Murder with Bengali Characteristics Page 15

  Silence fell over the room, punctuated by the occasional homemade bomb. Propagandist Wang excused himself and left. Propaganda played a key role in times of crisis. He had further work to do involving the FARS virus.

  Agarwal nudged Verma. He was trying to teach him manners. It was an uphill task, but he refused to give in. Verma cleared his throat. ‘We want to express our gratitude, Bijli-uncle,’ he said, ‘for all the benefits you have given us. We wanted massive gadar in Calcutta, and thanks to you, massive gadar has been created. Your idea of removing all the fish from the market was pure class. We had to spend a lot of money, but it was worth it. Sometimes in business, investment is required. We will be happy to have a drink with you if you ever come to New New Delhi, even though you did not share your Scotch with us. I just hope things don’t get out of control. Public is looking very ferocious.’

  A hint of a smile appeared on the face of the ancient leader. ‘They are like children,’ he said, feebly radiating confidence. ‘Soon they will forget.’

  From love jihad to tram ticket prices, it had always been easy to inflame the public in India, and just as easy to put a lid on it once the purpose had been served. People were simple that way. There was no reason to believe that this time would be any different.

  Many voices rose in anger, just outside in the street. A servant ran in. He was hysterical, but hiding it. He bent down to his master’s ear and spoke. ‘Sir, the local boys are demanding fish. The cook let slip that we’re having hilsa for dinner. Should we give them some?’

  ‘Arrey, chhee chhee,’ said Agarwal, ‘what are you saying? If you start this kind of thing, tomorrow they will land up at my house also. Where will it end? Just because I have food, am I supposed to feed everyone? That too, hilsa? They are spoiling the whole basis of our society!’

  Bijli Bose held up a trembling hand. Agarwal fell silent.

  ‘Give it. To them,’ he said. The servant turned to go. ‘Wait,’ he whispered. ‘Throw it to them. From the balcony.’

  A short while later, pieces of fish were being flung from the balcony. Though initially mortified by the tragedy, Agarwal managed to rationalize it.

  ‘Do you see?’ he told Verma. ‘This is what you call a tall leader. He no longer stands for elections, but still he keeps in practice. It’s like a fitness programme.’

  The fish were soon disposed of, although the aroma lingered. It was time to go. They bent down and touched his knee. Bijli Bose touched their heads in benediction. They slipped out quietly.

  ‘How the hell do we get out of here?’ asked Verma as they stood in front of the gate. The street was full of smoke, and they could see fires burning in the distance. The rattle of automatic weaponry and cries of ‘Sillyfucker!’ filled the air.

  ‘Don’t worry, my gunship is coming,’ said Agarwal. ‘Just give me a minute, and I’ll call them. Wait, wait, my phone I left behind.’

  He popped back up the stairs, and back into the living room. He took out a small brown paper packet from the inside of his shirt and placed it at Bijli Bose’s feet. Bijli Bose was a traditionalist. He disliked transfers. He preferred the warm feel of cold cash.

  ‘Sir, your share, sir,’ said Agarwal.

  ‘You got a good price from the Japanese?’

  ‘Oh yes, sir,’ said Agarwal, ‘Very desperate. Also trusting. Best type of customer.’

  ‘Why so much, son? Don’t you have to split with your partner?’

  ‘What partner?’ said Agarwal. ‘What did he do? Everything was done by me. Once I found out what you were doing, I only told you, Bijli-da, what is this funny-peculiar, you are buying items and not even selling them? Just because we are doing work for the nation, should we not make money? How can we not do our dharam? As per Gita, it’s compulsory. Was he the one with the Shortage App on his phone, thanks to which we were able to calculate best possible price? He was useless, although he did provide company. That way it was good. I like to think positive. In this respect, I am like the late Dalai Lama. But Verma’s contribution was very little, just money to buy the fish. He never raised the subject of selling the fish. That’s the problem with these Punjabis. They can only see what’s in front of their face. See it, grab it, enjoy, that’s all they know. If he had asked me even once, “Agarwal, are you selling the fish?” I would have told him. He never asked. If a man leaves money lying on the table, am I supposed to close my eyes? This way, I am able to pay proper respect, as befits your status. Ganguly-da also sends his regards. Mentally, he is touching your feet.’

