Ch 16, Free Fall
James had a kink in his neck from sleeping on the airplane. When they finally arrived in Goa, the heat blast outside the airport was the last straw, which made him walk right to the bar of the small hotel and order a 'huge' beer. Chicho didn't feel tired and left off to the police station to see if the inspector on the case would meet him this late in the afternoon.
Tony had dipped in the hotel pool and looked refreshed when he sat next to his father at the bar.
"I wonder how Mom is faring?" he said staring ahead and sipping his cold soda.
"They had arrived when I last checked my messages …that was during the layover in Dubai." James responded. He was worried, just like Tony was, but was doing his best to hide it.
"I don't know why you didn't go with her!" the boy noted. "Marcel seems like a nice guy, but I think she needs you".
As James gave him a weird look, Tony went on: "When you're in prison, she was very much down. And she told me you literally saved her life… like 20 times…back in the day."
"I haven't counted them", James chuckled. Keeping Teresa alive had been his mission in the narco life, there was no denying it.
"Well, she has!" Tony looked at him. "And I believe her...That's why I wanted to come with you… to learn...So, that I can become like you ...when I meet the woman of my life!", he sounded so serious that James was taken aback.
"I hope you do, son!...Both learn…and meet the right woman!" he managed to say and in a moment of weakness his hand went up and he ruffled Tony's curly hair.
"That's why I'm here!" Tony repeated and James felt there was too much youthful excitement in his son's voice.
So, he said: "Do you know what her life would become if something were to happen to you here, Tony?"
Tony squinted and replied: "Do you know what it would become if something were to happen to you, Dad?"
James only sighed as there was no point going forward with the conversation: "Okay then…let's talk strategy!"
Chicho had managed to get an early morning appointment for the next day with the inspector assigned to the case of Marcel's murdered investigator. He considered this a success as the police in India was slow to begin with, and when the afternoon heat descended on the city, all life seemed to stop.
10 am in the morning was as pleasant as it would ever be in Goa, unless one was sprawled on the beach drinking cocktails and dipping in the water.
They were already sweating by the time they got out of the hot cab and entered the police station which boasted a noisy air conditioner. Inspector Agarwal was in his early 40s and looked like the thick dark coffee he was drinking had no effect on his ability to move or talk faster.
The circumstances of Oliver Shaw's death had been very suspicious as he had been followed by a dark SUV to his hotel, whereby one occupant of the SUV had acquired his room information by force from the front desk clerk and then had proceeded to surprise him and shoot him in the head. He had then exited fast, and the running SUV had left the curb side as if chased according to witnesses from the hotel lobby.
Agarwal had a very good idea of what Shaw had been investigating and had done some digging himself because he believed Shaw had been killed because of what he had uncovered. Agarwal had found Shaw's payment receipt to the chemical lab of a local college that provided soil testing services to the public. The lab had disclosed that as per the examined soil results, the land owned by Shaw's employer was moderately contaminated with substances typical for polymer and fertilizer production.
Agarwal had outdone himself by digging deeper to uncover that the land's previous owners, a company by the name of ManuPolymers had gone bankrupt after having been the subject of a law suit, alleging waste dumping. The plaintiff had been Riva Industries Ltd, headquartered in Tel Aviv and heavily present on the Indian market. ManuPolymers had denied all allegations but substances specific to its manufacturing process had been found on several pieces of land it owned, land that was used and land that was vacant. They had been ordered to clean up, which expense had sunk their boat and they had filed for bankruptcy selling their assets over a few months.
Chicho raked his brain to remember the name Riva Industries from his dealings with Lancaster's team but nothing specific came up. However, a call to Anat Moshe confirmed that Riva Industries was one of the many companies where Lancaster had a holding. Things were starting to take shape.
"I can tell you that the van they used was rented. We only had a partial license plate because they parked at an angle from the hotel camera…but we located the rental company and are now working to get the ID of the customer", Agarwal said. He offered to keep them apprised, but James felt that they would need a week on the beach while waiting for the police to figure out who rented the van.
