The Mountain Shadow (35 page)

‘Damn good idea!’ Lisa agreed.

‘So that’s what this dinner’s about,’ Chandra said.

‘And if it is?’ Ranjit asked, smiling charmingly.

‘Forget it!’ Chandra spluttered, gasping on a mouthful of food. ‘You think we’re crazy?’

‘Hear me out,’ Ranjit insisted. ‘One of my columnists, he’s a pretty fair writer, and he’s written a few screenplays already, for your competitors –’

‘We don’t
have
any competitors,’ Cliff cut in. ‘We’re at the top of the cinema food chain, hurling coconuts at the others far below!’

‘Anyway,’ Ranjit persisted, ‘this young writer is hot for the story. He’s already begun to write a screenplay.’

‘That dancer fellow was foolish,’ Cliff said.

‘That dancer fellow had a
name
,’ Lisa said quietly.

Her manner was calm, but I knew she was angry.

‘Yes, of course he –’

‘His name was Avinash. He was a brilliant dancer, before a mob of drunken thugs beat him unconscious, poured kerosene on him, and tossed matches at him.’

‘Like I said –’ Cliff began, but his production partner silenced him.

‘Look, Ranjit,’ Chandra said nervously. ‘You can play the hero in the pages of your newspapers, writing about that poor young fellow –’

‘Avinash,’ Lisa said.

‘Yes, yes,
Avinash
. You can write about him, and take the risks, and get away with it. But be realistic. If we put that story in a movie, they’d come after us. They’d close down the cinemas.’

‘They’d
burn
down the bloody cinemas,’ Cliff added. ‘And we’d lose buckets of money, for nothing at all.’

‘Some stories, it seems to me,’ Ranjit said gently, ‘are so important that we should take the risks involved in telling them.’

‘It’s not just the risks to ourselves,’ Chandra replied reasonably. ‘Think about it. If we did such a picture, there’d be riots. Cinemas could get attacked. As Cliff says, there could even be fires. People could die. Is it worth a risk like that, just to tell a story?’

‘Somebody
already
died,’ Lisa said through almost clenched teeth. ‘A dancer. A wonderfully gifted dancer. Did you ever see him at the NCPA?’

Cliff spluttered a mouthful of wine on the table.

‘The National Centre for the Performing Arts?’ he scoffed. ‘The only performing that Chandra’s interested in is what pretty girls do when the lights are low, isn’t that right, brother?’

Chandra Mehta wriggled uncomfortably.

‘You should slow down on the booze, Cliff. You started too early tonight.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ his partner said, glaring at him and pouring another glass of wine. ‘Are you worried that I’m going to tell Ranjit I think his phoney campaign is more about his political ambitions than it is about Avinash, the dead dancer? Ranjit should be the one to worry, not us. We buy pages of his newspapers every day.’

‘Why don’t we leave business in the office?’ Ranjit said, through a thin smile.

‘You’re the one who brought it up,’ Cliff replied, waving his glass and spilling a little wine on Sneha’s coloured bangles.

‘Do you have any
personal
opinion on what happened to Avinash?’ Lisa asked Cliff. ‘Considering that it happened five hundred feet from your movie studio, and Avinash danced in three of your movies?’

‘Lin,’ Chandra cut in quickly. ‘Help me out here. What do
you
think? I’m right,
na
? If we did a movie like this, there’d be blood on the seats. We shouldn’t needlessly offend the sensibilities, and the . . . the feelings, you know, of any community, isn’t that so?’

‘It’s your subject, guys, not mine. You two own the movies, Ranjit owns the newspapers, and neither of them have anything to do with me.’

‘Oh, come on,’ Ranjit said, glancing at Lisa. ‘Let’s hear what you honestly think about this, Lin.’

‘I already gave you an honest answer, Ranjit.’

‘Please, Lin,’ Lisa urged me.

‘Okay. Someone once said that the sophistication of any community of people is inversely proportionate to their capacity to be aroused to violence by what people say in public, or do in private.’

‘I have . . . absolutely . . . no idea . . . what the
fuck
that means,’ Cliff said, his mouth gaping open.

‘It means,’ Ranjit said, ‘that sophisticated people don’t get upset by what people say in public, or do in the privacy of their own homes. It’s the unsophisticated that do.’

‘But . . . what does that mean for
me
?’ Chandra asked me.

‘It means that I agree with you, Chandra. You shouldn’t do the story.’

‘
What?
’ Lisa gasped.

‘See?’ Cliff said, waving his glass. ‘I’m right.’

‘Why not, Lin?’ Ranjit asked, his charming smile fading.

‘It’s not their fight.’

‘I told you!’ Cliff sneered.

‘But it’s important, don’t you agree, Lin?’ Ranjit asked me, but directing his frown at Lisa.

‘Of course it’s important. A man was killed, murdered, and not for something he
did
, but for something he
was
. But it’s not their fight, Ranjit. They don’t believe in it, and Avinash deserves believers.’

‘Last week it was Avinash,’ Lisa said, glaring at me. ‘Next week it could be Muslims or Jews or Christians or women they’re beating up, and setting on fire. Or it could be movie producers. That makes it everybody’s business.’

‘You should only do it, if you believe in it,’ I said. ‘Cliff and Chandra don’t. They don’t really care a damn about Avinash, no offence. It’s not their fight.’

‘Exactly!’ Cliff protested. ‘I just want to make lots of money, maybe win a few awards now and then, and live a happy life on the red carpet. Is that so bad?’

The first course arrived, it was impossible to talk, and everyone turned their attention to the small swarm of waiters serving a flowerbed of food.

A messenger from the concierge desk approached as the food was being served. He bowed to the guests, and then bent to whisper in my ear.

‘There is a Mr Naveen at the reception, sir. He says it is rather urgent that he speak to you.’

