Assassins

by Mukul Deva

  “Don’t worry, Jasmine.” He tousled her hair, cocooning her in his arms. “Everything is going to be fine.” But he could not sound as convincing as he wanted to. And a part of him still wanted to run out and chase the truck and dismember the man who’d been at the wheel.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Vishal smacked the palm of his hand with an angry fist. “The bugger got away,” he told Philip, pretending to be furious. However, Vishal was pleased with the way his get-Ravinder-off-the-case operation had panned out.

  “He wouldn’t have if you had driven faster.” Saina, trailing a few feet behind, scowled fiercely.

  “I don’t know what your problem is.” Vishal rounded on her. “What did you want me to do? Fly over the traffic?”

  “It was not that bad.” Saina faced him down. “We almost had him at the traffic island. We would have, too, if you hadn’t stopped.”

  “I did not stop; the bloody car stalled. Anyway, who is to argue with you?” Shrugging, Vishal turned to Philip, who was watching the exchange, his expression disturbingly curious; it shattered some of Vishal’s composure. Ignoring that, Vishal asked, “How is Ravinder’s family?”

  “They have reached the hospital.” Philip’s tone turned businesslike. “Meanwhile we continue.”

  “Shouldn’t we go to the hospital to support Ravinder?”

  “No.” Philip seemed in no mood to relent. “The best thing we can do right now is keep the investigation on track and free him from this worry.”

  Vishal saw he was determined.

  “Whoever is behind that”—Philip waved toward the gate, where Jasmine’s battered car still lay—“is out to derail us. Obviously the same people who murdered Goel. It has to be Leon and his henchmen. We have to stop them.”

  Philip then turned to Saina. “Put some cops on the job. I want the bastard who was driving that truck.” She headed for the phone. “Tell them to report to me every hour till they find him. Then come with us to bring Ashok Verma in. Let us find out if you were right about your brother-in-law.”

  The sudden gleam in Saina’s eyes drove Vishal’s dismay deeper. He desperately hoped Leon had received his warning and would do something about Verma.

  But what? What the hell can Leon do?

  That was haunting him as Saina finished her call; the three of them got in to Cherian’s car and headed for Verma’s house.

  I hope Verma panics and makes a break for it.

  That buoyed him. He began to develop the idea.

  Perhaps Verma would panic enough to try and shoot his way out. Maybe even take that silly bitch Saina with him.

  Not likely, though.

  Perhaps I can induce the panic.

  Vishal liked that better.

  “Vishal…”—Philip’s voice tugged at him—“you secure the rear of the house. Saina and I will go in from the front door. No guns,” he stressed. “Absolutely no guns … unless he comes out shooting. We just want to talk to Verma. Okay?”

  Vishal acknowledged that with a mute nod.

  How can I stampede Verma into coming out shooting? And if he manages to take out Philip, the Special Task Force is as good as dead in a ditch.

  Vishal started to reach for his mobile but stopped; Saina beside him did not miss a thing.

  And Kapil Choudhary, the truck driver? Do I need to stress about him?

  Vishal considered that.

  Nah! Even if they catch him, what can he tell them? That a cop gave him the contract? So what? They already know there is a mole.

  That gave him some solace, but then worry about Verma destroyed that.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Ravinder was dreading the doctor’s reply. “When is she likely to recover consciousness?”

  “Hard to say, sir. It could … we cannot be sure.” Mandeep faltered. Though a competent surgeon, Mandeep had not yet been hardened and was trying hard to sound reassuring. It did not help that he’d spent the day in back-to-back surgeries and been on his way home when the doctor in charge of emergencies had called him back. He was exhausted and it showed. That he looked younger than his thirty years did not help either. Not with Ravinder.

  “Don’t you think we should have a specialist check her? Someone … err … more senior.” Ravinder vocalized his concern.

  “Sir, Dr. Mandeep is a specialist.” The doctor from emergency, who had requested Mandeep, felt compelled to justify. “Your wife is in safe hands.”

  But Ravinder wasn’t reassured. “I don’t want to be rude, but I’d like a second opinion.”

  “I understand your concern,” Mandeep replied before the other doctor could. “Let me call in our HOD.” Giving the nurse some instructions, they left the ICU as Jasmine came in.

  Ravinder was relieved to see Jasmine seemed better; her wounds had been cleaned up and bandaged. A hospital gown covered her dress, which was dirty and ripped.

  She took his hand and they stood beside Simran, who looked so out of place on the large hospital bed, with dozens of wires leading to a bewildering bank of monitors and an intravenous drip plugged to her. Simran seemed depleted.

  One of the monitors kept beeping, a rhythmic and jarring sound. It seared through Ravinder, making him want to scream. But he kept a tight leash on himself, aware that Jasmine needed him to be strong and he wanted to find the man who’d done this to them.

  This has to be Leon’s handiwork … and that of his mole … bastards want to cripple the Special Task Force, but to stoop so low … wonder if Leon knows I’m heading up the task force … of course he must … his mole must have updated him. Is that why Leon did this? Ravinder pushed away the urge to rush out and join the hunt for the truck driver. Simran and Jasmine need me more. But having to see Simran in this sorry state pained him.

