Turbulence (37 page)

“Uzma will explain,” Tia says.

“Uzma has a lot of explaining to do,” he says. “What the hell just happened?”

“We saved the world,” Tia replies. “I think.”

The party at the Eros fountain goes on for hours, and Aman is too tired to wait for it to end. Tia drives him to a hotel, and he treats himself to a honeymoon suite, compliments of a large mining corporation currently killing tribes in eastern India and pillaging their hills for bauxite. He sinks into a vast, fluffy bed and passes out in the middle of taking his shoes off. Tia finishes the job, straightens him out on the bed, covers him up and leaves.

He wakes up in the middle of the night to find Uzma by his side, smiling at him. The lights are on, and she looks tired but gorgeous. Her hair is tousled. Her breath smells of champagne. She takes his clothes off and throws aside her own. She climbs on top of him and they make love, slowly and silently. When it’s over, she begins to speak, her voice is soft and low, and even though he’s too exhausted to understand what she’s saying he goes to sleep with a smile on his face. When his eyes open again, it’s morning. She’s gone.

* * *

An hour later, Uzma walks into Hyde Park, past a red lion and white unicorn locked in eternal battle on a gate. She sees Aman to her right, leaning against the base of a statue of Achilles. An elderly Chinese woman sways gracefully on the grass near him, guiding her body through the slow, fluid motions of Tai Chi. Aman is watching young men in white helmets ride magnificent chestnut horses up and down Rotten Row, and doesn’t notice Uzma until she flings her arms around him.

“My parents send their love,” she says. “They said they’re sorry they tried to kill you and it’s all right about the furniture.”

“Then I have absolutely nothing to worry about,” Aman says, grinning. They link arms and start walking, two lovers taking in the morning air. Aman moves with the fluid grace of a couch potato who has just spent a week training with the Territorial Army. They choose a long, straight path flanked by tall, slender birches on either side. Apart from the occasional cyclist or jogger, Hyde Park is calm and green, London’s traffic a distant growl to the east.

“So,” Uzma says. “Question time.”

“Yeah,” Aman says. “Who was he? The man in my armour? The Illusionist?”

“Good question. That was Jai.”

Aman jerks his arm away and takes a step back.

“What?”

“That was Jai. Don’t be mad. We couldn’t think of what else do with him.”

“I don’t understand,” Aman says, rubbing his head. “What do you… Who was that in the big white bubble, then?”

“That was Shankar the Illusionist. Or, like he says, Shankar the Great Illusionist. Well, not him physically, of course — he was standing near the building with the big ads. His work. Vir and Anima just flew around it. The explosion was his as well.”

Aman crosses the path, shaking his head, and sits down carefully on a green bench.

“Just tell me everything,” he said. “I heard you coming up the escalator at Hamleys. I tried to warn you. Jai knocked me out. And then?”

Uzma sits beside him, feet on the bench, a hand on his arm.

“It wasn’t me,” she says. “I was a few steps below, completely petrified, trying not to bolt. Tia volunteered to walk in front so I’d have enough time to speak if Jai attacked. There were lots of her — she kept a circle all around me while we went from floor to floor, looking for you. When Jai charged, he killed a few Tias, but I told him to stop. He looked so angry, but he froze. I couldn’t believe it. He just stood there, waiting for orders. And I told him what I wanted him to do, and he did it.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him he was my slave now. That he belonged to me, and he also had to obey you and Vir. He had to protect us from all harm, and help us fix the world. I told him he could never harm anyone again unless we asked him to. That he wasn’t even to think of doing anything that would make me unhappy. And that he could never let anyone see his face again. Except us.”

She falters, and they look at each other in silence. A jogger passes, ghost music trickling out of his iPod.

“Good command list,” Aman says.

“Thanks. I thought it up on the helicopter. There was one more thing on the list, but I’ve forgotten what it is.”

“You should tell him he has to obey commands from you even when you’re not physically with him. You know, over the phone, in writing, that sort of thing.”

“Nice. Yeah, I’ll do that. What else?

“I’ll make a list. I’m having a little difficulty wrapping my mind around it. So what are you going to do with him? Is he going to be your sidekick? Your bodyguard? Your dog?”

