Assassins (30 page)

Nothing out of sync.

But his unease declined to dissipate and he kept a tight grip on the pistol in his pocket. “Is my stuff ready?”

“All done.” Nitin pointed at the workstation; neatly arranged on it were four sets of cordless microphones, Mac adaptors, and presentation clickers, all of different, popular brands. “All four sets have been paired.” He picked up one set of all three items as Leon approached the table. “For easy identification all paired sets have been marked with these stickers.” Nitin showed a circular cent-sized green sticker affixed to all three: the microphone, VGA adaptor, and presentation clicker. “All four sets have different color stickers. I've painted a dot with the same color on the flip side of all three items, just in case the sticker drops off.” He showed those, too.

Leon nodded, reassured he would not kill himself because some stupid sticker manufacturer had decided to skimp on the adhesive.

“The sarin is in sealed glass vials placed inside the adaptors and the microphones.”

“Safe to carry them around?”

“Very safe. The vials are thin enough to shatter when triggered, but thick enough to withstand routine handling.” Nitin held up a microphone and shook it hard. “Though I wouldn't drop them on a hard floor if I were you.” He gave a cheeky grin.

“Right!” Leon liked his sense of humor. However, his grip on the pistol stayed fast; something did not feel right.

Or am I just being paranoid?

Leon sensed the Batra incident had shaken him, but …

Better to be paranoid and safe than sorry and six feet under.

“Do they still work? I mean, as microphones and adaptors.”

“Of course.” Nitin tutted, giving him a pained
do-you-think-I'm-an-idiot?
look. “They will function normally till you arm the clicker and switch it to the weapon mode.”

“Just asked.” Leon smiled. “How do I switch modes?”

“To switch to weapon mode, turn off the clicker and hold down the pointer button for five seconds. To revert back to the normal presenter mode, slide the on/off button to on position. This way there will be no chance of an accident.”

“Sounds great. How much gas in each?”

“Obviously the microphones are twice as large as the adaptors, so have bigger vials, but even the adaptors contain enough to do the job over five feet. The microphone would cover almost twice that distance.”

Leon knew that would be enough.

“How does the clicker trigger them?”

“Once armed, the button to move slides forward and triggers the paired microphone.” Nitin pointed it out. “And the slide-back button triggers the matching adaptor.”

“At what range?”

“I have used the same radio receiver the clicker uses to pair with the laptop so it will definitely work up to sixty feet. Here … this is a dummy set … try it out. You can go to that corner.” Completely engrossed in demonstrating his prowess, Nitin handed him a clicker. “This is already armed. To show you it works I have loaded a harmless green gas in both of these.” He stooped to retrieve a microphone and adaptor from a toolbox kept under the table.

As Nitin was bending down to reach into his toolbox, Leon pocketed one of the other four clickers kept on the table and headed for the other end of the basement, about twenty-five feet away. While walking across he flicked it to off position and held down the pointer button for five seconds, ensuring it was armed.

Still focused on the test, Nitin asked, “Ready?”

“Ready.” Nitin held up the trial set of adaptor and microphone, one in either hand. “Hit it.”

Arming the trial clicker now, Leon used the slide-back button to trigger the adaptor. A ball of green gas exploded out of it. The gas hung like a cloud around Nitin's head for approximately a minute. Allowing it to dissipate Leon pressed the slide-forward button, triggering the microphone. The green cloud was bigger this time.

“You will notice this trial gas I've used also dissipates within a minute.” Nitin tossed both expended items back in the toolbox; he looked as pleased and proud as though he had given birth. “That's how long sarin also takes. Enough to do the job.”

“You are sure?” Leon had decided to use Sarin-AXR after considerable research, but he was also aware the Americans had decided against using this variant on the battlefield because of its limited effective time; the cost of weaponizing, storing, transporting, and delivering it to the target did not make Sarin-AXR a cost-effective tactical weapon.

