A hot potato

Mary woke when the train pulled into Mumbai Central Station.

She had no idea how she had fallen asleep. All night, she had faced the carriage wall, and looking down from the upper berth, Aditya had thought she had not closed her eyes at all.

Only when the train began to slow did Mary sit up, tuck her hair behind her ears, and glance out the window.

"We're here," Aditya said, jumping down.

Aditya hauled their bags off the luggage rack, and the two of them got off the train together.

The platform was already packed, with shouting, whistles, ringing bells, and station announcements over the loudspeakers all jumbled together.

Mumbai was still Mumbai. It would not fall silent for even half a second just because someone had died.

Aditya pulled Mary through the crowds and out of the station. Rows of auto-rickshaws clogged the exit onto the station square, and drivers swarmed around them, competing for their business.

Aditya ignored them, walked over to a black-and-yellow taxi by the roadside, and opened the door.

"The port docks. Cohen Company."

The driver glanced at them in the rearview mirror, grunted in acknowledgment, and switched on the meter.

Mary sat by the window, her eyes half closed. Aditya shut the window, blocking out Mumbai's stench of decay.

The taxi lurched through stop-and-go traffic, taking several side streets. Based on Aditya's assessment of Indians, this driver was definitely taking the long way around.

Cohen Shipping Services Company occupied a small, three-story building beside Pier Three at the Port of Mumbai, a structure left over from colonial times.

The old brick walls were characteristic of the British occupation. They had been painted several times, only for the sea wind to leave patches of white on them again.

Several cars were parked downstairs. Among them, a black Ambassador had been polished to a brilliant shine, reflecting the sunlight. This was India's homegrown luxury car brand, the pride of India.

Aditya paid the fare and went inside with Mary.

Kulkarni was already waiting inside. After taking their luggage, he led Aditya and Mary upstairs.

The second-floor office door was open. Kulkarni introduced Aditya and Mary to the people seated inside.

Ghulam, Harun, and several managers sat along both sides of a long table. After introducing themselves, they all stood and bowed to Mary and Aditya, saying, "Miss Cohen. Mr. Aditya."

The sea breeze swept in through the corridor, lifting the sheets of paper on the table.

Mary murmured an acknowledgment and took the seat just above Kulkarni's. Aditya sat beside her.

Someone closed the office door.

Without any unnecessary words, Kulkarni spread out the documents and began reading Solomon's will.

"Share transfer deed: Mary Cohen shall hold seventy percent of the shares and serve as chairwoman; Aditya Mishra shall hold thirty percent of the shares and serve as executive director, responsible for the company's day-to-day operations. Disposal of major assets, changes to dock operating rights, and bank accounts shall require both signatures."

Not one person at the table interrupted. Even their coughs were stifled. Harun rested his chin on his hand, his eyes fixed on the tabletop. Ghulam narrowed his eyes, his hands folded on the table. The other managers listened quietly, their expressions unchanged. They all seemed to know the contents already.

When Kulkarni read, "Mr. Aditya Mishra shall serve as executive director, responsible for the company's day-to-day operations," Ghulam looked up at Aditya, then quickly averted his gaze.

Kulkarni finished reading, closed the documents, and looked around at everyone present.

"If anyone has any objections, you may raise them now," he said.

No one spoke.

A few seconds later, Ghulam was the first to rise. He pressed his palms together toward Mary and said, "Miss Cohen, please accept my condolences." Then he turned to Aditya and said, "Mr. Mishra, welcome aboard."

Harun and the managers scrambled to their feet as well, offering their respects in turn.

Mary and Aditya each offered a few polite remarks, bringing their first meeting to a close. Then Ghulam and Harun led everyone out of the office.

Once everyone had left, the office door was closed again.

Kulkarni kept only the protagonist and Mary behind. Aditya knew perfectly well: small matters called for big meetings, big matters called for small meetings, and important matters needed no meeting at all.

Sure enough, Kulkarni took another sheet of paper from his leather bag. It was handwritten, with neither a letterhead nor an official seal.

"These are a few things Mr. Cohen asked me to put together before he died. They're very important."

