Assassins (31 page)

“Leon?” Ravinder mulled, wondering how much he could share. And whether he could really explain what had happened back then. How Edward had gone berserk when Farah died. “It's a long story.”

“I see. But that must make it tough.”

Something in her tone made him look up. He suddenly felt unsure. “Did I say anything else in my sleep?”

“You did take another name.” He saw Simran search her memory. “Farah. I think. Yes, it was Farah. Who is she?”

“Edward, Leon, and I shared an apartment when we were in college. Farah was Edward's fianc
é
e.” The urge to unburden his misgivings ripped at him.

“Was?”

“She's dead … died many years ago.”

“Oh!”

Unsure, he paused, saw the query in Simran's eyes, and felt he could not stop now. “One day I returned home early and caught Leon raping Farah. I intervened. We had a big fight, during which Farah was killed.”

“Oh,” Simran repeated. She was listening with wide-eyed attention now. “Then?”

“It was my testimony that got Leon convicted. He got life.”

“Well, he got what he deserved. Rape is unspeakable, and what could be worse than murder? No excuse for either.”

“It is not that simple…” Ravinder was bursting, aching to share his confusion. Ravinder's dilemma was even deeper since he was the one who'd brought the poker into the fight, though he was pretty sure it was Leon who'd snatched it from him and lashed out. In fact, he was not even sure if there was anything for him to be guilty about. Just that nagging doubt, which all these years had not been able to wash away. “Later, after the case was over, too many stories about Farah surfaced … I'm not sure if Leon had actually been raping her … perhaps they had been having consensual sex.”

“Oh. I see.” Simran looked momentarily confused. “Even so, how would that condone his killing her?”

But Leon kept insisting he didn't kill her.

But what else would he say? Every damn criminal believes he's innocent.

Ravinder's defense mechanism sprang into the battle, valiantly pushing back his doubts. And he was suddenly worried, insecure what Simran would think of him. The very idea that she would think less of him was agonizing; it pulverized Ravinder. “But you see…”

Simran sensed his confusion. “You are not sure if you did the right thing by testifying?” she asked gently, sensing his turmoil and eager to help.

“Simran, I don't know how to explain it to you.” Ravinder's courage was depleting rapidly, but he sensed that if he stopped now he would never be able to unburden and rid himself of this doubt. “Edward and his family really put a lot of pressure on me … I know I did the right thing, but … yet … I feel guilty.”

“Understandably so. Like Edward, Leon was also your friend. It is perfectly normal to feel bad.” Simran nodded sympathetically. “But I do want you to know this … I know you well, Ravinder. I know you will always do the right thing. Just trust your instincts. Always.”

Simran's words struck Ravinder like hammer blows. He remembered the last time she had said that to him—just a few months ago, hours before Ruby had attacked the Peace Summit. And he'd had to shoot Ruby down … his daughter … his own flesh and blood … someone he would have died to protect.

That did not end well, Simran.

He wanted to tell her.

I did trust my instincts that time, too.

Now almost tearful.

But it did not end well at all.

“I don't know, Simran.” The words jerked out, a fractured whisper. “I don't know at all. I am not even sure I want to continue this assignment. Not after all this.” Ravinder waved at the tubes and wires plugged into her. “I don't know if I can focus on it … not with you like this … and Jasmine also hurting so badly.”

“See it through, Ravinder.” Generations of the martial blood that coursed through Simran's veins now manifested itself in her voice. “You not only have to see it through, but show them your metal. Win.”

The tone, more than the words, reinforced him. Her eyes held his, steeling him. Ravinder nodded, tentatively at first. Then with increasing confidence. When he finally spoke, there was no longer any doubt in his voice. “I will, Simran.”

Her fingers tightened on his. That drove away the last of his fears. He knew he wanted to unburden; he could no longer bear the thought of carrying this guilt … this
doubt …
on his own.

