The Retribution

by Shankar Kashyap

  Jealousy set in and there were a few verbal skirmishes now and then. He turned down approaches by some of the boys and developed a reputation of being ‘off handed’ and ‘arrogant.’ Stuart was not entirely surprised at the revelation that Dev was bisexual. He was not amused by his promiscuity though and he tried to warn him against it.

  When he found out that Dev was frequenting the Central Motors, as the toilets under the Belgrave flyover was called, he was deeply concerned. At first Dev denied going to the Central motors.

  “You better watch out Dev. You are getting into an unknown territory.” Stuart had said after one particularly ruthless verbal exchange with some men at the bar one night. “Drug dealers and pushers frequent that joint and you can easily get into serious trouble. I won’t be around to protect you all the time.”

  Stuarts prediction came true late one night, but not from the clientele of the club. Dev got out of the club late one night and noticed that the single light that used to light up the car was not working. The place was completely dark and he could barely see the cars. He was struggling to locate his car, trying to squint in the darkness when he thought he heard something. He stopped and listened carefully for a minute. There was nothing. Deathly quiet apart from a distant siren of an ambulance. ‘It must have been the breeze,’ he thought and walked towards where he thought he had parked his car. There it was again. Shuffling sort of sound and he thought he heard someone clearing his throat. He stopped again to listen. Again there was nothing. He was getting a bit worried now. His heart beating faster, he called out.

  “Hello. Is there anyone there?”

  There was again absolute stillness. He noticed that the breeze had stopped and there was no sound whatsoever. He wished he had Stuart with him. Stuart’s visits had become less and less frequent lately. Dev had his own circle of ‘friends’ from the club who he would spend his nights with. Stuart himself was not comfortable with Dev’s ‘friends’. He understood Dev’s needs, but felt uncomfortable the way he was fulfilling them.

  There was no response. He thought he could see his car at the far corner of the car park and started to walk quickly towards it. He started to walk faster towards the car and was almost near his car. As he passed a parked van, a hooded figure came out of the darkness in front of him and at the same time he was hit on his back with something very hard. He immediately fell to the ground in severe pain. The figure in front kicked him on his head and started to scream abuse at him.

  “You filthy bastard! You ruined the sanctity of my marriage. You ruined our lives.”

  Dev could not understand what he was screaming about. There were two other men who also started to kick him. Dev tried to protect his face by curling himself and covering his face with his arms. It was no use the attack was relentless. As was the verbal abuse. He tried to see who was attacking him, but it was too dark. They had chosen the darkest corner of the car park to attack him.

  “You knew you were a queer and yet you did my wedding. My life is ruined. The whole world knows you are queer. You should not be allowed to do anything sacred.” He could make out that there were at least three of them and all of them were wearing hoodies. The Indian accent of the one who was shouting was unmistakable. The same voice was shouting while the others kept kicking him in silence and guy with the hockey stick was beating him up. Dev heard a crack of the wood breaking as one of the hits missed him and hit the ground hard. After that it was just kicking all over him. He could do nothing but tried to lessen the blows by curling himself like a baby. He thought that ‘this is it. I am going to die’ as the incessant kicking went on for what seemed to be forever. The last thing he remembers was a dirty boot coming at his face with some speed.

  He woke up the next morning in a hospital bed at the Royal Infirmary with a drip on his forearm and oxygen mask on his face. He opened his eyes and as a reflex tried to get up only to drop back on to bed wincing with pain.

  “Look who is awake now,” said the pretty little nurse who had turned up on hearing his grunts of pain. His chest felt like it was going to burst every time he took a breath.

  He smiled weakly at the nurse and tried to speak. The nurse took the oxygen mask off his face so he could speak clearly.

  “I don’t think you should be moving around too much now.” She said. “I will get the sister to come and talk to you.”

  She came back with a stern looking, rather portly sister in a dark blue uniform.

  “Mr Sharma. How are you feeling? I am Sister Florence.”

  “It is nice to meet you sister.” Dev replied and winced with pain as soon as he said it. “Why does it hurt so much to breathe?”

  “You have been well beaten up, I’m afraid. It looks like you have broken ribs. I will get the doctor to come and explain to you.” Sister Florence said. “You have been written up for some strong painkillers. I will get the nurse to give you some now. You have some relatives waiting outside. Do you want to see them now?”

  ‘Oh my God. What will father say?’ was Dev’s first thought.

  “Yes please sister.”

  “You can have two visitors at a time and try to rest. I will get a couple of them to come inside after I have given the painkilling injection.”

  She sauntered off to get the injection.

  Ramcharan and Kishen walked in after he had the injection. There were tears in his father’s eyes as soon as he saw Dev. He just sat next to the bed, tears rolling down his face and stroking Dev’s hand. He didn’t say much. Kishen did most of the talking. Dev was not really in a mood for any long winded explanations. He told them he did not know who the assailants were or why he was attacked. T

  “It must be a racist attack.” Kishen said. “I think you should stick to giving advice over the phone rather than going to these clubs at night. It is not safe.”

