Golden Biker
Page 35
“Noon is an elastic term. More towards twelve or rather one o’clock?”
The monk gave Arthur a piercing look. “Man from the west... do you have any other urgent business to attend to tomorrow?”
Arthur shook his head. “No, but a little more precision, please...”
The old monk smiled. “Just come anytime, but be on time!”
He then turned around and followed the other monks into the interior of the monastery. The audience was over.
The soldiers at the check post were still overcome with excitement. The most famous secret agent in India, Apu Bindi, had just come by. The Apu Bindi... unbelievable! For some reason one always thought that celebrities did not really exist. And then, when they do stand in front of you, you felt like knowing them really well, although you have never met them before. He had looked really nice, one could admit to that, even as a man, and so self-assured. And that white suit of his... well, probably it was tailor-made. But actually, it was not surprising at all to see the famous secret agent pop up around here. Something was in the making, over yonder in the restricted area and even if the soldiers had no idea what it was about, with the sudden arrival of Apu Bindi, they knew something big was going to happen.
Early that morning they had received a call that a military convoy was going to pass, their checkpoint on its way to the manoeuvre and they were to let it pass through. A manoeuvre amidst the forbidden zone, so close to the border—that was quite disconcerting indeed.
Under normal circumstances their shift was rather uneventful. Everybody knew that this region was a restricted area and nobody in his right mind would have gotten it into their heads to force an unauthorised entry through this very check post. If someone had really wanted to get inside the restricted area, they could have just walked right into it, a couple of hundred yards above or below the road—no trouble at all. Why someone would attempt to do so, they could not fathom! The reason was simple, except a few monasteries and a barren landscape there was absolutely nothing here. And that exactly was the problem of any soldier on duty at this check post. There was nothing to do in an area 80 miles around, well, maybe apart from that old hag in the village a couple of miles away, who for some rupees was putting her breasts on display (no touching!). But since every one of the soldiers had by now, seen the breasts more than enough times, there remained nothing else but their game of cards.
And this is how they spent week after week, sometimes months, sitting on the oil barrels, playing cards and getting quite stupefied in the end.
But today, first the call in the morning and now the encounter with Apu Bindi had really pulled them out of their monotone rhythm. Exited, they all rushed about. Some started to even suggest an outing, like visiting the breasts for example… but in the end this was but blind activism, caused by the unusual events. Anyway, since today the manoeuvring troops were coming through their check post, it was better to stay put.
Late in the afternoon, they finally spotted the convoy, which was slowly driving up the mountain on the small and winding road. It consisted of many fewer vehicles then the soldiers had expected, obviously the manoeuvre was a small time affair. They started to roll the barrels away from the road, and saluted as the column passed by. One of the soldiers thoughtfully stared after the column disappearing into the restricted zone.
“That is strange!” he said to one of the others, “you cannot conduct any manoeuvre with such a small outfit. The Chinese will laugh their heads off. And did you see that funny looking geezer in the first car? If that’s the commanding officer, well, I don’t know...”
Hermann sitting in the first car, coming up the mountain pass reaching the ridge, was very satisfied, however.
“Strange!” Bábaa said, a bit perplexed, “I would have expected more difficulties at the check post.”
Hermann waved it off. “Zees people immediately recognise authority ven zey see it. We are not ze master race for nothing, you know? zat is somezink those sub continental rank and file immediately recognises.”
Bábaa could barely restrain himself. He would have liked to throttle that impertinent bastard on the spot, but he still needed him...
Some hundred yards away the rotor blades of a helicopter, equipped with noise cancelling technology were cutting through the brisk clear mountain air. It was the most modern and coolest helicopter ever having passed through these parts of the mountains.
Inside Moshe and Ephraim were nipping on their fourth gin and tonic, appreciating the soft upholstery, the fresh well-tempered air, listening to chill-out-music, oozing from the hidden speakers. Solomon however, was concentrating on the monitor of the small tracking device.
“We are right above the tracker-beam of the girl. She’s with Hermann again!” Solomon informed the others, without taking his eyes from the monitor.
Ephraim pulled out the inflight magazine from its pocket and disinterestedly began to leaf through it. “Look at that!” he said to Moshe holding up the magazine, “For 10.000 miles you already get a domestic flight. Not bad, eh?”
Moshe nodded. “Well if it keeps going on like that, we’ll get that extra flight in no time. And after that...”
“Goa!” both sighed at the same time, wallowing in a sweet mixture of memories of happy times and yearning anticipation.
“Hey, boss!” Ephraim shouted over to Solomon. “How about we catch this girl a couple of more times and then set her free again? We don’t mind doing it for a couple of times more!”
Solomon’s turned slightly red in the face. “I—do—not—want—to—ever—hear—about—this—again! Is that CLEAR?” he barked, his voice quivering.
Ephraim held the magazine in front of his face, again aping Solomon’s outburst. Moshe started to giggle inwardly.
“I can see that!” Solomon yelled angrily.
“I can see that, buhuhu!” Ephraim continued to mock him. Moshe bit his lips, laughing.
