The Colossus

by Ranjini Iyer

  Fardoon dropped his eyes to the table.

  Max glanced at Zeeshan. His face was frozen. She turned around.

  The blond stood behind her with a gun pointed at Fardoon. He put a rock-like hand on her shoulder. “Nice to see you again, Fraulein Rosen,” he said. To Zeeshan, he ordered, “Close the shutter.”

  Zeeshan promptly obliged.

  Max closed her eyes. The enemy had arrived here, too. Damn him, the bastard. She began shaking with rage.

  “Everyone sit so I can see your hands,” the blond said politely. “You, Miss Rosen, over there, please. Gut. Good. Now old man, where are the Indus pills?”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about,” Fardoon said. A trickle of sweat traced the curve of his cheek down from his temple.

  The blond man cocked his pistol against Zeeshan’s temple. “Want to think about it again?”

  Fardoon jumped up with remarkable agility. “I remember now. I may have some.”

  Max let out a cry. This couldn’t be happening. Fardoon was avoiding meeting her eye. The blond extended his hand, palm open.

  “Not here,” Fardoon said with disdain. “Besides, they aren’t free.”

  The blond’s eyes narrowed. He smiled thinly. “How much?”

  Fardoon didn’t hesitate. “One hundred thousand US dollars!”

  “Aajaa!” Zeeshan cried.

  Fardoon ignored him. “This is my chance to do something good for my son and his village. Let the pills bring some happiness to my people. By Allah, it is time.”

  The German laughed. “You’re a funny little man,” he said. “Maybe I should shoot this handsome young fellow and get you to talk without making any more jokes.”

  Fardoon was enraged. “If you harm a hair on his head, I will kill you.”

  “You forget I’m the one holding the gun here.”

  “And you forget where you are holding that gun. Zeeshan here is well connected with the Taliban and al-Qaeda. Haven’t heard about them? Well, all you need to know is that they hate you. I’d remain very cautious if I were you. Some of Zeeshan’s Talib friends visit us everyday around noon.” Everyone turned to look at a clock on the opposite wall. It was 11:20. “The store hasn’t been closed at this hour for over sixty years. They will know something is the matter, and before you know it, your head will be decorating a stake in the town square.” The German frowned. Fardoon seemed to be enjoying himself. “They love European heads here—it makes a statement about infidels!”

  The German seemed to hesitate. He glanced at Zeeshan, who promptly narrowed his eyes. He was looking over Zeeshan’s clothing now, probably concerned that Zeeshan might be concealing a weapon, Max thought. It wasn’t uncommon in these parts.

  Finally the blond said, “I’ll need to check on the money.”

  Fardoon said, “Go ahead. I know why you seek the pills. You have no idea how easy it would be for me to raise an alarm and have your head sliced away. Besides, it’s getting close to noon. The Taliban have many faults, but they are punctual. They’ll be outside in no time, wondering if they should break in. All we need to do is make a noise.”

  The blond raised his weapon. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Fardoon said, “We know who you are, we know about Berliner.”

  Zeeshan smiled. “You are from Berlin, yes? I’m sure you know this new group al-Qaeda is starting to have a presence there. What is a mere hundred thousand dollars compared to your family’s safety?”

  “Shut up,” The blond said, but his voice was less cocky than when he had first walked in.

  “Come Zeeshan, let’s start shouting,” Fardoon said.

  The blond held up his hand. “I’ll make arrangements. But if I don’t get the pills, Tali-whatever or not, I’ll finish you all off.”

  Fardoon nodded. The blond took a cell phone out of his pocket and made a call. He spoke clipped sentences in German. The person on the other side was brief. The blond hung up.

  “You’ll have fifty thousand dollars,” he said. “Now the pills.”

  This couldn’t be happening again. “No!” Max cried. “No! Please don’t.”

  “First the money,” Fardoon said, ignoring her.

  The blond shook his head.

  “No?” Fardoon raised his palms in the air, “Fine. I’m just trying to save your skin.”

