by Ruchi Singh
"It is to loosen you a bit to us civilians, and for God's sake, I'm not your boss." Nikhil continued quickly, when he saw her squirm in the chair. "Yes, you will report to me, but for appearances' sake. Vikram is your boss. You are his PA, so behave like one."
"Yeah sure, but I can't behave like that girl and I can't wear skirts. They aren't practical and I hate putting anything on my face—the smell makes me sneeze."
Throwing his head back, Nikhil laughed and shook his head. "You know, I have a complete six inch dossier on you and I'm yet to come across that you are remotely thick-headed. Are you putting up an act? Or, is it something else? Wait a minute! Are you nervous? What are you nervous of?"
"No... I'm not nervous. Please continue."
He sat back and crossed his arms. "You are nervous. Does Vikram make you nervous?"
"No, not at all," she said, a breathless quick reply.
Nikhil leaned in, his eyebrows furrowing. "Don't be. He is the quietest, most undemanding guy. I'm the ogre. At least, that's what my team tells me." He patted her hand and smiled. "Tell me about the French embassy episode. Was that the last time you shot someone?"
Now her eyebrows went up. "How do you know about that? It was supposed to be confidential. The newspapers there were banned from reporting about the incident."
"Calm down, Xena. I have my sources." Nikhil smiled and ignored her scowl at the nickname. "Moreover, I'm not going to report it to the media. I wanted to know whether you've fired a gun in real circumstances. As you very well know, shooting during the training and the guts required in real life are a different matter altogether."
She nodded and said, "In Paris, as you must have seen in the report, the Ambassadress' daughter was planning to elope with this French guy and he was a drug addict. Ma'am ordered me to follow him and generally keep a track on his activities. One night he tried to sneak in into the embassy, and I had to shoot him in the leg when he refused to stand still even after my repeated warnings. It was one hell of a night."
Nikhil smiled and opened another file. "Coming to the problem at hand, Vikram has a terrorist threat from outside the country. And he does not want Z-security around him. We are still investigating the incident." Gone was the frivolous person he portrayed to the world at large, Esha noted, as he briefed her about her responsibilities. His face had taken a hard, determined edge. "From this day onwards, either you or I, or both of us have to stick with him like glue."
"Terrorists normally blow everyone to eliminate their target."
"That's right. My team sanitizes his vehicles and the public locations before he goes. We rely heavily on electronic surveillance. You'll be staying on the premises, the first floor of the outhouse, where I live on the ground floor. Apart from the two of us, the only person who lives in-house is his butler-cum-chef Kishore dada. All the other servants come and go, and are checked thoroughly by the guards posted at the gate."
Esha nodded, as Nikhil explained the security net around Vikram Seth. She had to admit she was quite impressed with his strategy.
"I want you to come early in the morning and make sure everything is sanitized. I'll escort him to the office in the morning. You will stay with him throughout the day, wherever he goes, and escort him back in the night. I have replaced his regular driver with Jay, my associate, whom I trust with my eyes closed, but even he doesn't have the complete picture. Apart from the three of us, another armored vehicle follows his car with four more guards."
He briefed her about the security arrangements that he had made for Vikram's office as well as for his two residences in Mumbai. He took care of the security arrangements for Vikram's mother as well, who lived in one of their apartment buildings in Hiranandani, in the Powai neighborhood in Mumbai. They discussed the nuances of the security in Vikram's cars, jet and the helicopter. He showed her the security room used for monitoring the CCTV cameras.
"These are your papers, complete with an MBA degree. And here is the gun you prefer and the license to go with it." Nikhil handed her the file and the gun.
"Any motive behind the attack?"
"We have some theory, but things aren't adding up."
"Who are the beneficiaries?"
"His mother and sister."
"What about Viraj Seth?"
"Why do you think it is not the terrorists?"
"You know... explore all the angles and stuff."
"Yes, I agree."
"Any progress on the investigations in Delhi?"
"Police are pursuing all the leads." Nikhil opened her file again.
Esha had an inkling he didn't want to talk about it, either because they were in the office or because he didn't trust her enough. It was fair, she concluded given the seriousness of the matter, so she dropped the subject.
Nikhil looked up and smiled. "Though you are not required to wear makeup, please be at ease and behave less like an army Major."
She couldn't help but flash an answering smile. "As long as I'm not required to paint my face."
"You're not. The gun in its case will not show in the security checks in this office and at home. But elsewhere, be a little careful, make up some story."
"No problem." Esha checked the gun and loaded the magazine, happy to have something familiar in the new surroundings.
"Where's your luggage?" He asked her, as they returned to the conference room. She told him about the cloak room at the airport. He called up someone and arranged for it to be brought to Vikram's house. "How about dinner tonight?"
Confused, she frowned. "Are we allowed to have dinner out?"
"Not for a few months. But if he is eating out then we can, at the same restaurant. And I have asked him to not go out, unless it is unavoidable." He winked, back to his Casanova avatar, turning on the full charm of his killer smile. "How about dinner at my place? The time saved in commuting could be put to better use."
