JOHNNY GONE DOWN (29 page)

I was running as fast as I could but the black clad soldiers were catching up, their red bandanas flying in the air. Lara and my son were playing on the street outside the favela amidst groups of children mixing cocaine.

‘Run,’ I shouted, but they didn’t listen. I tried to bundle my son in my right arm, but I couldn’t touch him.

He isn’t real, he is a computer image.

Wake up, this is a dream, I urged myself. Someone caught me by the shoulder. I resisted, but he pulled harder.

I opened my eyes and saw my son in front of me.

I gasped in horror - and then I saw Alisa.

‘Wake up, uncle, wake up, Amar uncle is here,’ said Sam’s son, shaking me as I lay on the bed.

I lay back in bed, exhausted. Another nightmare. Why couldn’t I get used to them? Why did I always wake up covered in sweat and thrashing in bed?

‘Who?’ I asked, feeling disoriented in the dark. It was probably evening. I had slept through the morning. I couldn’t sleep this long, I told myself, it wasn’t safe.

‘Amar uncle, Amar uncle,’ shouted Sam’s son as he rushed out of the room.

‘Would you like some coffee, Nikhil?’ Alisa asked.

I nodded, and invisible hands came in with a plate of biscuits and a mug of steaming coffee within seconds.

‘Are you feeling okay? You twitched a lot when you were sleeping,’ said Alisa.

‘I have bad dreams.’

‘Sam told me everything,’ she said softly. ‘You are the bravest man I’ve ever known. I will be proud if our son turns out to be even half the person you are.’

I let that one pass.

‘Amar Kumar is here to meet you,’ she said.

‘Who is he?’

‘A bad actor but a big movie star.’

‘Why is he here?’

‘He always comes by when he is shooting in Delhi, not because we’re great friends but because Sam’s company bankrolls all his movies. We thought we would cancel since you were here, but Sam thought it would be fun for you to meet him,’ said Alisa.

‘A lot of fun,’ I said cynically.

‘Sam has told him all about you.’

I choked on my coffee. ‘Can’t he keep his mouth shut? I didn’t intend my life to become fodder for Tulsi Ramsay and Dada Kondke movies.’

She laughed. ‘Your life is more like a Guru Dutt film,’ she said. ‘Would you like to meet Amar?’

I didn’t really want to, but I didn’t seem to have an option since Sam walked into the room just then, accompanied by a diminutive young man. He was almost half a foot shorter than my six foot plus, and he had a pleasant, if not altogether handsome face.

‘Nick, boss, meet the Indian superstar, Amar Kumar. I’m assuming Alisa has told you that he is bigger than Dilip Kumar, Dev Anand and Rajesh Khanna were in our time.’

‘Kya Sameer bhai, aap bhi na,’ said Amar Kumar in a soft voice that seemed to suit his frame. ‘I am nobody.’

‘We are starting shooting for a new film in which Amar plays a superhero. I thought he could meet
you before that - to gain some inspiration, you see,’ said Sam. ‘I thought you both would have a lot in common. Just like Ram and you.’ He winked at me.

I shot Sam a dirty look as I got up from the bed to shake hands with Amar.

‘A pleasure to meet you,’ I said.

‘The pleasure is entirely mine, sir,’ said Amar. ‘I’m just a hero in movies; you are the hero in real life.’

If this was what being a hero did to you, I thought, I would rather be a movie star - or just about anyone else for that matter.

‘I’m a method actor, sir,’ Amar continued. ‘I like to get under the skin of my character to do justice to my role. You’ve had some very emotional experiences and I would love to understand them better for the film. Would it be possible for me to ask you a few questions?’

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘What would you like to know?’

From the corner of my eye, I saw Sam grinning like a cat. Fuck you for making a mockery of my life, I mouthed silently.

‘How did you feel when you were in that small cell in Phnom Penh?’ Amar began.

My face fell as I recalled the blackness and blood, Ishmael’s body decomposing next to me, and the unending hours spent waiting for the rice soup. What did I feel during that time?

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I just felt… nothing, actually. Just a funny kind of acceptance.’