  The blond hesitated for a few seconds before speaking. “He goes with me.” He took Zeeshan’s arm. “Your phones, please.” He took Max’s and Fardoon’s cell phones and checked the place for a landline. There was none.

  They started to leave. Max, no longer afraid and realizing the futility of her situation, leapt at the blond and managed to scratch him deeply across his cheek. “I need those tablets!” she screamed. “You cannot take away everything. I’m sick of you and your threats.”

  The German easily peeled her off his body and threw her onto the floor. He brought his gun to her temple and pressed hard. “I should have done this a long time ago. One less Jew in the world is one less problem, my father always said.”

  “Do it. I dare you,” she hissed. “Just do it.”

  Fardoon stepped between her and the blond. “Let her go.”

  The blond shrugged him aside, his face fierce, his eyes determined.

  “I’m asking nicely,” Fardoon said. “We do not treat women this way. If you value your own life, you will let her go.”

  The blond let out a laugh. “You love to slaughter your women. Stonings, vigilante justice. This place is known for them.”

  Fardoon looked livid. “Perhaps. But if you kill her for these tablets, it means they’re valuable, which in turn means you’ll have to pay for a lot of people’s silence. We may look it, but we’re not a lawless land. Just like these groups I told you about, the police also love making examples of your lot. I’m merely trying to help you. It’s costing you fifty thousand dollars now. With her blood on your hands, it’ll cost you a lot more.”

  The blond dug his gun deeper into Max’s temple, hit her hard with it and pushed her away. She fell to the floor. Pain shot through her head like a bolt of electricity.

  The German said to Fardoon, “When your grandson and I return, you better lead me to the pills.” To Max, he said, “Do not interfere where you don’t belong.”

  Clutching her head in her hands, Max turned away.

  The blond and Zeeshan left through the tiny back door.

  Fardoon let out a sigh upon hearing the door being locked from the outside. The front shutter too was locked.

  Max slowly got off the floor and went back to her chair. She held a handkerchief to her temple to stop the bleeding. “Thank you for saving my life,” she said.

  Fardoon waved her thanks away with a swift movement of his hand. He opened a first aid kit, found Max some antiseptic, and applied it to her gash.

  “Don’t you want the story of the pills to come out?” Max asked, wincing with pain.

  “What story?” Fardoon said distractedly. “That the pills are making everyone sick and fat?”

  “It’s so much more than that,” Max said. “With the pills we can get the bacteria in it and use it to make a vaccine. Heart disease, obesity, diabetes, high blood pressure—so much could be prevented in the future.”

  “All rich people’s problems,” Fardoon muttered, glancing up at the connecting window to the tea shop.

  “Are you saying no one you know, no one in your village suffers from diabetes or high blood pressure?” Max said, tears starting to run down her cheeks.

  “Child, what do you know about my people?” Fardoon said kindly. “Maybe they do have these diseases. But what they suffer from is a lack of basic resources. This money will give them that and more. And let me tell you one other thing. In Mohenjo-daro, all those years ago, numerous promises were made by your grandfather’s friends and never kept. A school and hospital were started and left half finished when their work was done. Our graves were desecrated during the war. Some Germans came and emptied the Colossus’s grave
of the urns, with not so much as a paisa in return. This is the time for payment. If I give you the pills, what do we get? A small mention in a newspaper somewhere. Maybe.”

  “I’m so sorry about all that happened, but my grandfather had nothing to do with it,” Max began.

  Fardoon raised his hand. “It is possible. And maybe all I am is an old, ignorant man. But what I see here is a chance to make things right.” He paused. “Or perhaps I just don’t believe you. You must understand it is all rather far-fetched.”

  “Don’t you see? That sort of thinking is exactly why it’s so important for me to have the pills.” Max said with passion. “Please, why don’t you do both? Get your money and give me a few, just a few pills.”

  Fardoon stood on tiptoe at the window. “Khan, are you there? Khan?” To Max he said, “And risk the wrath of that monster? Nah, nah. I have Zeeshan to think of. It’s not worth it to be a hero. No madam, I plan to hand over every last pill to him.”