She chuckled at the transformation. "I don't go out with my superiors."
"But your boss is Vikram, Xena."
Esha chuckled, and shook her head.
* * * *
Seth Towers, Mumbai
6th October, 5:00 PM
Vikram couldn't concentrate on the budget spreadsheet on the screen. His thoughts kept going to his new PA-cum-bodyguard. She was a class apart—restrained and understated but elegantly so. And then there was that lisp, totally in contrast to her serious demeanor, kind of endearing.
The morning hadn't started well for her, and then there was Mumbai from his office. Her eyes, otherwise shuttered, couldn't hide her reaction to the view. She had experienced the same heady power as he had when he had first walked into the room years ago. The view from the glass wall had that effect on people, and the fact that she was mesmerized by it, invoked a kind of pride in him. Vikram narrowed his eyes. Why would he want her to be impressed by anything he had? He had stopped impressing people a long time back. That was strange!
Today, she was a little flustered in his office, but recovered fast, presenting the professional mask she always wore. He wondered what he would find if the mask was removed. He knew she took her job seriously—she was deeply offended when he had brushed-off her inferences on the shooting that day in Delhi. Today also, she had disliked his casual reference to her being a bodyguard. He also knew she was engaged once, to her colleague. He wondered what had gone wrong.
Vikram took out the file on Esha Sinha. No. Major Esha Sinha. Though Nikhil had briefed him about her history, he had left the file for his perusal. He chuckled and shook his head as he read the title on her file—Nikhil and his humor.
Eroica
(E-Major)
Beethoven - Third Symphony
* * * *
"The office closes at six p.m." Koel informed Esha, collecting her things from the desk. "We have instructions from Vikram sir to leave the office at closing time. He often works late and gets furious if anyone stays beyond the office hours."
"Thanks..." Esha replied when Koel kept standing at her desk.
"Have a grand night, Koel."
Koel whirled around and left the room.
Esha sighed and resumed browsing the Internet.
It was ten minutes to nine and there was no sign of any movement from Vikram's office. She had eaten nothing since breakfast, surviving on the coffee from the vending machine. Her innards churned, demanding sustenance, but leaving her desk was not an option. She searched in her bag and found a nutri-bar. She hated them, but unwrapped it.
As she ate, she stretched her arms up to get the blood circulation going into her aching muscles and, right then, the door opened. Startled, she stood up and her cell phone slipped to the floor. She bent down to pick it up and banged her head against the table corner and cursed under her breath. Standing up, she discreetly crumpled the nutri-bar wrapper in her fist, hoping he didn't hear the crunching sound it made.
"Oh... I forgot that you were waiting. Did you hurt yourself?" He had been working for straight seven hours after lunch and looked tired.
She shook her head, and hooked the Bluetooth to her ear. "Ready to go? Land or air?"
"I've asked Jay to bring the car around."
Esha nodded and they both entered the lift. As the lift doors closed shut, she went still. The feeling she had experienced in his office intensified in the closed, confined space with him. They stood facing the door, he a step behind her. Sensing his eyes on her, she focused her mind on the descending numbers on the front panel.
The lift stopped at eleventh floor. She glanced back at him, gun in her hand.
"My mother's office. But no one should be there at this hour."
She gestured him to stand in the recessed corner beside the door. To her relief, he moved into the corner without any question as she stepped into the opposite corner. The lift doors swished open. She flicked off the safety catch on the gun. Nobody entered. The doors slid close. She exhaled and slipped the gun back into the holster.
"Who could have done that?" Esha frowned, talking to herself.
Vikram shrugged. The question didn't warrant an answer.
The lift doors opened on the ground floor. The limousine, chauffeured by Jay, waited in the porch. She hurried to open the vehicle door for him before Jay could get out. But Vikram took the door from her and motioned her to sit first. She didn't protest since she didn't want him exposed in the open for too long, but anger started simmering. He slipped in next to her and closed the door.
She turned towards him, eyes flashing, ready to set a few ground rules. Before she could open her mouth, his phone rang. Throughout the drive, he was busy over his phone discussing something about equity, mutual funds, and market trends. As they reached home, he went inside the bungalow without a backward glance, the cell still glued to his ear. She decided to broach the subject in the morning.
Esha's luggage stood outside the outhouse. The guard at the gate handed her the keys to the first floor studio apartment. It was a neat two-floor building and the apartment was quite a luxury, considering she was a mere employee. The room had a recessed kitchenette to the right of the entrance and a couch to the left. Beyond the kitchen was the small door of the washroom and the bed was on left. An easy chair and a coffee table completed the room's furnishing.
The kitchenette had everything needed to cook an adequate meal for two. The three-door French windows on the front wall, next to the bed, opened to a tiny balcony, with a view of the high boundary wall laden with purple-pink bougainvillea. No one could see inside or outside, which was good, she thought. There was another smaller window above the couch, which opened to reveal the main bungalow's entrance. Everything had an unused feel to it as if refurbished recently.
Esha liked it. It was bigger and better than the room she had shared with Nisha back home.
