The Mountain Shadow

Gemini George suggested that they should give most of the money away. The Georges never lied, never cheated their customers, and never raised a hand to anyone. Life in the slums and back alleys of Bombay had given them a long list of friends and deserving recipients: people who’d helped them, managers of cheap restaurants and little shops who’d extended them life-saving lines of credit, a shuffle of beggars and street touts whose kindness had kept them afloat, and even a few cops, who’d always looked the other way.

With what remained of the money, Gemini enthused, they could have a long, unforgettable season of parties, and then put a modest amount into an interest-bearing account, paid monthly, and go back to living happily, and more comfortably, on the street.

Scorpio wasn’t tempted. Although he was horrified by the responsibilities and moral burdens of his sudden wealth, and he talked about it to everyone not skilled in the art of escaping pessimists, he couldn’t bring himself to part with it.

The first weeks of his prosperity were a nightmare, he said. Money is another word for misery, he said. Money is the ruin of peace, he said. But he wouldn’t embrace Gemini’s plan, and give the burden away.

He fretted, paced, moaned and mumbled. Shaved and trimmed, exfoliated and massaged, manicured and moisturised, the tall Canadian wandered back and forth in the luxurious suite, prosperously uneasy.

‘It will end badly, Lin,’ he said to me, when I dropped in to visit.

‘Everything ends badly, for everyone. That’s why we have art.’

‘I guess,’ he agreed vaguely, not consoled. ‘Did you see Gemini, when you came in? Is he still playing cards?’

‘I didn’t see him. A Sikh guy let me in. He called himself your major-domo.’

‘Oh, yeah. That’s Singh. He kinda runs the place. Him and Diva together. He’s got a schnozz on him, that guy. If your main job is looking down your nose at people, it helps to have a long one, I guess.’

‘He also has a short list, to go with that long nose.’

‘That’s . . . that’s because we had to put a limit on who gets in here, Lin. You wouldn’t believe how it’s been, since people started hearing about how I’ve got all this money.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘They’re hittin’ on us, day and night. The hotel had to double its security staff on this floor to cope. And people still managed to get up here. One of them was banging on the door, asking for money, while I was taking a dump.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘I haven’t been on the street for three days. People were crawlin’ outta the shadows, man, all of them with their hands out for money.’

I recalled that the Zodiac Georges had themselves emerged from a shoal of shadows over the years, and always brandishing the shell of an upturned palm.

‘Uh-huh.’

‘But don’t worry, Lin,’ Scorpio added hastily. ‘You’ll always be on the short list.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘No, I mean it, man. You always did right by us. And I’ll never forget it. Hey! Speaking of which, do you . . . do you need any –’

‘No, I’m good,’ I smiled. ‘Thanks anyway.’

‘Okay. Okay. Let’s go find Gemini. I want to tell him about the new security arrangements.’

We found the Londoner in an annex to the suite, designed for use as a guest’s temporary business office. Gemini George had covered the large desk with a tablecloth, and had converted the office into a gambling den.

He was playing poker with a selection of off-duty service personnel from the hotel. The litter of several meals, drinks and snacks indicated that the game had been running for a while.

‘Hey, Scorp! Hey, Lin!’ Gemini smiled happily, as we entered. ‘Pull up a chair. The game’s just hotting up.’

‘Too hot for me, Gemini.’

Gemini George was a skilful cheat, but he never took large sums of money off people, and he sometimes deliberately lost hands that he could’ve won. For him, the thrill was in not being detected, no matter how he played the hand.

‘Come on, Lin, push your luck.’

‘I prefer my luck to do the pushing. I’ll watch a couple of hands.’

‘Suit yourself,’ he said, winking at me and throwing a chip on the table to raise a bet. ‘Scorpio, did you get our guest a drink?’

‘I’m sorry, Lin.’

He whirled on the hotel staff, playing cards.

‘C’mon, you guys! You’re supposed to be working in this hotel. Fetch our guest a drink. Get him a . . . what, Lin?’

‘I’m good, Scorpio.’

‘No, please, have something.’

‘Okay. A fresh lime soda, no ice.’

One of the players wearing room service livery threw his cards into the pot, and left the table to get the juice.

There was a shout, coming from the main door of the suite. As we looked up, Didier entered the office, dragging the major-domo by the length of his prominent nose.

‘This imbecile insists that my name does not appear on the list of permitted guests,’ Didier huffed and puffed.

‘What an outrage,’ I said. ‘Like, say, pulling someone’s nose, for no reason.’