Golden Biker
Page 32
Would have been fabulous, I’m sure!”
Arthur nodded grudgingly. “You still have not told us what it is about!”
But Gerd could not get a word out. A big lump had formed inside his throat; tears were flooding his eyes, one of which started to twitch nervously again. His legs disobeyed him.
Without mercy, Babu and Willie dragged him away from the scene of the accident in the direction of the small back yards and alleyways.
Hermann’s column started to leave as well and disappeared into the dense traffic of Delhi.
Left behind were Shaki, Rajnesh, Number One, Number Two, Arthur and Bear. Arthur had gone dead pale, his knees knocking against each other. Somewhere a siren was wailing.
“Well” Shaki sighed eventually, his hand wiping through his oily hair, “that’s it then, Let’s find a quiet place somewhere and let’s get this over with.”
Number One and Number Two grabbed Bear and Arthur by the arm and pulled him along.
“Hey, and what about you?” Shaki called to Rajnesh, who nobody had taken any notice of, so far and who was standing there like struck by lightning.
“He shot her, just like that. Bang and finish. Dead!” Rajnesh murmured staring into the empty distance.
“What did you think he’d do? Propose to her first? That’s business, shorty. Sometimes I ask myself, what’s wrong with you!” Shaki gave him a light tap on the back of his head. “Let’s go now!”
Babu and Willie were pushing Gerd in front of them, deeper and deeper into the maze of dirty lanes. Only rarely did lanterns, whose dim light was reflected in the oil puddles on the dirty ground, illuminate the darkness. Gerd stumbled along, sobbing. Thoughts raced through his mind. This was what it looked like, his end, in a dirty backyard of Delhi? No friends, no job, no money, no wife—3.100 miles away from home, in India. He had never thought he would die that miserably. So that had been his life then, it had gone by like a flash. So much time wasted, and only now, just at the very end he had started to feel truly alive. When he had stopped to procrastinate, his life had actually started. And the years, decades before—all wasted. For the first time he had found the courage to confront his dreams. Yes he had seriously begun to think about going home to start to work on his Ice Capade. But it was too late now. It was all over. He had waited for too long.
“Stop!” he heard Babu’s icy voice behind him. “In here!” He was shoved into a dark tunnel-like alley connecting two backyards.
“Down on your knees!” One hand was placed heavily on his shoulder.
Gerd’s knees hit the puddle. He felt the cold hard metal of the gun in his neck and closed his eyes.
“Any last words you might have?” Willie’s voice sounded indifferently.
Those famous last words. How often had he watched a hero in a movie saying something cool or sarcastic, but he only felt like crying: Let me live!!
“I..., I don’t know... I don’t think so...!” he whispered faintly.
“How about: Sweet dreams you dumbasses!” he suddenly heard a stranger’s voice behind him followed by a couple of hollow thuds.
Very slowly Gerd turned around.
Babu and Willie lay outstretched on the dirty floor knocked unconscious. Above them legs apart, stood a very good looking Indian whose white suit had not a speck of dirt on it.
“Who are you?” said Gerd, astonished.
The elegant Indian gave a charming smile, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.
“Bindi, Apu Bindi. Your new best friend. Are you quite comfortable sitting in the dirt like that, or shall I give you a hand?”
Shaki looked around himself. “That’ll suit just fine!” he decided curtly.
They stopped next to some thick brushwork. The trees in the deserted park, illuminated by the few lanterns were casting long shadows. However, the tire tracks that had been carved into the well-groomed lawn by Shaki and his truck were quite visible.
Shaki smiled at both Bear and Arthur. “I just thought it might add a nice touch to it—dying here amongst the green!”
He motioned to Number One and Two, whereupon they forced Bear and Arthur down to their knees.
“Listen Shaki” Bear said from below, while the gangsters were forming a circle around them.
“I am really sorry about the incident with the curry sausage. But don’t you think, you’re overreacting a bit? I mean, look, my beach shack is gone, so is my motorbike. Shouldn’t we call it quits?”
Shaki reflected this for a moment. “Let me think... no, I don’t think we can call it quits, Bear.
We’re talking principles here. Nobody burns my gob, is that understood? You have showed no respect. I can’t let that slide!”
“And what about me?” Arthur whined, kneeling next to Bear in the grass. “Until you put that gun under my nose, I did not even know you!”
Shaki shrugged his shoulders. “Tough luck, the friends of my enemies...”
“... are your enemies...” finished Bear in a sardonic tone. “We’ve been through this. So let’s get it over with. Rather dead, than having to listen to this Mafia tough talk any longer!”
“Just a minute,” Arthur interjected, “I personally would rather be listening to some more Mafia tough talk! I hereby declare, that in this matter, Bear is speaking solely for himself!”
“Oh come on! You heard them; they’re going to kill us anyway. You really want to go on whinging some more?” Bear riled at Arthur.
“Unlike you, I am not really keen on getting killed. Let’s face it. It’s because of you that I got into this whole mess in the first place!” Arthur shouted back at him.
“Oh, now I am to blame for everything. Shouldn’t have come with me then!”