  So he glared at the monitor instead. Philips was written in bold black letters prominently in the middle of the white lower panel and IntelliVue MP90 on the top right. A thin green line traveled across the screen, vanishing to the right and then starting all over again from the left. On the top right, a bold green dot pulsed in sync with the beeping.

  Ravinder knew the sound would stay with him to his grave. But he clung to it, aware it meant Simran was alive. Anger at the man who had done this to her battled with fear for her life.

  Binder, you bastard, you should have left my family out of this.

  Rage gnawed at him. Then it struck him that Leon and the dead seemed to go hand in hand. His blood ran cold.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Jasmine could see Ravinder’s lips move in silent prayer. And his fists clench and unclench, the veins standing out, stark statements of pent-up fury. She took his hands in her own.

  “Dad, don’t worry, Mom will be fine.”

  “Yes, Princess.” But Ravinder’s gaze stayed riveted on Simran and his fists continued to flex, in tandem with the rhythmic beep of the monitor. “She has to.” Ravinder was desperate to reassure her and himself, but could not think of anything else to say. “Tomorrow is the twenty-fifth … her birthday. She will be fifty.” He blurted.

  His pain seared Jasmine. And scared her. Only once before had Jasmine seen him like this, so helpless. That was the day they had gone to consign Ruby’s ashes to the Ganges. The memory was still fresh; that day she’d feared they would lose him, that he would do something to himself. Today the same fear was back. She clutched his hand tight, her nails breaking skin.

  If Ravinder felt it, he did not show a thing. Immobile, he sat by Simran’s bed, within touching distance. His unblinking eyes were riveted on Simran, as though she would stay alive as long as he did not take his eyes off her.

  “Why?” Jasmine’s voice tugged at him from far away. “And do you know who did this to us? Does it have something to do with the case you’re working on?”

  “Yes.” Ravinder felt guilty, as though he’d personally rammed the truck into their car. “It couldn’t be anything else.”

  “So if you hadn’t taken on this…” Jasmine bit her tongue when she saw the deva
station on Ravinder’s face, like someone had plunged a dagger in his heart. “Sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean it like that.” He didn’t reply. “Don’t let them get away, Dad.” Flustered, she blurted out, “Make them pay for hurting Mom.”

  “I will,” Ravinder promised. But she could see he was desperately close to tears.

  Perhaps Mom was right … perhaps I should not have supported him in taking on this assignment.

  Guilt compounded the conflict and pain seething inside her.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Vishal felt his unease escalate as he reached the mouth of the alley behind Verma’s house. It was a three-story building set amidst a long line of dissimilar houses behind Malviya Nagar market, overlooking the Shivalik main road. Most of the buildings on this road had gone commercial since the courts had permitted mixed land use; right across the road from Verma’s house was a Liberty Shoes showroom. And beside that, a clothes shop, with a blackboard that read MENZ. Philip had parked in front of it.

  As he entered the alley he saw Saina and Philip emerge from their car and head for the front. Before he had taken three steps his mobile was dialing; he had to stampede Verma and make him come out shooting. That would ensure either Philip or Saina would take him down. And if he got lucky, perhaps Verma would get one of them.

  He waited for the phone to ring, but it did not. Instead an engaged tone assaulted his ears.

  Which moron doesn’t have call waiting?

  He cut the connection and furiously dialed again.

  Still engaged.

  What the … He was about to dial a third time when his mobile vibrated—an incoming call.

  His heart plunged; it was from Philip.

  “Yes?”

  “Come back to the car. Mr. Verma is with us.”

  Now in turmoil Vishal headed back, dreading being confronted by Verma. He wondered if he would be better off making a break. But he decided to see how things were panning out. Sucking in a large dose of oxygen he forced himself to calm down.

  Flicking on the safety, Vishal holstered his weapon and headed back. However, he did not eject the round from the chamber so he could bring it into action instantly should the need arise.

  If Verma gives me away I am going to gun all three of them down.

  The thought of pumping bullets in Saina and Philip, especially Saina, felt so good he nearly drew his weapon out again.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Ravinder knew something had changed, but took a moment to place it; the monitor was beeping faster. Alarmed, unsure what it signified, he rang for the nurse. But she had already heard it and was heading over.

  “You are not happy to see me awake?” Simran was barely audible over the beeping, but the sound of her voice electrified Ravinder and Jasmine.

  “Mom!” Leaving his hand Jasmine grabbed Simran’s and began to cry. He felt like crying, too, but Ravinder knew it was his watch now; they both needed him.

  “You have to stop scaring us like that, Simran.” He wanted to hug them both. Instead he simply laid his hands over theirs.

  Simran smiled. A weak smile. “Me? She has to stop driving like that.” Jasmine looked horrified. “What happened back there? All I remember is we were waiting outside your office and then…”

  The doors of the ICU swung open and Mandeep strode in, with the duty medical officer in tow. “Wonderful to see you awake, ma’am.” He examined her. “How are you feeling now?”

