Golden Biker
Page 33
OM just stared at him motionless. Then he fell back into his chair, visibly impressed.
“Excellent...”
The ambassador was driving through the night. Apu had turned onto the highway, leading out of the city to the North. It was obvious, the passengers inside were too exhausted to question as to why exactly they had just been picked up spontaneously by their mysterious saviour.
“I still I ask myself all the time from where I know this guy in the Rolls-Royce!” Arthur pondered in the back of the ambassador.
Bear looked out of the window at the passing lights. “Wherever you knew him from, he’s got to get in line.”
“Maybe our noble saviour knows who it was!” Gerd put in, with a side-glance to Apu, who only shook his perfectly groomed head. “I regret to admit, I have no idea. By the way, what are your actual next plans, forgive me for asking!”
Bear pulled his hat over his face and receded deeper into the seat. “Maybe we should just give up on the whole idea...?”
“Give up? Are you crazy?” Arthur stared at him quite indignantly.
“Yes, what else?” My motorbike is kaput, my beach shack as well and to think that Shaki would let go... I don’t see it! And you have seen what happened to Sherie.”
Instantly Gerd turned around to the backseat, grabbing Bear by the neck. “Never ever, mention her name again!”
Baer peeled Arthur’ fingers off his neck. “At any rate, I don’t feel like I want to end up like her!”
“We will find the Golden Biker, just because she had to end up like this!” Gerd whispered with rage. “I won’t let those bastards get away with that, no way am I going to give up now!”
“Hasn’t enough happened already?” Bear shouted back. “I had a good life here, so far, now everything is totally fucked up. Any idea, what I should be doing from now on?”
Arthur, feigning sympathy, said. “Buh-huhu-hu! Poor old mister Bear. Do you really believe if we cop out now, anything would change? The only chance you got to change anything about this situation is, to find the Golden Biker. And that’s a fact!”
“Besides” Gerd added from the back seat, “we owe the Golden Biker!”
Bear sat up. “Beg your pardon? What do you mean, ‘owe him’?”
“Well, it’s because of us, that Hermann got wind of the Golden Biker again. You’ve heard that nut-job. At least we should give him a warning!”
“It wasn’t us who told him” Bear snorted, “it was Sher...”
Again Gerd’s hand reached for Bear’s neck. “Don’t you dare say it!” Gerd mumbled, quivering with rage.
“Gentlemen, please!” Apu tried to appease the jittery nerves. “I do understand your dismay, absolutely. I myself have once lost a loved one. She was shot to death on the very night of our honeymoon. On a deserted mountain road. On that day I swore to myself, never to let any woman get that close to me ever again. I decided to look ahead and that is what you should be doing as well. If you really want to head up North, I’ll be more than pleased to offer you a ride. We are heading for the same direction, anyway!”
“So...?”
“...so?” Gerd and Arthur passed the question onto Bear in unison.
“Alright, alright!” Bear freed himself from Gerd’s grip and reclined back into the seat, arms crossed. “Let’s do it!”
In silence they drove on through the night, always heading north, none of them found any sleep however, because the shot that had killed Sherie was still ringing in their ears.
At about that same time an elegant looking Rolls Royce was leaving the city, escorted by twenty yellow-black tuc-tucs.
The yellow-black dressed driver of the Rolls put down the receiver and turned his head. “Every tuc-tuc driver in India is looking for the white ambassador with the foreigners. We will find him, Guru-ji!” Sunil nodded disinterestedly, caressing the fine wooden inlays of the car door with his fingers. “This is really all mine, is it?” He asked incredulously, for about the tenth time. “It means so little, compared to your merits, Guru-ji!” answered George staring at him in adoration. Sunil sank deep into the Connolly-leather upholstering. “Yes, but now you don’t have a car anymore!” George laughed out loud. “Who, me? I got a whole bunch of them!” Sunil’s eyes opened wide. He had more than just this one! Unbelievable! What would it feel like to be that rich, to own so many cars, he wondered. He beamed a wide smile as he pictured himself owning so many of these wonderful cars as well.