Amar looked disappointed. ‘You didn’t feel any anger against the system that had chained you there?’ he said dramatically.

I shook my head. ‘I was too hungry to feel anything, I guess.’

He seemed to like that and made a note in the small diary he had with him.

That was probably the only note he made during the course of our conversation. I disappointed him the rest of the time with a series of ‘I don’t know… I didn’t feel anything… it’s hard to explain,’ while Sam shook with silent laughter on the couch.

‘You didn’t feel anything when you lost your entire business in Brazil?’ Amar said, sounding exasperated. ‘You went from a hundred million dollars to zero in one minute for no fault of your own. Surely you were angry.’

‘At whom?’ I said. ‘I was the outsider. I fully understand their motives for doing what they did.’ I paused. ‘Look, I know I’m being of no help, but you have to understand. Things happened so fast that I thought nothing; I felt nothing; I just did what I could to keep afloat at that time. The anger only came later, and it was directed wholly at myself.’

He looked at me blankly.

‘Thank you for your time, sir,’ he said finally. ‘You are an inspiration.’

For a star he was quite a decent guy, I thought.

He got up to leave and paused for a minute. ‘Sir,
I have one suggestion for you and please take it the right way.’

‘Sure,’ I said.

‘I think you should change your name.’

‘My name?’ I repeated in surprise.

He nodded. ‘As soon as I added an extra R and an extra K to my name, all my films became superhits. The audience doesn’t even notice that my name is Amarr Kkumar now, but the gods have noticed.’

‘Why an extra R and K and not something else?’ I asked.

‘My numerologist suggested it after consulting all my charts,’ he said.

I must have looked sceptical because he added, ‘I know it sounds silly, sir, but who knows how God works? Who really knows the mysterious secrets of the universe? After all, everything around us is fundamentally incomprehensible, isn’t it?’

I recalled hearing or saying those words sometime in my past, but I couldn’t remember when.

‘If an extra Y can change fate, then Y not?’ He grinned at his own joke.

So be it, I thought. But with my kind of luck, extra Rs, Ks and Ys wouldn’t do the trick. I needed to change my whole name, and I wouldn’t even need to consult a numerologist. Any name would bring better luck. I tried thinking of a new name as Alisa escorted Amar Kumar out of the room.

‘Nick, you idiot, you aren’t seriously thinking of
adding Ns, Ks, or As to your name, are you?’ said Sam. ‘You are an MIT graduate for heaven’s sake!’

The screen credits of a Dev Anand movie began to roll on the television in front of me.

‘Who’s Nick?’ I said. ‘I am Johnny. From today, Johnny mera naam. So, you were saying?’

‘I need to head out,’ I said.

Sam and I were sitting in the living room as usual, after the children had gone to bed. He was scanning the business dailies, peppering it with the occasional ‘bastards’ and ‘cocksuckers’. I was staring into space, my mind empty of thought, yet too preoccupied to concentrate on anything.

‘Sure, Johnny boy,’ he said without looking up from the newspaper. ‘Sutta-chai?’

He picked up the intercom on the table to call the driver.

‘No, I mean, I need to get out of your house and start my own life,’ I said.

He put down the newspaper.

‘Why are you running away again?’ he said.

‘I’m not running away,’ I said. ‘It’s been a couple of weeks already. How long can a forty-year-old man live in someone’s guest bedroom?’

‘Is space an issue? I could easily add another floor to the house. Let me get started on the plans tomorrow before…’

‘No, no,’ I interrupted. ‘This is like the Taj Mahal compared to where I’ve been before. Seriously, I have really enjoyed being here and being so carefree and silly once again, but I need to move on now.’

‘What’s the hurry?’ he said. ‘Take some more time to recover and figure out what you want to do next.’

‘It’s been a few weeks already, Sam,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘I’ve recovered as much as I can.’

‘Are you ready to date again?’ he asked. ‘That’s the real measure of recovery.’

‘Then I won’t recover in this lifetime.’

