Shaki could not believe what he just heard. His nephew, the wimp, the one, who liked to press flowers in between book covers, was shouting at one of the most dangerous and powerful dons of the Indian underworld, like he was giving a dressing-down to a small-time shoplifter. He was duly impressed. Maybe Rajnesh would get to be a man after all!
On the other hand, maybe not, judging Báaba’s expression in his face, Rajnesh’s life expectancy was that of only a matter of seconds. The hand holding the revolver was shaking, Shaki cocked it and pressed through gritted teeth. “Say your last prayer, dipshit!”
He did not get to pull the trigger. With a leap Shaki had pushed down the outstretched arm, holding the pistol. Bábaa immediately counterattacked, throwing Shaki to the ground. Struggling, they rolled around in the mud, cussing each other obscenely, gasping for air. Rajnesh watched the two men brawling for a while, shaking his head. “Pathetic...!” he spat on the ground in disgust.
At this moment, the whole valley was filled with the sound of music. Tibetan horns were making a droning sound like a mixture of the Godzilla roar and a band of bagpipe player on ecstasy and it was echoing along the rocky walls. Shaki and Báaba froze in their movements, everybody else as well tried to figure out from where this ‘music’ was coming from all of a sudden.
At the foothills, a big wall of fog was building up, apparently coming out of nowhere, spreading along the bottom of the valley within seconds. The small temple already seemed to perk out from a blanket of clouds.
Bábaa got himself up. “What... what is happening down there?” He squinted his eyes.
Hermann, who like all the rest of them was staring in the direction of the temple, almost lost his voice. “It is him, it is...”
At this moment a gleaming golden beam was cutting through the wall of fog.
“Combat unit!” Solomon high up in his helicopter screamed into his microphone. “What’s happening down there?”
The voice from the speakers was distorted by hiss and crackle. “We cannot make out anything, that fog suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Wait, I can see something... that’s, oh my God---”
“What’s happening? Combat unit, can you hear me?”
“He is... completely made out of gold!”
Solomon, Moshe and Ephraim stared at each other “What? Who? Come again!” Solomon excitedly yelled into his radio.
“He is glowing!” the voice on the other end panted, “I don’t know what or who it is, but it glows like a light bulb!”
“Take the copter lower! I want to see what’s going on!” Solomon shouted at the pilot who immediately sank the aircraft.
“Chief!” Ephraim said, “I think I’ve been in a situation like that before!”
“What? Where?”
Ephraim concentrated hard.
“Where???” Solomon urged him, “Tell me, for heaven’s sake! What’s happening down there?”
“I’ve got it!” Ephraim exclaimed gladly snapping his two fingers. “In ‘Alien’. The same dialogue, exactly!”
“WHAT?” Solomon stared at his agent dumbfounded.
“Well, just now, when they were on the radio saying ‘I can see something, it is... oh my God’ and so on... that’s exactly like it was in the movie, am I right?”
“Correct,” Moshe nodded gravely, “good flick, that!”
“I don’t believe this, I don’t believe this...” Solomon was nervously massaging his temples.
Arthur, Bear and Gerd and Sherie, shedding all caution, had come out from their cover, watching with amazement the unfolding spectacle. The Golden Biker!
Slowly, as if cruising down a boulevard made of golden clouds he was coming up the hill, heading straight at them. The horns were still blaring, filling the valley with their mystical sounds.
“Zere, zat’s him!” Hermann gasped, his face turning white with rage. Again, after such a long time he could taste that metallic taste of blood in his mouth again, small specks of light were dancing in front of his eyes. “Finally! After so many years, revenge!” he cried out, running to one of his soldiers, grabbed an anti tank missile and aimed it at the cursed golden figure, slowly coming up the hill.
Bábaa bolted, screaming, “NOOOOO! I NEED HIM ALIVE!!!”
He jumped at Hermann, but it was too late. Hermann already saw the golden motorbike in the cross hairs. “For you, mein Fuehrer!” he snarled and with great gratification he pulled the trigger.
