.

‘Hey, man, am I glad to see you! I –’

I stood, cutting him off, my hand on his chest.

‘Take it easy,’ I said quickly, worried that he might say something I didn’t want Lightning Dilip to hear. ‘Give your respect to the sergeant, and let’s get outta here.’

‘Sergeant-ji,’ Farzad said, his palms pressed together, ‘thank you so very, very much for your kindness and generosity.’

Dilip leaned back in his chair.

‘Fuck off!’ he said. ‘And don’t come back!’

I pulled Farzad by the sleeve, dragging him with me out of the office and through the wide gate to the street.

On the footpath, a few steps from the entrance arch, I lit two cigarettes, and gave one to the young forger.

‘What happened?’

‘I was a little, well, actually, I was a lot drunk last night. There was this great party at the Drum Beat. It was deadly, man. You should’ve seen me. I danced like a motherfucker. Count on it.’

‘I’m counting on an explanation for why I had to get out of a comfortable bed, at six o’clock in the morning, to hear about you dancing like a motherfucker.’

‘Yeah, of course. Sorry. Well, see, the cops came to close the place down, at about one, as usual. Somebody objected, and made a fuss. I guess I got caught up in all the tamasha, and started giving the cops some cheeky remarks.’

‘Cheeky?’

‘Oh, yeah. I’m known for my cheeky remarks.’

‘That’s not something a grown man boasts about, Farzad.’

‘No, really! I’m known for my –’

‘How cheeky are we talking?’