“Don’t say that,” Uzma says, looking away. “I don’t know. Maybe I should send him away. To meditate on a beach forever and think happy thoughts. We had a team meeting last night, before I came over to your hotel, and it was terrible. He was in there with us, and we couldn’t look at him. He just kept staring at me with this blank smile, this adoring face. I had to ask him to wait outside.”

“Team meeting, huh? That’s good to know.”

“Look, Aman, we all wanted you to be there. You know we did. But Tia said you were too tired. It was bad enough you weren’t there when we were trying to figure out what to do with Jai, how to stage his death, how to hide him.”

“Whose idea was that anyway?”

“Mine. Shankar wasn’t even with us at that point — it was just Tia and me, and then Sher and Anima brought Vir. We had to put a lot of makeup on him. Zothanpuii and Shankar weren’t even with us — they’d gone back to the hotel. Zothanpuii’s not wearing a white vest anywhere near a river again. She had to change. I don’t believe the whole show came together in the end.”

“It was a great show, though. Especially you. You’re a born con artist.”

“I’m an actor.”

“And a damned fine one. Where are the others now?”

“Hotel. Though I think Vir might have gone off with some groupies. Last night was very crazy. Premalata’s left, by the way.”

“What do you mean, left?”

“Yeah. She fainted, and then when they woke her up she said she was scared and she quit. They let her go.”

“Good. She was crazy anyway.”

“And after you left there was the press conference, and then we went to a few parties, and Tia had to drop me home. There were some paparazzi who tried to follow me but I told them to jump into the river and they did. Tia got the others back safe too. We’re meeting today for lunch. You’re coming, obviously.”

“Is that an order?”

Uzma turns towards him sharply. Something in her eyes sends a shiver up Aman’s spine.

“No, it’s bloody well not an order,” she snaps. “Don’t make this difficult, Aman. I didn’t know what my power was. But I can control it now. People only have to obey me when — I can’t explain. It’s a different voice. I have to mean it more.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “But it’s just… did you order me to come to London? I didn’t want to. Did you make me?”

“No!” Uzma jumps off the bench and stands, hands on hips, eyes blazing in fury. “Stop making me question everything I ever did! How on earth am I supposed to know? Do you think I planned all this?”

“That’s not what I said,” Aman says. “Your powers were growing. You didn’t know what they were — it’s just a possibility, that’s all. I’m not saying you’re an evil supervillain mastermind.”

“That’s just lovely, isn’t it? It’s also a possibility that you’re not really in love with me. That it’s just my powers hypnotising you. Have you thought about that?”

“Yes. I have,” Aman says. “Sit down, won’t you? My neck hurts. I think a Skeletor doll tried to have sex with it.”

She laughs, a full, deep laugh that echoes across the park. A passing cyclist falls in love with her and off his bike. She helps him get up and tells him to move on and lose five kilos. When he’s gone, she huddles up next to Aman, head on his shoulder.

“I’ve thought about this a lot, and I have a speech to make,” he says.

“Make it,” Uzma says.

“I love you,” says Aman. “Maybe it’s your powers, maybe it’s because you’re cleverer and wiser than I am, maybe it’s your smile, maybe it’s your body. Probably your body — have you seen it? Anyway, my point is, I love all of you and wondering whether I’d have loved you if you didn’t have your powers is like wondering whether I’d have loved you if you had elephant ears and only spoke Mandarin. And I probably would have. The end.”

“That’s a good speech,” she says. “Did you practise it?”

“Some of it. It was a lot better in my head, and I went off the rails a bit. But I meant well. Thought I’d say my piece before you met a lot of poets and they all fell in love with you.”

“Kiss me,” she says. It’s an order. He does.

A short while later, she leans back with a satisfied expression.

“Now, as future leaders of the world, we should talk work,” she says.

“Look at you, all enthusiastic superhero.”

“Can’t really be an actress now, can I? All character conflict would be resolved five minutes in.”

“Or you’d tell Aamir Khan to take a hike, and they’d find him in Switzerland four days later. But maybe with really careful screenwriters…”

Uzma smirks. “It’s all your fault, you know. ‘The world needs to be saved, it’s irresponsible to not use your powers,’ all those reproachful looks whenever I said I didn’t want to do it. But you were right. And it’s all going to happen now, Aman. We’re going to make everything better. We could go and fix the Middle East this evening, if you’re free. Once you’ve told me who to talk to and what to say, that is.”

