‘Ok buddy, that’s enough. I want you to turn round. Do you hear me?!’ The man shifted forward away from him.
‘Everything is ok, sir. Just a little further, you will see.’
Ted was sweating now. This was a tough call in a strange city, but he knew he was right.
‘Stop the car. Now! We want this car turned round. We’re going back into the city, do you hear!’
‘Ted? Are you sure about this?’
Erin was getting agitated. What was he trying to prove to her? How could he possibly know better than a local taxi driver? The driver was in a state now and began to speed up, crashing into top gear and careering through crossroads with total abandon.
‘Stop the car, you idiot!’
Ted reached forward and with hands pulled on the shoulders of the driver and shook him. It didn’t work.
‘Ok buddy, enough is enough!’
He put one arm round the man’s neck and squeezed.
‘Ted! My god what are you doing, you lunatic! We’ll crash!’
The driver, gasping and gagging, made one last wrench of his wheel, The car swung down a narrow street, demolishing a pile of refuse in a cloud of rotting green and cardboard. As the screen cleared of debris, the taxi broke out into a small bare patch of ground, a maidan formed by squat grey houses on four sides. It was perhaps half the size of a football pitch. There was no exit ahead.
With Ted’s arm tight round his neck, the driver came to a jerking stop half way across the dusty square. The engine stalled. Ted let go. The driver took his chance, shoved open the door and started to run back the way they’d come.
Ted’s eyes followed him just in time to see a car draw up, plugging the way in. It held a driver, and two men in the back. They were all hanging out the open windows. The car reversed a couple of feet to make sure it was blocking as much of the exit as possible. Ted’s driver reached the new arrivals and started shouting and pointing furiously back at Ted and Erin. The two men in the back piled out and began to run towards them. Knives glinted in the sun.
THIRTY
‘It’s a set-up! It’s a goddamn set-up!’
Ted pounds the back of the driver’s seat. Erin is going oh god, oh god. Ted launches his great bulk out through door.
‘Where are you going!’ she wails.
He dives in through the open driver’s door and jams himself behind the wheel. Fumbles for the key left in the ignition. The engine splutters, the car jumps forward and dies. In gear. Hasn’t used a stick shift since his army days. He wrenches it back and forward and finds neutral. Tries the ignition again, floors the accelerator at the same time. It splutters but still doesn’t catch. Flooded.
‘Hurry! Hurry!’ she’s shouting.
He leans back, breathes, takes right foot off the accelerator, checks mirror. Men charging, light flickering on knives. Gently, gently, turns the key. Feels the rumble. Touches accelerator. Senses revs dropping again, about to stall! Lifts foot from pedal. Hears engine stutter, gasp, roar into life. Got it! Flings the gear-stick into first, releases the hand brake. Flattens the pedal and kangaroos off.
First man hurls himself onto the bonnet, face contorted in anger, scrabbling at the windscreen. Second man gains purchase through the open window of the rear passenger door. Begins climbing in.
Ted wrenches the wheel back and forward. The engine races as the revs mount. Slams into second gear and spins the wheel hard to the left. Man on bonnet sails off. Man two now half way through Erin’s window, slashing at her. Pinning her in the far corner.
Ted flails with his big fist. Gets lucky and catches the man full on the side of the head. Man lurches back, dazed but not out, and still clinging to the door pillar. Erin delves into her small shoulder bag, pulls out a small canister. Rams it into the face of the attacker and presses. Jet of pepper spray floods his face. Howls and drops his knife and falls backwards out the window. Ted helps him on his way with a final swerve to the right.
Running out of square now. Slams gearstick into reverse, kicks up a dust cloud making it impossible to spy the way out. Wrenches at the handbrake and spins the steering wheel, all the time foot hard to the floor in second gear. Engine shrieks and car judders round on the dirt and gravel. First man comes at them again. Ted doesn’t hesitate. Slips off the brake and shoots forward. The man crunches into the bonnet and smashes the windscreen as he bounces and caterwauls up and over the roof.
