Hidden Depths

Chapter 5 - Maison du Gran Ma Ma

Nikolai stood up with a snap and strolled back to the car with a self-satisfied swagger.  He jumped back into the driver's seat and swung his head and shoulders round to look at Rash.

With his face just centimetres away from Rashid's, he gestured his eyebrows towards the stopwatch on the dash and whispered, 'Well, what do you think?' 

'That was sooo...' Rashid struggled to find the words.

'Fast.' Nikolai finished the sentence for him. 'Yes, very fast indeed. Not my personal best, but not far off.  So, are you going to bear witness then?' 

Rashid pulled an increasingly well-practised look of confusion.  'Bear witness?' 

'Yes,' Nikolai continued as if it was obvious what was required.  'Are you going to bear witness to the totally amazing piece of driving that you have just experienced?' 

Rashid looked down to see Nikolai presenting him with a small leather bound pocket notebook and a brushed metal propelling pencil.  He took the book and leafed through the pages.  Each one had been filled in by a different hand, but said pretty much the same thing.

Rashid twisted the metal body of the pencil until enough lead was propelled and began writing in the book without further instruction. 

Nikolai Ivanovich, ably assisted by Richard Caesar, did on this day complete a whistle-stop tour from Le Centre Pompidou to Montmartre in seven minutes and twenty-nine seconds exactly.

When he was done writing, Rashid turned the book to show Nikolai, who looked back with a suitably solemn expression for such an auspicious ceremony. Then he snatched it back and absentmindedly tossed it into his pocket.

'There's only one thing that can follow such a bar raising performance,' Nikolai said as he spun the car round.  'We must take in a performance at a hair-raising bar!  Tonight, Rich my boy, I'm going to take you to the most exclusive cabaret in all of Paris.'

***

After a comparatively sedate journey away from the hilltop cathedral, Nikolai and Rashid pulled into a quiet residential street on the south side of the city.  The car came to a halt by the curb in front of an impressively large but unloved looking old building.  Without missing a beat, Nikolai pulled the keys from the ignition, opened the door and leapt out from behind the wheel. 

Seeking to join his guide, Rashid pushed open the passenger door and moved to jump out in a similar fashion.   When his legs gave way and he clattered into the gutter, it became clear to both of them that he was far from agile.  It had been over an hour since he first took the tablet and although he was blissfully free of any complaints from his injuries, he was also embarrassingly free of any coordination.

'Whoa there, twinkle toes,' said Nikolai as he lifted Rashid up to his feet.  'Let's get you inside.' 

Rashid was quite a lot smaller than the man he now considered to be his poisoner, but he still took the arm that was offered and reached up to gain support from the taller man's shoulder. 

'How did I let myself get into this situation?'  Rashid whispered, as he was half dragged towards the decrepit old building. He was now seriously beginning to question the man's motives. 

He'd heard rumours that young Muslims were going missing as sadistic white Europeans sought revenge for the frequent terrorist attacks that were taking place, but he never thought it would happen to him.  Why hadn't he run for his life the moment that insanely fast car pulled up outside the Sacré-Coeur? 

Sure, he wanted to see Layla again, and the seats were very comfy, but if he had ever found himself in trouble with an adult back in Brum he would have pulled his usual trick of hit and run.  But instead of clocking Baron von Bonkers and getting on his toes, Rashid had gamely played along, complementing Nikolai on his death-defying driving and even officially attesting to the whole suicidal episode in the man's notebook.  Rashid knew there was no denying that car was a proper set of wheels, but surely it wasn't badass enough to rob him of all his hard earned street smarts? 

Although he was not happy admitting it to himself, the answer to why Rashid was in this situation was obvious.  The car had attracted his attention but it was the driver that was holding it.

It was quite clear that Nikolai was manically unhinged, but he had an irreverent enthusiasm that Rashid admired and, although his company was demonstrably dangerous, Rash couldn't help but feel safe in his presence.  So it was with uncharacteristic compliance that Rashid allowed Nikolai to lead him up the garden path and through the front door of a house that looked perilously close to losing its battle with gravity.

The house had that unmistakable charity shop whiff which hangs around old people wherever they reside.  It was dark and it took a while for Rashid's eyes to adjust from the comparative brightness of the evening sun. As the room came into focus he began to recognise the trappings of a wealthy old lady who had fallen behind with the cleaning.  The house was tidy and had obviously once been quite a display of opulence.  But Rashid failed to be impressed by the marble and mahogany that surrounded him, as it was hidden beneath a decade of dust.

What did strike Rashid though was how much this stinking old dust dump didn't resemble an exclusive cabaret.  In fact, Rashid was beginning to think that what this place most resembled, was the house of an Eastern European serial killer's dead grandmother.

'Gran Ma Ma?'  Nikolai called out with theatrical gusto.

'Gran Ma Ma, we have another young guest.  You must meet him.' 

Nikolai guided Rashid to a musty old dining chair that was stood next to a sideboard in the hallway.

'Gran Ma Ma?' Nikolai called again, with almost manically urgent excitement, before adding:  'You wait here young Richard, she's getting as deaf as an old post.  I'll bring her to you.'

Nikolai practically skipped off down the dark hallway and disappeared around a corner.  Even though he was sat down, Rashid was still feeling woozy.  His cheeks were totally numb, so he stretched his chin down to make his face as long as possible before screwing it up again, as if he was in a gurning competition. Then he lazily swung his head around to look at the corridor Nikolai had vanished down. 

As he was expecting the nutter to reappear dressed as an old lady, he thought it best to prepare to try and defend himself.  He swung his head back around the dark hallway, focusing on the areas that were illuminated by the dust filled shards of light that shone through the lighter parts of the stained glass windows.  He saw what he thought might be a set of golf clubs or a bunch of walking sticks propped up by the front door. 

'Bin-go!' he said, putting his hand on the side board to push himself up. He was in the process of hauling himself to his feet when a stooped figure slowly appeared out of the darkness.

'I like a man who stands in the presence of a la-dy.'

Rashid felt physically sick as he heard the same Eastern European accent, the same low-pitched timbre and the same confident delivery coming from the mouth of this supposedly withered old crone.  At that moment Nikolai's notebook sprang into Rashid's mind. Had all those other able assistants been drugged up to the eyeballs and lured back to this minging old mansion?  How many people had Nikolai killed while dressed up like some kind of homicidal tranny granny?

The sinking dread that accompanied Rashid's perceived death by knitting needle tore through some of the more soporific effects of the chemicals that were coursing through his veins.  Rashid successfully made it to his feet before bouncing off the wall in front of him then sprinting head first into the firmly closed front door.