The Mountain Shadow

‘My fault, mate,’ Gemini George apologised, looking around nervously. ‘Got a bit of a problem like, y’know?’

I put my hand in my pocket, but Gemini stopped me.

‘Not that sort of problem, mate. Well, to be honest, that is a problem, but it’s such a constant problem, you know, bein’ broke, that it’s become more of a meta-cultural statement, sort of a grim but compelling penury soundtrack, know what I mean?’

‘No, man,’ I said, handing him some money. ‘What’s the problem?’

‘Can you wait? I’ll just get Scorpio.’

‘Sure.’

Gemini looked left and right.

‘You’ll wait?’

I nodded and he ducked away past a nearby stall that offered small marble figures of gods for sale.

‘Mind if I hang with you?’ Naveen asked.

‘No problem,’ I said. ‘No secrets are safe with Gemini and Scorpio, especially their own. They could have their own radio station. I’d listen, if they did.’

Moments later Gemini reappeared, dragging the reluctant Scorpio with him.

The Zodiac Georges, one George from south London and the other from Canada, were inseparable street guys. They were mildly addicted to seven drugs, and completely addicted to one another. They slept in a relatively comfortable warehouse doorway, and made a living running errands, sourcing drugs for foreign customers, and occasionally selling information to gangsters.

They bickered and fought from the first yawn to the last stumble into sleep, but they loved each other, and were so constant in their friendship that everyone who knew them loved the Zodiac Georges for it: Gemini George from London, and Scorpio George from Canada.

‘Sorry, Lin,’ Scorpio mumbled, when Gemini dragged him close. ‘I was under cover, like. It’s this trouble with the CIA. You must’ve heard about it.’

‘The CIA? Can’t say I have. But I’ve been in Goa. What’s up?’

‘There’s this geezer,’ Gemini cut in, while his taller friend nodded quickly. ‘Snow-white hair, but not an old guy, with a dark blue suit and tie, a businessman type –’

‘Or the CIA,’ Scorpio cut in, leaning close to whisper.

‘For Chrissakes, Scorpio!’ Gemini spluttered. ‘What the fuck would the CIA want with the likes of us?’

‘They have these machines that can read our minds,’ Scorpio whispered, ‘even through walls.’

‘If they can read our minds, there’s no point whisperin’, is there?’ Gemini demanded.

‘Maybe they already programmed us to whisper, while they read our minds.’

‘If they read your mind, they’ll run screamin’ through the streets, you fuckin’ twat. It’s a wonder I don’t run screamin’ through the streets n’all, innit?’

There was no reliable map of the sidetracks the Zodiac Georges took when argument meandered, and no time limit. I usually liked it, but not always.

‘Tell me about the white-haired guy in the suit.’

‘We don’t know who he is, Lin,’ Gemini said, returning to the moment. ‘But he’s been askin’ about Scorpio at Leopold’s and other places for the last two days.’

‘It’s the CIA,’ Scorpio repeated, his eyes looking for somewhere to hide.

Gemini looked at me, his face crying why-was-I-born. He tried to be patient. He took a breath. It didn’t work.

‘If it’s the CIA, and they can read our minds,’ he shouted at Scorpio through clenched teeth, ‘they’d hardly be goin’ round askin’ questions about us, would they? They’d just walk right up, tap us on the shoulder and say Hey! We just read your mind, old son, with our mind-reading machine, and we didn’t have to ask questions about you, or follow you around, because we have mind-reading machines that read people’s minds, because we’re the fucking CIA, wouldn’t they? Wouldn’t they?’

‘Well . . . ’

‘Was he asking after you by name?’ Naveen asked, his young face serious. ‘And is he asking after both of you, or just Scorpio?’

Both men looked at Naveen.

‘This is Naveen Adair,’ I said. ‘He’s a private detective.’

There was a pause.

‘Fuckin’ hell,’ Gemini muttered. ‘Not very private, is it, goin’ round announcin’ it, right here in the fruit and vegetable market? That’s more like a public detective, innit?’

Naveen laughed.

‘You didn’t answer my questions,’ he said.

There was another pause.

‘What . . . kind of detective is he?’ Scorpio asked suspiciously.

‘He’s a detective,’ I said. ‘It’s like a priest, you pay once. Answer the questions, Scorpio.’

‘You know,’ Scorpio said, looking at Naveen thoughtfully, ‘come to think of it, the guy has only been asking after me, not Gemini.’

‘Where’s he staying?’ Naveen asked.

‘We don’t know yet,’ Gemini said. ‘We didn’t take it seriously, at first. But now, it’s been two days. It’s startin’ to get a bit spooky for Scorpio, and he’s spooked enough, know what I mean? One of the street boys has been followin’ the white-haired geezer today, and we should know where he’s stayin’ pretty soon.’