“What??? It was my idea from the beginning. Without me they would have already killed you in Goa!”
“You can kiss my ass!”
“And you mine!”
“No mine!”
“QUIET, DAMMIT!!!” Shaki shouted and instantly they both shut up. “You really are impossible, you two! So let’s get it over with!”
He pulled his gun out and gave it to Rajnesh. “There, now let’s see, if you have it in you!”
Rajnesh eyes jumped furtively between Shaki and his victims. “Me? I don’t think I can do it...”
“You are going to shoot those two maggots at one! IS—THAT—CLEAR?” he yelled at his nephew.
Rajnesh aimed the gun, his hands shaking... then he lowered it again. “I really cannot do it!”
Number Two raised his gun. “Come on, do it. There’s nothing to it!”
Rajnesh started bawling hysterically. “I don’t want to do it!”
“Leave that boy alone, at once!!!” suddenly a voice barked out of the darkness.
Ashok and his group of gypsies who had been following the tracks of their truck had come to the meadow, staring unbelievingly at the scene unfolding before their eyes. In a dark corner of the park they saw four men gathered around two figures down on their knees.
At first Shaki stared back at them equally surprised eventually realising that Arthur and Bear had their faces at about the same height as his genitals. Very slowly the embarrassing conclusion, Ashok must have drawn, began to dawn on him.
“This explains a lot!” Ashok said disgustedly, “Not that I oppose to same... well... something of that sort. Some of my best friends are doing... ehm... that! Nothing wrong with it. But you must not for force those practices on this boy. No wonder he is going crazy. That is harassment, unlawful harassment!”
“This...” snarled Shaki barely containing his wrath, “...is a private business. Bugger off!”
Ashok put his fists against his hips. “No, this is no private business! Sex is a wonderful thing—if it is performed with mutual consent. But to force the boy to giv
e you a blowjob in a public park, I mean perform oral stimulation—that is quite a different matter, that’s disgusting! And it is against the law as well!”
Number One shook his head. “Hey, listen, you got it all wrong. Those boys did not want to give us a blow job!”
Ashok’s eyebrows shot up. “Aha, so they didn’t consent to it then? This is getting even more perverse! What kind of people are you, to force yourselves onto others like that?”
“I’ve had enough of this, scram you clowns or I’ll shoot you a new arsehole!!!” Shaki shouted at the gypsies, now really pissed off.
“We’re just about to” answered Ashok, “but not without Rajnesh. This boy needs to be protected from you guys. I don`t like it, but you leave me no option but to call the police!”
Shaki approached Ashok smiling viciously. “That’s the difference, you see. You’ve got to do things you don’t like, whereas I only do things, I really enjoy. Like this, for example...!” Fast as lightning Shaki took a swing and brought his fist down on Ashok’s face.
Ashok landed flat on the grass.
The gypsies started howling with rage and took a step forward in order to give Shaki a thorough beating. But Ashok stopped them. “Don’t!” he shouted, “we are not succumbing ourselves to the level of brute force! We will answer their violence with a smile!”
Shaki shrugged his shoulders. “In that case... say cheese!” He kicked Ashok in the stomach as hard as he could.
The gypsy chief doubled over, gasping for air. However as soon as the pain had receded, he managed a warped smile. “That’s all you can think of, yes? I am telling you, I am not angry.
I am just severely disappointed!” he hissed between clenched teeth.
“Brings tears to my eyes!” Shaki answered with a sneer and kicked him for a second time.
Again Ashok bent over, moaning. Shaki stood above him, legs apart, cool as a cucumber.
When Ashok was able to breath again, he slowly turned around. “Hah, now you feel like such a cocksure bully, don’t you? All right then, give us back our truck and we will leave! But this is not over yet, I’ll make sure of that.”
Shaki gave a broad grin. “Your truck? It’s lying all over Connaught Place!”
“Lying... all over... does that mean there’s something wrong with it?”
“Blown to smithereens!” explained Shaki savouring the moment, “If you’ve got a broom, you can pick up the pieces!”
A deep furrow formed between Ashok’s eyes. The corner of his mouth started twitching.
“Boys!” he called out to his fellow gypsies. “Do you remember anything I said about non-violence?”
The gypsies all silently nodded.
“Forget it!”
The gypsies looked at him flabbergasted.
“I SAID, YOU SHOULD FORGET ABOUT IT!!!” Ashok bellowed. A collective smile of contentment passed over the faces of the group. They had understood. Even before one of the gangsters could draw his weapon, the gypsies attacked. Ashok too, had gotten himself up.
With a howling rage he jumped onto the totally surprised Shaki and started hammering down on him. Yes, this felt really good.
Bear, quick-witted as he was, instantly took on Number Two. Arthur, always the one shying away from bodily violence, gave encouraging shouts while slowly retreating backwards.
The gypsies however, thanks to their pent-up aggression over all those years were going berserk. Finally they could let go to their heart’s content. Rajnesh, standing in the middle of all of this, seemed a bit confused as to what side he should actually support.
The decision was taken away from him, when at last Bear was barging towards him with the words: “That is my motorbike!!!”