“Simran, I feel guilty about Leon … especially since Edward's call the other night … I feel I may have wronged him.” His tongue thickened, almost halting him, but he plowed on. “I have always tried to avoid thinking about that day. I don't think I would have if Leon hadn't resurfaced. But…” He faltered. Simran's hand squeeze bolstered his courage again. “… sometimes I am not sure whose blow actually killed Farah.” The silence between them was now complete. Only the beeping of the monitors strewn around the ICU intervened. Ravinder could not bring himself to meet Simran's eyes, to even look at her. “Leon kept insisting he had not been the one…”

Then Ravinder realized that one of the monitors had begun to screech, a never-ending high-pitched whine that made the hairs in his ears dance. He realized it was the one attached to Simran only when two nurses rushed up.

“Please move back, sir.” One of them pushed him back, none too gently.

Horrified, Ravinder looked up at the monitor and saw that the wavy line on the screen was now a long flat one. Before he could process that, the ICU doors swung open and Mandeep raced in. Another doctor followed, Jasmine behind them. She froze at the door. The expression on her face brought home the message to Ravinder. His mind noticed and acknowledged the message. His heart rejected the implication immediately.

As though from far away he watched the doctors first shock Simran and then try to revive her with an injection to her heart. But Simran did not stir. He was not sure how much time had elapsed, but suddenly realized the monitor was no longer screaming out its alarm. It had been disconnected and was now blank. Dark. Lifeless.

He swayed.

Felt Jasmine by his side, clutching his arm.

The last thing he saw was the worry on her face and the tears in her eyes.

Then he entered the heart of darkness.

 

FIVE

Leon was driving near the ITO Building when he remembered the CCTV cameras at Nitin's house.

Damn!

He felt like kicking himself. But he knew there was no option; he had to go back and get rid of the recordings, if any.

Otherwise the next APB the cops put out would have a far more easily identifiable photo.

Cursing, he U-turned at the next traffic island and headed back, aware this slip would cost him two hours at least. And revisiting a crime scene was as asinine an idea as any.

Would anyone else have come around by now? Had the body been found? Would the cops already be there? What if they had found the CCTV tapes … what then?

The questions and his anxiety mounted as Nitin's house came closer.

 

SIX

Vishal was thrilled when Philip asked him to help interrogate Ashok Verma, confident he would now get the opportunity to bolster Ashok up.

They were heading for the cell where Verma was being held when Archana called out. “Guys, we need to get to the hospital immediately.” She looked tearful. “Boss has lost his wife.”

That halted Philip in mid-stride. Vishal realized he needed to show empathy when he saw Philip's expression. Even Saina, at the other end of the room, looked stricken. Pulling a matching expression on his face, he said, “Oh, that's terrible.”

“Archana, I want you to hold the fort with Gyan.” Philip took charge decisively. “The rest of us will go to the hospital.”

“I would like to come with you, sir.” Gyan spoke as softly as always; however, Vishal saw from his expression that he would not take no for an answer. “I have been with Mr. Gill for years. I want to go.”

Philip did not hesitate. “Put two of your best men to guard him.” He chucked his chin toward Verma's cell.

Five minutes later, bundled into the office minivan, they were headed for the hospital. Gyan, at the wheel, had the siren going full blast and kept his huge foot pressed on the accelerator.

Behind him, Vishal wondered how he should pass on the news to Leon. And how Leon would react. Then he remembered the APB was out.

I hope the bugger is careful. If he gets caught, I get screwed.

Aware that Archana had done a remarkable job on the APB photos, Vishal knew Leon would have a challenge moving about now; every cop they could spare was on the lookout.

Who will pay me if he gets caught? Fatima? Not bloody likely!

That thought depressed him even more.

Then the minivan screeched to a halt in the AIIMS parking lot and they ran into the VIP ward. The first thing Vishal noticed was the TV in the lobby. It was running a special bulletin. Plastered all over was Leon's face, in all four variants that Archana had generated.

Even a blind fuck will not have a problem recognizing him.

Vishal mumbled an excuse and veered toward the bathroom, the urge to call Leon irresistible. However, once in the toilet, unwilling to run the risk of being overheard, Vishal sent Leon a text.