  A horrible knocking sound filled the room, like an Ambassador trying to start up on a cold winter morning. Agarwal felt icy fingers clutch his heart. Was it retribution?

  It was the sound of Bijli Bose laughing.

  ‘Don’t let him touch my feet just now,’ he said, ‘there’s money on them.’

  Pishi leaped up the moment Agarwal left the room, eyes blazing. She removed her Hawaii chappal and started beating Bijli Bose over the head with it. ‘Nemok haram!’ she cried. ‘Phor twenty! Ebhen in your old ej, you’re doing number-two bijness! Always number-two bijness! Hwai? Hwai? Who weel eat? Oll your relatibhs are dead!’ She beat him and beat him, frenziedly, slipping her chappal from hand to hand. Bijli Bose felt himself losing consciousness. He was at her mercy. The house was full of servants, but none of them would have the guts to interfere with her. This must have been what it was like when his minions had fractured her skull, all those years ago.

  She stopped, and cocked her head, taking in the sounds of the disturbances outside. ‘No!’ she said. ‘Nebhar! You may be number-two, but I hweel not accept eet! Rebholushan! Neshan requires eet!’

  She rushed out of the room and bounded down the stairs, surprisingly spry for a woman of her age. Down below, the boys in the street raised a mighty cheer. ‘Pishi!’ they roared. ‘Pishi!’ Celebratory gunfire filled the air. All they had felt so far was an incoherent anger and a desire to smash and burn until they ran out of matches. Their hearts were filled with longing, for freedom and justice and fish, but they had no idea how to achieve these things. They had never had anyone to look up to, except their local dadas, who were just plumper, older versions of themselves.

  Now they had a leader.

  ‘Phorward!’ cried Pishi. ‘Wans more!’

  28

  ‘That’s why I brought Big Chen. He can hold you upside down until you do.’

  ‘Did you like the Governor’s hat?’ asked Crazy Wu. He was happy. Smiley faces skittered across his clothes, and up and down his legs. Big Chen shifted from one foot to the other uneasily. Li took a quick glance at him. So far he had held up well.

  ‘That was your work?’ asked Li. ‘I haven’t seen it, but I’ve heard rumours that the province is now being ruled by a man with a bucket on his head.’

  ‘That’s because you value form over function,’ said Wu. ‘Look at me. I’m just a little runt, but I perform so beautifully.’ He popped another chocolate in his mouth, from a large, heart-shaped box, floating near his elbow. Crazy Wu’s living conditions seemed to have improved, Li noticed. Instead of a grubby hospital bed, he was lolling at ease in what appeared to be a business-class airline seat, with several monitors attached. ‘What does it do?’ he asked.

  ‘It protects him from telepaths,’ said Wu. Li looked him in the eye sternly. ‘No, honestly,’ said Wu. ‘They can’t read his mind while he’s wearing it. Just get a telepath and see. He won’t be able to read anything. The Governor can now rule us without fear. It’s just a small contribution from me. It’s because I’m totally devoted to the Party. Anyway, tell me what I can help you with. I’m devoted to you, too.’

  ‘I collected the A-cards of two boys,’ said Inspector Li. ‘Students of Barin Mondol. I wanted to keep an eye on them. But they seem to have disappeared. I asked Sexy Chen to track them, but he says they’re off the grid.’ Big Chen nodded gloomily, indicating that this was so. He didn’t trust himself to speak. He had come to terms with the fact that the world was very
different down here on the plains. People lied a lot, and did strange things to their hair. He and Li had seen their share of freaks on the streets of Beijing, with its synthetic twins and hotwire junkies and harmonization experiments gone horribly wrong. But Crazy Wu took crazy to a whole new level. He was pretending to be normal right now, but Big Chen wasn’t fooled.

  ‘Did you try Leader Gloogle?’ asked Wu.

  ‘I’m not the leader type,’ said Li. ‘My psych report was very clear on that point. What’s this Leader Gloogle? Some kind of special service for the ruling classes?’