“Bear!” Arthur shouted at his friend, barely audible over the dim of hollering and cries of pain. “BEAR!!!”
Bear who was sitting on Rajnesh’s back pounding him with his fists, looked up. “What is it?”
“Let’s split!”
Bear stood up and looked around. Shaki, Number One and Two had disappeared under the throng of gypsies. He felt for his leather hat, which he had lost during the fight, he found it and put it on. “Okay, vamos, let’s go!”
They did not get very far, though. As soon as they had reached the small footway leading through the park, two beaming headlights caught them. Like rabbits in the night sitting on a country road they both froze to a halt. A dark Rolls Royce was slowly moving towards them.
When it had come to a halt next to them, the rear window slid down with a humming sound.
“Finally. I’ve trying to catch up with you since Goa!” a man called out from the back of the car, in a voice, slightly familiar to Arthur.
“There they are!!! Those are the ones who have stolen your tuc-tuc, Guru-ji!” A shrill voice came from the inside of the car.
At that moment a crème coloured ambassador came crashing through the bushes and came to a skidding halt in front of Arthur, Bear and the Rolls-Royce.
“Be quick, jump inside!” Gerd shouted from the passenger seat, neither one of them hesitated for a second
“Wait! I just wanted to give the money... oh, dammit!” Sunil shouted after the vanishing ambassador.
In the subterranean control centre of the Indian secret service OM was just about to go over some details of the ensuing tactical approaches with a specialist.
“Alright then!” he said putting on an air of importance reclining in his leather chair, his hands crossed behind his back. “We have just received the exact details about troupe strength and time frames of the Chinese manoeuvre from our spies in Tibet. I am always astonished how those guys always mange to get their information! Anyway, what I need to know now is the following: Shall we let The Chinese be Chinese and ignore the whole thing or are we supposed to react and instigate a manoeuvre ourselves? Or do I send over a special agent and let him find out what is what, up there?”
A very old man sitting in front of him nodded earnestly. Then he turned over to a green parakeet, perched on a peg next to him. “Leela!” the old man said to him in a deep conspiratorial voice, “You have heard his request. What will your answer be?”
The parakeet bent over a small wooden box that was attached below his peg. He circled his head over the box containing scripted palm leaves for a few times and then with his beak picked out one of them holding it up.
“Good birdie!” the old man said with praise, taking the palm leaf.
“And?” OM asked nervously.
His counterpart studied the ancient Sanskrit scriptures engraved on the palm leaf, looked up and with eyes glazed over finally said: “This it what is written: Send one infantry regiment and an one artillery battalion, two tank companies and three units of mountain riflemen into the border area. In addition to that: one company for service and maintenance, as well as paramedics. To be accompanied by the usual sutlers and jugglers and prostitutes. Keep your...”
OM raised one eyebrow in surprise. “Come again, what was that, the last bit?”
“The mountain riflemen?”
“Ehm, no, the very last bit...”
The old man lowered the tip of his nose down onto the palm leaf and read: “To be accompanied by the usual sutlers and jugglers and prostitutes”.
OM looked at him frowning. “What a crock of bull!”
“Do those kind of people not usually follow the armies?”
“Maybe in the middle ages they did, bapu!”
“Aha!” replied the old man, “Well, the oracle is rather old, you see? And it never errs. Shall I continue?”
“Please!”
“You will proceed with a medium sized manoeuvre, lasting two more days then the one of the Chinese. At the same time you will send an agent to the Chinese, inquiring about the reason behind their manoeuvres.”
OM gave him an empty look. Then, he energetically picked up the telephone and barked some orders into the receiver.
“Yes, jugglers, you heard me right...! How should I know, where to get them from, but from tomorrow on, they are juggling away at the end of the convoy or you’ll be scrubbing latrines for the next couple of years!”
He slammed the receiver down. With folded hands he bent over to the old man in a conspiratorial manner.
“As you can see, everything has been taken care of. There is however one remaining question of a private sort of way, you think we can put it on the same bill?”
The old man nodded benevolently.
“Splendid!” replied OM, his voice louder now. He eased back into his chair. “What has the oracle to say about my personal future, my career?”
The man gave a nod to his parakeet, which immediately picked out another palm leaf out of the box offering it to him. He glanced over it quickly and began to smile. “Good news. You are about to get promoted soon!”
OM lightened up. “Really?”
The old man nodded in the affirmative. “Yes, very soon you will become head of this division!”
OM drew his eyebrows in consternation. “Ehm... but I am the head of this division already!”
The old man just stared at him. “I... well, I... ” he began to stutter incomprehensibly, “I thought you only were the second in command!”
Slowly OM got up from his chair. “Do you mean there is some false information on these ever so omniscient palm leaves?”
For a second the two men just stared at each other, nothing but dead silence between them.
Then the old man upended the palm leaf with a jerk, staring at it incredulously. “A miracle!!!” The letters are beginning to change. What... what is it, that is written now? It says you will become minister of defence! A true miracle!!!” In an instant he stuck the palm leaf back inside the box.