Chicho seemed to have read his mind: "Whoever it was, they most likely have left the country!"
Agarwal saw them out and once they sat down to eat lunch in a fancy place, that was air conditioned, they decided that locating the owners of ManuPolymers would logically be their next step. Chicho used the opportunity to call Tel Aviv again and by the evening they had the address of the majority shareholder, a retired woman by the name of Vandita Mahajan, who lived in a busy neighborhood not far from the city.
Mrs. Mahajan spoke perfect English as she had an Oxford degree in chemical engineering and had managed her business with her late husband for 30 plus years.
A servant in a white robe invited the three guests in a cool reception room and served them iced tea and cookies.
Tony had been eating local foods and talking about different cuisines ever since Paris, and obviously was eager to indulge in the cookies. James, who had just argued with him about waiting for them in the car, and had lost the argument, got himself a glare when he dared to suggest that Tony 'stop stuffing' his face as this was a 'business meeting'.
"Riva is a shark!" Vandita Mahajan said and sat on the couch sipping her own tea. "I don't know who is really behind them…if they are Israeli as they say…I only dealt with the representatives here. The top boss was a marketing executive, a Rajeev Patel, and he left Goa once his wife bought my vacant land and my oldest plant…I wouldn't have sold to her had I knows she was his wife…but her offer was the best and I needed the funds". Vandita sounded more upset the more she talked.
James felt sick to his stomach to learn that her husband had passed once it had become clear that bankruptcy was the only option for them. This Lancaster and his unscrupulous swipe at everything and everyone had really started to upset his sense of justice.
They said their goodbyes and walked out as Chicho was already texting Anat about information on the Patel marketing executive. He walked to the car in brisk movements as a man in black, who seemed off for the decently busy street, swiftly moved in the shadows of a grand tree and then ran off into the side street.
James's instincts spiked and he yelled: "Chicho stop!" as his friend was not more than 20 meters away from their parked rental car. Chicho put his phone away and took out his knife, the only weapon he could carry on a commercial flight.
Just as the thought that a knife was practically useless was crossing James's mind, their rental exploded in a loud hot bang throwing him on the ground and causing others in the vicinity to scream in panic and horror.
James was dazed and was certain he had lost consciousness because his mind kept replaying the force of the gas explosion coming out of a first floor condo in a quiet Dallas neighborhood as 6 year old Suzie Douglas ran inside looking for her mother. He could feel himself yell her name but the high pitched ringing in his ears didn't actually let him hear anything.
He breathed dust and coughed his lungs out for a minute. Then lifted himself from the ground feeling surreal and staring at the trembling heat wave air.
He felt like everything was happening in slow motion; he yelled his son's name, then Chicho's; then resisted the uniform men who were trying to pull him back from the burning vehicle. Before he could realize it, a crowd had gathered, and two police vehicles had blocked the street. Soon after a fire truck showed up and put out the hot blaze.
The police officer was talking to him in loud Hindi until he suddenly found his voice and asked about his son. All he remembered was that Tony was coming behind him as they had exited the house.
"We recovered only one person that was close to the car", the young police officer said in a thick accent. "He isn't a boy… and is being treated over there in the ambulance!"
James moved in the direction of the ambulance and spotted Chicho, stretched on a gurney, leg bleeding, face dirty and bloodied, but alert and talking. Two other men had been hurt and were also being treated on stretchers on the street. That's when James realized his own shoulder hurt but he was in control of all his limbs. His mind couldn't accept the thought that Tony wasn't there. It gave his heart such a free fall of horror. He screamed his son's name again until he had to be taken down by the officers and given a shot to calm down.
