The Mountain Shadow

‘Lisa, we loved you, and you knew that, in your heart. We loved your smile, and your free mind, and your habit of dancing for no reason, and your cheating at charades, and the way you loved us all, every time you saw us. But most of all, we loved your sincerity. You never faked it, Lisa, as you Americans say. You were always the real person. If there is any essence of your spirit lingering here, come into our hearts, now, and stay with us, when we leave this place where you left us, so that we can carry you inside us, and always love you.’

‘Didier,’ I said, after a while. ‘Thank you. That was really nicely put.’

‘Of course,’ he replied, pulling me through the door, and closing it for the last time. ‘If you could only hear the words that I have prepared for you, my dear friend.’

‘You already wrote lines for when I’m dead?’ I asked, taking the stairs.

‘Didier should not be caught on the hop, as they say. Especially if it concerns a beloved friend.’

‘I . . . guess not. Have you composed farewells for all your beloved friends?’

‘No, Lin,’ he said, as we reached the courtyard of the building. ‘Only you. I have only written such words for you. What I said just now for Lisa, it was from my heart. And you, my still-living friend, are attracting interest from bookmakers, ready to give odds on your survival outside the Sanjay Company.’

I looked back at the apartment building. Without her body to see dead, and believe dead, the apartment we’d shared was all I had of her, and what we were. It had been a light, happy place for both of us, most of the time. But I knew that for me alone, every time I saw it would be a conversation with the ghost of God.

Chapter Thirty-Six

It was harder to get into Ranjit’s media headquarters than it was to break out of prison. After three levels of security, each one checking my VISITOR tag and none checking my metal, I finally reached his private secretary.

‘The name is Shantaram,’ I said, for the fourth time. ‘It’s a private, and personal, matter.’

She picked up a phone, spoke the mantra, and then opened the door.

Ranjit rose from his leather chair, extending his hand over the desk. The secretary left, closing the door.

‘Sit down,’ I said.

‘What do you –’

‘All that security, and no-one thought to ask me if I was carrying a gun.’

‘A gun?’ he gasped.

‘Sit down.’

He sat down, his hands floating on the glass-topped desk.

‘Where’s Karla?’

‘Karla? You’re here about Karla?’

‘Where’s Karla?’

‘Why?’

‘Pick up the phone.’

‘What?’

‘Pick up the phone, and call Karla.’

‘Why don’t . . . why don’t you call her?’

‘I don’t like phones. And I don’t need one, because I can make you call her for me. You see that, right?’

‘See . . . what?’

‘Call Karla.’

‘I –’

‘Call Karla.’

‘You call me,’ Karla’s voice said from behind me, ‘and I come.’

She was sitting in an armchair in a corner of the large office. Potted palms beside her chair had hidden her from sight.

She seemed angry, and very glad to see me. I’d walked into a fight they’d been having.

‘Hello, Karla. In the corner for bad behaviour?’

‘Ranjit and I have a new agreement,’ she said, lighting a cigarette, shafts of light and dark on her face through the palm leaves. ‘If we find ourselves in the same room, we sit as far apart as we can.’

‘Are you done here?’ I asked, staring into queens.

Ranjit laughed. I faced him. The laugh stopped so quickly that he almost choked on it.

‘What are you laughing at?’

‘I . . . well . . . I . . . really have no idea.’

He was terrified. It didn’t make sense. Sure, I’d mentioned a gun, but I wasn’t carrying one, and Karla was there, and she was. He was safe, but he was sweating hard.

‘You know that expression, where you tell someone they look like they’ve seen a ghost?’

‘I . . . I suppose,’ he replied.

‘Well, you look like the ghost.’

‘The . . . ghost? Whose ghost?’

‘What’s wrong with you?’

‘You . . . said you had a gun.’

He was shaking.

‘I said that no-one thought to ask me if I was carrying a gun. I didn’t say I had one.’

‘Well, yes . . . I mean, no.’

‘Is there anything you want to tell me, Ranjit?’

‘No!’ he said quickly. ‘Nothing at all.’

‘What do you know about Lisa’s death?’

‘Nothing. Nothing. The poor girl. A tragic accident. That is, I mean . . . nothing at all.’

‘Goodbye, Ranjit, and please don’t wait up,’ Karla said, standing, and walking to the door.

I opened the door for her and we left the office. Ranjit was still sitting in his chair, his hands splayed on the desk as if he was trying to stop it floating away.

When the elevator doors closed, she took out a flask, drank a sip, closed it and turned to me, all queens.

‘Do you think I had something to do with her death?’

‘What?’

‘The cops did. Worked me over pretty good. Only left bruises where I won’t show.’

I felt my stomach drop. Anger filled the empty inside.

‘Lightning Dilip?’

‘He sends his regards,’ she said.

The doors opened on a small crowd in the lobby. She stopped me in the doorway, blocking the people. Our faces were inches apart.