She was half-way through unpacking, when a car drove into the driveway. She peered through the white lace curtains of the smaller window. A Mercedes stopped at the entrance of the portico and a lady dressed in a short black dress rushed up the steps. She recognized Karisma, Vikram's current girlfriend, a lawyer, from the dossier Nikhil had given her on all the people and vehicles that had access to the premises.
No matter how hard she tried, Esha couldn't pry herself away from the window. But when her stomach growled, she had to bring her attention back to her basic needs. She had a pack of biscuits stashed somewhere and delved in her bag searching for it. After five minutes, someone screamed and a door slammed shut. She hurried to the window and saw the woman storm down the porch steps, sit in the car, and drive away with the tires screeching.
An unidentified calm settled in her heart, surprising her. Why was she so happy that his girlfriend didn't stay? Why was she behaving so irrationally? He was an assignment for two months, a monetary transaction. After that, they would go back to their separate worlds and on their own ways, never to meet again. This had to stop.
Placing her palms on her eyes, she focused on her responsibilities, and remembered Samar, his parents, her father, and her family. She relived the humiliation, the pain, and lamented on the would-have-beens. She recalled her shattered dreams and her vow to never dream again. Vikram Seth was an assignment, a financial ticket to Nisha's wedding and her family's economic security.
Someone knocked at her door. She opened to see an elderly, white haired man standing with a tray in his hands.
"Dinner," the man said, when she stared at him. "Baba's orders." He was a man of few words, Esha realized. She liked him already and took the tray.
So he had noticed the nutri-bar.
* * * *
Suburbs, Mumbai
6th October, 11:30 PM
The phone rang for two-seconds then stopped. He looked at the display and opened a drawer. Selecting a SIM card from this collection of fifteen odd cards from varied service providers, he opened the back panel of the mobile. He replaced the original, then dialed the caller. The call was picked up immediately.
"Mahajan has replaced Seth's driver with Jay, the tall fellow with the mole. They must have hired a private investigator too, I'm on it."
"Hmm..."
"Don't wait too much. They think that the attack was by the Burmese rebels. Any attack within the next two-three weeks will also be attributed to the terrorists."
"I can't. I need to be prepared."
"You have to do something fast!"
"Don't pressure me. Do you want me to die or worse, get caught?" He had never liked it when someone pushed him.
"Of course not!"
The concern for him was back and he exhaled. "Don't worry. Leave everything to me."
"Can't we hire someone else?"
"And include one more breathing entity into the secret? Have you gone mad?"
"These things can be done anonymously too."
He remained silent. The call was disconnected.
He turned to find Sara standing with that pretty, old doll cradled in her arms. The lever on the cupboard had come loose and she was able to open the door from her side. He made a mental note to fix it.
"How are you?" he asked, masking his grief at the picture she made in the clean yet tattered clothes, her thinning, ginger hair curled around her face in the style she wore thirty years back.
"Please bring milk, Anna is hungry." She had begun rocking the doll and turned to go back.
Sighing, he sat down and took off his shoes. She would forget her demand the moment she saw the other toys in her room.
* * * *
October 7th
Seths' Residence, Mumbai
7th October, 6:30 AM
Moving towards the balcony of his bedroom, Vikram lit a cigarette and took in the sight. Major Esha Sinha, in a navy blue track pant and a sleeveless white tee jogged on the paved path arou
nd the bungalow. His eyes followed her rhythmic energetic run until she disappeared from his sight around the corner.
As he savored his morning nicotine fix, he watched her take round after round, increasing the speed with each, and lasting a shorter duration in front of his eyes. With the Bluetooth receiver in her ear and eyes down, she wasn't aware of his presence in the balcony.
He had gone through her complete dossier and was impressed. Apart from the rarity that being a woman she was part of the NSG, Esha had excelled in all kinds of training there, sometimes even outshining her male counterparts. The only shadow was her broken engagement—the reason listed was incompatibility and she had put an end to the relationship, which didn't ring true. She didn't seem like someone who'd go back on her decision. Or maybe, Vikram wondered, he had read her wrong.
When she didn't appear for the next round, he became curious and went to the family room in front of the house. Was the exercise over? Must be, she had been running for more than half an hour without breaking any sweat.
He peered through the curtains from the first floor living area and saw her doing push-ups on the ground in front of the outhouse. His cigarette forgotten between his fingers, he enjoyed her profile and neat moves in the power exercises she did. He hadn't known that watching a woman exercise would be so appealing. It was a treat to watch her in the lift too, completely at ease with the gun. Nikhil had chosen well.
Esha ran and caught hold of a branch of the tree in the compound and pulled herself fifteen times with her legs close to her body. Incredible, Vikram thought. The branch swung down, making it difficult for her to pull up, but she did it.
Nikhil had come out of his rooms and stood watching her complete the workout. He said something to her when she finished and she laughed aloud, a merry infectious laughter, and Vikram found himself smiling. A moment later she punched Nikhil's shoulder playfully and they went to their rooms. He wondered at the easy repartee shared by the two.