No Safe Zone

by Adite Banerjie

  ‘Just one, Sir,’ said Kabir. ‘Discretion is all very well. I hope there won’t be any interference from the Prime Minister’s Office?’

  Kabir’s question was greeted by a sharp intake of breath from Zayed and a hot glare from Sharma. Much as the IB bosses hated it, dealing with the political masters was a necessary part of their job. It was unthinkable that a junior level officer would even raise the touchy topic, especially at a high-level meeting like this one. Saxena though wasn’t surprised by Kabir’s candour.

  ‘We’ll deal with the PMO,’ Saxena said sharply. ‘You focus on the job at hand.’

  The meeting ended after a brief discussion of a few nitty-gritty issues, but not before Saxena had a word with Kabir as they all shook hands and took their leave.

  ‘Kabir, I’m depending on you to wrap this up quietly and quickly.’

  Two

  The Army Polo Club, Delhi

  The annual polo tournament was in session and there were more celebrities in the chock-a-block spectator stands than at a high-end night club. It resembled a fancy dress parade rather than a professional sporting event. Women with $1000 Louis Vuitton bags and killer heels, who looked like they had walked straight out of a Christian Dior showroom in Paris, air-kissed each other.

  Qiara seized the opportunity and slipped past a gaggle of women greeting each other at the gates before one of the moustachioed gatekeepers spotted her.

  The interior of the sprawling club was like something out of a 1920s British Raj movie. All around were memorabilia of polo tournaments dating back to the colonial times. The grand Victorian furniture was polished to such perfection she could see her reflection in them. The huge mahogany bar at the end of the room with its array of the finest Belgian crystalware was doing brisk business even though it was not yet lunch time. The liveried waiters bustled around serving drinks and eats to guests. On the grounds outside, the match was in progress and she could hear the polo aficionados cheering gustily at intermittent intervals.

  She felt like a misfit even though she had worn her prettiest summer dress and paired it off with suede, ankle-length boots. Not that she had anything against pretty clothes or dressing up but she steered clear of designer wear.

  Sam had virtually blackmailed her into buying this horrendously expensive outfit.

  ‘I won’t have you looking like a ragamuffin at a high-society fundraising do. You don’t have to look like a charity case yourself you know.’ And that had been the end of the discussion.

  Now here she was, wondering if her elegant togs would help her find the elusive donor who had made her visit the city she’d sworn never to return to.

  A waiter stopped to offer her an array of drinks. She reached out for a glass of bubbly for some much-needed Dutch courage and in her best British accent said, ‘Could you please let Mr Ranveer Khanna know Ms Rana is waiting for him in the lobby?’

  Shaking his head apologetically, he said, ‘Madam, I’m just one of the contracted waiters here. But I will definitely pass on your request to the concierge.’

  ‘Thank you. I have had a very long flight from London. I’d really appreciate it if the concierge could inform Mr Khanna as soon as possible.’

  She leaned back against the overstuffed chair, lowered her eyes and turned away from him in a dismissive manner. How would Ranveer Khanna react to her presumptuous command? She was willing to bet the last rupee in her not-so-fancy handbag the reference to London would definitely pique his interest.

  She still couldn’t believe how fast things had unravelled after the NCA team descended on their office. Over the next forty-eight hours, Sam, Sarah and she had called every one of their contacts to track down Khanna. But the man seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth.

  Their tenth anniversary event, which would not only showcase their achievements but serve as a launchpad for the next phase of their ambitious South Asian programme, was doomed. The sponsor was absconding. Worse, Reshma, the girl who was the face of their campaign, had gone missing too.

  Phone calls to the principal of the village school where Reshma studied only deepened the mystery. Neither the principal nor the girl’s family were willing to discuss the matter.

