* * *
—
They stay in a five-star resort hotel on the edge of the capital, Panaji, in one of the beachfront villas, with a servant’s room. Wednesday and Thursday are spent at Sunny’s side during different meetings in the city. In the evenings, after Sunny has attended the obligatory business dinners, he sits alone in the garden of the villa, staring out over the wall to the sea. He barely speaks, he doesn’t eat or drink.
On Friday, Ajay is charged with renting a small car and a Royal Enfield motorcycle, to be paid for in cash. In the afternoon Sunny tells him to go and book a room in a cheap city hotel, the Windmill. Then he gives Ajay a flight number. “Go to the airport in the rental car,” Sunny says. “Neda Madam’s flight lands at eight p.m.”
* * *
—
There is a great comfort in seeing Neda come out the arrivals door and fight her way through the taxi drivers. He’s been waiting a little way off; he pushes through the scrum and takes her luggage, and she smiles at him shyly, with great familiarity. She places a hand on his shoulder as they walk to the small car, a Maruti with local plates, without a word.
He asks her to sit in front, so the police don’t think that he’s an illegal taxi driver.
It’s strange, having her next to him.
For a moment he can take a flight of fancy—scandalous, unbearable to hold it for more than a second—that he is Sunny himself, that Neda is his, that he has a normal life, a life where he is in control.
With Neda back in Sunny’s life he feels things might resolve themselves for the good.
“Is this your first time in Goa, Ajay?” she says.
It comes out of the blue.
He likes it when she uses his name.
“No, madam.”
There is a safety in calling her madam.
They fall into silence again.
“Actually, madam,” he says awhile later, surprised that he’s talking unprompted, “I worked here before.”
“Really, you did?” she says, genuinely interested. “When?”
He feels shy. “Before.”
She laughs quietly. “Where?”
“Arambol.”
“Nice beach. In a shack?”
“Yes, madam.”
“With friends?”
“Yes.”
“Will you see them this time?”
“Madam,” he says, “I’m here to work.”
And they fall into silence again.
* * *
—
He delivers her to the hotel as planned and takes his leave. He goes back to Sunny’s five-star, parking the local car in a residential street some distance away, alongside the Royal Enfield, and walking to the property, going through the metal detector, placing his gun in the tray, showing his license. He goes to the servant quarter in Sunny’s villa and waits. Sits on the bed, bolt upright, hands on thighs, his eyes closed, as if he’s meditating, thinking of Neda with him in the car, the warm wind blowing, no words. Then he’s picturing her trapped while she’s being attacked. Remembering the feeling of his fists pummeling her attackers. It’s the first time he’s really examined it. His teeth clench, his hands ball up into fists. He feels every blow, again and again, the commitment Eli talked about, the commitment to violence. What is it about her? His attachment. It is not desire. Is it mere protectiveness? Solidarity. Maybe. Or perhaps it is envy? He’s envious of the closeness she shares with Sunny. A place he cannot reach. He opens his eyes before he gets too lost. Curls up on the bed. Tries to sleep. At midnight he gets a message from Sunny. Bring the Enfield to the hotel at five a.m.
* * *
—
It’s a pleasure driving slowly through the dawn city on the Enfield, the warm air brushing over his face, the chop of the mighty engine reverberating through the empty streets bathed in the sulfur glow of streetlights. He waits outside the reception as the sky grows pale. Then they are here. He hands over the keys. The tank is full of petrol. Sunny’s license is in the zipper pouch above the tank. Everything has been taken care of.
“Ajay,” Neda says, “why don’t you go see your friends?” She looks at Sunny. “Don’t you think that will be all right?”
“Be back here tomorrow night,” Sunny tells him. “Seven p.m.”
Then they’re gone.
* * *
—
He waits until they are out of sight, imagining himself a solid, stoic presence should they happen to look back, should they, for some reason, need to turn around and return to him. He waits a little longer, until the thundering engine is inaudible. At that moment he turns on his heel and goes inside to settle the bill and, when everything is settled, walks the five kilometers back to the five-star hotel.