Kabir’s patience was running thin. It had taken several calls and a heck of a long time to coordinate with the local police. Zayed’s assurance of ‘leave it to me, partner,’ had been an empty one. Zayed was turning out to be the kind of political-player-and-massive-pain-in-the-butt he hated. His futile game of one-upmanship would bring this investigation to a grinding halt. Even as he fumed about his partner’s unprofessionalism, he couldn’t wrap his head around Qiara’s involvement in this entire affair.
Was she simply a victim of circumstances or was there more to it? His gut urged him to trust her blindly but his mind cautioned him. He knew nothing about her and her life choices any more. The minute he’d seen her running full tilt at him, common sense seemed to have deserted him. The more time he spent with her, the more his longing for her would grow. He needed to take her back to IB headquarters and make her spill whatever she knew. But knowing Qiara, she would go out of her way to resist every question, every move he made. And could he really blame her? He’d done nothing to deserve her trust. For a brief while in the hotel room, she’d let him comfort her. He’d be a fool to think that trust had anything to do with it. His jaws clenched at the thought of how close she’d come to being targeted by the assassin. Fear – not trust – was the reason she’d turned to him. He needed to make sure she was safe. There was only one way to do that: get police protection for her and nab the person who had ordered Khanna’s murder and was now hell bent on getting Qiara out of the way too.
After the criminal was despatched to the nearest hospital, the police had recorded Kabir’s statement. They wanted to question Qiara too but he’d fobbed them off saying she was in a bit of a shock after the day’s incidents. He assured the officer in charge he would personally bring her to the police station so they could record her version of the events.
Soon after, Zayed pinged him, superciliously taking credit for it.
‘It shouldn’t be long before the sniper starts singing. Did you grill the Rana woman about Girls Rock! and their links with Khanna?’
Zayed’s tone grated on Kabir’s already frayed temper.
‘Of course, while we were dodging bullets she told me the whole story!’
His lips curled at Zayed’s swift intake of breath.
‘Don’t go all smartass on me, if you know what’s good for you.’
‘As far as I’m concerned, you have done zilch but issue orders and withhold information from me.’
‘Oh, so that’s what’s bothering you?’ Zayed laughed. ‘You don’t like taking orders? Grow up, buddy!’
‘Go to hell, partner.’
He cut off the phone at Zayed’s guffaw and strode towards the lobby. He would deal with Zayed later. He had a tough job on his hand – coax Qiara to submit to a thorough interrogation. Hell, if he even mentioned that word, she would be hissing at him like a vicious she-cat.
The lobby had emptied out and she was nowhere in sight. How did he even think she would blindly follow his order of staying put! He approached the reception desk.
‘Have you seen Qiara Rana?’
The receptionist asked, ‘Are you Mr Kabir Shorey?’
‘Yes.’
She took out a folded note and gave it to him.
‘Ms Rana asked me to give you this.’
Tension coiled in his gut as he read the note:
Kabir – Thanks for saving my life. I owe you big time, much as I hate to admit it. After all that has happened today, it’s best if I leave. I need to get on with my work and finish what I had come here to do. All this drama has just delayed everything. As for your allegations about Girls Rock!, they are totally unfounded. Once I’m done with my work, I promise to share any and all information that you need. But I can’t do that right away as there’s a lot at stake – and time is of essence. I hope you will understand. – Qiara.
Kabir crumpled the note in his fist and turned to the receptionist. What did she mean by ‘a lot at stake’ and ‘time is of essence’? Where was she going? Didn’t she realize she was still in danger? Even though the sniper had been apprehended it was ridiculous to assume all was hunky dory. They still had no clue as to why she was being targeted? Was it only because she had been a witness to the murder? His investigator’s instinct told him this one went deep, very deep. Qiara was hiding something – why else would she flee? Goddammit!
‘Did she say where she was headed to?’ he barked at the girl.
His frustration was making him lose his cool and he regretted it as soon as he saw the girl shake her head, apprehensively.