“Very sure,” Nitin replied confidently. “I tried it earlier on a dog. Even in the open air, it worked fine. Should be far more effective indoors.”

Leon was putting the trial clicker on the study table when the newspaper on it caught his eye. On the bottom right corner of the front page were four photos; the ones Vishal had WhatsApp-ed him last night. Above them, in large bold letters were the words
WANTED—EXTREMELY DANGEROUS
. Below them was the reward amount. There seemed to be plenty of zeros in it.

Enough to ignite greed in even the stoutest.

Knowing an APB had been issued and seeing it are two different things; Leon felt a shock wave of anxiety.

Has Nitin seen it?

The paper was neatly folded over. But it looked like it had been opened. Leon couldn't be sure; his paranoia was in the driver's seat now.

Will he call the cops?

Has he already done so?

Leon paused, trying to turn a dozen contradictory factors into a decision.

Does it matter?

Leon realized it did not; it was too risky. Nitin had seen him and was the only one who could give away his target; the weapon made it obvious Masharrat had drawn the short straw. But Leon needed to know whether Nitin had already sold him out. And if the cops knew about the weaponized sarin.

Nitin sensed the change and tensed.

“I have seen that.” Nitin pointed at the newspaper and made a dismissive gesture. “I know they're looking for you. But you should know I don't care.”

“Have you called the cops yet?”

“Yet?
No!”
Nitin's tone was shrill with fear. “And I don't plan to either.” He placed a hand on his heart. “I swear I have not. Why should I? It has nothing to do with me.”

Leon liked the fat man and didn't want to kill him …
or anybody …
unless operationally unavoidable.

But leaving him alive is too big a risk.

Leon kept staring at him.

That unnerved Nitin. “Really. I don't care who you are or what you plan to do.” He was pleading now. “I'm a professional, boss. You need something done and I do it. You pay me and I forget I ever met you.”

Leon's indecision and Nitin's fear held both immobile.

“Look.” Nitin was very anxious by now and sweating profusely. “Just take your stuff and go. Please don't pay me if you don't want to.” Leon could hear Nitin's nervousness brim over; the words were tumbling out of him at hyperspeed. “I will forget I ever saw you.”

“Sorry, old man.” And Leon was; he
had
taken a liking to the fat, jovial man.

“Please,” Nitin pleaded again, but a look of resignation had started to settle on his face. Then he sagged.
“Please.”
Suddenly tearful. “I have three kids.
”

“I'm too close to the end. Cannot take a chance … you are the only one who…” Leon realized it did not matter; nothing he said would make it any different or easier for Nitin. Holding his breath, he hit the slide-forward button of the weaponized clicker.

Leon had no idea which of the microphones on the table it triggered off, but the impact on Nitin was dramatically spectacular. He first clutched his throat, as though suddenly short of breath. Then grabbed his heart with both hands, clawing at it. It must have stopped beating because, face contorted in pain, Nitin sagged and toppled over, hitting the ground with a loud crash.

With a handkerchief clapped to his nose Leon hung back and watched, mouthing the numbers as he counted off the seconds. But his eyes were riveted on Nitin, evaluating the impact of the chemical agent. As the count hit sixty, Leon noted with satisfaction that Nitin had behaved like someone having a heart attack. That was important; by time they figured out it wasn't one, Leon would have exited the venue and be safely on his way.

Leon kept counting till he hit two hundred and fifty. Now sure the sarin would have dissipated he removed the handkerchief from his nose, but his first breath was still tentative. Another two minutes elapsed before he could bring himself to approach the table. Carefully stepping past Nitin's body, Leon collected all the adaptors, microphones, and clickers, even the used one, and made his way out. He kept the used set separate; it would find its way to whichever dustbin or gutter he came across first. Leon did not want to leave any clues behind, either to his identity or those that could provide any insight into his plans.

 

FOUR

Ravinder was happy to see Simran sitting up and talking to Mandeep when he entered the ICU.