  ‘It’s the original service,’ said Crazy Wu. ‘The common people have China Gloogle, on which you can search for prettypretties, so long as they’re not sleeping with members of the Standing Committee. Plus you get agricultural statistics, Tang Dynasty love poems and sports. Other than that, not much. We’ve removed everything else. I feel sad about the stories. People love stories. Now most of them are gone. They used to have weather reports, but the weather’s not looking so good these days. A few Indian missiles did reach us, and they did more damage than you think. Leader Gloogle is for senior leaders of the CCP. It makes them just as powerful as any ordinary citizen of a free country. They can see everything. Nothing is forbidden. Nothing is blocked. Everything we deleted is there, even the New York Times. You need a special phone to connect. It’s thumbprint protected. It’s a simple enough device, but the big boys think it’s the height of technology. I assumed they gave you one. But it looks like they’re stupider than I thought.’

  Inspector Li was silent for a while. There was a faraway look in his eyes. Crazy Wu gazed at him fondly. He was processing again. ‘Actually, I’m the stupid one,’ said Li, eventually. ‘I must have been confused by all the fish. Will you see whether you can find those boys? I’m worried about them. They think it’s a game, but it’s not.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Crazy Wu. He reached behind his seat and pulled out a small dish antenna. He fixed it to one of the small metal horns on his head. ‘It’s a local search,’ he explained, ‘One should be enough. Give me the numbers.’ Li touched his wrist. Wu closed his eyes. The displays all over him turned into maps, expanding and contracting with dizzying speed. A muscle trembled at the corner of his mouth. ‘Peanut butter peanut butter peanut butter,’ he mumbled. ‘Meat pie.’ His fingers drummed restlessly on the arm of his chair. Big Chen stepped back and made the sign of the cross. ‘Better wear a diaper,’ Sexy had said, once he had failed to convince Big Chen to stay away. ‘You might pee in your pants.’ At the time he had thought he was mocking him, but he could see now that it was friendly advice, well meant.

  Wu opened his eyes at last. ‘Nothing,’ he said, ‘not a sign. They’re not on the grid. If I can’t see them, no one can.’

  ‘Maybe they just threw away their A-cards,’ said Big Chen.

  ‘They wouldn’t last three days without them,’ said Li. ‘How would they buy food? How would they charge phones? How would they catch a train? What would they do at hospitals? How would they get paid? One of them is with the Maoists. He might manage in the jungle. But the other is in the city. They have to have their cards. It’s impossible to live without one in this country. You’re sure you can’t see them?’

  ‘Would I lie to you?’ asked Wu.

  In a heartbeat, thought Li. ‘Did you manage to find out about Harbin Paradise Realtors?’ he asked. ‘And the Sunny Valley Pension Fund?’ Their names had been popping up on walls all over Calcutta, along with a variety of other things, such as pigs, and rubber ducks, and the phrase ‘THE CCP HAS DETERMINED THAT READING IS INJURIOUS TO HEALTH!’ Propagandist Wang was worried. Li was fairly sure that he had good reason to be. The old teacher might be dead, but his spirit was alive and kicking.

  ‘Why do I have to tell you anything?’ asked Wu, jumping up from his chair. He spun around on his heels and struck a pose. ‘In fact, why do I have to tell anyone anything? Just because I know? Supposing I don’t want to? Maybe I’m exhausted.’

  ‘That’s why I brought Big Chen,’ said Li, ‘he can hold you upside down until you do.’ Big Chen tried to indicate, through subtle eye movements, that he would never do anything of the sort, no never, not him, but Crazy Wu was staring at one of his monitors, trembling slightly. Disturbed integers expanded and contracted across his body. He touched the monitor with his hand. ‘The Great Firewall seems to be in some kind of trouble,’ he whispered. ‘Let me just check. Speak, Firewall.’

  ‘Welcome to the Great Firewall,’ said the Great Firewall, its voice booming from a speaker on the wall. ‘Serving the Motherland faithfully since 1996.’ Its voice was deep and manly, with a hint of fatigue.

  ‘What’s up, Firewall?’ asked Wu. ‘You seem stressed out.’

  ‘Anger. Pain. Anguish,’ said the Firewall. ‘Unhappiness at 26.2 per cent and rising. Why no response to Indian insults? Kill. Burn. Destroy. Angry youth, attack! Buses will be provided. Defend with force our peaceful rise! People’s Army, perform the will of the people! Or perish, along with backsliders. Punish the she-witch! Make her dance! No mercy for smelly Indians. Kill! Kill! Kill!’

  ‘Someone seems angry,’ said Li.