I excused myself, and made my way to the lobby. I had no trouble finding Naveen and Divya: anyone within ten metres could hear them fighting.

‘I won’t!’ Divya shouted.

‘You’re being so –’

‘Forget it!’ she snapped. ‘I’m
not
doing it!’

‘Hey, man,’ Naveen sighed, as I joined him. ‘Sorry to bust into your dinner.’

‘No problem,’ I replied, shaking hands with him, and nodding to the sulky socialite. ‘What’s up?’

‘We were coming down from a private party on the eighteenth floor –’

‘A party that was just getting
good
!’ Divya pouted.

‘A party that was about to get busted for rioting,’ Naveen corrected her, ‘which was why we were leaving. And who gets into the lift, on the way down? None other than our mystery man –’

‘Mr Wilson.’

‘The same.’

‘Did you talk to him?’

‘I couldn’t resist it. I know we agreed to wait until we could talk to him together, but it seemed like a God-given opportunity, so I thought I’d play the hand.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I told him Scorpio George was a friend of mine, and I knew he was looking for him. I asked what it was all about, and why he was dogging my friend.’

‘And?’

‘He’s a lawyer,’ Divya cut in.

‘Will you let me tell it, please?’ Naveen grumbled, grinding his teeth. ‘He says he’s a lawyer, and that he has an important message for Scorpio, only he calls him Mr George Bradley. Is that Scorpio’s last name?’

‘Yeah. Did Wilson say what the message was about?’

‘He keeps the lid screwed down pretty tight, this guy. I’d like him for
my
lawyer. But he did say it wasn’t anything that could harm Scorpio.’

‘It was
me
who got him to tell you that!’ Divya hissed.

‘Yeah, by threatening to rip your blouse and shout that he attacked you in the lift. A little over the top, if you ask me.’

‘That’s what the top is
for
, stupid! It’s for going
over
. What else would the top be for?’

‘He say anything else?’ I asked.

‘No. He won’t say anything more. Professional ethics, he said.’

‘If you’d just let me scream,’ Divya said, ‘you’d know it all by now. But oh, no! Screaming isn’t an acceptable tactic, for the great detective!’

‘And if you screamed your way into a police cell, would I be doing my job?’ Naveen demanded.

‘How come you guys are still together?’ I asked. ‘Didn’t you sort out the wannabe Bollywood actor guy already?’

‘We did,’ Naveen sighed. ‘But her father has this big business deal going down –’

‘Mukesh Devnani doesn’t do
big
deals,
chamcha
,’ Divya interrupted. ‘My father does huge,
humungous
deals.’

‘Her father has this huge, humungous deal going down,’ Naveen continued, ‘and apparently there’s been some bad blood among the parties who
aren’t
party to the deal. There’ve been some threats. Nasty stuff. Her dad’s playing safe. He asked me to stay on with this brat for a couple of weeks, until the deal’s done.’

‘I’m not a brat!’ Divya snapped, sticking out her tongue. ‘And the end of this arrangement can’t come fast enough for me, I’m telling you!’

‘Did you just stick your tongue out at me?’ Naveen asked, astounded.

‘It’s a legitimate response,’ she pouted.

‘Sure, if you’re four years old.’

‘So . . . ’ I cut in. ‘What happened with Wilson?’

‘I knew you were here,’ Naveen said quickly. ‘One of the guests at the party upstairs said he saw you, on the way up. He said you were having dinner with Ranjit Choudry. I thought this might be the only chance to bring this thing to a conclusion, so I told Wilson to meet us outside, on the sea wall. He’s waiting there now. What do you think?’

‘I think we should talk with this guy. If he’s what he says he is, we should take him to the Zodiac Georges. Divya, will you stay here with my girlfriend, Lisa?’

‘Don’t
you
start!’ she growled.

‘That’s what we were fighting about, before,’ Naveen explained. ‘I told her if you wanted to go with me to see the Georges with this guy Wilson, she should stay here at the hotel, in safety. She won’t buy it.’

‘Are you kidding?’ she snapped. ‘The most interesting thing to happen for like, a grillion years, going with this mystery man to see these Zodiac guys, whoever the fuck they are, and you want me to sit it out like a good little girl? No way. I’m a bad girl. I’m coming with.’

I glanced at Naveen. His half-smile and resigned shrug told me how much he’d become accustomed to giving in to the girl, in the days they’d been together.

‘Okay. Wait here. I’ll tell Lisa.’

I went back to the table, put my hands on the back of her chair, and leaned in close to whisper in her ear. I told her the situation, and then made an apology to the table.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry to say that I’ve been called to an emergency, involving a friend. Please excuse me.’

‘We agreed to have dinner with Ranjit,’ Lisa said, furious and loud.

‘Lisa –’

‘And if you haven’t noticed, that’s what we’re in the middle of doing.’

‘Yeah, but –’

‘It’s just
rude
,’ she said flatly.

‘It’s an emergency. It’s Scorpio, Lisa.’

‘Is that why you’re leaving?’ she demanded angrily. ‘Or is it because Karla isn’t here?’

I stared at her, feeling hurt without knowing exactly why. Scorpio and Gemini were our friends, and it was important for them.

She stared back at me evenly, her eyes betraying nothing but anger. Ranjit broke the silence.

‘Well, we’ll be very sorry to see you leave, Lin. But rest assured, Lisa will be in good hands. And perhaps you’ll return from your . . . pressing matter . . . in time for dessert. I dare say we’ll be here for a while yet.’

He looked at me, his smile as open and ingenuous as ever. Lisa didn’t move.

‘Really,’ Ranjit said, putting his hand over Lisa’s on the table. ‘We’ll do our best to keep Lisa entertained. Don’t worry.’