  “You may be right Bhaiya.” He was not going to tell his brother or anyone else what the assailants were saying when he was being beaten up. They stayed with him for half an hour and left promising to bring mother back the next day despite his protestations not to bring her into the hospital.

  It was another hour later when a doctor came around with his folder in his hands and a stethoscope slung over his neck.

  “Mr Sharma, I am Dr Kumar.” An Indian boy, not much older than his younger brother Vijai, spoke with a strong south Indian accent that he could not place. “You were brought in by ambulance last night. Can you tell me what happened?”

  Dev smiled weakly and winced with every breath as he spoke.

  “I don’t really know doctor. I walked out into the dark car park and I was set upon by some men. I could not see much.”

  The doctor looked at him and scribbled something in the notes. “Do you know what they hit you with?”

  “I can’t remember much Doctor. Sorry.”

  “That is OK. You have broken three ribs in the right side of your chest. You were lucky that there was no internal damage. You also have had a concussion. The CT scan did not show any internal damage in the head.” He was scribbling in the notes as he spoke fast. “You have been very lucky to get away with only external injuries apart from the broken ribs. It does not need any active treatment apart from rest and painkillers. If you are still stable by tomorrow, we will get you up walking and you might even be able to go home tomorrow.”

  Dev grasped only part what was being said. The pain in his chest and head was so immense and he was getting drowsy. He must have passed out at that stage as when he opened his eyes again, it was dark with very few lights around and all the patients around him were fast asleep. It still hurt like hell when he moved. He tried to stay still and go back to sleep.

  The police came later the following day. It was a Detective inspector Mick Mills who had come to see him. A dapper young man, a man of the streets by his accent and dialogue, did not mince his words.

  “They have done you in good and proper, haven’t they? Who attacked you, mate?”

  Dev was slightly taken aback by
the question. “I don’t know. It was too dark to see anything.”

  “They must have worked you over for a while looking at the state of you. I am sure you must have had a chance to look at who is beating you up?”

  “No. Not really. I was trying to cover up my face to protect myself.”

  “It doesn’t look like you have done a good job, have you?” He laughed. Then immediately, “I’m sorry that was uncalled for. My sympathies. I can understand how it must have happened. Unfortunately we don’t have any leads to go on. Even the guy who reported seeing you on the floor of the car park to the club bouncer has scarpered without leaving any names. No one seems to have seen you being attacked. It was lucky someone did come when they did, otherwise it could have been a lot worse.” Mick said.

  He kept asking the same questions from different angle for a long time. The answer was always the same “I don’t know.” The guy sitting next to Mick, who was furiously scribbling something in a notebook as they spoke and never said a word throughout the interview.

  In the end, Mick stood up and said,

  “Well. I might as well be off then. I will let you know if we turn up anything. Bill Wardle here who has been scribbling while we talked will bring the statement back for you to have a look tomorrow and if you agree, sign it for us, will you?” He started to walk away without waiting for a reply and suddenly turned back and gave Dev a card. “This is the phone number you can get me on if you remember anything. Any little thing at all.”

  Mick Mills opened the door of the ward on his way out and turned around to speak to him again,

  ”One word of advice. The Quebec is not a place to be on your own that late at night.”

  The two of them had left leaving Dev exhausted. He fell asleep, only to be woken up by Sheena standing next to him. It was already the evening visiting hours. He was quite shocked to see her there. He tried to sit up and collapsed back onto bed wincing with pain. She immediately leaned forward and touched his hands.

  “Don’s strain yourself please.”

  “I am sorry. How did you know I was here?”

  “You have made the headlines in the local newspapers last night.” She replied.

  “I think it was partly my own fault.” Dev said.

  “You trying to help other people will get you killed one of these days. The papers say that you were at this club helping young Asian Gay boys?”

  Dev didn’t know what to say. He was torn between the strong feelings he had for her and the waves of urges he felt when he was in the presence of young boys. Not necessarily Asian. He found conversation difficult initially, but soon started to ease off as Sheena kept chattering away completely oblivious to his reticence. He soon forgot the pain and the injuries and the Quebec and even Sanju. She sat with him chatting away for nearly an hour and he felt lonely as soon as she said good bye.

  He was torn between the deep love he felt for her and his desire for the young boys. He would have to give up “poppers” too if he married Sheena, he thought. ‘Would it be worth it? How would I get my buzz otherwise?’

  Dev was in the hospital for two more days before being released home. It took him a few months to recover from the fractured ribs. His face was bruised with two large black eyes which nearly closed his eyes for several weeks. The black eye lasted a couple of weeks and it was nearly three months before the bruises on the face disappeared. It was painful to eat as his jaw hurt every time he tried to chew anything. Breathing was painful and he had an agonising pain whenever he coughed. He did not get out of the house for over a month and was nursed by his elderly mother who fussed around him almost constantly.

  Stuart came to visit him in the hospital the day after he was attacked and said he will let the Council know and arranged for a sick note from his doctor to be sent to the Council. Stuart looked down at a battered Dev and smiled a sardonic smile as if to say ‘I told you so.’