  Max wrung her hands. “Damn, damn, damn,” she said over and over.

  “Khan!” Fardoon called. “Khan! For God’s sake, is everyone asleep?”

  “Kya baat hai bhai?” Max heard a soft voice say. “How much chai will you have in one morning?”

  Fardoon spoke in hurried Urdu.

  “Brother, you are becoming senile,” the man on the other end said in English when Fardoon had finished.

  Fardoon sat down across from Max in silence, drumming anxious fingers on the table.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Outside, Julian was on the street not far from Fardoon’s shop. Half frantic, half irritated, his shoulders slumped. He wished he could have the old Max back—sweet, dithering Max who needed him to take charge. Here she had gone off all by herself doing heaven knows what. If it weren’t for Kevin, he wouldn’t even have known where she had taken off to!

  He stopped outside Fardoon’s shop. Closed. Great. Now what? He thought about Raquel. He really should call her. They had spoken a few days before. He told her he was visiting a colleague in India. She had believed him, since as far as she was concerned, India was in Asia. It would not occur to her that his area of work involved East Asia and not South Asia.

  Still, he did feel guilty about misleading her. And at the same time, he was merrily leading Max on. He was turning out to be quite a nasty piece of goods overall.

  The phone rang.

  Raquel.

  “Hi,” she said in a tired voice. “I just got back home.”

  “I see,” Julian said, his eyes scanning the street for Max.

  “I’m fine, Jules, and how are you?” Raquel said.

  “All right, I guess,” Julian said, not taking the bait. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

  Raquel sighed. “I’m working. Always working. And I’m getting sick of it. Tomorrow I turn thirty-four, Jules. Thirty-four.”

  He had almost forgotten. “I would’ve called.” He knew how lame he sounded. All he wanted to do was hang up and look for Max.

  “Yes, well. I know you’re busy, too. But I wish you were here.”

  He felt a pang of affection for Raquel.

  But where the heck was Max? His heart starting pounding hard against his ribs. What if something happened to her? He would never forgive—

  “Jules,” Raquel said. “I’m tired. I want to settle down. I can’t go on like this. Let’s get married, let’s have a baby, and after a year or so, I’ll be recharged for this mad world.”

  Wow, really! “This is hardly the way to discuss this,” he said and looked back at Fardoon’s store. No sign of anyone.

  “We never seem to have the time to talk anymore,” Raquel said in an uncharacteristically vulnerable manner. “What are you doing in India, anyway? Weren’t you just in London? What’s with all the travel? I miss you. When are you coming back?”

  “I’m not sure,” Julian said.

  “Am I boring you?” Raquel said sharply. How did she always know when he was distracted?

  “No…it’s just that my friend, uh, colleague is in a little bit of trouble, and I’m trying to help, but she—”

  “What sort of trouble?” Raquel said tartly.

  Julian was silent.

  “I can see you are otherwise occupied. And maybe it’s my fault. I’m here. I’m ready. Call me when you get back.”

  Silence on both sides. Julian was about to speak when, unexpectedly, Raquel said, “I love you,” before she hung up.

  Julian sank down onto the sidewalk, drained. Should he ask the tea shop if they knew where Fardoon had gone? Max seldom answered her cell phone these days. Still, it was worth a shot. He got her voice mail. He crossed the street and paced, keeping his eyes on Fardoon’s store.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Inside the store, Fardoon and Max stared at the walls for what seemed like ages when Zeeshan and the blond finally entered through the back door.

  Excitedly, Zeeshan said, “The money will be transferred into our account in a few days as long as we give him what he wants. The bank manager assured me that the transfer has been initiated. She demanded that I buy her wedding trousseau, now that I’m going to be rich.” Zeeshan plunked himself down on a chair and stared at his grandfather in joyful disbelief.

  The German was starting to look nervous. His hair looked even more horrific than usual, Max thought with a grimace. Half yellow, half brown. Ugh. She’d had enough of everything. All she wanted to do now was leave this place in one piece.

  “Can I go now?” she asked him icily.

  “Not yet,” he snapped, pointing his gun at her.