Ravinder's wife is dead. We need to talk. Will let you know soon as it is safe to speak.

He was about to rejoin the others when it struck him that it would be smart to collect his money soonest, in case Leon was captured or killed. So he sent another text asking if they could meet that evening to collect his cash instead of the next day as they had planned earlier.

 

SEVEN

Jasmine felt her father go limp. The sudden weight as he blacked out staggered her. She would have fallen if Mandeep hadn't rushed forward and caught Ravinder. With the help of a nurse they laid him on an empty bed adjacent to Simran's. The sight of both her parents laying there, one lifeless and the other nearly so, terrified Jasmine. She wanted to scream, to cry, to wring her hands and tear her hair. Anything. Instead she turned to Mandeep. “He will be okay.” She delivered that flatly, as a statement, not a question.

“Yes.” Mandeep was looking at her strangely, perhaps because she seemed in complete control of herself. “He is in shock.”

She absorbed that. Nodded.

“I will need to sedate him,” Mandeep added. “If you are okay with that.”

“Please do whatever is required.” Jasmine could not take her eyes off Simran. “My father relied on her totally … I am not sure if even he knew how much.”

Mandeep wasn't sure she was talking to him, but he nodded, worried she, too, was in shock. “I think you should sit down. Perhaps lie down for a bit.”

Again, it was a while before she answered, as though it was taking time for his words to reach wherever she had gone. “No. Not yet.” Pause. “As Dad would say, this is my watch now.”

Crossing over, she pulled a chair between her parents and sat down, reaching out and taking one hand each of theirs in her own. She watched expressionlessly as Mandeep gave Ravinder a sedative and then stood beside her, unsure if he should leave her alone. Then the nurse came up to cover Simran's face.

“Let it be, Sister.” Jasmine's tone was firm and sharp, making it clear she would not allow that. “I will do that. Later.”

The nurse backed away as though she had been stung.

Mandeep made a placating gesture.

For a long moment silence reigned.

Mandeep shifted from one foot to the other, awkward and unsure if his presence was an intrusion. Jasmine seemed oblivious to him. In fact, to everything around her. But when he made to leave, Jasmine's voice stopped him. Though she was still looking at her mother when she spoke.

“Doctor, my mother wanted her organs to be donated … whatever could be of use. Could you? Please.”

“Of course.” Again Mandeep seemed struck by her icy control. “But are you sure?” She nodded curtly, eyes still on Simran. “We will need all the paperwork.”

“We have the paperwork. I am the one who drafted her will.” She halted suddenly. “Mom always said there is no point in having a lawyer in the family if one can't get a free will.” Her voice faltered. Mandeep thought her poise would shatter. He hoped it would, aware Jasmine needed the release. But it did not. “I will give you a copy of her bequest and sign whatever release is required.”

“I will take care of it right away, then.”

“And please don't allow anyone to disturb my father. He needs to rest.” With that, Jasmine got up and left the ICU. She moved stiffly, as though recovering from a spinal injury.

It was only when she was safely locked inside one of the toilet cubicles that she allowed herself to cry. But silently. Aware it was her watch now. And Ravinder needed her. So did Simran. There was much to be done. Her father had to be looked after; she knew how hard he had been hit. Her mother's funeral. And handling all those relatives.

By time she came out of the bathroom she was ready to take it all on.

 

EIGHT

Leon carried out two passes of the Nitin bungalow before he was satisfied it was as he had left it.

Perhaps not so surprising—Nitin
had
mentioned no one ever came here.

Nonetheless, hand on pistol and senses on red alert, he went through the gates and into the house; the horror movie set feel was now much stronger. Pushing it aside, he went down to the basement.

Nitin lay where he had fallen.

Leon was unable to stop himself from looking at the body. It suddenly struck him that never once, in all these years, had he ever had to revisit one of his victims. Till now, barring catching glimpses of them on the television, life had never brought him face-to-face with those he had sent to their deaths.