Assassins (34 page)

“Give me the details.” Leon felt relief flow through him, as though the gods had sent him a signal, telling him to go ahead. He jotted down the details of Professor Naug's flight into Delhi and the hotel he would check into.

That's it. Now what could possibly go wrong?

“And guv? Do you mind sending me a few bob soon?” Baxter asked unabashedly. “Things are a bit tight these days.”

“When aren't they, Baxter?” It was a lot more than a few bob, but Leon was okay with that; for all his idiosyncrasies Baxter had been useful many times and could be again in the future. “Twenty-four hours tops. Usual way. Okay? Take care now.”

But Leon was pensive when he sat down by the window and idly watched the world go by, on the road in front and the market across. Prominently visible was The Meat Locker's signboard. The light behind the M had failed, so it read
THE EAT LOCKER
now.

Soon as I get clear from India I need to track down the other SOB leaders and get my money from them. And they had better bloody well pay … if they know what is good for them. But let me worry about that later.

Throwing himself on the bed, Leon began to sift through the likely contingencies that could arise from now till the time he cleared Indian airspace. Darkness deepened, slowly engulfing the room around him. One by one, as he worked his way past every contingency he could think of, his confidence escalated. And Leon felt better than he ever had since he had set foot in Delhi. Then he realized he'd not yet been through Naug's file. Pulling it up on his iPad again he began to pore through it, memorizing relevant details.

 

EIGHTEEN

Jasmine watched Ravinder sleep, scared to leave him alone.

Or am I the one who is scared to be alone?

Confused, she tried to blank her mind out. In vain.

Then Ravinder cried out in his sleep. And then again. She felt his anguish and held her own at bay. She realized Mandeep was by her side only when he tapped her shoulder lightly.

“Oh!” She started.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.” The long day had taken its toll on Mandeep also. “I wanted you to know we've done everything as per your mother's wishes. Every usable organ has been removed. We already have a recipient for her heart and kidneys. And they're matching for the liver now.”

“That's good.” But Jasmine wasn't sure she really meant that; her heart was still refusing to feel.

“Her body is ready for … err … for tomorrow.”

“May I see her?”

Perhaps it was her lifeless tone. Perhaps her lack of emotion. But Mandeep gave her a worried look. Jasmine noticed. “Are you sure you are okay?” he asked.

She nodded. Though she wanted to say,
No! I'm not okay. I'd like to lie down and sleep … and then wake up and find all this was only a bad dream.
Instead she nodded and asked again, “May I see my mother? Please.”

“Why not wait for your father to wake up,” Mandeep suggested, trying to let her know it wasn't a great idea. “I'm sure he would like to see her, too.”

“I'd like to see her now.” Jasmine glared, daring him.

“Okay.” Realizing he wouldn't be able to dissuade her, Mandeep reluctantly led the way to the mortuary.

Barring the echo of their footsteps, nothing accompanied them down the narrow stone-paved corridor that led to the rear of the hospital. It was late, but the mortuary lights were on and several groups of people in various stages of bereavement flocked in and around it.

Obviously death does not maintain any office hours.

Jasmine felt an insane urge to laugh. But that vanished as they entered the icy cold room. She followed Mandeep to the long steel table at the far end. Her hands were steady as she peeled back the bedsheet covering Simran's face.

Jasmine saw they had cleaned her up. Mandeep seemed to have done an excellent job; it was hard to tell Simran's organs had been removed. But for the cotton swabs plugging her nostrils, she could have been sleeping.

Why do they do that? Why plug the nostrils?

Jasmine felt her mind wander.

What is there left … to go in … or come out?

She gave one final look, but could not see any traces of her mother in that cold, lifeless body. Covering Simran's face she turned to Mandeep. “Thank you. I'd like to go back to my dad now. I want to take him home when he wakes up.”