‘SWOOOOOOOSH!!!’
The projectile shot up the hillside leaving a long trail of fire behind, aiming directly for the Golden Biker.
The golden bike stopped right in front of the foursome. Nobody said a word, which was not at all surprising, taken into account that it’s not everyday that you meet a living legend, and if in the highly unlikely event you do, a casual, ‘Hi there’ just won’t cut it.
The Golden Biker dismounted. For the first time they could see him at close and he looked totally different from what they had imagined. His golden helmet was sporting no wings; he neither looked like an American gangsta-rapper, nor like a woman for that matter.
His face was hidden behind a golden mask, on his body he wore some sort of golden armour and a golden cape thrown over his shoulder was flapping in the wind.
“I am the Golden Biker!” he announced majestically. “The alpha and the omega, the...”
“GET DOWN!” From the corner of his eyes Arthur had seen something very bright racing towards them. Without thinking he grabbed The Golden Biker by his breast harness who, taken by surprise, lost his balance and toppled on top of Arthur.
‘SWOOOOOOOOSH!!!’
The missile shot over their heads and straight up into the sky.
‘BEEEEEEP!!!!’ The missile detector of the helicopter had detected a missile, heading straight towards them and gave out an ear shredding alarm.
“We are being attacked!!!” the female pilot screamed, turning her head back. “That will cost you extra!”
Moshe pressed his face against the window. He could clearly make out the incoming missile. “Do something—for Pete’s sake!” he cried back frightened.
“Combat mission control!!!” Solomon screamed into the radio. “We are under attack! Open fire, at once!”
The pilot momentarily pulled the helicopter upwards and the shell passed underneath it, barely missing the cockpit, heading straight at the opposing side of the valley instead.
Apu smiled and offered to shake hands. “So we have come to an understanding, right?” Li Xiao took his hand, shaking it with delight. “Absolutely, I am glad we have been able to work this out. Wu, come over here. Take a picture, will you?”
They both posed for a smiling handshake picture and Wu took some shots with his camera. Apu was very satisfied, he had successfully convinced the Chinese, that there was absolutely no threat coming from their side, whereupon the Chinese agreed to a withdrawal of their troops. Li Xiao had even invited Apu to join him for dinner. Apu felt proud and in control.
Thanks to his achievements his career would sky rocket.
‘BOOOOOOOOM!!!’
The very moment that Wu had clicked his camera, a shell came shooting from the Indian side smashing into one of the trucks. It went up in a yellow-orange ball of flames. Toothpick-size smouldering bits and pieces of it were flying up into the air before raining back down onto the totally surprised Wu, Li Xiao and Apu.
“Ups...” Apu was the first to find his words again.
Li Xiao’s gaze wandered between the burning remnants of the truck over to Apu, who desperately tried to radiate self-assurance.
“Arrest this man, at once!” the general barked, pointing at Apu.
“Wait! I am sure this must be a terrible misunderstanding!” Apu tried to defend himself, as the soldiers came running at him with rifles drawn.
“Yes?” Wu came to attention.
“Give the order to open fire. We are defending ourselves!”
“General!” Apu warned, “this will result in a severe international conflict!”
Li Xiao only tossed him a hateful glance. “For which you are liable! Pity really, that you won’t be made accountable for it!” He turned to his soldiers. “Shoot this man, at once!”
Apu’s answer to that was a faint raised eyebrow. Hands seized him and dragged him away. “Do you expect me to respond to that?” he called back over his shoulder to the general.
“No Mr Bindi, I expect you to die. That is how we treat spies in China!” Li Xiao shouted after him. He snatched the binoculars away from Wu and peered through them, hate in his eyes, checking out the Indian army’s positions on the other side of the valley.