  There was a knock on the back door. Zeeshan opened it. Three bearded men in traditional dress stood there, one of them armed with a large, ancient-looking rifle.

  “Aah, Zeeshan bhai, Aajaa. There you are,” one of them said. “Everything all right?” He glanced at the German.

  Fardoon looked delighted.

  The men gave the blond disapproving looks. One of them winked at Max. She pulled her scarf tightly around her head and chest in response.

  The German spoke to Fardoon while keeping an eye on the newcomers. “Now the pills. If I don’t have all of them, the transfer won’t happen.” He pulled Max by her arm, and Fardoon led them to his apartment above the store. Fardoon opened his closet. Nestled among his clothes was a wooden box. Inside were a few small pieces of jewelry, an Indus seal, and a small bottle of pills.

  Max felt desperation rising in her chest. She was so close, so very close. With a cry, she leapt towards Fardoon and grabbed the bottle.

  The blond slapped her hard across the face and snatched the bottle back from her. “Fräulein, my patience is wearing thin.”

  She tried to claw at him, but he held her away with minimal effort.

  “I hope there are no more of these,” the blond said to Fardoon.

  Fardoon shook his head, avoiding Max’s glare.

  The German went through the entire apartment with quick nervous movements. He seemed to want nothing more than to leave this place. The presence of the men downstairs was unnerving him, Max thought.

  Fardoon led them back to the store.

  Max noticed that the man who had winked at her was trying to load the rifle. Oddly, he didn’t seem to know how or where the bullets went.

  The German handed back Max’s cell phone. “Don’t bother calling the police, not if you want that lily-faced boyfriend of yours to live. Or your old Jew in Chicago.”

  He quickly left.

  The minute he was out of sight, the Chapars and their extremist friends let out a loud cry of joy. The three men peeled off their traditional clothes and threw them up in the air. They were wearing jeans and T-shirts. Except for their scraggly beards, they looked like college kids in any part of the world.

  “Aren’t you glad we didn’t shave today, Aajaa?” one of them said.

  Fardoon slapped them on their shoulders. “How did you get these clothes?”

  “There are four people at Khan’s tea shop sitting practically
naked! There was no time for them to take our clothes, so we just wore theirs over ours!”

  “And the rifle?” Zeeshan asked.

  “It belongs to the security guard at the jewelry store next door. He was asleep, so we thought we’d borrow it. Nice touch, no?” The man who had winked at Max now smiled at her. She returned it with a small smile of her own. They were harmless.

  She sighed. Seemed everyone but her was capable of outsmarting her adversaries. She got up and left the store through the back door.

  Julian rushed toward her as she crossed the street. He grabbed her by her shoulders. “What happened? I was so worried.” He touched her temple. “My goodness, you’re hurt! Why didn’t you tell me where you were?”

  “Julian, you’re hurting me.” Max broke free from his grasp.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. He was shaking. “I was so afraid for you.”

  Max turned to look at the store. “The Germans have bought the pills for fifty thousand dollars,” she said.

  “That monster is in there, too?” Julian clenched his teeth, his voice frantic. He took her arm again. “Did he do this to you? Should we call the police?”

  “What is the matter with you?” Max said. “You sound like Uncle Ernst! Anyway, I don’t see how the police can help. Let’s go.” She pulled her arm away from his too-firm grip. “We’re done here.”

  They walked in silence, Max fuming. “I wish I had found out nothing. Then I wouldn’t have to live with this utter and humiliating defeat.”

  “Kevin will publish the report,” Julian said.

  “But without the pills, there will be no impact,” Max said.

  “The research community will look into it…eventually.”

  “And Papa’s death? Who will look into that?”

  “We have done quite well, considering. We got our hands on the papers, we figured out how to decode them. Surely you can feel some sense of peace that your father didn’t commit suicide.” Julian sounded irritated.

  Max turned to look at him. Julian ought to know that his choice of words had been a tad callous. “Peace! There’s no peace for me. Guilt. And failure. Those are the feelings I foresee for the rest of my life. Seriously, Julian.”