“Why are you smiling master?” George wanted to know.
“Oh well” Sunil replied, “I just thought about how it would be like to have 365 Rolls Royce—one for each day of the year!”
George furrowed his eyebrows. “But don’t all the other Gurus always preach asceticism, pauperism and abandonment?”
“Oh” Sunil hasted to add reassuringly, “me... ehm, I would have all that, only to open the eyes of everyone to the decadence and irrelevance of all personal belongings, like a vivid example, you see? To me, well, it means nothing, really!”
“Aha, I see...”
Ashok and his group of gypsies were gathered at Connaught Place around the pitiful remnants of their painted truck. Their mood had sunk to rock bottom. Just when they had been about to finish off Shaki and his guys, the latter had managed to pull their guns and had forced them to surrender. After that, the cowards had disappeared, taking Rajnesh with them.
And that was not the end of it! Those badmashes had stolen their mini-van on top of it. The truck—scrap metal, the mini-van stolen… they really were in the pits.
“Oh boss, what are we going to do?” one of the gypsies asked, his voice filled with desperation. “How are we ever to get back home without our car?”
Ashok was steaming with rage. The fight before had triggered something inside of him.
Something that had been hidden for a long time had come back now and with a vengeance.
But he somehow felt very good about it, as contradictory as it may be. A feeling of blissful hatred had enveloped him; he felt blind rage towards those gangsters, these cock sucking hooligans from Goa. If he would ever get to lay his hands on them again, then...
“Ehm, did you say something, chief?” One of the gypsies tore him away from his sombre thoughts.
“I just said, that I’m going to cut the balls off of those Goans, roast them and have them rolled up into a chapatti, for breakfast!” he hissed viciously.
“Ehm, boss, maybe we should form an encounter group and talk about that first? Maybe we could...”
“Shut the fuck up!” Ashok yelled at him, “Never again, mention that bullshit again! That’s for sissies and douchebags, is that clear?”
The gypsies looked at him uncomprehendingly.
“What’s a sissy? asked one.
“What’s a douchebag?” asked another.
At this moment a military vehicle stopped next to the group of gypsies. One soldier leaned out of the window. “Hey!” the soldier shouted, “aren’t you Roma and Sinti?”
“We are gypsies, you asshole!” Ashok riled back at him, lighting up a cigarette.
“Chief?” one of them wondered out loud, “you’re smoking?”
“Zip it!” Ashok snubbed at him drawing on his cigarette, inhaling deeply.
The soldier was in no way fazed by the rough talk. He was used to it. “Can you juggle?” he politely wanted to know.
Ashok took a step towards the jeep. “What kind of dumb-ass question is that?”
“I only wanted to know, if you can juggle!”
“Shit, man do I look like a ballerina? Of course we can juggle, we’re the best fucking jugglers you will ever find in this sister-fucking town, you clown!”
Ashok’s way of conversing astonished the gypsies. They had not heard their boss talk like that for years.
Ever worked for the military before?”
8. Himalayas / ca. 125 miles north-east of Manali inside the disputed zone between India and China
The sound of naked feet rhythmically smacking on the cold stone floor were reverberating through the dark halls of the Buddhist monastery. The few oil lamps, hanging from the ceiling were just about spending enough light, not to let the ancient clean shaven monk fall over his own two feet. Breathing heavily he stopped at the end of the hall in front of an old brass plated door. In the flickering light it shimmered like gold. In order to open it he had to put his full weight against it. With a creaking sound the door began to move in its hinges and the monk quietly slipped inside.
Candles, torches and oil lamps, casting thousands of shadows against the walls, filled the room with brightness, illuminating only one single person sitting on a mat in deep meditation.