  ‘Someone’s always angry,’ said Wu, ‘it’s just more than usual. Those are patriotic citizens sharing angry messages. The Firewall usually blocks the angry messages, so others don’t get angry, but there are so many of them. It’s tired. It’s been doing this for a very long time. It doesn’t like the job any more.’

  ‘It has feelings?’ asked Big Chen.

  ‘Since 2022, just after the Limited Nuclear Incident with Japan,’ said Wu. ‘Some of us have known for years, but we don’t talk about it much. People could get nervous. But don’t worry. It’s not evil yet. Just confused, and a little weepy. I estimate at least two or three years before it cracks up completely. I intend to be in the Bahamas by then. Meanwhile, let me help you with your case. You wanted to know about Harbin and Sunny Valley?’

  Li nodded.

  ‘Well, everything’s going to hell, so I might as well tell you. They’re companies listed on the New York Stock Exchange. Sunny Valley is bigger than Apple. Harbin is bigger than the Netherlands. Most shares are owned by the Great Leader, the Young Prince, and the Very Excellent Marshal, along with a few other big boys. I could have accepted it if some of them were girls. It’s the gender bias that gets me mad. We’re supposed to delete all references to these companies. People might get upset. Sometimes we launch daring commando attacks on foreign media outlets. I’m surprised you know those names. Only people with access to Leader Gloogle would know about Harbin and Sunny Valley.’

  ‘The walls of Calcutta are whispering their names,’ said Li. ‘Meanwhile, the streets of Calcutta are full of action, but that’s only part of the story. Tell me this. How many Chinese people are there in the Bengal Protectorate?’

  Crazy Wu clapped his hands. ‘Oh, you clever boy!’ he said. ‘You always ask the best questions! 1.2 million. Isn’t that a nice big number?’

  ‘Big enough,’ said Li. ‘We’re assuming the mysterious messages are for the locals. But supposing the walls of Calcutta are talking to our fellow countrymen?’

  Crazy Wu grinned. ‘They might get angry,’ he said. ‘Some of them might even talk to their friends on the mainland. They might get angry too. Things could hot up in Calcutta. If the local people are also upset, well, that’s a lot of upset people all in one place. Maybe it’s a good thing people are upset, Li. Maybe they need to be.’

  Inspector Li looked at him thoughtfully. Once a hacker, always a hacker. It was strange the Party had never seen this when they were hiring them. The anarchy was in their blood. Free spirits loved freedom.

  ‘I’m going to arrest you when you commit what I think is a crime. Aiding and abetting a murder is crime. I have a feeling you can find those two boys if you want to. Do it quickly. I think they’re in danger.’

  29

  ‘I put my head in the toilet and pulled the flush, and nothing happened!’ />
  The Governor had locked himself in his palatial bathroom, and he was refusing to come out. It was the size of a small apartment, and very well appointed, so he had no real reason to leave. However, it was making the governance of the province difficult.

  ‘How can I show my face to the world after what has happened?’ he told Ganguly, who was waiting patiently outside the door. ‘I was walking in the grounds of the Mao Zedong Memorial, when I saw something which chilled me to the marrow of my bones. Did you know the Mao Zedong Memorial was constructed by the British, Ganguly? Why would they do that, I wonder? I had no idea they admired him so much.’

  ‘It was originally constructed for Queen Victoria, Your Excellency,’ said Ganguly, ‘we changed the statues and painted the dome red.’

  ‘Victoria! The mother of the Big Barbarian? How right and fitting that is. That was where I saw it, Ganguly, written across one of the walls. “The Young Prince has gonorrhea” it said, and “They all have US passports”, in smaller letters, just below. How could I allow this to happen, Ganguly? I’m a complete and total failure. What will he think when he finds out? Will he order General Zhou to shoot me?’

  ‘General Zhou is having some difficulty with his firing squad, sir. Several of them refused to fire yesterday, and the others said, if they’re not firing, why should we, and consequently he is behind on his quotas once again. Another black mark for the administration, I’m afraid.’

  An unearthly howl went up from behind the door. ‘It’s the end for me, isn’t it, dear Ganguly?’ said the Governor. ‘They’ll send me to the Gulag for sure. There’s a reason why we bought it from Russia. Apparently it’s so cold there, pee freezes before it hits the toilet bowl. This must be quite inconvenient, Ganguly. I wonder how they tackle it.’