Last Man in Tower - Aravind Adiga [143]
He understood: she was ashamed. She too had known of what was going to happen.
A shadow fell over Mary’s bent back: a hawk went gliding over her into one of the open windows of Tower B.
“Come to this tower!” Masterji called out.
From his window he watched as the hawk, as if at his command, came out of Tower B and flew back.
And not just you.
Pigeon, crow, hummingbird; spider, scorpion, silverfish, termite, and red ant; bats, bees, stinging wasps, clouds of anopheles mosquitoes.
Come, all of you: and protect me from human beings.
The cricket game at the Tamil temple had ended. A good game for Timothy; his mother had not caught him playing, and he had scored the most runs this afternoon.
Kumar, tallest of the boys who played with Timothy, had not had a good game. His shift as a cleaner at the Konkan Kinara, a cheap restaurant near the Santa Cruz train station, would start soon, and he was walking through the wasteland around Vakola to his home in one of the slums behind the Bandra-Kurla Complex. He was limping this evening; with the cricket bat in his hand, he slashed at the tall grass to either side of the mud path. A few paces ahead of him, Dharmendar, the cycle mechanic’s assistant, walked with his hands in his pockets, staring at the ground.
From the tall grass, a small dark creature in a blue safari suit leapt out at them.
“Ajwani Uncle,” Kumar said.
The broker slapped Dharmendar on the head. “The simplest of jobs.” A second slap. “All you had to do was scare an old man. A sixty-one-year-old man.”
Ajwani’s forehead bulged and his scalp retracted. The tendons in his neck became taut. His spit came out in a spray; he swore.
Kumar put down his cricket bat, and stood by Dharmendar’s side, to indicate his share of the responsibility. He bowed his head: Ajwani disdained to slap it. He wiped his palms on his safari suit, as if he had soiled them by touching one so unworthy.
“You had the key, you had to go in and put a hand over his mouth and give him a message. And you couldn’t do that.”
“He was … very fierce, Ajwani Uncle.”
The broker scowled. “And now you’re playing cricket.”
“Forgive us, Uncle,” Kumar said. “We’re no good for work like this.”
A plane with the red-and-white Air India colours rose into the sky. Below its roar, Ajwani cursed and spat into the grass.
“How many boys wait for a call like this? A chance to make some easy money. The beginning of a career in real estate. And I had to pick the two of you. Kumar: didn’t I find your family a place in the slums? Was there any other way you could have got a roof over your heads for 2,500 rupees a month?”
“No, Uncle.”
“And you, Dharmendar: didn’t I help your mother find a job as a maid in Silver Trophy Society? Didn’t I go there and speak to the Secretary personally?”
“Yes, Uncle.”
“And you boys let me down like this. Running from a sixty-one-year-old ….” He shook his head. “And now the police will be here. After me.”
“Forgive us, Uncle.”
“What happened to the key I gave you?” Ajwani gestured for it with his fingers.
“We lost the key,” Kumar said.
“When we were running out of the building, Uncle.”
“Lost the key!” Ajwani shouted. “When the police come to arrest me, I should give them your names and say it was your idea.”
“We’ll go to jail for you, Uncle. You are like a father to—”
“Oh, shut up,” Ajwani said. “Shut up.”
Almost choking with disgust, he walked back to the market and crossed the road to his office.
When Mani returned to the Renaissance Real-Estate office, he found his boss lying on the cot in the inner room, with one foot stretched out and playing with the coconuts in the wicker basket.
“Why, Mani? Why did I give the job to those boys? I know so many people along the highway. I should have gone to a real goonda. Someone with experience.”
“Yes, sir.” Mani sat in a corner and watched the boss.
“I have failed in everything