Free The Mountain Shadow by Gregory David Roberts Page B

tall hill of sacks, leaving only scattered grains and straws on the bare stones of the courtyard. We sipped adrak chai, spicy ginger tea strong enough to bring tears to the eyes of someone judging judges.
    The workers brought fresh sacks into the open ground. Within minutes a new mound began to appear, and men who worked for the Cycle Killers began to shape it into a series of throne-like seats once more.
    Perhaps to cover the embarrassment of having his estrade so abruptly dismantled, Ishmeet turned his attention to me.
    ‘You . . . foreigner,’ he asked, ‘what do you think of Das Rasta?’
    ‘ Ji ,’ I said, using the respectful term equivalent to sir , ‘I was wondering how we were able to come in here without a challenge.’
    ‘We knew you were coming,’ Ishmeet replied smugly, ‘and we knew you were friends, and how many you were. Dilip Uncle, the old man reading the newspaper, do you remember him?’
    ‘Yeah. We passed right through his house.’
    ‘Exactly. Dilip Uncle, he has a button on the floor under his chair. The button rings a bell here in the courtyard. From the number of times he presses the button, and for how long, we can tell who is coming, friend or stranger, and how many. And there are many uncles like Dilip, who are the eyes and the ears of Das Rasta.’
    ‘Not bad,’ I allowed.
    ‘Your frown is another question, I think.’
    ‘I was also wondering why this is called Das Rasta, Ten Ways, when I can count only nine ways in and out.’
    ‘I like you, gora !’ Ishmeet said, using the word that meant white man . ‘Not many have noticed that fact. There are, in truth, ten ways into and out of this place, which is the reason for the name. But one of them is hidden, and only known to those of us who live here. The only way that you could pass through that exit is to become one of us, or be killed by us.’
    Abdullah chose the moment to reveal his purpose.
    ‘I have your money,’ he said, leaning in toward Ishmeet’s well-oiled smile. ‘But there is a matter I must make clear, before I give it to you.’
    ‘What . . . matter ?’
    ‘A witness,’ Abdullah said, speaking in a tone that was loud enough for me to hear. ‘You have a reputation for being so fast, in your work, that even the Djinn cannot see your blade strike. But in this assignment we gave to you, someone was allowed to see the deed. Someone who made a clear description of your men to the police.’
    Ishmeet locked his jaw shut, glanced around quickly at his men, and then looked back at Abdullah. The smile returned slowly, but the teeth were still locked together as if they were holding a knife.
    ‘We will, of course, kill this witness,’ he hissed. ‘And at no extra charge.’
    ‘No need for that,’ Abdullah replied. ‘The sergeant who took the statement is one of ours. He thrashed the witness, and convinced him to change his story. But you understand that with a matter such as this, I must speak of it in the name of Sanjay himself. Especially since it is only the second assignment we have given to you.’
    ‘ Jarur ,’ Ishmeet hissed again. Certainly. ‘And I can assure you that you will never have to raise the question of witnesses again, for so long as we do business together.’
    Ishmeet took Abdullah’s hand in his, held it for a moment, then stood, turned his back, and began to clamber to the top of his new throne of sacks. As he settled himself at the top of the pile once more, he spoke one word.
    ‘Pankaj!’ he said, speaking to the Cycle Killer who’d been sitting with me.
    Fardeen took a package of money from his backpack. He passed it to Abdullah, who handed it on to Pankaj. As the Cycle Killer turned to climb up the pile of sacks he hesitated, and swung his gaze around to face me.
    ‘You and me, we never fight,’ he grinned, offering his hand once more. ‘ Pukkah? ’ Correct?
    His wide smile and obvious, innocent pleasure in a new friendship would’ve been derided as naïve by the gangsters