Solomon, whose face had by now developed a deep red hue, restrained himself, not to hurl the tracking device at them.
“You come to attention now, that’s an order!!! Otherwise I will let you get off immediately, and that without landing first!!!”
Not very impressed by this. Moshe tucked the magazine back in the seat pocket and got up.
“Woss bisst asoi a kaissn? I’m giving you my full attention here!”
“Your whole attitude is annoying me! When we are done with this, I will write my reports on both of you, and you won’t like it, I can assure you.” Solomon riled on, while ignoring the beeping cockpit telephone.
“Ehm, maybe you should take this, boss!” Moshe remarked hesitantly. Solomon who only just had heard it ringing, jerked the receiver to his ear. “Yes? oh, hello... well, yes, of course, ehm... the rabbi’s wife is pregnant! Good... hmm... hmm... WHAT? Certainly... I was just saying... thank you... Shalom!”
With a grave look he put the receiver down. He pondered quietly for a moment, and then returned his attention to the tracking device.
To Moshe and Ephraim the broken bits of conversation had not made any sense. Both stared at him expectantly.
“And?” Ephraim probed, “What happened?”
Solomon looked up from his monitor. “Hmm?”
“What did they say?” Moshe became slightly impatient with Solomon’s badly play-acted air of indifference.
“Ah, now you are interested, all of a sudden, yes? But If I am about to say something, then again its ‘buhuhu...’” moping, he stared back at his monitor.
Ephraim groaned, rolling his eyes. “Forget it then...!”
But Solomon could not keep it up. With a zealous glint in his eye, he turned back facing the two agents. “Alright, can you imagine? The Chinese have sent troops into this area, so did the Indians, their top notch secret agents are down there as well, so of course is Hermann with his ar
my. Something very big is brewing up. Headquarters has decided to sent us a small combat unit, under my command!”
“A combat unit?” A feeling of dread was mounting up inside of Moshe. “Does that mean, that...”
“... there might be an engagement, correct!” Solomon’s eyes glistened with excitement.
Maybe it’s going to be a nice day, after all...”
Lacking a vehicle of their own, gypsy chief Ashok and his men had been offered one of the military trucks in which they were following the long military convoy. Military life was not so bad, after all. You got your grub; in the evening you did a bit of juggling or had a go at one of the prostitutes, who seemed to also belong to the entourage of a manoeuvre. Besides that, one was driving around the countryside with nothing else to do. Ashok’s men, who by and large did not like to make decisions for themselves but rather did what they were being told, were actually quite content again after a long time. Only Ashok was mostly brooding moodily in some corner, nagging everybody else. The fact that his truck had been smashed and his bus had gotten stolen had deeply hurt his pride. How he longed for revenge, even more so, because he had re-discovered his aggressive side of his personality again. But those badmashes of gangsters had just taken off, probably making fun of him somewhere, right now.
They had been on the road for the whole day. Since the gypsies were sitting together with some of the soldiers in the enclosed cargo hold of the truck, they could not even get a peek outside. Only the fact that they were frequently tossed around on the hard wooden benches gave them any indication that they must be driving up a winding mountain road. Ashok could not stand being knocked about like that, so it came to no one’s surprise that he looked for someone to ventilate his anger at. He found him sitting right next to him, the young guy from his group, the one who was performing the special sitting dance in women’s clothing. The boy was busy folding a piece of paper into a bird, a little piece of art, which all of a sudden Ashok snatched out of his hand and began trampling on. “Can’t stand this origami shit any longer!” he bellowed.
“But... but chief. You were the one who taught us!” The young gypsy boy cautiously ducked his head.
“If I ever catch you doing stuff like that again, I’ll have you eat that shit, okay?”
On the bench opposite one soldier bent forward, smiling.
“Hope you don’t mind me saying so, but for a bunch of merry gypsies you’re quite tense!”
“I AM NOT TENSE AT ALL, OKAY?” Ashok screamed at the wincing soldier.
All of a sudden the truck came to a jerking halt and the sound of motion ceased. Ashok’s head flew left and right. “What was that?” He spat out hectically. One of the soldiers removed the tarpaulin and looked out. “The check post. We are entering the restricted area!”
The border guard gave a salute indicating to the commanding officer in the first car to roll down his window.
“What’s the matter? Have you not been notified?” The commander asked frowning, handing over the permit of passage.
“Yes, we have been notified. But there was supposed to be only one convoy!”
The commander stared at him blankly. “And? How many convoys are you looking at, eh?”
The soldier fingered through the permits. “Of course, of course, but what about the convoy that’s preceded you?”
“Preceded us... there is no convoy in front of us! Listen, I think you’re suffering from altitude sickness!”
“Not one hour ago, there was this small army convoy coming through!”
“Oh really? And what kind of army was that? What kind of uniforms did they wear?” the commander asked in a much harsher tone.
“Ehm, the ones with swastikas, sir!”
“Swasti... what?”
“Swastikas. You know, what I mean is—not ours, the... the other ones!”