‘No, Sir.’
Kabir seethed as the implications of her disappearance hit home. He’d been an ass to let his messy feelings about her interfere with his job. This was so not good. He needed to find her right away – and quell those protective instincts pronto!
He blew out a breath noisily and gave the receptionist an apologetic smile.
‘You wouldn’t have her cell number by any chance, would you?’
The girl smiled slightly, obviously relieved at his softer tone.
‘Sir, I don’t know if this will be useful but Ma’am’s booking was done by Rishi Mathur. If you wish I can give you his contact details.’
‘That would be most helpful. Thanks.’
He dialled Rishi Mathur and got a ‘not reachable’ response. On contacting his office, he was informed that Mathur was in Manesar for the day and would return only late at night. It was only after he hinted to Mathur’s colleague that both she and Mathur would be hauled up for obstructing government investigations that she co-operated.
Five
New Delhi Station
Qiara settled into the lower berth of the first class AC compartment on the Delhi–Jaisalmer Express. She was amazed at the efficiency with which Rishi’s staff found her a berth in the train. From what she knew of Indian Railways, it took months to reserve a first-class seat on any train. He’d suggested she take a taxi to Jodhpur – but that was an option she would rather avoid as she wasn’t sure about the route. However, if he hadn’t managed to get her a ticket, she would have had no choice.
If there was one thing she regretted, it was sneaking out of the guest house without talking to Kabir. For him, the investigation into Khanna’s murder would be first priority. With Girls Rock! also under suspicion, he would never have let her go. Not even if she explained to him about Reshma.
‘Excuse me.’ A voice interrupted her train of thoughts.
She looked up to find a man in a grey safari suit carrying a briefcase smile down at her. ‘Is this Coupe F?’
She gave him a brief smile and replied, ‘No, this is H.’
He smiled apologetically. ‘Sorry to bother you.’
‘No problem,’ she mouthed automatically and looked away.
Through the dust-streaked darkened glass she watched people getting on to the train on the opposite track. Coolies were busily helping passengers with their luggage as vendors milled around hoping to sell everything from magazines to potato chips and water bottles. A sharp twang of nostalgia wrenched her insides. She had been barely seventeen when one of her closest friends, Dia, had invited her to accompany her to India for her elder sister’s wedding. Mamma had refused point-blank but her objections crumbled when Dia’s mum melodramatically threatened to call off the wedding unless they both accompanied her to Delhi. She still remembered how Dia’s mum had practically bulldozed Mamma until she had finally relented.
Everything about Delhi had mesmerized her. East End, where she had grown up – and which was considered to be London’s little India – was no match for the real deal. Mamma had been too involved with the wedding proceedings to realize she was spending most of her time with Kabir, the son of the wedding caterer. Initially he had treated her with disdain but she was intrigued by him. He teased her incessantly and she would give back as good as she got. When the teasing confrontation had turned to love she didn’t know.
With a jerk, the train started to pull out of the station, and s
he squashed away the memories. Dwelling on the past would do her a fat load of good. And yet the past seemed omnipresent.
Shaking the contents of her backpack out next to her she reached for Khanna’s tablet. She switched it on. The battery was running low. She scrolled through several folders, randomly selecting files. But before she could figure out anything of substance the battery died. Damn! Frustrated, she pushed it back in her backpack. But the face she had seen on it minutes before she had fled the Polo Club stayed in her head, filling her with a sense of dread.
It was a face she hadn’t seen in five years. In fact, the last time she had seen him was on the day of Mamma’s death. He’d turned up at their apartment soon after she and Sam had returned from the funeral home. She had still to come to grips with losing Mamma – even though she had been suffering from ovarian cancer and she’d known the end was near, she hadn’t expected it to come so soon after the diagnosis. Two traumatic weeks were all they had had between the cancer being detected and her passing. She had been in a daze of grief and loss and it had taken her a couple of minutes to recognize the man standing in front of her, mouthing words of sympathy and consolation. She stared blankly at him as he droned and his words had acted like a fuse on a ticking bomb. Her pent-up grief and rage had exploded.