Ted punches out the shattered glass. As the dust clears he makes out the car parked across the entrance. Takes aim, revs the engine, holding the car rocking on the handbrake. Wheels spin as the engine howls up and up. Ted lets go.
‘Hold on, Erin!’
‘Go! Go! Go!’ she pounds his shoulder.
Ted guns the car straight down the narrow exit. Sees gaps either side of the blockading car, but not nearly wide enough for the black and yellow. Blasts down the alley until he can see the driver’s face, sees the scar running from the bridge of the nose down across the right cheek. Sees a mix of fear and rage distort the already splintered features.
Ted too, consumed with anger. Thinking only of ramming, of crushing scarface. Making the killer tackle. Twenty yards out. No seatbelts, car a tin can on wheels. Reason cuts in. He swings to the left, aiming for the rear. Assuming engine and the greatest mass are at the front. Maybe. A gust of smoke erupts from the exhaust of the marauders’ car. Driver chicken? Trying to move before getting hit? Too late.
Ted’s hefty old Ambassador cannons into the rear wheel and wing in a grinding shockwave of tortured metal. Impact tosses the stationary car round 90 degrees, enough to clear the way. Tears his own wing off, exposing the whirling tyre, but momentum ploughs them through. Wrenches at the wheel, hopes the front axle still answers. Taxi lurches, bounces off a low kerb and keeps going.
Sees and feels the front wheel out of kilter. Grapples with the unbalanced machine. Wrestling it round a corner, grazing the side of a building. He plunges the car ever northwards, turning and twisting but always knowing his direction. Makes a final left, drives as far as he can, then left again. Stumbles onto the ring road and turns south again, heading back to he Hyatt, back to sanctuary. Rumbling and bumping and swaying along at low speed, wind blasting through the broken screen.
Ted sucks at his torn knuckles as the adrenalin starts washing through, leaving him trembling and chilled. Continually checking the mirror. Erin sitting twisted round in the back seat scouring the traffic for pursuit. Dabbing her streaming eyes.
‘You OK?’ he shouts over the wind noise.
‘Gassed!’
Their faces were sandblasted and raw by the time they took the hotel slip road and pulled to a halt in front of the main entrance. Ted slowly relaxed his bloody hands on the wheel. His arms were trembling with the effort of keeping the car running true. They sat in stunned silence wiping the dust and the perspiration from their faces, and breathing deeply.
Suddenly a turbaned head with a magnificent moustache thrust itself through the smashed screen. A massive doorman dressed in the uniform of the Bengal Lancers registering astonishment at finding a white man furled over the steering wheel. He stood back, inspected the damaged wing then came round and opened the doors for Ted and Erin. The pair stumbled out and embraced each other.
Ted turned to the wide-eyed doorman.
‘We were attacked. Can you call the police please?’
The giant saluted him. ‘Certainly, sir. What name is it please?’
‘Saddler. And hold onto this taxi. It’s evidence.’
‘There’s a knife in the back as well,’ Erin said.
‘Do you need a doctor, sir and madam?’
Ted looked at Erin. She shook her head and wiped away the last pepper spray tears.
‘No. No, we’re fine. Just a drink.’
They found the bar and flopped into two easy chairs. They sat staring at each other not knowing what to say. Their drinks came – double brandy for him, soda for her. Erin took a gulp and called back the waiter. She
pointed at Ted’s glass.
‘Another one of those, please.’
When it arrived, Erin drank greedily. She spluttered and coughed, and wiped her eyes.
‘I thought you’d gone mad…’
‘I thought the car wasn’t gonna start…’
‘That guy who bounced off the bonnet…’
‘The way you blasted him with the spray…’
‘New York training…’
‘Remind me to buy you a refill…’
‘Where did you learn to drive getaway cars?’
A smile cracked his face and was reflected on hers. They began to guffaw and finally they were laughing until the tears reappeared on her face and she wept uncontrollably. He got up and went over and sat on the arm of her chair and put his arm round her. Any man’s arm might have done just then. But there weren’t that many who could have pulled off such a stunt. She patted his hand. He got the message and took his arm away. She took a deep breath and stilled the shuddering.