The Indian commander could hardly believe his eyes, as he too was peering through his binoculars. Who was that, in the helicopter? Who were those people down in the valley? Why, in Shiva’s name were those idiots shooting at the Chinese? And what about that combat unit down there, who, all of a sudden, after having removed their camouflage covers, had started to engage in open combat with that odd looking Swastika-army firing right across the roof of the small temple? And why was the Chinese army repositioning their artillery?
... AIMING STRAIGHT AT HIM!!!
“GO FOR COVER!!!” He yanked away his binoculars and hit the ground. That very instant the Chinese missiles were hitting home, detonating inside his camp.
“ANSWER FIRE!!!!” He yelled over the multiple dins of explosions everywhere.
Meanwhile, down in the valley, all hell had broken loose. Anybody, who was still in the open, somehow ducked behind some rocks, fallen trees or simply fell flat into the mud; harmless bushes had suddenly transformed into heavily armoured soldiers, who immediately opened fire at Hermann’s army and anybody else they assumed belonged to his group. Hermann’s soldiers went for cover behind their trucks and returned the fire. High above their heads meanwhile, missiles were hurling from the Indian to the Chinese side and vice versa. Since the exact provenance of the troops in the middle of the valley remained a mystery as well to the Indians as to the Chinese, both sides had decided to bombard them as well, which was why the entire area around the temple was in the thick of crossfires. Bullets flying everywhere, shells detonating left and right.
Bábaa had pulled his gun and was taking cover behind the dead body of the Jain.
“YOU IMBECILE!” he cried over to Hermann, against the noise of explosions, “That’s all your damn fault!”
“I don’t have to take this from you!” Hermann shouted back, pulling out his gun and opening fire at Bábaa, as well as the temple. Bábaa answered in kind.
Babu and Willie were wasting their ammunition by trying to pump Gerd full of lead. Whereas Shaki and his men had opened fire at their personal targets Bear and Arthur, while simultaneously trying to fend off the constant barrage of bullets stemming from the camouflage unit.
In short, everybody was shooting at everybody, there was no love lost between any of the parties involved.
“Perhaps it would be a good idea to get inside the temple!” the monk suggested in a calm and quiet tone as if he was commenting on an inconvenient drizzle of rain.
On all fours they robbed into the interior of the temple. Only the monk and the Golden Biker kept their upright posture, as if the flying bullets could not touch them.
“Can we have some light?” Arthur asked, after the door had been closed behind them and they stood in total darkness.
“There shall be light!” they heard the voice of the Golden Biker in the darkness and instantly the torches on the walls began to light up.
“Holy Shit!!!” Gerd, Arthur, Bear and Sherie exclaimed in unison, their jaws dropping simultaneously. It had not been the temple though, that had caught them by surprise. Its interior was a rather dull affair of a rectangle room with a high ceiling, the walls of which all had carved wood panelling. Nothing to write home about, actually. Nothing, one had not seen inside of other temples. What had caught their attention, however, was the golden shimmering weed—stacked up like bales of hay! The best grass in the world in neatly piled bricks, stacked up to the rafters, touching the ceiling. The whole back of the building was chock-a-block with the Golden Biker’s dope, more of the golden stuff anybody had ever seen in his whole life. The foursome stood frozen amidst this unbelievable treasure. They had come across the Fort Knox of the international drug market. What lay before them, might just as well be a dream, the final vision on the deathbed of a doper, what would be passing before his inner eye, while listening to a voice whispering: “That is it, just pass through the tunnel and you will get there. Go towards the light!”
“That’s...” began Arthur hesitantly
“... more grass...” Bear added,
“... than I could ever...” Gerd continued,
“... be able to...” Sherie said
“... smoke in a lifetime” Arthur finished the sentence.
“Smoke???” Gerd stared at Arthur as if he had lost his mind. “Do you have any idea, of how much money we’re looking at? You can buy a whole country for that!”
“We are rich!!!” Bear cried out jubilantly and jumped into the bale of grass, headfirst. Like frolicking children in a haystack, they tumbled around in the heavily scented Marihuana, throwing piles of it over each other’s heads, merrily laughing all along.