The commander looked at him incredulously. “Are you just telling me, the German army from World War II just passed through here? Is that what you are saying?”
The soldier stood to attention. “That’s correct, sir!”
The commander stared at the soldier open mouthed. Finally he regained his speech. “What is your name soldier?”
“Veejoy, Sir!”
“Alright, Veejoy!” the commander adopted a sugar coated voice, otherwise reserved by grown-ups for small children and lunatics (and he certainly did not take Veejoy for a small child) “Would you please, clear the road and let us pass, ok? And when this is all over, you’ll be taking a nice long vacation, somewhere in the low-lands.”
The soldier saluted, beaming with joy. “Thank you, Sir!”
“Oh, and Veejoy?”
“Yes, Sir?”
“If there will be a Mongol army or some crusaders coming through, please don’t let them pass, all right?”
“Yessir!”
The commander gave a nod to his driver who immediately started the engine.
“Ah, there’s something else!” the commander shouted through the window at the soldier.
“Don’t take any notice of the gypsies and the riff-raff in the last car, they belong to us!”
Veejoy nodded and ran to his colleagues, who had already started to remove the oil drums.
“Imagine!” he told them proudly. “I’m going on a holiday!”
“You lucky bastard!” one of the sighed enviously kicking the last barrel so it rolled out of the way by itself.
“Yes, but we are under strictest orders to not let through any Mongols or crusaders!”
With a loud thundering noise the convoy went by. Yes, that was a proper army, one to be proud of. Tanks, transport vehicles, troop carriers, everything that made the check post guard’s hearts jump with joy. Proudly they saluted each and every one of them.
When the last vehicle had passed the checkpoint, Veejoy lowered his arm looking after them.
“That’s strange,” he mumbled.
“What’s strange?” His colleague next to him asked.
“Well the commander said, that at the end of the convoy there would be some sort of riff-raff, gypsies, and so on. Did you see anybody?”
“Nope, just ordinary army! But look, over there!”
Veejoy’s gaze followed the outstretched arm of the soldier pointing at a small brightly painted gypsy bus, struggling up the road towards them.
“Well, they are really lagging behind. When they have passed through put the barrels back!”
Shaki waved at the properly saluting soldiers. “I really thought we would run into more difficulties, I must admit!”
Babu and Willie who had already reached for their guns under their jackets, relaxed again. They also had expected a bit more resistance. Number One, who was steering the bus up the winding road, grabbed his pack of cigarettes with one hand, pulling one out with his teeth. Number Two, on the passenger seat, lit it up for him and snapped the lighter shut.
“Maybe we should ask one of them.” Number One suggested, looking sideways at the soldiers.
Babu just snarled at him: “They must have passed here, you dumbass, there is only this one road, after all!”
Number One stopped the bus and reversed.
Babu looked up irritated, “What are you doing?”
“I’ll ask them!” Number One answered curtly. He was getting sick of those two freelancers. Their overbearing ‘I-am-a-pro, you know!’ demeanour was bugging him extremely and it was partly because of that, he enjoyed doing just the contrary to what Babu said… even if admittedly, he’d be right about the foreigners having come this way.
He lowered the window, waving the soldier to come near.
“How you’re all doin’?” he greeted Veejoy casually.
“What do you want?”
“Just tell me, have you seen three foreigners that
happened to pass this way today? One of them had long hair, a beard and a leather hat, one with short blonde hair, a bit stiff like! And the third with a typical haircut the kind you get at every camel market.”
“Yes, they were sitting in Bindi-ji’s car, all of them, I have seen! Anything else?”
“Aha, no, that’s it, thank you very much!”
“Then get going, catch up with your unit and be quick about it, chop chop!”
“Ehm, pardon me?”
The soldier waved him off impatiently.
“Step on it, hurry! I do ask myself whoever had the idea to let riff-raff like you join the army!” The soldier spat on the ground contemptuously.
“What was that, you called us?” Shaki was half getting up from his seat. But Number One was already rolling up the window and stepped on the gas. He really did not feel like risking a gunfight with the soldiers.
“Anybody got any idea, what this guy was talking about?” Shaki asked around. This was answered with a general shrugging of shoulders; Rajnesh wasn’t even prepared to do as much. Ever since they had left Delhi, he had gone mute, neither a barrage of verbal abuse, nor a light banging on his ears could pull him out of his lethargy. He just stared out of the window empty eyed, drank and ate very little, not exchanging one word with anybody. Even Shaki started to get worried about him.
Evening had set in the valley. Slowly the sun was setting behind the mountain ridge and with dusk approaching it became very cold. Considering the valley’s sleeping beauty-like slumber the past several years, it now had become very busy indeed quite suddenly. On the northeastern mountain flank the lights and campfires of the Chinese became visible. On the opposite side the Indian army had taken up their positions. In between the fires of the several other visitors were glowing everywhere.
High above in the middle of the valley the old monastery protruded from the mountain flank like an eagle’s nest. On the big terrace stood the old monk and the Golden Biker letting their eyes wander over the assorted encampments down below.