‘Mamba?’ I queried.
‘A couple of years back there was an incident in upstate New York when a snake collector’s mamba snake bit and killed his girlfriend. The most intriguing part of it was that the girlfriend went to the snake and deliberately put her hand inside the cage to get bitten because when the cops found her, she was lying sprawled out on the ground right in front of the cage. The snake was still in its cage with the door closed but not locked. The case was highlighted in the media for a while. After that, a lot of people started getting mamba tattoos and even mamba merchandise. This particular design you have here—one of my co-workers, Amy, got a hip flask done which looks identical to the serpent on your lighter.’
‘Is Amy around?’
‘Sure. Hey Amy, come over here. This lady wants to talk to you.’
Another heavily tattooed woman with pink streaks in her hair showed up.
‘Yeah hon, how can I help you?’
‘I was wondering if you could tell me something more about this,’ I pointed to the serpent on the lighter.
‘Oh that. Well I got one of those drawn on a hip flask from a place in the West Village.’
‘Would you happen to remember the address?’
‘It was some time ago. Somewhere on Downing Street I think,’ she said. ‘There is a deli right next to it, some Italian-sounding name.’
‘Do you think I could have a look at your flask?’
‘Follow me.’ She took me to the back of the store and pulled it out.
‘One can never be too sure if people are looking. I am at work but I don’t mind a quick swig every once in a while.’
I looked at the flask. It was identical to what my perpetrator had left. I thanked Amy.
I picked up some random book. I now had some sort of a lead. I ran to the checkout counter and paid quickly.
I then hailed a cab and went to the West Village. I got off at Downing Street and walked around until I came across a deli called Grottos. That sounded Italian enough. It was right next to a souvenir store selling all kinds of touristy merchandise such as the Statute of Liberty’s, ‘I Love New York’ t-shirts, yellow toy cabs and as luck would have it, I saw a Sardarji standing behind the counter.
‘Hello, Sir-ji.’
‘Hello, Madam. Are you visiting from India?’
‘Yes, I am. I have heard a lot about your store. I heard you do inscriptions.’
‘Madam, you know how enterprising we Indians are. I thought instead of making this shop a regular souvenir store, why not add some services?’
‘That’s an excellent idea. It’s always good to find ways to expand the business.’
I pulled out the lighter from my bag. ‘Sir-ji, do you by any chance recognize this snake?’
‘Oh yes, it’s my work. This was the rage a couple of years back.’
‘Do you remember who got this particular one done?’
‘Madam, let me see.’ Sardarji was quiet, scratching his beard, deep in thought. I was on tenterhooks.
‘Now I remember. This is an expensive lighter and the person who came in was very classy and good-looking and what struck me about him was why would such a sophisticated man come in to get something like this done? But Madam, you know this world is full of strange people. I remember having to deliver this to the Waldorf Astoria. I will have his card and the receipt somewhere.’
‘Would it be possible for you to look for it?’ I was now getting very excited.
‘Since it was a couple of years back, this might take time. Is there a number I can reach you at?’
I scribbled my number on a piece of paper and handed it over to him.
He saw her leaving the store. Once he was sure she had left, he went inside. He noticed that the owner was in the backroom, probably looking for his details. He locked the store behind him without making any noise and placed a ‘closed’ sign on the door window.
He went into the back room.
The Sardarji sensed there was somebody standing behind him. He was clutching onto a paper, about to call that lady who had just left his store. He looked shocked by the coincidence of seeing the stranger standing right in front of him. Before he could say anything, he saw a gleaming knife being pulled out.
He pulled the paper from his lifeless fingers and left the store via the fire exit like nothing had happened.
38
I KNEW I had to speak to Aryana and ask if she had noticed somebody lurking outside her house. Any clue would help at this point. But I looked at my watch and saw that if I didn’t get moving, I would most definitely be late for my meeting with AK. So Aryana would have to wait for the time being.
I reached the office in no time. The meeting was thankfully just two hours long because AK had to be somewhere else so he rushed through everything. After which it was time for me to head to Aryana’s place. I hailed an empty cab and prayed that I finally got some answers.
The door to her apartment was open. I stood at the door asking tentatively, ‘Hello, is anyone in?’
‘Yes my dear, come in. I was waiting for you.’ I had a feeling she knew I would come again and was indeed waiting for me.
I went inside. She was sitting looking quite composed on the sofa. I also noticed she hadn’t changed her clothes since the last time we met and she looked as if in a trance-like state. I didn’t know if this was really a good idea. I was borderline spooked out but desperate situations make people take desperate measures.
She closed her eyes and guided me to a couch opposite her.
I obliged and sat down. I slyly put my hand in my bag trying to retrieve anything that would protect me in case of an attack. All I could find was a pair of tweezers and my keys. So I clutched my keys.
‘You didn’t sleep, did you?’
‘No, but anybody could have guessed that most people who are disturbed barely get any sleep.’
‘You like dogs more than cats?’
I was starting to get irritated. I didn’t come here for a friendly chit chat. I needed some answers and I had thought this lady would be in a position to help me.
‘Patience, my dear, patience.’