Aditya took it. Five lines were written on it:

Port authority joint secretary Gadkari-holding up the renewal.

Dock district police station chief Kumar-monthly tea money.

Haji Karim, five alleys, twenty thousand a month.

Rajput Shipping-agency fees.

Saparkar, a man from the south.

"Every one of these five people has a bearing on whether Cohen Company lives or dies," Kulkarni explained, pointing at the words on the paper.

"Gadkari and Kumar are with the Mumbai authorities. The former is joint secretary of the Port of Mumbai Authority, and the latter is chief of the port district police. Those two control the docks by day. Haji Karim controls the docks by night. The shipowner Rajput owes the company money. Saparkar is a middleman from the south.

"When Mr. Cohen was alive, he had all these people neatly in line, and none of them crossed the boundaries. Now that he's dead, these five may start stirring. You need to make plans early."

What a hot potato. I knew that fellow Solomon was up to no good, Aditya thought.

"Which one is the biggest threat right now?" Aditya asked directly.

Kulkarni considered it, then replied, "Gadkari is the most urgent. The company's license has only eight months left, and he's sitting on the approval. The cargo owners at the docks will all catch wind of it. Once one client switches ports, the others will follow. Once the docks are empty, anything we say will be too late."

"What about Kumar?"

"He's greedy and likes taking money, but he also follows the rules and won't go out of his way to hurt anyone. As long as you let him know you understand the rules, he'll remain neutral at worst."

"Haji Karim is a gang boss. He comes for money. When Mr. Cohen was here, he wanted twenty thousand. Now that the company has changed hands, he's bound to come test the waters."

"The shipowner's unpaid fees are actually the simplest matter. Rajput won't fall out with the company. Once things stabilize, he'll come to us himself to repay the money."

"Saparkar is the hardest to deal with. He's neither a gangster nor an official. He's an agent for shipowners in the southern port district. He has ships but no port. What he has his eye on is the entire Cohen Company."

Mary sat beside them and listened without a word until he finished. Only then did she say, "So they all think we're easy targets and want to grab our money?"

"That's not wrong," Kulkarni said with a nod.

Aditya folded the paper, set it on the table, and weighed it down.

Kulkarni took several more documents from his leather bag and laid them flat on the table.

"There's more?" Aditya frowned deeply.

"No, that's all for the company. These are Mr. Cohen's private assets. I'll go through them as well, so you know where things stand."

Kulkarni took out a list and handed it to Mary.

"A black Mercedes-Benz, Mr. Cohen's personal car. He also used to have a private driver, Hussein. After Mr. Cohen went to Varanasi, Hussein left his job.

"Where's the car?" Aditya asked, his eyes lighting up.

"It's parked in the basement garage beneath the company building, with someone assigned to maintain it. This is the Mercedes-Benz key." Kulkarni took a car key from his bag and handed it to Mary.

Mary took the key, but before she could even warm it in her hand, Aditya snatched it away.

"Let me see," Aditya said. He examined the key. It was just a simple piece of solid steel, with the three-pointed star on its plastic head almost worn away.

Mary was not angry. She smiled at Aditya, then asked Kulkarni:

"Anything else?"

Kulkarni took out another inheritance document.

"Mr. Cohen had a villa on the southern slopes of Malabar Hill, where he lived for many years. The house is not held in the company's name. It was his personal property, and under the inheritance documents, it passes to you. The maid, Nagina, was employed by Mr. Cohen. She's still there, looking after the villa."

"Also, Mr. Cohen left instructions earlier. He said Nagina was getting old. You can keep her on if you want, or give her some money and let her go if you don't."

Mary thought for a moment, then said, "Keep her on for now. I don't have anyone suitable to replace her right now anyway."

Kulkarni nodded. "That's about everything else. I'll have Ghulam bring over the company's account books in a while."

Having finished explaining everything he needed to, Kulkarni packed up his leather bag and rose to leave. At the door, he paused and turned back. "Miss Cohen, my condolences. Call my office if anything comes up."

Then he closed the door behind him, and the sound of his leather shoes receded down the corridor.