‘I’m ok now. Those bastards. That wasn’t a random mugging, was it?’
‘It was planned.’
‘Terrorist kidnapping?’
They exchanged looks, each hoping for some comforting explanation from the other.
‘Maybe. But why pick on us? We just got here. The city’s full of foreigners.’
‘And they didn’t want hostages. They were out to kill us.’ Erin’s eyes filled.
‘Maybe their plan went wrong. They panicked.’
‘You panicked them, Ted. You were great. Look I’m sorry about railroading you back at the bank. And for shouting at you.’
‘Forget it. I’m sorry I blew up.’
He went back to his seat and dragged it closer. She smudged at her eyes. and tried a smile.
‘It was Warwick, wasn’t it,’ she said.
‘Nah. Local gang.’
They didn’t want to think it. Too farfetched. Too scary. She shook her head.
‘He’s found us. If he’s tapping phones at head office, he’ll know I’m not having a facial and a back rub at the HK Peninsula.’
‘Did you book your flights to Kolkata and Delhi with your GA card?’
Her face crumpled. ‘Oh, God, Ted. They were after me. Both of us, now. After your last column. What have I got you into?’
‘We don’t know for sure it was him. Anyway I’m paid to write a column.’
But not enough. And not from here. The job is sitting at a nice safe desk in Manhattan filing a column like any sane journalist. So what the hell am I doing here, fending off knife attacks in the middle of a twenty mile slum? This woman on a mission was going to get him killed. Stan wanted him to get some ‘colour’ into his column. It could be red.
Erin doubled over, clutching her stomach, her face etched with pain.
‘Are you ok?’ he asked.
‘It’s a stomach thing. I get it sometimes. I’m out of practice.’
‘So what do we do now?’
‘We file a report with the police and then get the hell out of here. Back to the US of A. I’ll call Ramesh and CJ and tell them it’s off. This is too dangerous.’
‘We can’t do that! We have to see this through. Especially now. Sure, let’s get the police. And then let’s get out of here. But we’ll go to wherever it was that CJ mentioned. We tell no one where we’re going. It’s a big country.’
He heard the ‘we’ word. That convinced him. Not only would he continue to be exposed to local assassins, but she’d make his life misery right up until his final moments.
‘You are completely crazy. You know that? You come within a blade’s width of getting killed and you want to carry on? No way.’
She looked stricken. ‘But we have to, Ted. If we walk away now, we might as well give up the whole bloody thing. Remember what we said? What we agreed? Lead with our hearts and not with our heads? Give it our best shot?’
‘But not get shot.’
The silence grew between them. They held each other’s stares trying to read what was there. He broke first.
‘Ok, ok. Fine. No-one’s gonna miss my hide. And look, when the police come, I think it best we make no mention of the bigger picture, ok? Either these guys won’t believe us or they’ll have us spend a week filling out forms in some downtown hell hole. Keep it simple. We’re tourists. This was a mugging. And we’d probably best not say we’re checking out in the morning. Speak of the devil.’
Ted got up to greet the two policemen in khaki who were being pointed towards them by the doorman.
‘This is going to take a little explaining.’
THIRTY ONE
Oscar was exuberant. This was turning out the best fun since his coming out party at 16.
‘Albert! Come quick. We have work to do.’
Albert walked sulkily out from the kitchen and stood in exaggerated enquiry with his muscled arms folded across his tight vest.
‘Oh put that look away, darling. I promised you we’d have a ball. Well it’s getting better all the time.’
‘You’ve been talking to that snooty bitch haven’t you?’
‘Albert, she’s a perfectly nice lady - as ladies go. And she’s not snooty, as snooty goes. That’s just her accent. Now stop being a moody boy and help me gather up a few of our friends.’
‘A party?’ Albert dropped his arms and his eyes widened in enthusiasm.
‘Sort of. It’s time for the Lone Ranger and Tonto, his trusty sidekick, to ride. And we’re going to need some help this time. All hands to the keyboard. Now what is it?’