  With Murray and his men breathing down their necks, it was clear as daylight that finding Khanna was imperative. Did he know about the disappearance of Reshma? Was there a connection between Khanna going incommunicado and Reshma’s vanishing act? They needed some answers fast. Or Girls Rock! would end up in big trouble. The thought was enough for Qiara to do what she’d never have dreamt of: return to Delhi. The city she had fallen in love with. The city she now hated with a passion. The city where she had met the love of her life. The city where he had betrayed her.

  ‘Ms Rana?’

  The smooth, cultured baritone startled Qiara out of her reverie. A tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and a trimmed French beard was looming in front of her. The fine lines crinkled around his eyes.

  ‘I believe you are looking for me?’

  Slightly embarrassed at being caught napping, she laughed self-consciously. ‘Oh, I think the flight from London has whacked me out completely. Sorry to barge in on you like this, Mr Khanna. I have been hoping to meet you for a long time.’

  ‘Ms Rana, this is neither the place nor the time. We have a match on and I’m very passionate about my polo. So if you will please excuse me.’

  ‘Please call me Qiara.’ The dimple in her cheek deepened. ‘Back in Magdalen College, I go by the name of Q, much like James Bond’s M.’

  A smile softened Khanna’s stern expression.

  ‘Magdalen, Oxford? What did you study?’

  ‘Civil Law. Was a Rhodes Scholar and am now pursuing a PhD in comparative human rights and equality law.’

  ‘What a coincidence. My daughter, Ritika, is a Rhodes scholar too at Magdalen. Do you know her?’

  Qiara pretended to give it some thought and said, ‘She would be a few years…wait, is she in the Oxford Women’s Blues Team?’

  At Khanna’s triumphant smile, she beamed, ‘What a small world.’

  ‘So, you and Ritika are friends?’

  ‘More like acquaintances. We have bumped into each other a couple of times. And I wish I’d known you two were related. At least I could have gotten a Skype interview with you instead of flying down all the way to Delhi.’

  ‘Oh, come now, you could connect with me any time.’

  ‘Mr Khanna, you simply are the most elusive man in the world,’ she asserted with feeling.

  ‘I’m flattered that a beautiful young woman should travel halfway around the world to meet me. And it would be extremely rude on my part if I were to deny her a few minutes of my time. Apart from anything else, I definitely don’t want to be in my daughter’s bad books by refusing one of her college mates an interview.’

  Qiara sent a mental apology to the unknown Ritika for so shamelessly dropping her name to get a meeting with her secretive dad. After failing to get any information about Khanna through her contacts in the NGO world, a google search of Khanna’s family revealed Ritika’s name, who she was surprised to discover, was a Rhodes scholar like herself. That was one fortuitous break she desperately needed. Her little white lie about pursuing a post-doc was a bit of creative fudging. It definitely was on her to-do list, she consoled herself, following Khanna to a suite of rooms within the sprawling club’s interiors.

  Kabir couldn’t take his eyes off the game in progress. The sight of the polo players astride their horses, moving as a seamless entity while steering the ball away from their opponents, made him restless. He hadn’t ridden a horse or held a polo club in his hands for years. He had to use all his self-control to stop himself from rushing on to the field, pulling down one of the players and laying claim to his horse.

  The memories came galloping back from the deepest recesses of his mind – Chetak with the brilliant white star in the middle of his forehead. What a dream team they had made. Chetak could anticipate his every move
on the polo field even before he could think of it. They had never lost a game, making their perfectly matched combination the envy of every player in Rajasthan. If only they hadn’t been such a success on the polo turf…maybe things would have been different. Kabir’s heart burnt with longing and regret and the emotions bubbled within him like a dormant volcano beginning to stir up again.

  Taking a deep, self-sustaining breath he raised his telephoto-lens equipped camera to his eyes, more to hide the dampness in his eyes. He focused on the spectators stand as he tried to reorient himself to his mission. He was here to get information on Ranveer Khanna, a known polo aficionado. It was the final day of the annual championships hosted by the Army Polo Club and Khanna was bound to show up.

  Suddenly, two men appeared in the camera’s view finder. One of them was definitely Khanna while the other was a taller, stockily built man in his mid-twenties.

