Looting

Aditya heard Ghulam and Kulkarni seemingly exchange a few words downstairs. Then Ghulam came up to the second floor, set down a stack of documents, said hello, and hurried back down.

Aditya picked up the document on top. It contained the balance sheet for the Cohen Shipping Services Company.

Mary suddenly stood up and walked to the window.

"I came here once when I was six," Mary said, looking out the window. "Back then, my father held me in his arms by the window and said all the ships down below were his. Later, my mother's health declined, and we stayed in Israel. We never came back."

Aditya said nothing. He sorted through the documents Ghulam had brought, picked out the operating summary and client list, and set them on the desk in two piles.

"Let's check the accounts first. Ghulam said these cover the last three months. You take the client list and shipowner contracts. I'll handle expenses and cash flow." He pulled over a chair and gestured for Mary to sit.

Mary sat down too, and the two of them worked through the Cohen Shipping Services Company's books in the office.

Aditya went through the accounts quickly. First, he circled the fixed monthly expenses: workers' wages, fuel, port authority fees, equipment maintenance, gang protection money, and tea money for the police.

Then he turned to the income page: dock loading and unloading, warehouse rent, customs clearance fees, and agency commissions for two ships.

The Cohen Company had a monthly gross profit of 1.44 million rupees and annual revenue of about 17 million rupees. Fixed monthly expenses were around 800,000 rupees. After costs, net profit was 600,000 rupees a month, or 7 million rupees a year.

Aditya made a rough calculation. The value generated by the Cohen Shipping Services Company was equivalent to fifteen Diya Textile Factories. The loot Solomon had left behind certainly whetted his appetite.

Aditya smoothed out the sheet of paper with the names on it and slapped it onto the desk.

"Gadkari, Kumar, Haji Karim. These three have to be paid every month, but none of it goes into the company books. The company looks like it's doing well, but these people have been clinging to it and sucking its blood all along."

"These Indian officials of yours are real bastards," Mary said angrily.

"A bunch of parasites. It's awful. This place is rotten to the core." As Mary spoke, she grew so angry that she laughed.

"But they really do get things done when they take your money. When Solomon was around, they collected their payments every month, and the docks stayed trouble-free," Aditya said with a smile.

"There you go getting proud again. What are we going to do?" Mary asked, rolling her eyes at Aditya.

"Well, the company hasn't stopped paying them, so the connections are still there. We just don't know whether they'll still honor the old price."

After hearing that, Mary glanced down at the client list and said, "There's also this man named Rajput. He's in sea freight, and he owes us two months of agency fees."

"He's easy to handle. Didn't Kulkarni say that if the company keeps quiet, he'll settle up when his ship returns? Let's leave him aside for now."

"How are the company's finances?"

"Fairly stable," Aditya said. "I worked it out. There's still about 6.8 million rupees in the company accounts. On cash alone, it can last nine months. The main worry is that the dock concession renewal will keep getting held up. If the cargo owners catch wind of it and leave, we'll be in trouble."

Mary closed the list. She looked utterly exhausted, her eyelids fighting to stay open, but she still forced herself to hold on.

"Where are you planning to start?"

"I'll go to the port authority tomorrow and see Gadkari first. Renewing the permit is the key," Aditya said. "That can't wait."

"I'll go with you," Mary said, forcing her eyes open.

Aditya shook his head. "You stay at the company tomorrow. You need to show your face here a few more times. Seeing you will put the people under you at ease. I'll take Kulkarni to the port authority."

"All right, then." Mary looked at him for a few seconds, then nodded.

The sun was about to set, and patches of red sunset glow shone across the sea.

The dockworkers' rhythmic chants drifted over from afar. The searchlights were already on, sweeping back and forth across the piles of cargo.

Aditya closed the ledger, put the documents in a drawer, and stood up to stretch.

"Come on. Let's go home."

Mary froze, then repeated, "Home?"

"I don't have anywhere to go. I'll have to squeeze in with you tonight. Didn't your father leave you a villa? You can't make me sleep on the street," Aditya said with a smile.

"Pah! That's my villa. Don't even think about it."

"Beautiful miss, you wouldn't want to walk back to the villa alone, would you?" Aditya picked up the Mercedes-Benz keys and jingled them with a smile. "Come on! I'll drive you."

"Hmph! Call me big sis, and I'll let you stay," Mary said, folding her arms across her chest.

"No. I only let people call me Baba," Aditya said. "I'll just sleep in a guest room. Besides, I'll be based in Mumbai from now on. I need somewhere to live."

Without waiting for Mary's agreement, Aditya headed downstairs, twirling the car keys.

Anger jolted Mary wide awake. She stamped her foot, slammed the office door, and followed him down in a huff.

The two went downstairs, and Aditya drove a black Mercedes-Benz out of the underground garage beneath the company building.

Mary gave it a look and said disdainfully, "This car is so old."

"This car is younger than you, and you're calling it old? Feel this roof. Factory-original canvas. Even faded, it still doesn't leak."

"Just shut up. You're so annoying." Mary climbed into the passenger seat and pulled the door shut with a bang.

Aditya was still lost in his own world, unable to pull himself out. He walked to the front of the car, patted its boxy fender, and marveled, "This is the W123, the most popular generation Mercedes-Benz ever made. These door panels are so thick, you could take one off and it would make more than enough of a shield."

Aditya's excitement really wasn't empty boasting. He had loved old cars in his previous life, and in the decades that followed, car enthusiasts around the world had treated the Mercedes-Benz W123's ruggedness as the stuff of legend.

Sitting in the passenger seat, Mary's golden-green eyes were practically spitting fire. She slapped the window hard.

Startled, Aditya shook his head sheepishly and got into the car too.

The Mercedes-Benz started up, slowly drove out of the docks, and turned onto the coastal road in the evening light.

The sea breeze made the car's interior hum. In the distance, the harbor lights floated on the water, their glow scattered across a broad stretch like broken gold.

As the saying went, new cars were for showing other people; old cars were for driving yourself. Aditya held nothing back and stomped on the accelerator. The diesel engine immediately buckled under the strain, letting out a series of mournful cries.

Fortunately, the old car was well broken in. With a "huff-huff!" the diesel engine soon adapted to Aditya's brutal driving.

"Go easy. Don't push so hard." Aditya's jolting made Mary very uncomfortable in her seat, and she couldn't help reminding him.

Aditya slowed his rhythm and held the accelerator steady. The Mercedes-Benz cruised smoothly along the seaside road.

Much more comfortable now, Mary closed her eyes, leaned back in her seat, and began humming softly.

"A ship came over the sea late at night,

With old sails hoisted and no lights lit,

Not a soul within its cabin,

Only the song my mother used to sing."

The car rounded the bend by the bay, and the vast Arabian Sea lay close before them, its surface covered in a warm yellow glow.