‘I know several actresses. You name one and…’

I held up my hand. ‘It’s demeaning to have this discussion. I don’t want to love again. I can’t love again. And I’ve spent so much time alone that I won’t have any problem spending time by myself.’

‘Why do you want to go then, Johnny boy? Just be alone by yourself in your room.’

‘Feeling very funny today, aren’t you?’ I said.

‘I can’t lose you again,’ he said, suddenly serious. ‘Despite Liz, despite the kids, I lived with this vacuum all my life until you showed up.’

‘That sounds really gay.’

‘If something happens again, I won’t be able to forgive myself.’

‘That’s my point,’ I said. ‘Something
will
happen again. Disaster doesn’t leave my side for long. You have to understand that this isn’t like the movies,
Sam. Those people whose Russian roulette thing I screwed up are the South American mafia. I know what they are capable of. The cartel will strike like a viper as soon as things get cold. And I’m not an Amar Kumar who can beat ten baddies with a flick of my little finger. I can’t put your family in danger.’

‘You forget that I have the best security team in Delhi,’ he said. ‘All of them are ex-police and goons.’

‘Trust me, you don’t know these guys. I’ve seen them in action,’ I said. ‘I’ve been awake every night with the Glock in my hand, waiting for them to come.’

‘Are you out of your mind, Johnny boy? Nothing can happen here.’

‘You haven’t seen what I have,’ I said. ‘They strike when it’s cold, and it’s starting to get cold now.’

‘And you’d rather be alone than with this security cover?’

I nodded. ‘I’ve been trained by the best.’

I didn’t mention that no matter what I did or which security cover protected me, I’d be eliminated. Sooner or later, everybody with a hit on their name was executed. You could run from yourself but you couldn’t run from the cartel - especially if you’d screwed them twice. My only wish was to protect Sam’s family. The assassins were honourable people, but eliminating all witnesses was the first rule in the book.

‘I need to think about this,’ he said. ‘Let’s talk tomorrow.’

‘Listen, Mr Studio Boss, I am not Amar Kumar asking you for permission to re-shoot a song sequence in Switzerland,’ I said. ‘I’m informing you that I am leaving tomorrow.’

‘Please
give me time to think about this, Mr Johnny,’ he said.
‘Please
can we talk tomorrow, Sir Johnny?’

I nodded reluctantly.

It was midnight when I went back to my room and prepared myself for another sleepless night. The Glock, always a companion, went from the back pocket of my jeans to a small fold I had cut out in the mattress. I positioned light rubber-soled shoes next to the bed and lay down with my eyes wide open, alert for the sudden, silent thud of a security guard falling outside or the soft, quiet scratch on the tall patio windows facing the garden. If I told Sam about my nightly drill, he would laugh it away as being obsessive - and perhaps it was, but then the
New York Times
Manhattan headquarters paled in comparison to Rio de Janeiro’s Jakeira favela as a training ground in contract killings.

Twelve a.m. One a.m. Two a.m. Another uneventful night, I thought, with a slight tinge of regret. I was no stranger to waiting in the darkness for nothing, but sometimes I wished it would happen quickly. If only they knew I had no desire
to harm them, they probably wouldn’t waste so much time in preparation. All I wanted was to face them before they ran into anyone else in the house, pretend to fight, and get mowed into blood and dust - alone. I had accumulated enough bad karma in one lifetime to be born an insect for the next ten; shooting a few more people wouldn’t really help my karmic cause.

Three a.m. Time to drift off. A lease of life for another day, I thought, stretching out on the bed. And then I heard it. A soft movement of the sofa, a body bumping into another. They were here. I put my well-orchestrated drill into action with tense excitement. In a few seconds, I was downstairs, waiting behind the mahogany staircase, the gun pressing against my palm. A few silent seconds passed. I listened, every nerve end alert, and tightened my grip around the Glock. It would probably go unused tonight unless they decided to go after Sam’s family, in which case I would empty it out on them.

Suddenly, I heard the click of a lamp being switched on and a portion of the living room lit up with soft yellow light.

This wasn’t like them, I thought urgently, they worked in darkness. What the hell was happening?

Revolver in hand, I rushed out into the open.