  Kabir snapped a few pictures in quick succession. The younger man seemed to be agitated and was waving his finger threateningly at Khanna. He also didn’t quite conform to the typical characteristics of a polo enthusiast. His attire was a little shabbier than what the other patrons of the club sported at such an elite affair. Perhaps, he was a chauffeur or a helper? His attitude though was far from servile. In fact, Khanna looked a trifle intimidated. After a couple of minutes, Khanna said something and turned to go inside the club.

  Kabir took a few more random shots as he saw a waiter approach Khanna and say a few words to him.

  Just at that moment Kabir’s cell phone beeped in his shirt pocket. It was Zayed – his new partner! Smirking at the thought, Kabir answered the call.

  ‘Our man is here. Found out from the concierge, Khanna has recently acquired two stallions and is also a patron of a polo team in Argentina. It seems like he is either partnering with some other loaded investors or is a front for them.’

  He waited to hear out Zayed’s response and swallowed the oath that sprang to his lips. ‘Zayed, if you already knew it, why you didn’t tell me?’ Seconds later Kabir burst out, ‘Don’t give me that bullcrap. You and I are supposed to be on the same team, remember? If you had any doubts about my capabilities you should have spoken up at the meeting. If we have to work together, we share information, got it?’

  Kabir felt his blood pressure rise up a notch as Zayed disgorged some more intel. Apparently, the NCA had informed him that Girls Rock! might be a money laundering front for Khanna.

  ‘Someone from Girls Rock! is supposed to meet – hello? Are you there?’

  Kabir cursed as he checked the screen of his phone to find the network signal had dropped. Moving away from the bleachers, he walked towards the club, trying to reach Zayed. He paced around a bit outside the entrance, waiting for the network signal to show up. Not even one blasted green light. He stormed into the club house in search of a landline phone. What else was Zayed not telling him? Clearly, Zayed’s reputation of not being a team player was quite true. It seemed like he needed to lay down some ground rules with his partner soon or else this investigation was doomed.

  Scanning the lounge area, he spotted Khanna talking to a woman whose back was turned to him. After a few seconds, he saw her get up and follow Khanna out.

  Kabir’s glance froze on the woman. She was petite, with the same china-doll-like figure, the same sexy gait, the same sway to her hips that made his heart pump harder. He raised the camera to his eyes, zooming in on her face to get a closer look but she was looking away. Nevertheless, he got a couple of shots before she disappeared down the corridor towards the inner sanctum of the club.

  Was it her? Watching a polo match after all these years had sent his mind into throwback mode. He must be hallucinating! Get real, Kabir!

  Qiara settled into the plush leather settee in the opulent conference room overlooking the polo field. MF Husain’s iconic horse painting graced one wall. On another, a floor to ceiling cabinet showcased trophies, photographs and memorabilia of past tournaments. Her shoes dug into a thick Persian carpet with intricate patterns. Khanna poured a cup of tea from a delicate porcelain tea set.

  ‘Is this your personal office, Mr Khanna? It’s such a lovely room and what a terrific view! You could never tell you are in the heart of Delhi.’

  ‘Being a patron of a new team has its benefits,’ Khanna smiled as he handed her the tea cup. ‘So, Ms Rana, how can I be of service?’

  Khanna’s gaze skimmed over the slim young woman seated opposite him. Her stylish pixie crop hair made her large eyes look even more luminous beneath their thick, long eyelashes. She sat before him, poised and elegant; her smooth brown legs disappeared into tan ankle-length boots. She flicked the hair that fell across her narrow forehead away and flashed him a smile that was like a splash of sunshine spreading over her pretty face.

  Qiara knew she had to play this right. She had got an audience with Khanna by pretending an acquaintance with his daughter.

  ‘Mr Khanna, I’ve heard so much about your philanthropy and the amazing work you have done to promote girls’ education. My area of work is in child rights and I’m really hoping you can help me with my study project.’

