girl was different. She smiled, her perfect white teeth between her full lips looking extremely inviting. The cupid’s bow of her upper lip was begging to be kissed.
‘Would you like to sample some lipstick off my lips?’ she asked with a knowing smile. Before he could reply, the lift arrived at the sixth floor with a loud thunk. They stood staring at each other, the lift humming, waiting for its doors to be opened. ‘I’ve got a few minutes before I go up to my friend’s flat,’ she said, her eyes locked with his. Without another word, he leaned towards her, but as soon as his lips touched hers, the lift’s call button began to buzz. She leaned away, distracted and conscious all of a sudden. He pushed open the collapsible grill and stepped on to the sixth floor, and she followed him without a word.
As soon as he shut the lift’s door, it was called down. He held her hand and began to lead her down the passage towards his small rented flat. As they walked past the staircase, he glanced down the shaft and his eyes chanced upon something on the ground floor. He froze. A man wearing camouflage fatigues was standing on the ground floor with a 9mm carbine in his hand, ready for attack. Akhbir swivelled around and looked at the girl.
‘You bitch! You’re with the police.’
The girl stopped, looking confused. ‘What! I don’t understand?’ The surprise in her eyes was entirely believable but Akhbir didn’t want to stand around talking.
He rushed away from the girl and ran up to his door, rummaging in his pocket for the key. From the corner of his eye, he saw that the girl was still standing in the passage, busy fiddling with the zip of her handbag. He finally pulled out his key and inserted it into the lock. In the background, he could hear the hum of the lift riding up the building. He was just moments away from entering his apartment. As he turned the key in the lock, he heard the click-clack of heels behind him. ‘Damn that chick!’ he cursed, turning to face her.
He swivelled on his feet and saw the girl leap towards him, knife in hand. On instinct, he moved to the right and that move saved his life. The long shining blade missed his heart, slicing the side of his shoulder and embedding itself in the door. Blood spurted from his wound and the girl’s leaping body slammed into him as she was thrown off balance because of his sudden change in position. He pushed her away and opened the door with his uninjured arm. As she fell away from him, her hair flew off her head and landed in a heap on the floor. With a shock, Akhbir realized that she was wearing a wig. The girl leapt to her feet again with the agility of an alley cat, but before she could lunge at him once more, he opened the door and jumped into his flat, slamming the door behind him. Knowing she only had a couple of minutes to get away from the scene, the girl quickly grabbed the knife’s handle, extricated it from the door and shoved it into her bag. She then scooped up the wig and pulled it back on her head. Turning on her heels, she ran to the staircase and rushed up to the seventh floor just as the lift laden with Virkar and two armed police commandos arrived on the sixth.
22
T he old seven-storeyed building in Byculla had been built in the expansion boom of the mid-1960s. It aped the Art Deco style of the buildings on Marine Drive and Back Bay Reclamation, and although the building had now gone to seed, it still retained most of the quirks that were signature to that architectural style. The most important of these was the garbage chute that ran down from the seventh floor to the garbage refuse area on the ground floor. The entry to the chute was situated in a small foyer that could be accessed through the kitchen door at the back of each small apartment.
Virkar stood in front of the metal chute on the sixth floor. Crinkling his nose to avoid inhaling the fumes of the rotting garbage, he popped his head into the chute, hoping to see Akhbir
‘Would you like to sample some lipstick off my lips?’ she asked with a knowing smile. Before he could reply, the lift arrived at the sixth floor with a loud thunk. They stood staring at each other, the lift humming, waiting for its doors to be opened. ‘I’ve got a few minutes before I go up to my friend’s flat,’ she said, her eyes locked with his. Without another word, he leaned towards her, but as soon as his lips touched hers, the lift’s call button began to buzz. She leaned away, distracted and conscious all of a sudden. He pushed open the collapsible grill and stepped on to the sixth floor, and she followed him without a word.
As soon as he shut the lift’s door, it was called down. He held her hand and began to lead her down the passage towards his small rented flat. As they walked past the staircase, he glanced down the shaft and his eyes chanced upon something on the ground floor. He froze. A man wearing camouflage fatigues was standing on the ground floor with a 9mm carbine in his hand, ready for attack. Akhbir swivelled around and looked at the girl.
‘You bitch! You’re with the police.’
The girl stopped, looking confused. ‘What! I don’t understand?’ The surprise in her eyes was entirely believable but Akhbir didn’t want to stand around talking.
He rushed away from the girl and ran up to his door, rummaging in his pocket for the key. From the corner of his eye, he saw that the girl was still standing in the passage, busy fiddling with the zip of her handbag. He finally pulled out his key and inserted it into the lock. In the background, he could hear the hum of the lift riding up the building. He was just moments away from entering his apartment. As he turned the key in the lock, he heard the click-clack of heels behind him. ‘Damn that chick!’ he cursed, turning to face her.
He swivelled on his feet and saw the girl leap towards him, knife in hand. On instinct, he moved to the right and that move saved his life. The long shining blade missed his heart, slicing the side of his shoulder and embedding itself in the door. Blood spurted from his wound and the girl’s leaping body slammed into him as she was thrown off balance because of his sudden change in position. He pushed her away and opened the door with his uninjured arm. As she fell away from him, her hair flew off her head and landed in a heap on the floor. With a shock, Akhbir realized that she was wearing a wig. The girl leapt to her feet again with the agility of an alley cat, but before she could lunge at him once more, he opened the door and jumped into his flat, slamming the door behind him. Knowing she only had a couple of minutes to get away from the scene, the girl quickly grabbed the knife’s handle, extricated it from the door and shoved it into her bag. She then scooped up the wig and pulled it back on her head. Turning on her heels, she ran to the staircase and rushed up to the seventh floor just as the lift laden with Virkar and two armed police commandos arrived on the sixth.
22
T he old seven-storeyed building in Byculla had been built in the expansion boom of the mid-1960s. It aped the Art Deco style of the buildings on Marine Drive and Back Bay Reclamation, and although the building had now gone to seed, it still retained most of the quirks that were signature to that architectural style. The most important of these was the garbage chute that ran down from the seventh floor to the garbage refuse area on the ground floor. The entry to the chute was situated in a small foyer that could be accessed through the kitchen door at the back of each small apartment.
Virkar stood in front of the metal chute on the sixth floor. Crinkling his nose to avoid inhaling the fumes of the rotting garbage, he popped his head into the chute, hoping to see Akhbir
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