She sensed Mandeep's scrutiny. He was obviously struggling to think of something to say. Giving up, he led her back to the ICU. There she sat down beside Ravinder and waited for him to wake up. Wanting him to wake up and be with her again, yet dreading how he would cope.

And Jasmine was sharply aware of Mandeep's presence. Glad he was there, so she was not alone, yet somewhat resentful of the intrusion on her space.

 

NINETEEN

Leon was so deep in thought, nearly asleep, that for a long time he did not realize his mobile was ringing. Immediately on answering the phone, he heard the panic in Vishal's voice.

“I doubt Verma is going to last another day.” Fear was audible in Vishal's high-pitched tone. “You should have seen the way Saina went for him.
Man!
She is one tough bitch … and she's out for blood … wants to prove Sikander was innocent.”

“Calm down,” Leon said sharply. “It's all over if you lose your head now.”

That seemed to get through. Leon heard Vishal draw a deep breath. Then a rustling sound, as though he was shifting the phone to his other hand.

“You're right. That's exactly what I told Verma.” Vishal sounded calmer, but Leon sensed it was a momentary respite. Vishal seemed to have hit the end of his tether.

I need to keep him going a little longer. At least till he gets the rifles and the bombs into the stadium.

“And that's just what you too need to do, Vishal,” Leon said encouragingly. “Let us focus on the practicalities. That's always the best way to deal with such situations. I'm confident we can find a solution to Verma if we put our heads together.”

“What could we possibly do?”

“Should we get the other stuff out of the way first?” But Leon didn't wait for a reply. “What is the status on the rifles and bombs?”

“My man has collected both.” Vishal sounded smug. “They will be inside within the next few hours. Definitely before the stadium is sealed.”

“Excellent, Vishal. That's amazing.” Aware Vishal relished it, Leon was lavish with the praise.

“It
was
tough, but without them our plan would have stalled.” Leon sensed Vishal was preening.

“True. I'm sure you have told them to let you know when the job is done.”

“Of course. I'll message you soon as I get their confirmation.”

“That's great. Well done, Vishal.”

“Thanks. Now what about Verma? And my money?”

“I should have the money by morning.” Leon had decided he was not going to hand over a dime to Vishal till the rifles and guns were inside the stadium.

“Even with Fatima out of the picture?”

“Fatima was representing the client organization,” Leon lied. “There are others besides her. Our money is going nowhere.” Leon had every intention of reaching out to the SOB as soon as he was done here in India.

Leon heard the intermittent beep of another incoming call. “I have another call coming in. Let me call you back.” Wondering who was calling him at this ungodly hour, he accepted the new call.

“Sir ji, imagine my surprise when I saw you on television.”

The caller sounded familiar, but Leon couldn't place him. “Who is this, please?”

“It is I, Om Chandra. The owner of the service apartment in Sarita Vihar.”

Leon knew the shit had hit the fan. Hard.

“I was saying, sir ji, I was
so
surprised to see you on television.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Leon tried, though doubtful the bluff would work. It did not.

“Let's not play games, Mr. Berman. Or should I say Mr. Binder?” Om's tone hardened. “We both know the police alert is for you.”

Leon did not respond.

“Now the question is, why does the police want you badly enough to pay a million rupees.” Om paused dramatically. “And the
bigger
question is, how much would
you
pay for them not to find you?”

Leon waited him out, trying hard to think of the best way out of this.

I don't need to go back to that apartment again. And I can dump the bugger's car someplace where it will not be found for a couple of days.

Leon's relief was short-lived.

“I know you must be thinking, why bother to pay anything?” Om Chandra continued, driving the final nail in the coffin, “so I thought I'd help you see the big picture. You see, that car you are driving is expensive. And given the number of car thefts in Delhi, it is fitted with a GPS tracker. That tracker tells me you are right now parked in Jorbagh and in the very same place as you were last night.” Om Chandra gave him a moment to assimilate that. “I'm not sure of the exact location, since I am a simple man and not very good with sophisticated technology, but then, I don't really need to be, do I? I'm sure the police will figure it out.”

