The Godfather of Kathmandu - By John Burdett Page 0,85
the effects they have on us. You just don’t understand the forces you’re working with. You don’t have the protection of ordinary people—you lost that when we initiated you—and you’re not strong enough to live the dharma all on your own.”
“I don’t understand a word you’re saying.”
“Now you’re lying. You don’t want to understand because the implications are too great for your fragile worldview. You thought you would take a little sex vacation yesterday, crawl into the first womb that came your way, get all gooey and lovey, just like a wandering ghost in search of a body, any body, to escape the spiritual anguish—and start the whole psychotic process of birth and death all over again. Stop kidding yourself. You’ve left a big piece of yourself between her legs. If she wanted, she could crush you like a bug. Instead she comes to me, worried about you. If I were you, I would make amends to her.”
“But I didn’t do anything. She used me.”
“Up to you. Etiquette can be important, though. The guardians like good manners. And what the hell are you doing in Kathmandu anyway? Do you realize how unprofessional this is, for you and me to be in the same town when the deal is being processed? We’re delivering next week.”
“Well, maybe your behavior is less than professional, too,” I mutter. “The main reason I’m here is I want to know who your informants are, the ones who tell you who is carrying for who in Thailand. Zinna and Vikorn are quite upset.”
“My informants? Why didn’t you ask before? One’s called Narayan, the other’s Shah.”
To my astonishment and rage, he has suddenly closed his phone. I stare at my own for a moment, then go to the phone’s log to try to find the number he was using, but the log shows it as an anonymous call. Stumped, I close my phone and slide it into my pocket. This has the effect of triggering another bout of paranoia, because I feel diminished without the gadget in my hand.
Now I’m recovering from the moment and my energy is returning. I know Tietsin is right: I have to get away from the stupa. Its great, looming, sepulchral whiteness is too much, and when I look at it I start to feel ill all over again. With no doubt in my heart this time, I have a cab drive me to the Thai Airways offices on Durber Marg, where I book myself on the next plane to Bangkok.
When I land at Suvarnabhum Airport, it is about six in the evening. I have no luggage to collect, so I grab a taxi and I sit in the back with my eyes closed, exhausted. When I reach home, I remember to switch my phone back on just before crashing.
30
A tiny voice makes insect noises in the depths of my cell phone’s miniature speaker, after shattering my fragile sleep with “All Along the Watchtower”: “So, how’s it going? Feeling better?”
I hold the phone closer to my ear. He’s not using his UN accent tonight: it’s straight New York with a touch of Brooklyn that penetrates the blackness.
“D’you know what time it is?”
“Sure. For you it’s four o’clock in the morning, for me it’s two hours earlier than that, but I don’t sleep much. Four o’clock is when all good monks get up to start their daily practice.”
“I’m not a monk.”
“Who are you kidding?”
I let a beat pass. “My son died. I didn’t tell you. I thought you’d see it, you being enlightened and all. I was testing you. He was killed in an accident. You didn’t know, did you?”
We hang in silence for a moment. “No, I’m sorry. Very sorry. I didn’t know.”
“But you knew I was going to be hit by something devastating. You said so.”
“The spirit is always devastating on its first visit. When you insisted on the initiation, I knew you were going to take a hit. Same as me. I didn’t invent dharma. You have Western blood, you wanted the karma of ten thousand lifetimes all rolled up into one hit so you can take the fast track to enlightenment and get the gold medal before anyone else. Well …” He sighs. “But I’m still sorry. There is no worse feeling than the first time you get whacked, no matter what any of the old hands tell you. I’m just glad it’s you and not me—and you’ll feel the same, one day.”