“And you’d trust me to know what was best for everyone? That’s not what you said in Goa. I decided to quit because of what you told me.”

“You wanted out because you saw you’d made mistakes, Aman. I had nothing to do with that. Yes, I thought you’d got it wrong, but I wanted you to find a better way to use your powers. I never asked you to do nothing.”

Aman heaves a sigh.

“You’re right,” he says. “Yeah. Can’t blame you for any of that. And… I just agreed with you again.”

“So we helped each other work things out, right? You showed me that I needed to think about more than myself, and I showed you what you were doing wrong. Sorted. And now we’ll have the whole team to back us up.”

“What’s this team called, by the way?”

“We thought of lots of names, but they’re all taken. Bloody comics. We thought we’d let you decide. Getting our team name is the first order of business at today’s meeting.”

“But I’m not in the team.”

“Of course you are. We’d have to keep your identity secret anyway. You started this team, Aman. Don’t even think of not being in it. Besides, you’re our research guy, our strategist, our publicist, our administrator.”

“Your supplies guy. Your accountant and financier. Your tech support. Got it.”

“No, Aman. You’re team leader. And yes, you’ll support us, just like you have from the start. But you don’t have to handle it all alone. You’ll have far more important things to do. Which is why our second order of business at today’s meeting is hiring a manager.”

“I saw your first press conference after I called you,” Aman says. “Good speech. Who wrote it?”

“I did. It was mostly the speech from Vir’s video anyway.”

“Why didn’t Vir make it, then?”

“Well, I asked him to, obviously. But the journalists said I should do it. I’m, well, prettier, plus I’m a British Muslim woman and they didn’t get Vir’s accent. You know how it is.”

“I do.”

“Are you… are you saying I’m trying to control this team, Aman? Because that would be really unfair.”

Aman reaches out to embrace her, but she pulls away.

“Uzma, you’d be the last person in the world to make a power bid of any kind,” Aman says. “I know you didn’t want any of this. I know it was thrust upon you, and you’re trying to deal with it.”

“I didn’t even know how my power worked until yesterday,” Uzma says, blinking back tears. “Give me some time!”

“I’m sorry. Really.”

“Then help me instead of doubting me,” Uzma says. She gets up and stalks off. Aman runs after her and grabs her hand.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Uzma, I don’t doubt your intentions at all. Really.”

“Good,” she says. “Because you’d have felt like an utter
idiot. Because I’m going to do a fantastic job.”

“I know,” he says. “And the whole world will love you. Even the ones who only get to watch you on TV.”

“You think my power might grow enough for it to work on camera?” she asks.

“We’ll know soon enough. Whether or not that happens, you’ll still be huge. Biggest star in the world. Bigger than the Beatles.”

“All right, all right,” she says. “I have done one thing I shouldn’t have, though.”

She reaches into a pocket and pulls something big and sparkly out of her jeans. Aman’s eyes widen.

“Is that the Koh-i-noor?” he asks. The diamond catches the sun and Uzma’s face glows. She grins widely and her eyes are full of mischief as they meet Aman’s.

“I think I’m going to keep it,” she says.

“You do that,” he says. “It didn’t belong to them anyway. Besides, you’re going to rule the world, and you’re a woman so the curse won’t get you.”

“Or I could sell it and buy my brother a table,” she says.

“Or you could spend the money to buy off the leaders of the anti-superhuman movement. Which began yesterday, by the way.”

“There’s an anti-us movement?”

“Yeah. Humans Against Super Humans. They’re going to need a better acronym.”

“That was quick,” Uzma says. “Well, I could always talk to them.”

“There’ll be more,” Aman says. “All over the world. People will hate us. We make them obsolete.”

“We should send Sher back to India then. Maybe Vir. We’ve got to protect the others.”

“Well, that’s something I want to talk to you about,” Aman says. “We might not be the only ones.”

Uzma’s eyes shine. “Did they find the missing British passengers?”

“No,” Aman replies. “But I was looking at the emails we got after I uploaded Vir’s video — and there are a lot of people who wrote in saying they had superpowers too. Most of them are crazy or just lying, of course, but there are clusters of people — in Prague, Tokyo, a few other cities — whose stories sound like ours. They all say it happened a week ago. They were all travelling. They all found out they had powers later. They all want help.”