‘You have no right to be here. Get out! Get out!’
Tears pouring down her face in an uncontrollable stream, she had raved and ranted at him until he was forced to leave. Sam had been shocked at her outburst.
Her eyes held the question that her lips would not ask – who was that man?
‘My father,’ she had said quietly. ‘Sam, don’t ask me anything else, please.’
The door opened and Qiara looked up with a start. A coolie was dragging large suitcases into the coupe. Qiara looked out of the window and realized they had reached Alwar station. A woman in her late twenties, dressed in a blue salwar kameez, arms jangling with the trademark red and white bangles that newlywed women wear, paid the coolie and took the berth opposite Qiara’s.
With a friendly smile at Qiara, the woman pushed back tendrils of hair that had escaped her long plait.
‘This is my first trip home to Jaipur after marriage. I can’t wait to see my parents and sisters.’
Qiara simply nodded, not wanting to be drawn into a conversation, and got up as if to stretch herself.
‘Excuse me, please. I need to get some water.’
She snatched her backpack and headed down the corridor. She may as well get a packet of chips. Blocking the door of the train was the man in the safari suit whom she’d seen earlier. He was talking into his phone and didn’t notice her.
‘Yes, I’m sure it’s her,’ he said into the phone. ‘She is in Coupe H. Short hair with red tints. Exactly as in the picture you sent me.’
Alarm zinged through Qiara. Turning away hastily, she rushed back the same way she’d come. What was going on? The man was clearly talking about her but to whom and why? Was she being followed from Delhi? Could it be the assassin’s accomplice? As the questions piled up, her head started to pound in beat with the rocking of the train. Oh heck! Now she’d missed her chance of getting off as well. In her hurry to avoid being seen by the Safari Suit, she walked further away from her coupe. She was now in the crowded second-class two-tier compartments.
Was he following her? She looked behind tentatively and was relieved to see no sign of him. She stopped to catch her breath at the junction of two coaches. The train was now hurtling down the tracks and rocking in rhythm to the motion. She pulled open the door and felt the rush of cool wind against her face; in the distance she could see the lights of the city that swept past in a blur. The sky was fast turning dark, and night would soon paint the cityscape an inky black.
She heard a footfall behind her and her heart rattled in her chest.
A man stood at the other end, lighting a cigarette. He gave her a thorough look over. A sliver of fear cut through her.
An alarming thought ricocheted in her brain: only one person knew she was on her way to Jodhpur aboard this very train. Rishi Mathur. She glanced warily at the man who stood a couple of feet away from her. Was he Safari Suit’s accomplice? And what a fool she was – making an easy target of herself!
Kabir ran down the steps of Alwar Station towards the platform only to see the tail end of the Delhi–Jaisalmer Express disappear from sight. Dammit! He had missed it by a whisker. Turning around, he raced up the stairs, pushing his way out through the crowds thronging the parking lot. Mounting his motorbike, he kept beeping and cursing, wishing the people in front of him would melt away. After what seemed like an inordinately long time, he was out of the crowded town centre and zipping down the highway.
From the moment he’d found out that Qiara was on her way to Jodhpur, a tight knot of tension had twisted his insides. He had all but threatened to throw Rishi behind bars if he did not reveal why Qiara was going to Jodhpur. At that point, a terrified Rishi confessed he didn’t know much except that one of his regular clients – Harisingh Rathod – had called him with an urgent request to make sure Qiara was on board the train. Soon after, Qiara had asked him to organize her trip to Jyotinagar, a small hamlet on the outskirts of Jodhpur. His job was not to ask his clients question, he warily pointed out to Kabir.
Kabir would have liked to grill Rishi further but knew he had no time to waste if he wanted to catch up with Qiara. By the time he had negotiated the peak-hour traffic to get to New Delhi station, the train had already left. His gut warned him that Qiara was hurtling towards danger, and the thought was reason enough for him to break all speed limits. The next stop was Bandikui Junction and if he rode like the wind, he might just be able to catch up and bring her back to a safe zone.
