Chapter 204 Is it a dog?
Crunch!
The tires left long black marks on the road.
"A dog, isn't it?" Chada asked, turning around. "It's a dog, isn't it?"
Was it a dog? Ron hadn't heard anything when he parked the car, not even a whimper or a bark.
Everyone understood what happened to the thing that was hit.
"I think maybe I should get off the car and take a look." Ron really couldn't remain indifferent.
"No, it's just a dog!" Ratan interrupted him suddenly.
The street lights were dim, and the thing was a black pile far behind, so it was impossible to see clearly what it was.
There were no other cars around except the Civic following us, and not even a single person in sight.
"Ratan, you are more sensible than your brother." Chada looked at Ron meaningfully.
Chada got out of the car, but he ignored the small black figure that was knocked down behind him.
Ratan also acted in unison and pulled Ron out of the passenger seat of the Caldecott.
The driver in the back seat quickly jumped into the driving seat with smooth movements.
"Vijay, you were driving the whole time tonight, do you know that?" Chada told him threateningly.
"Yes, sir." The driver trembled, but still agreed.
"I had a great time at the party tonight. I'm tired now. Let's talk another day."
Bang! Bang! Two more times, the Cadillac's door slammed shut, then shifted into top gear and sped away.
"Don't just stand there, let's go too." Ratan pushed Ron into the Civic and jumped in himself.
Yi Shang didn't waste a second, and also shifted to the highest gear and sped away.
They are all qualified drivers and know how to handle this kind of thing.
Ron sat in the back row in silence, the dark shadow always hovering over his head.
"That wasn't a dog just now, was it? I saw it." He finally spoke after the car passed two streets.
"God knows what these kids are doing running around on the streets of Delhi at one in the morning. It's their parents' fault!" Ratan cursed.
"Has that kid already..." Ron couldn't utter the word.
"The child didn't make any sound, master. He didn't move at all," Anil said from the front row.
"We..." Ron stopped talking suddenly.
A Buddha head appeared outside the car window on his left. It turned out that a little beggar came to the car with a plaster Buddha statue to sell.
They were waiting for the traffic light, and there was a thirty-second countdown on the traffic timer in front of them.
This is not surprising, as there are many beggars selling books, statues or boxes of strawberries on the roadside every night in Delhi.
"Do you like that Buddha statue?" Ratan asked.
"No, I was just surprised."
"Yes, tonight is unlucky. We need to confess to the Buddha."
Ratan called to the little beggar, "Bring it here and have a look."
I don’t know whether the little beggar was a boy or a girl. You can never tell their gender. Anyway, the little beggar stuffed the Buddha statue into the Civic.
Ratan handed over ten rupees, then picked up the Buddha statue and chanted "Om! Om! Om!" a few times.
He was praying in the Hindu way, but holding a Buddha statue in his hand.
I don’t know whether Buddha has any relationship with Hindu gods, or whether he can hear Ratan’s prayers.
The green light came on, Yi Shang stepped on the accelerator and continued to speed.
"So, it's just like that kid just now?" Ron understood a little.
"People who live under overpasses and flyovers, Master, I think so too." Yi Shang said.
"Will anyone look for him?"
"I don't think so, sir. You know those country folks who come from the country and have eight, nine, ten kids in their family, and sometimes they can't even figure out their names.
Even if his parents were in Delhi, even if they knew where he was tonight, they would not call the police,” Ishant was very sure.
Ratan put his arm around Ron's shoulders and used his eyes to signal Ishan to shut up.
"Dude, you're tired. Now go upstairs and take a shower and get some sleep."
The car stopped downstairs of Buckingham Tower Apartments and Anil took Ron upstairs.
Ratan and Ishan stayed behind to fetch water to wash the car.
The black shadow was hit by the Cadillac, but the Civic was following very closely behind.
To make sure there is nothing suspicious in the car, they have to wash it inside and out.
Yi Shang scrubbed the car body carefully from top to bottom and found blood and flesh on the tires.
He wiped it off bit by bit, very carefully, lying on the ground.
"How is it?" Ratan asked.
Yi Shang showed him a piece of bloody green cloth stuck on the wheel.
"This cloth is cheap, master. This green cloth," he twisted the strip between his fingers, "is usually used to make clothes for children."
"Cheap" Ratan breathed a sigh of relief.
"No one will care. Too many children go missing in India every day."
"Too."
The next day in Delhi, the weather was calm, the streets were still filled with exhaust fumes, and the sun still looked hazy.
Chadha called and said everything was done.
The judge had taken care of it, and his driver had signed a statement. As long as Ron kept quiet, everyone could rest easy.
Indian drivers often encounter this kind of thing. It's just taking the blame. There's nothing strange about it.