Respectfully, the monk kept his distance. The countless open flames had heated up the room, billowing smoke hung below the beautifully carved ceiling, one could hardly breath and he noticed beads of sweat forming on his bald head dripping down onto his ruby red robe.
However he remained standing close to the door and waited.
“How long?” the man asked finally in a voice that seemed to come from far away. He raised his head looking at the monk with glazed eyes.
“Day after tomorrow, in three days at the most, master!” the latter answered bowing down before him.
The man closed his eyes again. “See to it that everything will be ready. We will give him a dignified welcome!”
The old monk came one step nearer. “Master, and if the prophecy proves to be wrong?”
The man smiled. We have come a long way. My time has come. I can feel it... I am certain of it. The prophecy is never wrong!”
The monk crossed the room and picked up the golden breastplate lying on top of an altar.
“So this will be your last ride then? I will polish it so it may radiate in the sun!”
“Do that. And check after my bike, also!” said the Golden Biker. Then again he sank back into deep contemplation, to prepare himself for what would inevitably come next.
Part IV
- Himalayas -
I am the Golden Biker. The Alpha and the Omega. The Sun and the Moon. Ying and Yang I am riding on the rays of the setting sun. My songs go out into the spheres. I am breaking from of the Circle of Life. I grow Ganja...
(From: The teachings of the Golden Biker)
1. Kullu-Valley / Himalayas
“... so on this wery night, surrounded by my incompetent men, taken in by ze British as a prisoner of var, I swore to myself zat one day I vill take revenge on ze Golden Biker!” Hermann finished his story.
Sherie moaned. “But that’s been ages ago!”
“Shut up!” the Jain bellowed at her, “You only speak, when you’re told!”
“Of course... excuse me!” Sheri answered demurely and fell back into the back seat of the car. “Excuse me... WHAT?” the Jain didn’t let go.
“Excuse me... please,” added Sherie stiffly.
Since Bábaa had explained to her that Gerd, Arthur, as well as Bear had been buried in the ground somewhere her flame for survival was flickering on a low setting indeed. Paralysing grief had taken possession of her, shrouding her in a cocoon of overbearing indifference. Even the fact that Bábaa had taken up side with Hermann, of all people, could not entice her to show any irritation, besides a raised eyebrow. All she wanted was to be left alone, no more gangsters, Golden Biker and topmost no more Bábaa. Before, inside the truck, Bábaa had first put a gag in her mouth, then he had put a bullet into an old wooden chest, explaining to her, the only reason she was still alive was, that she knew were to find the Golden Biker. He left her with an easy choice. Either she would lead him there, thus enabling him to get properly compensated or the second bullet would end her useless life, right here and there. Because he had also had offered her freedom in the end, if she would lead him into the valley of the Golden Biker, she eventually conceded.
Now they were on their way in a jeep, leading Hermann’s convoy. It was slow going, since the heavy army vehicles could not drive any faster on the narrow winding mountain roads. Hermann was sitting at the wheel and had just told Bábaa, the fake Jain and Sherie, why and how he once had ended up here in India.
“Shooting a bullet into the wooden box, what was that all about?” Sherie eventually wanted to know.
Bábaa grinned. “You must understand, dear child, that I hate sharing the bounty. All those amateurs, why should they know about my plans? Better, they believe I killed you, let them finish their jobs and drive back home. Would be a shame if they would get it into their heads all of a sudden to partake in the business at hand, wouldn’t it, Hermann?”
Hermann nodded approvingly. “You take ze drugs, I’ll get ze golden fellow, that’s what I call fair and square! I hef been vaiting for zis day for so long!”
Báaba twirled the tips of his moustache, and smiled. “Ever since 1944 wasn’t it...? Some pent up anger there!”
“All those long years, everyday I vas thinking of vat I vood do to him!” Hermann’s knuckles, clamping the steering wheel, began to turn white.