“Excuse me!” said the monk, “I hate to interrupt your playtime. But I believe, the master wants to say something!”
Bear and Arthur, up to their necks in the grass, first looked at each other, then at the Golden Biker, who, so far had been watching them, arms folded in front of him.
“We’re... terribly sorry!” Bear stuttered, “all that dope, we... ehm, got carried away a bit, you know!”
“Sooorry...” Arthur mumbled embarrassed, while plucking some sticks and stems from his hair. He then scrambled out of the grass with downcast eyes.
The Golden Biker took a step forward. Lit by the light of the torches he looked gigantic.
“I am the Golden Biker!” he droned, “The alpha and the omega, the... urggh...” The Golden Biker froze in mid sentence, grabbed for his heart, and very slowly tumbled over, like a piece of timber. Booom...
Everybody looked at each other, stupefied. Only the monk knelt down, bending over his master, feeling his pulse, sighed deeply and stood up again... “He has left his mortal shell!” he said in a declamatory tone.
What on earth am I doing here? Bábaa asked himself, still crouching for cover behind the fake Jain’s body, bullets flying around him. He was preparing himself for retirement. Actually, his well-deserved golden years, had just been around the corner and then somehow it had all gotten quite out of hand. What had gone wrong? At what point of the story exactly, had he made a mistake? Maybe Rajnesh was right after all? Maybe that’s all he was, the laughing stock of his trade. Him, the undisputed master of his empire, was now lying here in the mud, inappropriately sheltered by a corpse, and all by himself. Hermann had his army, Shaki had Number One and Number Two and even the freelancers were a pair. Whoever those guys might be, shooting at them from out of nowhere, they too didn’t seem to be alone.
Bábaa shook his head. “This is no time to get the blues!” he said to himself, cocked his pistol and scanned the area for the impertinent Rajnesh. Since everybody was busy killing everybody else, the least he could do, was to make sure he hit the right guy.
“Rajnesh! My nephew! Go for cover!!!” Shaki shouted at his nephew, who was leaning against a tree, pouting and giving everybody else disgusted looks.
“What do you care?” Rajnesh shouted
back, “You don’t give a fuck, if I die or not!”
“No!” Shaki yelled from behind his cover, ducking his head because a nearby exploding shell had just made the dirt fly all over. “No! But I do care! My boy, you are my nephew after all! We have to stick together!”
Rajnesh crossed his arms. “Oh yeah? Did not look like that just before...!”
A direct hit entered the riverbed, just yards away from them. A water fountain shot up and rained back down over Shaki and Rajnesh. Crouching down, Shaki ran right through the hailing bullets over to his nephew.
“Listen!” Shaki gasped, “I might not always have been the best of uncles. But the way you talked to Bábaa today—well, I got to give it to you, I am really proud of you!”
For the first time Rajnesh looked him directly in the face. “You are... you’ve never said anything to me like that before!”
Shaki opened his arms wide. “Nephew, can you forgive one hell of a stupid uncle?”
Rajnesh’s eyes filled with tears. His heart wasn’t made of stone, after all. The fact that his uncle had dared the flying bullets just to get to him and to apologise, that was something... he never would have expected that from him. “Uncle...” he uttered, visibly moved and they both fell into each other’s arms.
Number One and Number Two, firing away continuously, had been watching the scene from afar, gave out a sigh.
“How beautiful...” Number One crooned, while throwing a hand grenade at a suspiciously looking bush.
Rajnesh and Shaki released their embrace and looked at each other smiling.
“I have something for you!” Shaki said, with sincere emotion, pushing a semi automatic pistol into Rajnesh’s hand.
Rajnesh’s eyes widened. “Uncle? Your good Walther? I cannot possibly accept that!”
But Shaki pushed the weapon away from him. “But of course, my boy! It is for you! It belonged to your grandfather. How about it—shall we give it our blessings?”
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