Back in her coupe, Qiara collapsed into her berth.
The newly married woman gave Qiara a smile. ‘Didn’t get any water?’
Qiara shrugged. ‘It was a short halt and I didn’t want to risk missing the train.’
‘Yes, the stations are so crowded.’ The woman said sympathetically. ‘I have some juice. Want some?’
‘Thank you.’
Qiara gratefully accepted the tetrapack of mango juice she held out and took a gulp.
‘My name is Rachel.’ She giggled self-consciously. ‘Actually, it’s Rachna, but I work in a call centre and my American name is Rachel.’
She finished her words with a distinctly Texan drawl.
Qiara was amused. ‘Rachna to Rachel and Austin via Alwar, eh?’
Rachel squealed with delight. ‘Yes, something like that.’
Rachel prattled on about herself, but Qiara’s brain had already tuned her out. Were the assassin, Safari Suit and the man she had encountered in the corridor all keeping tabs on her? What about Rishi Mathur? And what was she going to do now?
There was a knock on the door and Qiara almost jumped out of her skin. Rachel looked at her weirdly. ‘Are you alright?’
Qiara nodded, but could feel a panic attack coming on. The door opened and she was relieved to find it was only the ticket collector (TC).
Rachel fished out her ticket from her purse and gave it to him, asking him about the next stop.
‘Bandikui Junction…we should be there in the next ten minutes or so.’
The TC checked Rachel’s identification and put a tick against her name on his list.
Qiara’s synapses snapped into place. ‘Excuse me. I need to get off at Bandikui Junction.’
‘Just a minute, Madam.’ He glanced at his papers. ‘You are travelling in first class and according to my list, none of the reservations are for Bandikui Junction. Can you show me your ticket, please?’
‘Well, actually…’ she dithered, furiously trying to think on the fly, and keep the conversation going. ‘The ticket is in my backpack. I might miss the station.’
He gave her a long suspicious look. ‘I need to see your ticket. What’s your name?’
She glanced at Rachel who was watching her intently and blurt
ed out, ‘Kiran Walia.’
‘But there is no one listed by that name here,’ he said waving the documents in her face.
‘Are you travelling without a ticket?’ he asked sternly.
Her refusal to answer prompted him to launch into a spiel about educated people behaving in an irresponsible manner. She shuffled her feet, making no effort to stop his ranting, inwardly praying they would pull into the station.
‘No, Sir. I do have a ticket,’ Qiara pitched in.
‘If you have a ticket, show it to me now.’
Qiara spotted Safari Suit peeping in curiously from behind the TC. ‘Sir, my name is Kiran. But the ticket is in the name of Qiara Rana.’
Safari Suit’s jaw nearly dropped open in shock as she pressed her point.
‘She changed her travel plans and I was only too happy to get a ticket at the last minute. Sir, I will pay whatever fine you want me to.’
‘No, this will not do. There will be action against you.’
The train began to pull into the station. The TC marched her towards the exit as Safari Suit looked on.
She heard Rachel call out, ‘Good luck.’
Qiara had never felt safer sitting in the musty little railway office with its red paan-juice-stained walls. As long as she was here she was fine. But what if Safari Suit had disembarked too and was looking for her? What if he had a weapon? Her throat squeezed at the thought. Maybe the TC could help her if she told him she was being stalked. Right now, though, he was looking at her as if she had lost her marbles.
‘Can I have some water, please?’
He nodded and walked over to a rusty old cooler and brought over some water in a plastic throwaway cup.
Finishing it off in one go, she scrunched up the cup and looked around for a trash can. There wasn’t one. She placed it in front of her.
‘Thank you. Sir, I lied to you. My name is Qiara Rana.’
‘Lady, are you insane? One minute you say you’re Kiran Walia. The next moment, Qiara Rana.’
No Safe Zone Page 5