Ron didn't want to stay in New Delhi anymore, he wanted to finish his work as soon as possible.
As usual, the road was congested, with a large group of thin and dirty people on both sides.
Some of them squatted on the ground, waiting for the bus to take them elsewhere, while others, with nowhere to go, took out their mats and spread them on the ground to sleep.
The children were running and playing on the grass, chattering, and their parents didn't pay any attention to them, not even caring if there was one more or one less child.
They came from backward countryside to big cities in search of light, but after going around in circles they still live in darkness.
There seemed to be hundreds of people on both sides of the traffic jam, and the traffic jam seemed to have no effect on them at all.
Ron looked away from the car window. Inside and outside the car were two different worlds.
"I hope I can get everything done today. I can't wait to go back to Uttar Pradesh." Ratan said boredly.
“You don’t like New Delhi either?”
"I don't like it. It's such a hassle when someone dies here. There are lawyers and judges involved. It's too much trouble."
Well, Ron shouldn't have asked him.
Today they are not going to the Congress headquarters, but to the Raj Bhavan, the official residence of the Chief Minister of Maharashtra, nearby.
The car drove up Mount Resina, stopped several times along the way to be inspected by the sentries, and finally stopped in front of a curved-roof building near the Zongtong Mansion.
Ron and Ratan got out of the car, bags in hand.
A fat, bald man greeted them at the door, and Ron took a closer look. It was him, no doubt about it.
This person looks very similar to Maharashtra Minister Sharad Pawar and is most likely from the same family.
They found the right person, the fat man was Minister Pawar's assistant.
They are also middlemen in the usual sense. They are senior relatives of politicians and confidants from the same hometown or caste.
This was Ron's first time dealing with Minister Mabang, and before they established a deep friendship, the middleman was responsible for passing messages.
This can avoid the embarrassment of officials personally soliciting bribes, and there is room for maneuver if problems arise.
It must be said that the actions of the minister in Maharashtra were much more meticulous than those of Yadav in Uttar Pradesh.
The former still maintains a certain degree of reserve, while the latter is no different from a robber.
When Ron met Yadav for the first time, he asked him to "raise the price".
"Mr. Sur, I didn't expect you to come to New Delhi in person." The fat man greeted with a smile.
"This is a major project and requires the Minister's personal approval. Is he available now?"
"Maybe I could go in and ask." He stared at Ron's wrist.
"Do you think the minister is optimistic about the Sur Park plan?"
"I think he's optimistic, but he's still a little hesitant. Someone needs to convince him, someone close and influential."
Ron untied the watch without saying a word and put it on the fat man's wrist himself.
"Oh, Mr. Soul, no, no!"
"Look, it fits perfectly!" Ron grabbed his shiny wrist and shook it.
"Really?" The fat man smiled happily, the golden light of the sun reflected on his face, and the greasy sweat sparkled.
"Of course, he's more suitable than me. It's about the Sur Park. I need your kind words."
"You really made me suffer."
The fat man raised his wrist happily and gestured twice, then went into the study to report very decisively.
Ratan was about to say something, but Ron shook his head at him.
About five minutes later, the fat man came back and winked at Ron and the others.
"Just leave it to me."
"Excuse me, let's go back to Mumbai for another drink someday."
Ron handed him the red travel bag in his hand. It was heavy.
In addition to the bag, there was also a paper envelope, which was left exclusively for the fat man.
"The minister appreciates your Sur park plan. Mr. Rahul also called me a few days ago."
That's it, just this sentence is enough.
As soon as he entered the study, Ron saw a dark bald man sitting behind the desk.
After seeing his face clearly, a TV character, Duan Yanqing, suddenly popped up in Ron's mind.
Yes, it is a Chinese actor named Ji, Mr. Ji.
Maharashtra Minister Pawar probably looks like that, the Indian version of Duan Yanqing.
He raised his head and smiled, that ugly smile.
"Please take a seat, Mr. Soule."
"Excuse me, Minister."
Ron sat down and took out some documents from his briefcase: the development plan for Sur Electric, the budget increase for future investment, and the blueprint for the Sur Park.
It’s not enough to just give money, you also need a solid project plan.
These ministers in South India are somewhat different from those in North India. They also love money, but they hope that the areas they govern can achieve tangible development.
In simple terms, southern politicians embezzled public funds, but they also worked hard to make the pie bigger.
Politicians in North India take as much cake as they can and before long, no one else can even see the crumbs.
So unlike talking about money directly with Yadav, Ron planned to talk about his grand plan first.
However, Minister Pawar spoke first.
"Mr. Soul, I heard that you have a good relationship with Thackeray."
Huh? Ron was taken aback. This seemed a little different from what he had expected.
(End of this chapter)
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