“Happy birthday, Mom.” Eagerly shouldering past him, Jasmine gave Simran a careful hug, mindful of the wires and tubes hooked into her.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Simran was putting on a brave front, but Ravinder noticed she was pale and looked drained. Even the doctor looked pensive. Jasmine also now picked that up; Ravinder saw her smile waver.

“How are you, Mom? You are looking tired. Didn't you sleep well?”

Simran's reply was lost to Ravinder since Mandeep accosted him. “Good morning, Mr. Gill. I was about to call you. We need to take her into surgery right away.” His tone dropped. “The internal damage seems worse than we had thought.”

“Oh!” Ravinder tensed.

“Don't worry about it, Ravinder,” Simran chipped in. “Dr. Mandeep has already explained it all to me. It is nothing major. He has promised I will be home in a day or so. Right, Doctor?”

“That's right, ma'am.” Mandeep gave her an encouraging smile. “And now if you will come with me, Mr. Gill, there is some paperwork we need to do.”

“Dad, you spend some time with Mom. Let me take care of the paperwork.” Jasmine accompanied Mandeep out.

Ravinder sat down beside her and took her hand when his mobile beeped. He turned it to silent, then checked; it was a text from Philip. He was about to return it to his pocket when Simran said, “I don't want you to stop what you are doing, Ravinder. I know how important this assignment is … for our country … and you.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “And I
do
understand why you had to take it on.” She must have noticed his look, because she added, “I really do, Ravinder. It is just that I worry for you … more so since Ruby's death.” Perhaps Simran had wanted to say this out loud for a long time, because Ravinder saw her take a deep breath and plunge ahead. “But you do understand that we worry for you. We need you more than you can ever imagine … especially Jasmine. I have no idea what she would do if something happened to you. That girl dotes on you. Always has.”

“Nothing will happen to me. Please don't worry, Simran.” Ravinder gripped her hand tighter. “And Jasmine is a very brave girl.”

“You think?” Simran gave a wan smile. “Don't get fooled by that tough act she puts on. She is a softie at heart. Watch out for her, Ravinder.”

“Of course I will. But right now it is you we are both worried about.”

“Whoever did this could try again. Right?”

Ravinder knew that was true, but didn't know how to say it. He simply nodded.

“You have to find them and stop them before they hurt our baby,” Simran said insistently.

“I promise. Nothing will happen to her. Or you.” Ravinder took her hand in both his own. “For now, please focus on getting better. You're looking tired. I want you to close your eyes and get some rest.”

Simran must have been more tired than she was letting on, because she closed her eyes without demur. They sat in silence, within touching reach. Simran's hand felt warm in his. Ravinder felt a sudden urge to kiss her. Mindful of the nurses around, he settled for caressing her brow. His touch made her smile.

“Talk to me, Ravinder,” Simran murmured, her eyes still shut.

“What about?”

“Anything. Whatever is on your mind … even the assignment if you want … if you can … it doesn't matter … I just want to hear you. Recently we have not being doing enough of that. I miss that a lot.”

“I thought I was the one who liked listening and you the talking.”

Her eyes still shut, Simran smiled.

“This assignment is a real pain.” Ravinder was surprised how badly he wanted to talk about it. “Honestly, I am not sure how I feel about protecting these two Pakis. I detest them at a visceral level … they have both done so much harm to our country.” Ravinder was surprised that this was the first thing that came out of him; he realized how deeply that had been bothering him.

“Will that stop you from what you need to do?”

“No,” Ravinder replied firmly. “India will suffer a lot if something happens to them while they're here. At the very least, our reputation will be shot to hell. And in the worst case … there could be a war.” That brought a short silence between them. “But the more crucial problem is time. It is too short, much too short. Especially when we are up against someone as sharp as Leon Binder.”

“So that's who he is.” Simran opened her eyes. “The other night, you spoke his name several times when you were asleep.”

“I knew him … back from when we were in college in London. The three of us had been best friends … Edward, Leon, and I.”

“So how did he end up doing this kind of dirty work?”