He tossed and turned around but couldn’t shake away those innocent questioning eyes. Finally – He rolled over and sat upright in his bed, confused at this dream of his.
He looked at the watch – almost dawn. He could faintly hear Mrs. Collett in the kitchen preparing his breakfast. He cycled his way to the gym and overworked his muscles in a bid to forget the remorse & the frustration, the dream always brought with it.
‘Why – after so long?’ he kept wondering, cycling back to his palatial home. He knew this dream very well. This dream, normally and instinctively had always prepared him for any impending, disastrous trouble heading his way. He thought and realized that he had no reason to be in any sort of danger. Nobody knew him, his past or his past work.
Nobody from his past – be it a friend or a foe could remotely guess his whereabouts. He was living a strangers’ life – an incognito. He had changed his name, his ID, his background in a systematic way and there was nothing that could lead anyone to him. He owned an island that had everything a person could ask for… He had employees who were absolutely loyal to him and didn’t know anything from his past.
He kept wondering over his breakfast and decided to follow his instinct. He wanted to make sure that everything was alright and likely to remain so. He would rather meet any danger head on than offer himself on a platter to anyone who was looking to cause trouble in this serene life of his. He made a few phone calls.
“Mrs. Collett” he informed her, “I’m going out of town.”
“This will be your routine mainland tour I guess.”
“No – Mrs. Collett – This could be longer – maybe a couple of months – maybe longer…”
“Oh! Dear – anything wrong?”
“No – not yet and I hope nothing is going wrong. I am going out to make sure that nothing goes wrong and perhaps find new locations to grow our business. I shall be ready to leave in an hour’s time. I know you are going to take care of routine business as well yourself…”
“I will – don’t you worry about me and the business here. However, I have this feeling – I shall soon be welcoming your newlywed bride to this home. You don’t need a lady in her 70s mothering you all the time – you need a young woman loving you for your lifetime.”
He smiled at these words even as he started to pack light for his tour. He could buy whatever he had missed out…
“I hope not to meet anyone eligible – I am happy when you mother me…”
His chauffer dropped him at the jetty and he boarded an exotic speed boat he owned and started the engine. He reached the mainland jetty soon. His travel documents were ready and his travel agent’s car picked him up and dropped him at the airport. He flew a series of flights using various IDs to erase any of his travel trails and his current ID…
He heaved a sigh of relief when his plane landed and he walked out of Schipol airport. He made a call to Hotel Grand to book his favourite suite. He hailed a cab. He thought about his stopover at Geneva. He had boarded the flight at Malpensa airport. He had seen a young attractive woman who had gracefully walked in to occupy the seat next to him. Unlike most of the women, this female wasn’t interested in his charm which aroused his interest in her. Somehow, he managed to strike a conversation with her and they chitchatted about various cities of the world and especially those in Europe.
He was booked into Mandarin Oriental Hotel as a stopover for the flight that reached late and his connection next afternoon. He rested for a while and then ventured out into the bar.
“Moscow Mule please – perfectly chilled…” he informed his choice to the bar tender.
“You have a queer choice” a female voice had quipped taking a seat next to him. He smiled at the coincidence – she was the same female from the flight.
“Yes – it’s a choice of my first girlfriend. She was from Russia. Found it real tasty when she kissed it and offered it to me – since then I love this drink.”
“Hmm – sounds interesting – I would like to try it out.” she asked the bartender to get her the same drink as him, “You look like someone from the Indian subcontinent.”
“You are partially correct – my grandma was an Indian – she married this Dutch businessman – then my father married an Indian woman – my mother – so – I look like someone from that part of the world.”
“You seem to be an interesting person – I would like to know more about you.”
He looked at her and smelt something fishy. Her words didn’t seem to match her expression or her body language. He decided to play on and managed to sell her a convincing story of this fake family of his and his trade in Asian spices – as a normal salesman would…
He noticed that she had been drumming her finger on the bar table. His instinctive radar realized, she was signalling his story and asking someone to check his background in Morse code. He was relaxed – he had been able to sell this story many a time and knew that all agencies who checked background would endorse this story of his.
“You look like you too are from the Indian subcontinent.”
“I’m Chinese. You are partially correct though – my mother is a Pakistani married to a Chinese. I am a journalist working for Hong Kong Times. I cover tourist destinations.”
He listened to her keeping his innocent listener expression while his mind was busy decoding her drumming finger. ‘OK. Get me the background check by tomorrow morning. By the time I’ll keep him busy.’ he thought that perhaps some MSS agent had recognized him – or maybe – had doubts that he was a threat to them.
“Oh! Boy… maybe, you could help me” he looked at her putting his boyish expression of eagerness to gel with her, “perhaps – you can put out a small story about my spices that I sell here in Europe and how they make the dishes here spicy and tasty.”
“I got to think about it” she laughed. She didn’t look like a Chinese at all, neither by her looks nor by her accent or by her physique. She had good athletic body and a pretty face. She had suddenly become friendly and he knew the reason why. She had accompanied him to his room and they had made it out. He realized she had well developed muscles…
The chain of his thoughts broke when the cab stopped at a traffic signal. He was passing through Kline Hout. He asked the cab driver to pull over after the signal. He crossed the road and entered a bar. He sat in a quiet corner near to the display window of the bar away from most of prying eyes but in a position to watch everyone who passed by…
“Moscow Mule – perfectly chilled …” he placed his order and carefully scanned the road – seemed all clear. He whiled away some more time at the bar. It was almost 7pm – he paid for his drinks and walked out into the bar’s washroom. He put his jacket inside out changing the colour of the jacket and donned a beret. He casually walked out of the bar and kept walking along with the crowd. He turned into a seemingly deserted alley which connected him to a parallel road more toward the river bank and kept walking one alley to another fully alert to anyone following him…