  “I know, you warned me before.” Dev said with a weak smile, which looked more like a grimace. “But they were not the mafia you keep telling me about. They were Asian men who kept swearing at me for being what I am.”

  “You were lucky this time then. Once the mafia get involved, you can be in real trouble.” Stuart still looked concerned. “At the rate you are going, it won’t be long before they do. You should seriously think of giving it up. Stick to telephone advice from now on. You have enough on your plate with the temple and the work at the Social services.”

  Dev promised Stuart that he would think about it. He did not go to the temple for a couple of months. It would have been too hard to explain the black eye and bruises on his face to all the devotees.

  The Suits

  Sean shook his head for the tenth time. The headaches would not go away. He had been popping pills all morning like smarties and they didn’t seem to be touching him. The night before was a blur. He was as sober as a judge when he entered the pub around ten the night before. He had been sitting at the bar nursing a whisky when this girl had accosted him. She was good looking in a sort of brash earthy girl sort of way. Her dark haired and an olive skinned face had seen the world. Mediterranean, maybe Italian or Greek descent, he thought.

  “Hi sweetheart. Mind if I sit here?” There was no accent to place her properly.

  “It’s a free country.” He had shrugged

  “I have seen you here before. Can I buy you a drink?”

  He had looked up at this offer. No girl had ever offered to buy him a drink. He was not what you would call a young handsome hunk. Far from it. He was middle aged, nearing 40 and wearing a dishevelled shirt, with rumpled jeans and scuffed shoes. Unshaven stubble gave him an unkempt look, but a rugged one. The dark jacket he was wearing had seen better days. He was not an attractive proposition at the best of times. He always appeared to have blood shot eyes even when he was sober.

  “Excuse me?” He replied.

  “It looks like you could use a drink.” She replied with a smile not reaching her eyes. “You have been sat with that empty glass for the last twenty minutes.”

  He looked at his glass. True enough. It was empty. Just like his life, he thought. He will be forty this year and what does he have to show for it? A career as a detective inspector not going anywhere, a string of failed relationships and a mortgage he can’t keep up with. An accidental fling with crack had turned into an expensive habit which he couldn’t shake off and was now threatening to cost his job.

  “You are right. It is OK. I will get another. Can I get you drink?”

  He replied signalling the barman.

  “I will have a lime and lager please. Thank you.”

  She looked quite attractive when she smiled. One drink led to another and finally they had both staggered back to his flat well after midnight. Back at the flat she had produced a little beauty in the form of a brown paper packet - which was the best he had tasted. They had gone at each other like wild cats and he had slumped at the end exhausted into a drug and alcohol induced stupor.

  The telephone must have been ringing for a while when he eventually woke up. He fell out of bed trying to find the phone and hit his knee against the table. When he eventually found the phone, it was his chief, Philip Stoker. He wanted him in his office within the hour. Sean did not think he could cope with another grilling by the Detective Superintendent. He was a sour puss if there ever was one. The girl from last night was nowhere to be seen in the morning. He quickly checked to make sure his wallet was still in his jacket pocket and was quite surprised to find that it was still there.

  “Is that you Sean? Where the hell have you been? It is nearly lunch time now.” Philip had yelled at him on the phone. Exaggerating as usual. It was only eleven in the morning. “I can’t see your report on the drug heist from last week. Where is it? Don’t tell me you have not done it?”

  He was like an express train once he started. He wouldn’t give a guy chance to respond.

  “Yes, Philip. I have already done it. It’s with me. I will bring it over stra
ight away.”

  Both of them knew he was lying. The last drug heist was five days ago and they had caught two of the members of the gang with a decent haul of crack. They turned out to be small fry and there was no sign of the leaders of the gang. They had known about the gang operating in Leicester around several clubs and even some schools now for a while. The police were struggling to find anything constructive so far. This was the first arrest they have had for months and it was not big either. The cache was in loose brown sachets ready for distribution. It was too tempting not to slip a couple of sachets in his trousers. He had just hoped that the few in his trousers will not be noticed in the count. Rest of the team was too busy restraining the gang who had put up a good fight. While they were being bundled into the vans, Sean and his assistant Bill were “tidying up” in the kitchen of the house where they had found the stash behind the fridge. Sean had to take the stuff down to the lab for the forensic guys to finish off the examination. Well, that was five days ago and he was still trying to figure out a way of hiding the fact that he had spent ten minutes on his own after everyone had left the house.

  There was no time to shave now, he thought. It did not take him long to put on a “fresh” pair of shorts and wash the sleep off his face. The bundle of papers he had worked on the day before were still inside the top shelf of the bedside cabinet where he had shoved them previous night. He quickly grabbed the sheaf of papers and dashed out of the apartment. He was in Philip’s office in less than half an hour. He did not want him to get any more irritated than he already was by being late. He had to wait outside the door for a while as Philip was busy with the Internal Audit guys. That is not good news, Sean thought. There were sniggers from the girls at the desks typing away reports when they saw a dishevelled Sean walk in.