Albert was pouting. ‘Can we do it properly then?’
‘You silly thing! Of course we’ll do it properly.’
Oscar climbed off his seat and tripped across the room followed by a happier Albert. Some time later, following giggles from the bedroom, the pair returned. Oscar was wearing a skin-tight pale grey shirt and matching trousers. Round his Michelin middle was a black leather belt studded with silver stars. From it, hung a brace of glittering Colt revolvers. On his feet were black cowboy boots with silver snakes and silver spurs. On his head was an immaculate white ten gallon hat. Across his bulging eyes was a black mask.
Albert was bare to the waist except for a glittering chest-guard of strung beads hanging from a cord round his neck. Two red stripes ran either side of his nose. A leather strap ran round his head, a single feather jutted up from the back. A copper band gripped his muscled upper arm. He wore soft leather chaps with tassels running from hip to ankle down each side join. His feet were clad in moccasins. He twirled in mock war-dance round the fountain, showing off the string of the thong disappearing between his bare cheeks.
The Lone Ranger and Tonto took up seats alongside each other facing a bank of screens. Lone Ranger took off his hat and carefully placed it on top of his screen. He raised his arms like a grand pianist above his keyboard.
‘Are we ready, Tonto?’
Albert smiled. ‘Yes, Kemosabe.’
‘Then Hi-Yo Silver! Away!’ Their hands plunged on to the keyboards and began to raise images.
‘OK, Tonto, let’s get in touch with this other tribe of Indians!’ He cut and pasted Erin’s email giving the contact details of the team leaders in Delhi. Albert watched the action on his second screen.
I’ve been given your names by a mutual friend. Please confirm id.
Lone Ranger-
Almost instantly a message came back.
we are so happy to connect Lone Ranger!! Please tell us what to do!
Vikram Vajpayee and Shivani Jaffrey-
show me whats been attacking you and what responses you’ve made. -LR-
we will need a few minutes to package it up please. We will send you copies of the main viruses and attack programs. You will need a quarantine area. Please stand by.
-VV- SJ
‘Ok, Tonto. Set up a corral for incoming wild mustangs. These guys are so the business!’
Some twenty minutes later Oscar and Albert were fielding huge downloads and pennin
g them in an area on a separate drive ring-fenced with firewalls of Oscar’s own design. They split the work between them and began to manipulate the virulent material like surgeons going after cancer cells.
‘I know this stuff. I’ve seen this guy’s handiwork before,’ said Oscar after half an hour of picking away.
Tonto nodded. ‘It’s Viper isn’t it?’
‘Absolutely. When did he get sprung? And what’s he doing working for a bank like Global American? That was rhetorical. I wonder how much they’re paying him? And if I’m not mistaken he’s got his team together again. I recognise some of his old hacker stuff here. God, doesn’t he ever move on?! So crude. So, not stylish!’
‘Fine by me, Lone Ranger. Makes our job easier.’
‘But not much of a challenge, darling, is it? Oh well. Let’s see what our Indian friends have been doing to stop Viper and the other snakes in the grass.’
Again they massaged their keyboards and dipped into and out of the programs that the team at the People’s Bank had used and patched together to combat the assaults.
‘Now these are what I call coders! Very clever! What do you think of this routine? And this one?’ Finally they sat back.
‘I’ve got just the silver bullets our friends need. Don’t you think? I’ll put them up on our web site and send our friends the links to strengthen their firewall. That should block the next 50 moves of Viper and his gang. Unless they do something different for a change. But why would they show any originality at this stage of their unremarkable careers? And then… then my gorgeous little redskin, we’ll plan the counter-attack.’
They worked through the day and long into the night on the virus control software. The Lone Ranger recording software chugged away in background, amassing phone calls and emails at GA’s head office. Crucially and almost fatally, it meant that Oscar and Albert didn’t catch the initial coded instructions to the team in New Delhi to waylay Erin Wishart and her companion. It was only in the early hours, when they’d paused for cake and coffee and checked status that they found out about the unsuccessful attempt.
MONEY TREE Page 16
