I nod my understanding. But it still boggles the mind. Here we live in a country where the demand for gold is staggering. Yet, almost none of it is mined here. No wonder the illegal import business is thriving.
“Surely the government must have known what would happen when they passed the Gold Act.”
The jeweler laughs and rubs his hands together. “I’m sure they did. They understand human nature. Squeeze the mango from the bottom and the pulp comes out through the hole you’ve made at the top! No matter what obstacles you set before an Indian, he’ll find a way to get around it. People have to eat. The world keeps turning. But the government has to set limits. Otherwise, who knows how out of control the gold racket would get?”
Moti-Lal has taken up his hookah once again. He observes us through the smoke. That delicious scent of cherries and cloves fills the small room. He sees me looking and hands me the other hookah but not before he asks Lakshmi, “MemSahib is not bothered?”
She shakes her head.
I take a puff of chillum and a feeling of light-headedness comes over me. I start to wonder if I ought to reconsider Moti-Lal’s offer to work in his shop and learn the jewelry trade. What would it be like to sit here with him, scrutinizing gold bullion like that in front of us, the kundan necklaces, uncut rubies and emeralds, and bangles studded with pearls out in the main showroom—all while smoking this exquisite tobacco? To chat up beautiful brides-to-be about their wedding trousseaus? How seductive, tantalizing...dangerous!
Pointing to the bricks, Lal-ji asks, “Want to tell me where you found these?”
I blink, uncertain how much to reveal. I steal a glance at Auntie-Boss. She tilts her head ever so slightly.
Finally, I answer, “A construction site.”
Lal-ji runs his tongue over his large, wolflike teeth and looks at Mohan. The younger man immediately understands this signal. He removes the bar of gold Moti-Lal had placed inside the brick, places it in the second rosewood box and locks both boxes with his own set of keys. I realize that when Lal-ji suggested he would hire me and let Mohan go, he didn’t really mean it. The two men are a team. They work well together, seem to speak a silent language all their own.
Mohan gathers the boxes and stands, but before he leaves the room, Lal-ji calls out to him, “Make sure Mrs. Gupta buys the ruby and diamond kundan set, not the inferior one her cheapskate husband wants to buy.”
His son-in-law wags his head to indicate agreement, nods a respectful farewell to us and leaves the room.
Now that Mohan’s gone, Lali-ji says, “You told me you were working with the palace facilities office. Which means Singh-Sharma was most likely the contractor on the construction site.”
I keep my eyes on his, but don’t respond.
“The project that’s been in the news is the Royal Jewel Cinema.” He stops, inspects the bricks again. “So...you found these bricks after the...” Lal-ji’s brows draw together. “You know my wife and daughter and Mohan went to opening night at the cinema? They could have been killed.” The jeweler’s blood pressure is rising; his cheeks are an irritated red. “Hai Bhagwan! If the Singhs did something that caused that balcony to collapse, I’ll never let Parvati Singh darken my door again. She will buy no more from Moti-Lal Jewelers!”
It’s hot in the room, and not because the air-conditioning has been turned off. Lal-ji’s anger is generating the heat. He wipes his face with his palm. “There have been rumors. I heard one maybe a year ago. Another gold route being created. New supplier. Contraband, of course. The supplier was well financed. They could get gold—lots of it—guaranteed. I didn’t take the bait, though. I have my supplier and I’m happy. But I was curious and looked into it.”
He puffs a few scented clouds into the room. “Now, you must never say this information came from me. It could be false.” He studies Auntie-Boss again, as if he’s weighing whether to proceed.
She understands his hesitation, because, when she speaks to him, she uses her persuasive voice. “Lal-ji, I would never choose to bring you into this. But a dear friend will be blamed for something he didn’t do if we don’t find out more. And this relationship between the gold and these bricks may be at the heart of why he is being framed.”
Lal-ji looks pained. “You already know the players. People involved with the palace.”
Is he talking about Manu? Is Manu guilty after all, of misappropriating funds so he can traffic gold across India? I almost don’t want to know the rest. I feel dizzy and my mouth feels dry. Is it the tobacco or the idea that I’ve misjudged someone I trust?
I set the hookah aside. “Just tell us, Uncle,” I say. “Please.”
“They’re saying it’s Ravi Singh. That he’s set up his own operation, his own route. But that has to be bukwas. Why would a man from one of the wealthiest families in Jaipur want to get into that kind of treacherous business? I’m several steps removed from smugglers, so my involvement is a lot safer. I’m not out there crossing mountains and deserts, hiring goondas to get things done. If I get caught with more gold than I should have, a little baksheesh and a little more tax paid to the city coffers takes care of it. But a transporter—” he shakes his head “—has to take all kinds of risks.”
I pick up my pipe, take a drag and think. Could it be that the Singhs are not as wealthy as everyone assumes? I realize that at the facilities office no one wants to talk badly about the maharani’s favorite contractor, Singh-Sharma. And I’ve been there only a few months, not long enough to know the full scope of the project and its trajectory these last three years. Manu is too much of a professional to share gossip about what, if anything, wasn’t up to snuff on the project.
“What else have you heard?” Auntie-Boss asks Lal-ji quietly.
The jeweler frowns, concentrating. “I remember someone telling me the project was considerably overbudget. Far more money being spent than what the maharani had intended. That same person said that duplicating the design of a fancy cinema in Amreeka was to blame. The construction of the project took far more time than they had bargained for.” He shook his head. “But, again, that’s only rumor. And I don’t know any more than that.” Lal-ji takes a few more puffs of his hookah. “What will happen to the cinema?”
I say, “They plan to reopen it as soon as the damage is repaired. The maharani’s losing money every day it stays closed, and she wants Singh-Sharma to step up the rebuild.”
The big man nods, understanding, as he does, the ways of commerce and the people who must make the hard decisions.
* * *
Boss takes an auto rickshaw to see the Maharani Indira at the palace while I go back to my desk at the palace facilities office. When Hakeem quits for the day, I follow him home. I’m convinced he knows more than he lets on.