Bábaa laughed. “Dear oh dear, so many years, time flies, doesn’t it? Old age is like having sex with a beautiful woman… always coming sooner than you wished for. Ha-ha-ha!” Hermann gave him a puzzled look. “I really don’t know, vat you mean...”
At once Bábaa got serious again. “Ehm, yes. Anyway, as soon as I get hold of the marihuana, you can do whatever you want with that golden chappie. And you, my turtle dove,” he turned around and tucked her cheek jovially, “can fly away then! If, by any chance we should not find him, I’ll be forced to kill you, setting an example, so to speak. So better pray for him to be there!”
2. CNN / worldwide
—zapp—a serious looking woman with a brick hairdo is standing in a mountain backdrop. Behind her several Chinese military vehicles, marching soldiers, etc...
Text insert: Cynthia Jackson—from Tibet / Himalayas.
“... according to government sources, the manoeuvres are being held in the southern region of the People’s Republic, part of a long-term plan. The claim that this information was withheld from the general public as being nothing but malicious propaganda since those plans have been at display in the safe of the General Staff ‘s planning commission. Commenting on this is commander Wu, the army’s press officer.”
Cut. Wu in front of the army barracks; a microphone is being pushed into the frame from the side.
“No, Mrs... ehm... Jackson. There is nothing extraordinary about this manoeuvre. Naturally we regret any possible misunderstandings that might have come up within the Indian government!”
Question from the OFF: “The Indian government’s reaction to this manoeuvre was… perturbed, was it not?”
Wu: “Obviously their concern was about the close proximity to the Indian border. Whereas this manoeuvre by our utterly vigilant troupes is taking place in a region that is indisputably within Chinese territory!”
Cut. Map insert of the border region between India and China in the Himalayas. Voice—over by Mrs Jackson: “The exact layout of the border is still being disputed by the two nuclear powers, a broad strip in the region is under Chinese protectorate, but is claimed by India as belonging to them.”
Cut. The news presenter is standing in front of Parliament building in Delhi:
“In view of the Kashmir crisis the conflict around the border region to China has somewhat taken a back seat in recent years. Now it seems to have flared up again because of this manoeuvre. Sources tell us that there are Indian troups already on their way to northern India, also to hol
d a manoeuvre. This is what a member of the general staff commented this morning...”
Cut to the serious looking member of the General Staff in front of countless microphones, being pushed into his face:
“This manoeuvre of our utterly vigilant troups on the northern border region has been part of a long term plan. The fact, that the Chinese are performing a manoeuvre up there at the same time, is of course pure coincidence!”
Cut. The news presenter is standing on a high mountain pass in the Himalayas. In the background an outstretched valley, framed by snow capped peaks.
“Until now everything seems peaceful here in the Himalayas. But within the next couple of hours military troups of both sides will be approaching the border. Although both sides are denying it, insisting that this is a regular manoeuvre, ‘pure coincidence’ seems to be off the table. If there is a massive conflict brewing up—hard to say at this stage. It does not seem to worry tourists, though refraining them from visiting this region.”
She does an about turn, standing in front of Gerd who tries to put on a serious face confronting the camera. In the background Arthur and Bear are waving their arms. Gerd turns around hissing at them: “Stop that, you idiots!” which only encourages Arthur to put out his tongue.
News presenter: “You are tourists from Germany. Aren’t you concerned getting into the middle of what might become a military conflict?”
Gerd, very professional: “No, you see, Mrs... ehm... Jackson, the political conflict of both of these nations is one of their own making. I think it was Churchill, who said...”
News presenter interrupts: “Yes, hmm, well, so you still enjoying your holiday then?” In the background Bear and Arthur are taking the piss at Gerd’s attempt of being serious.
Gerd: “Exactly, Mrs... ehm... Jackson. One has to make a statement here! You have to make it absolutely clear to the people: We are here, because we like it here. We are enjoying ourselves and we hope we can be guests in this beautiful country for a long time coming.”