She then took my hand and placed it in hers. She had the softest hands and mine were clammy. I was nervous.
‘Tara, I need you to give me an object close to you. It helps me get clearer visions.’
I released the keys and my fingers touched something smooth. I pulled it out. It happened to be the lighter. Even though it wasn’t really mine, I felt like it was a clue to something. I handed it over to Aryana.
Without even as much as a glance at it she took it in her hands and closed her eyes. I had imagined she would writhe and shake and scream incoherent things. Didn’t most clairvoyants do those types of things? I was in for a pleasant surprise.
Aryana finally opened her eyes and smiled to me in a strange way, like she was physically here but mentally somewhere else. She stared at me for a couple of minutes and then closed her eyes again. This was really a bad idea. She then opened her eyes again and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen and started writing things on it. It looked like she was sketching. Was Aryana a professional artist? She kept sketching.
Suddenly, there was a screeching sound from the back of the house. She smiled apologetically.
‘It’s probably my cat. Do you mind if I go get Mr Mooches inside before he scratches the door out?’
‘Sure.’
Did I really have a choice? While she was gone I pulled out my US cell phone and decided to have a look to see if I had received any emails. I lost track of time and I noticed that she hadn’t returned and it was starting to get a little nippy in the living room.
‘Aryana, where are you?’ I called out.
I was not familiar with the apartment and it was early evening. It was beginning to get dark. I thought I would take a quick look around before she came back. I got up and walked to a window which looked out onto a balcony. After gazing out for a few seconds I decided to tiptoe towards the bedro
om. As soon as I stepped in I stifled a cry. In a huge fish tank lay coiled the biggest python I had ever seen! I didn’t know how long I stood in shock but as soon as I recovered my senses I walked out of the bedroom and straight towards the main door. I couldn’t stay at this weird place any more.
There was still no sign of Aryana. Before leaving I thought, what the hell, let me pick up the paper on which she had been drawing. I looked carefully. It looked like Aryana had been sketching some kind of a symbol. I couldn’t really make out what it was—it was a human face with bulging eyes. Maybe I would be able to interpret it later on. I stuffed it in my bag and then I remembered that the lighter had been lying on the table, so I picked that up too and left, closing the door behind me.
Aryana came back to her drawing room and said, ‘Tara, I am so sorry. But Mr Mooches had run away and I had to . . .’ But she noticed that Tara had already left.
39
I BEGAN TO feel better the moment I left the apartment. Just then my cell phone started ringing. It was Riya. I picked it up.
‘Hello Tara. It’s me, Riya.’
‘What on the earth is wrong with you?’ I screamed into the phone. I noticed a pedestrian looking at me curiously but I ignored him. This was not the time to be polite.
‘Why did you send me to Aryana? She is not even your aunt! She told me that herself.’
‘Oh Tara, I am sorry if you got offended. But . . .’
I cut her short. ‘And you think I have come to New York on holiday and that I have all the time in the world to go meet someone you hardly even know? If she had been a real relative of yours, I would understand. But this is outrageous!’
‘But Tara’, Riya said soothingly. ‘That really wasn’t my plan. I was just trying to help. I know you have been going through a difficult time and she has powers, so I thought she could help you out.’
Having vented already I was a little calmer now. ‘But Riya, do you know she keeps a python in her apartment? I am sorry but . . .’
‘I know Tara. I am sorry too,’ and she hung up.
I was a little taken aback by her abruptness but I needed to focus on other things right now and did not have the mind space to dwell on Riya.
I pulled out the sketch from my bag and stared at it for a minute not being able to make any sense of what was drawn on it. Then a sudden thought struck me. I hailed a cab and directed the driver to the Corner Book Shop. Maybe the tattooed manager could help me with an explanation or at least direct me to books on the esoteric arts. There should be a book or two on the subject at the store. At least I hoped so.
I quickly got out of the cab and walked to the entrance.
‘Welcome back,’ the manager smiled broadly at me.
I pulled out the paper from my bag.
‘I need some more help from you. See this paper? Do have any books that interpret symbols or sketches?’
He looked at it for a couple of minutes and smiled.
‘Hey Tom, is Amy still in there?’
‘No, she isn’t.’
He looked back me.
‘Ma’am, the girl who could help you has left for the day. Perhaps you could come in tomorrow and see her during our usual business hours. It’s also our closing time now.’
‘Okay,’ I said, not sure if I would have the time since I was flying out to California the next day. ‘Perhaps, Miss, I could take a photograph of this sketch on my cell phone and when Amy comes in tomorrow she can have a look at it? If there is something she will call you back. Please give me your number.’
‘That would be wonderful.’ Smiling gratefully I wrote down my number in the guest register and left.
40
I REACHED MY apartment and noticed there were no sheets on the bed and I recalled my outburst of the previous night. I opened a couple of closets and finally found the spare bed linen. I made my bed, making a mental note to pay for the sheets I had thrown away.
I slept pretty well that night, perhaps in sheer exhaustion. I woke up in the morning and quickly took a shower. I had about an hour before I was to head out. Sardarji hadn’t called, so I decided to pay him a quick visit and find out if he had found the name of the person who owned the lighter.