Leon knew Om Chandra had him by the short hairs; he needed Om to stay silent, at least till be was out of India. “What do you want?” he asked.

“What could I want, sir?” Om Chandra reverted to his oily tone. “I'm a simple man, with simple needs. But you know how children are … so expensive … always wanting this and that. And the school fees … don't even remind me of them.” Chandra snickered. “Perhaps you'd like to make a small donation, which can help me take care of their needs?”

“How much?”

“Well, the cops are ready to pay a million rupees. Would two million not be a reasonable amount for me to look the other way?”

Two million rupees … about thirty thousand dollars.

Leon rapidly did the math. Doable. But he countered, “I don't think I could raise that kind of money,”

“I would if I were you, sir ji.” Om's tone was no longer pleasant. “I have no idea what you are up to, but it cannot be small change, not with that kind of reward.”

“I will need time.” Leon hedged, trying to buy some whilst he wrapped his head around this.

“Of course. I'm a reasonable man. You have till tomorrow eleven o'clock.”

Again Om's tone brooked no discussion. Leon realized fighting the deadline would not be a smart idea. “Okay. Meet me tomorrow at…”

“At the apartment in Sarita Vihar,” Om Chandra completed his sentence. “Come alone. No hanky-panky, sahib. I promise you there will be no trouble as long as I get my money.”

But Leon suspected there would be trouble. There always was.

Damn!

Now he had two issues to resolve, Vishal Bhardwaj and Om Chandra.

Just when I thought I was out of the woods. This damn mission
is
jinxed.

Ten minutes later, with a plan clearer in his head, Leon called Vishal and told him he'd have his money ready by noon. “Why don't you meet me at about thirteen hundred tomorrow?”

“Same place?”

“Same place.”

“That's great.” Vishal sounded happy. “Oh! I'd like most of it in dollars.”

“I will do the best I can,” Leon answered noncommittally.

“And what about Verma? Given any thought to that?”

“Frankly, no. But let me sleep over it. I am sure we can find a solution.”

“I see.” But the worry was back in Vishal's voice. Leon sensed he was on the verge of panic. “Don't sleep on it too long. I don't think he will hold out much longer. They haven't allowed him to sleep a wink and someone is always at him.” Leon clicked his tongue moodily. “I am screwed if he talks.”

“Don't worry. We
will
find a solution.” Leon murmured reassuringly. “Another thirty hours and it will all be over.” But even over the phone Leon could sense Vishal's jumpiness. It transferred; Leon was equally uneasy when the call ended.

 

DECEMBER

26

 

ONE

Ravinder was unable to suppress a pang of guilt when he saw Kurup's number flashing on his mobile, aware he had lost track of the assignment. Reluctantly he took the call.

“Deepest condolences, Ravinder. Really sorry about your wife.” Ravinder noticed this was the first time Kurup had used his first name and was touched. “I called yesterday, too, but your daughter said you were not to be disturbed.”

“Oh! I was…” Ravinder trailed off, not sure how to respond.

“I understand.” Kurup sounded concerned. “Please let us know if there is anything we can do to help.”

“I will. Thank you.”

An awkward silence followed. Ravinder was relieved when the call came to an end. He was also feeling terribly guilty. Though Kurup had not brought up the investigation, Ravinder was aware time had almost run out for the home team and of the possibly catastrophic consequences if Leon succeeded. Yet grief held him inert; he could not contemplate going back to the assignment that had claimed Simran's life. The fact she had been dead against it made him feel worse.

There was a soft knock and Jasmine peeped in. “You up, Dad?”

“Come in, please.” Ravinder sat up.

“I thought I heard you talking. All well?”

Ravinder saw she was worried. He nodded. “That was Kurup, the NIA director.”

“And?” She looked even more worried.

“And nothing.” He shrugged, unwilling to share the guilt he was suffering; strangely it made him feel disloyal to Simran.