the hostages are still okay. Some Interpol dude is bouncing in from Deutschland to check out Luna.”
Hamilton stared at his hip-hop mega-platinum-star partner in confusion. He’d been with Jonah 24/7 for several days and he understood the Mumbaiya slang the food vendor was jabbering to them better than he understood his famous cousin.
“Are you saying that they’re using your jet to get to Timbuktu, and they didn’t get the Jubilee Diamond, but Reagan and the other hostages are okay?”
“You need subtitles, brother?”
“I guess.” Hamilton took the banana leaf topped with
pav bhaji
from the vendor and snapped open his can of Thums Up soda. Across the street a snake charmer was coaxing a king cobra out of a basket with a flute.
“Snakes are deaf,” Jonah said,
“I hear you, man,” Hamilton said.
“No, they really are deaf,” Jonah said. “That cobra can’t hear a note from that flute. See how the charmer bobs and weaves? The snake’s mirroring the dude’s movements, not shuffling to the music.” He crossed the street, dropped some cash in the snake charmer’s money basket, then started bobbing and weaving along with the charmer.
Erasmus had insisted they travel to India completely incognito. No paparazzi. No limos. They were getting around the vast city on motorcycles. Well . . . Erasmus had a motorcycle. He had gotten them a motorcycle rickshaw. One drove, one rode, which was a constant source of bickering.
Also, no five-star hotels. They were staying in a Madrigal safe house, which was more like a shack.
No five-star restaurants, either. Hamilton took another bite of his
pav bhaji
as he watched his cousin.
No Jonah Wizard.
“There can’t be any sightings of Jonah in the country,” Erasmus had said. “We can’t tail Luna if we’re being tailed.”
They had followed Luna to an airport outside Rome, where she booked a first-class seat to Mumbai. Erasmus booked a trio of coach seats near the back restrooms. It was the first time Jonah had ever flown in coach, and he was not amused by the whole concept of a middle seat.
When the flight landed, Hamilton and Jonah grabbed what little gear they had and hopped up, eager to get off the plane so they didn’t lose Luna in the crowd.
“Sit down,” Erasmus had said. “She has to get her bags and get through passport control and customs. That will take one hour and twelve minutes. It will take us sixteen minutes to be at the curb. We don’t have bags, and I know a guy in passport control.”
Sixteen minutes later they stepped out of the Mumbai airport. It took Erasmus thirty minutes to procure the motorcycle and the rickshaw. Exactly twenty-six minutes later, Luna Amato walked out of the terminal and climbed into the back of a limo.
Their plan was to stake out Luna Amato’s hotel in six-hour shifts. Erasmus had insisted Hamilton and Jonah watch the hotel together so they could keep each other awake. When Jonah asked who was going to keep
him
awake, Erasmus answered that he didn’t sleep. As far as they could tell, it was the truth.
Hamilton washed his last bite down with a gulp of Thums Up as Jonah came back from his cobra dance.
“We need to relieve Erasmus,” Ham said, looking at his watch.
“We also need to tell him about that Interpol dude,” Jonah said.
“What Interpol dude?” Hamilton asked, following him to the rickshaw.
“Weren’t you listening? Milos Vanek is coming to town. We gotta find out what’s cracking with Lune dawg. My turn to drive.”
They found Erasmus leaning against a wall across the street from Luna’s hotel, in the exact same spot he had been leaning several hours earlier. He wasn’t worried that the hotel had several exits that Luna could slip through. His extended family was a fixture in the hotel/hospitality industry. A single phone call had put dozens of eyes on Luna, monitoring every move she made. If she took a single step out of the hotel, Erasmus would know about it.
“Yo,” Jonah
Hamilton stared at his hip-hop mega-platinum-star partner in confusion. He’d been with Jonah 24/7 for several days and he understood the Mumbaiya slang the food vendor was jabbering to them better than he understood his famous cousin.
“Are you saying that they’re using your jet to get to Timbuktu, and they didn’t get the Jubilee Diamond, but Reagan and the other hostages are okay?”
“You need subtitles, brother?”
“I guess.” Hamilton took the banana leaf topped with
pav bhaji
from the vendor and snapped open his can of Thums Up soda. Across the street a snake charmer was coaxing a king cobra out of a basket with a flute.
“Snakes are deaf,” Jonah said,
“I hear you, man,” Hamilton said.
“No, they really are deaf,” Jonah said. “That cobra can’t hear a note from that flute. See how the charmer bobs and weaves? The snake’s mirroring the dude’s movements, not shuffling to the music.” He crossed the street, dropped some cash in the snake charmer’s money basket, then started bobbing and weaving along with the charmer.
Erasmus had insisted they travel to India completely incognito. No paparazzi. No limos. They were getting around the vast city on motorcycles. Well . . . Erasmus had a motorcycle. He had gotten them a motorcycle rickshaw. One drove, one rode, which was a constant source of bickering.
Also, no five-star hotels. They were staying in a Madrigal safe house, which was more like a shack.
No five-star restaurants, either. Hamilton took another bite of his
pav bhaji
as he watched his cousin.
No Jonah Wizard.
“There can’t be any sightings of Jonah in the country,” Erasmus had said. “We can’t tail Luna if we’re being tailed.”
They had followed Luna to an airport outside Rome, where she booked a first-class seat to Mumbai. Erasmus booked a trio of coach seats near the back restrooms. It was the first time Jonah had ever flown in coach, and he was not amused by the whole concept of a middle seat.
When the flight landed, Hamilton and Jonah grabbed what little gear they had and hopped up, eager to get off the plane so they didn’t lose Luna in the crowd.
“Sit down,” Erasmus had said. “She has to get her bags and get through passport control and customs. That will take one hour and twelve minutes. It will take us sixteen minutes to be at the curb. We don’t have bags, and I know a guy in passport control.”
Sixteen minutes later they stepped out of the Mumbai airport. It took Erasmus thirty minutes to procure the motorcycle and the rickshaw. Exactly twenty-six minutes later, Luna Amato walked out of the terminal and climbed into the back of a limo.
Their plan was to stake out Luna Amato’s hotel in six-hour shifts. Erasmus had insisted Hamilton and Jonah watch the hotel together so they could keep each other awake. When Jonah asked who was going to keep
him
awake, Erasmus answered that he didn’t sleep. As far as they could tell, it was the truth.
Hamilton washed his last bite down with a gulp of Thums Up as Jonah came back from his cobra dance.
“We need to relieve Erasmus,” Ham said, looking at his watch.
“We also need to tell him about that Interpol dude,” Jonah said.
“What Interpol dude?” Hamilton asked, following him to the rickshaw.
“Weren’t you listening? Milos Vanek is coming to town. We gotta find out what’s cracking with Lune dawg. My turn to drive.”
They found Erasmus leaning against a wall across the street from Luna’s hotel, in the exact same spot he had been leaning several hours earlier. He wasn’t worried that the hotel had several exits that Luna could slip through. His extended family was a fixture in the hotel/hospitality industry. A single phone call had put dozens of eyes on Luna, monitoring every move she made. If she took a single step out of the hotel, Erasmus would know about it.
“Yo,” Jonah
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