As the minutes ticked and the drug took effect, he felt unrecognizable. His sanity was slipping away. He was dazed and could feel his pulse beating against his eardrums. And in this moment, the ambulance and the fire truck started spinning while the tears ran down his dirt stricken face. His son couldn't have died! Not his son! How would he tell Teresa? How could that be? How would they live if they had lost a child, their first one? On a stupid mission to the other end of the world! No! No!
Tony Valdez had been thrown so far back from the blast that he had hit his head and it hurt like hell. He had been unconscious for a long time because when he finally came to, he was in a hospital room with three medical people inside. He opened his eyes and realized he couldn't see clearly. His mind went into overdrive, and he started asking about his father.
James was rushed in a few seconds and as he hugged his son, Tony knew his father had gone through something terrible as he kept repeating "I thought you're gone!" His hands shook and it took him a while before he could tell him that the police had found him in the yard of Vandita's house, under some debris from the blast.
Tony and Chicho were both hospitalized for the next two days while James was released after being extensively questioned by Inspector Agarwal and being advised to go back to his hotel and to stay there.
James did exactly that but couldn't be held cooped up in a room, so after a long shower he found himself walking aimlessly in the streets. His mind slowly got back to its normal state, and he realized they had lost their passports and credit cards in the blast. The only thing remaining was the cash they had in the hotel room safe, which he estimated would be enough to pay their hospital bills for a few days and to buy them ship passage out as flying out would be out of the question. He was so glad he had left a credit card at the hotel to cover the stay.
Soon he realized he had walked the streets alone for hours, dazed and afraid, letting his system process the events, thinking about how his son might have been dead had he stayed in the car as James had insisted.
The Blackridge operatives must have put the explosive in while they were eating lunch. But wait... it couldn't have been an explosive wired to the car because it had gone off before they had even opened a door. It would be tough to hot wire a bomb on a busy street in late afternoon, so they must have put the charge under the vehicle and remotely detonated it. And this mistake had saved their lives!
The night had turned windy, and it was spitting. He got into a pub and ordered whiskey. He knew he should eat but the thought of food made him nauseous. His head felt pleasantly empty as the alcohol traveled too fast.
James tried to flag a cab but there was none free. He felt the tensile strength of his nerves hit the ceiling as one slowed down, the driver rolled the window down looking at his disheveled state with a smirk. The night had turned chilly and rainy by then. When he gave the hotel address, the driver smirked and said in broken English that it was too close. James heard himself curse and got a 'Fuck you' and a middle finger in return. So, he went back in the bar.
An hour later it was already dark when the rain had slowed down. James walked in the direction of the hotel when three teenagers spotted him as he turned the corner of a small street and called out to him. Taunts and slurs. He ignored them and just walked faster thinking that if this was his son, he would not turn his back on a conflict situation. They ran after him, and he had no choice but to face them.
They were even younger than he had first thought. He sensed the smell of malt liquor wafting off them like malicious cologne. The ragged energy they carried in their eyes suggested they had been out quite a while, perhaps searching for this opportunity. They didn't bother talking, just threw themselves at him with punches and kicks. He was too tired to actually feel anger, but realized soon enough he was not too broken to fight back. His shoulder hurt more than he expected it from the fall and soon he found himself on the ground. When the punks started kicking him in the stomach, his adrenaline took over and he caught a foot and pulled its owner down. Grabbing him from behind to use a shield, his hand pulled out a knife from the kid's pants and hurled it at the other kid slicing his shoulder. Clarity came crashing, painful and shameful but in the exact moment it was desperately needed.
The two kids ran away as James pushed the third one off himself, got up and ran in the opposite direction.
By the time he made it to the hotel, he was completely wet and shivering uncontrollably. The small, dated room felt like luxury. He pulled his cell and without thinking what time it was at the other end of the world, dialed Teresa's number.
The phone rang a few times, and he got voicemail. His voice sounded like someone else's: "I love you…and I always will…just needed you to know …because I feel like …ahh…I'm not brave enough... not any more… not without you!" and he hung up and stared at the exterior hotel sign bleeding neon red light into the room.