  ‘I’m flattered but honestly, my charity is a drop in the ocean.’ His smug smile belied his modesty. ‘I wish I could do more. Unfortunately, I neither have the means nor the time. Is this for your PhD research?’

  ‘Not really, but the findings will definitely give me insights for my own thesis. I also work as an independent researcher and this is a UNICEF-funded project. I’m currently documenting the progress made by donor-funded rural schools in South Asia and the impact it has made on the lives of these girls. The research is aimed at identifying best practices to help similar institutions in the region.’ She smiled winningly as she fished in her bag. ‘Would you like to see the letter of introduction provided by UNICEF?’

  He waved his hand dismissively. ‘Indeed, a laudable project. If you wish I can direct you to some of the schools we have worked with in Delhi.’

  He walked across to a polished mahogany desk. With a little key he opened a drawer and pulled out a tablet device.

  ‘I could put you in touch with some people.’

  ‘That’s so kind of you.’

  Qiara dug into her bag and brought out a notepad and pen.

  ‘I’m especially interested in looking at some schools in Rajasthan.’

  His fingers stopped on the tablet screen for a brief moment as he gave her a piercing look.

  ‘Is there any particular one you have in mind?’

  Qiara kept her gaze steady and hoped her smile didn’t waver.

  ‘Since you are one of the donors of the Girls Rock! project at Sitara Devi Memorial School…’

  ‘Your information is incorrect,’ Khanna snapped.

  His smile was still in place but the tone of his voice had definitely chilled a few notches.

  ‘I’m in no way associated with any such project.’

  Qiara nodded earnestly, her mind spinning like a top. There certainly was something fishy going on. She’d been right to adopt a cautious approach.

  ‘Oh, well, I think there must be some mistake. I deal with a lot of secondary sources in compiling my information. However, I’d definitely like to check out the school and find out more about their activities. I guess I just have to call them up directly and find out. Though, it always helps to go with a reference. Never mind.’

  She stopped herself short; she had begun to babble and it would only put him on guard.

  If she hadn’t been watching him closely, she probably would have missed the way his eyes flickered in anger for the briefest of moments.

  He pushed back his chair and loomed over her. ‘Seems to me like you’re on a fishing expedition, Miss Rana. And I do not like my privacy to be invaded. Which year did you say you graduated from Magdalen?’

  Qiara swallowed nervously. ‘You are welcome to check with…’

  A loud commotion broke out outside the room. Qiara let out the breath she didn’t r
ealize she was holding when Khanna rushed to take a look. The man was hiding something and all was not right at the school! Was he involved in Reshma’s disappearance? A cold sweat ran down her spine at the thought. What had she got herself into? Wracking her brains for a plausible story, she set down the tea cup. Some of the hot liquid splashed on the coffee table. Oh no! Her hand shot out to pick up Khanna’s tablet before it was ruined.

  The dark screen of the tablet lit up, enticing her to check its contents. Should she risk it? Glancing nervously at the door for a second, she set aside her misgivings. She could hear raised voices outside and this might be her only chance to get a clue about Reshma’s whereabouts. She had no time to waste. Heart beating rapidly, her finger skimmed the screen, her eyes searching for anything that would give her some leads.

  Tapping at the photographs folder she scanned through them quickly. They were mostly of Khanna with guys in polo gear, at official events, and business meetings. Something made her stop. She didn’t know what had grabbed her attention and she went back to the ones she had already seen. Looking over each one more carefully. She stopped short when she came across a picture of Khanna with two other men. Recognition flooded through her turning her blood cold. She zoomed in till the pixelated image revealed a close up of the face she’d recognize anywhere in the world.

  A loud, cracker-burst like sound startled her. Grabbing her handbag she rushed to the door. She pulled it open and nearly fainted in fright at the sight. At the far end of the long corridor a man stood over Khanna, who was lying on the polished marble floor, blood pooling around his neck. The scream died in her throat before she could give voice to it.