Since Sardarji’s store was in a lane, I asked the cabbie to park in the street. When I approached the store, I realized it had been taped around it with yellow caution tape, like straight out of a movie scene. Since the store had been cordoned off, there was no way of knowing what had happened. I went inside the deli Grotto and approached one of the young servers behind the counter.
‘Hey, do you by any chance know why the store next door has been cordoned off?’
‘Haven’t you seen the local news?’
‘No. I am not a local, am visiting for a few days only.’
‘Ah, ok. The store owner was murdered.’
‘What? How?’ I described the Sardarji to him.
‘Miss, you don’t think I know who you are talking about? He’s been around for ages.’
‘But how did it happen? I talked to him just yesterday!’
‘I don’t have the details. The police are still investigating.’
‘What time did this happen?’
‘Sometime yesterday. It was my day off so I don’t know the exact details.’
My heart started palpitating. ‘Thanks for the info,’ I managed to stutter before stumbling out of the deli, my mind numb with shock.
I just had the uncanny feeling that this had something to do with me and the name and address I had asked for. Was the poor man killed because of me then? I dreaded to think about it. It could not be a crazy coincidence that I visited him and the next thing he was killed. It almost seemed like déjà vu—first Bahadur and his girlfriend, and now Sardarji. Was I going to be next?
This person who was stalking me was a killer and he had followed me all the way from New Delhi to New York. I had no courage left in me to visit the book store any more and I went back to my service apartment.
41
I TRIED TO brush all negative thoughts from my mind and got into a cab for the airport. One of the best things about the San Francisco trip was that I would not have to fly with either Mr Kapoor or Sailesh. My ticket had been booked last and separately because initially Mr Kapoor wasn’t sure if I needed to go. That worked for me. I was really in no mood to deal with either an infuriating boss or an annoying colleague. The only thing I was praying for now was that Project Emerald would go through without a hitch and then I could focus on this other aspect of my life.
On my way to the airport my cell phone started ringing. It looked like it was a local New York number.
‘Hello.’
‘Hello. This is Amy calling from the book store. You were here yesterday after I had left?’
‘Ah yes, of course. Thanks so much for calling.’ My heart began to race at what she might say next.
‘I have taken a look at the photograph and by the little I can make out I am pretty sure the person was trying to sketch the Devil.’
‘The Devil?’ I asked alarmed.
‘Yes, it’s from the tarot cards. The Devil represents the hidden forces of negativity that constrain a person and trick them into thinking that they are imprisoned by external forces out of their control. The Devil is the inner force within each of us. He represents our fears, addictions and other harmful impulses. He is a master of deception and creates the illusion that you are involuntarily bound to him. More generally, the Devil indicates that you are becoming obsessed and hell-bent on a particular idea, situation or endeavour. You are over-investing yourself in one area at the expense of other areas of your life.’
I was speechless.
‘Are you still there?’
‘Yes. Thanks, you have been very helpful. I . . . umm . . . have a flight to catch but thank you for calling back.’
‘Not a problem. Safe travels!’
I hung up. What was Aryana trying to tell me? Maybe she wasn’t as bad as I had imagined her to be. Was s
he trying to warn me? Maybe against the stalker? I was convinced she knew something.
42
I FINALLY REACHED the airport and made my way to the terminal. It was raining heavily, even though it was mid-August and it usually didn’t rain like this. La Guardia was crowded as usual. After security check-in, I decided to browse through some of the stores. I had skipped breakfast in all the excitement, so I went over to a kiosk and ordered a small coffee and a bagel with extra cream cheese. Who cared? I would burn it off when I returned to India. Now I needed some comfort food.
After breakfast I headed over to the newspaper stand and picked up some glossies to read.
I looked at the chaos all around me: business travellers working on their laptops, screeching children not listening to their parents, young teenagers cozying up to their partners or chatting on their phones—in all this mayhem the terrors of the recent past seemed a distant reality.
As I gazed absent-mindedly at the crowd, occasionally dipping into my magazine as I waited for my flight to be announced, something, or rather somebody, caught my eye. I squinted to get a better look but there was a big crowd separating us. I looked at my watch. I still had a little time before boarding so I decided to kill my curiosity by following this person. For some reason he looked familiar and I was in a crowded place now—no one could hurt me here.
He wore an all-black outfit and there was a black cap half-covering his face. His back was to me so I couldn’t see who it was. I think he sensed me approaching him and his pace increased. I almost ran to catch up with him. I couldn’t let go of him now.
The crowd was thinning and we had reached a more secluded section of the airport. I hadn’t realized how far I had gone but if my guess was correct, if I didn’t turn around now, I would definitely miss my flight. Just when I had started to slow down and was about to give up, something caught my eye: a set of mirrors stood against Sunglass Hut, an eyeglass store and I saw the man’s reflection in them.
It was Jay. It was as if a huge boulder had knocked me down. How could it be Jay—Jay, Riya’s boyfriend? What was he doing here? I called out to him and the man pretended not to hear me. Was it then not Jay but someone else who looked him? The man had now crossed the row of mirrors and moved away, so I had no way of confirming.
S.t.a.l.k.e.d. Page 10