  “Trying to remember how I got here,” Simran replied with a weak smile. “How am I doing?”

  “Remarkably well, given the circumstances.” Mandeep gave his most reassuring smile. Ravinder sensed his relief at seeing her conscious. “Let me get hold of the rest of your reports and come back to you. Meanwhile I want you to rest. And I mean really rest.” Mandeep looked at Jasmine. “Make sure your mother rests.”

  He got a determined nod in return.

  Beckoning Ravinder to follow him, Mandeep headed out. “It is wonderful that she has recovered consciousness. A really good sign, sir.” However, Ravinder did not miss that Mandeep looked somber. “Her visual reflexes seem good. But we are not out of the woods yet. The x-ray shows a skull fracture, luckily hairline. But there is internal bleeding.” Ravinder realized his panic was obvious when Mandeep hastily added, “Please don’t worry, sir. I want you to have the complete picture. This is common in such cases.”

  “What are you really saying?” Ravinder was confused and alarmed.

  “Just that it’s a good sign she’s conscious.” Mandeep replied. “We will be doing more tests, and if the internal bleeding doesn’t stop we may need to operate on her.” That alarmed Ravinder. Mandeep held up a hand to forestall any outburst. “Please keep her spirits up and ensure she rests. I will be back with our HOD.”

  Ravinder was so relieved he almost ran back in.

  “Isn’t the doctor cute? And Sikh, too,” Simran was saying when he reached their side. “Do you think he is single?”

  “Mom!” Jasmine threw her a mortified look, to check no one had overheard. “Give it a break. You never give up. Even from a hospital bed, you want to marry me off to every sardar you see.”

  “Not every sardar. Just the cute ones.” Simran had a glint in her eyes. “And he seems to be from a good family.”

  “I think it was a lot better when you were knocked out.” Jasmine rolled her eyes at Simran, but she was smiling.

  Ravinder was so relieved to hear their banter that he nearly broke into tears.

  The ICU doors swung open again and Rekha peeped in. Behind her was Simran’s elder sister, Harmala.

  “I came as fast as I could,” Rekha stage-whispered.

  “Me too,” Harmala added from over Rekha’s shoulder. But her stage whisper was more a stentorian bellow. Though Harmala was one of her peskiest aunts, Jasmine was relieved, knowing Simran was close to her and would be delighted.

  The nurse sternly shushed them and informed Ravinder only one person per patient was allowed in the ICU.

  “That will be me,” Harmala replied officiously. “You take Jasmine home and ensure she gets some rest,” she ordered Ravinder.

  He was reluctant to leave Simran, but knew Harmala was right; Jasmine was looking beat. Still he hesitated.

  Simran noticed his indecision. “She’s right, Ravinder. Please take Jasmine home. She needs to rest. You do, too. We cannot have you also falling ill.”

  Ravinder’s mobile vibrated briefly, an incoming message. Before he could read it Mandeep returned with a sheaf of x-rays and reports.

  “We’re taking her for a CT scan,” he told Ravinder. “Looks like we will have to operate; the internal bleeding needs to be stopped.”

  “Now?” Ravinder felt anxious.

  “No. We will wait and watch for a few hours … perhaps till morning. That will give her time to recover her strength also.”

  “Do you think it’s okay for me to go home today?”

  “Of course. Take your daughter home and see she rests, too.” Mandeep gave an encouraging smile. “Don’t worry about Mrs. Gill. We will take good care of her.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” Ravinder now felt more comfortable with the idea of going home. “I’ll be back first thing in the morning.”

  “Don’t worry, Ravinder.” Simran gave a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right as rain by then.”

  “Of course you will.” Mandeep joined in cheerily.

  “I like this doctor,” Harmala told Simran, again in what she considered a whisper. Both nurses giggled. Ravinder saw Mandeep go red. Jasmine gave an embarrassed smile. If Harmala noticed she was unfazed. “Are you married, Doctor?”

  Ravinder saw him go beetroot red. Jasmine, too. The nurses were trying hard to not laugh.

  “No, ma’am.” Mandeep finally found his voice. Completely flustered he buried his face in Simran’s medical charts.

  Jasmine gave Simran a hurried peck and rushed out with a murmured “Oh, God.”

  “That’s nice. Neither is my niece, Jasmine.”
Harmala’s unabashed comment followed Ravinder to the door. Knowing his sister-in-law, he did not envy Mandeep.

  His mobile vibrated again, reminding him about the unread text. He was about to take it out when Jasmine grabbed his arm. “What do I do with aunty Harmala? She is so embarrassing, Dad,” she lamented.

  Still laughing, but now flush with relief, Ravinder put his arm around her and they headed for the car park.

  “But you will admit, the doctor is cute.” A fresh burst of laughter blew their fears and worries away. For the moment.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Leon noticed the missed calls from Vishal as he exited the Orthopedic Department of AIIMS (All India Institute of Medical Services) and headed for the parking lot, all the way across the emergency ward and out from the lobby. The technician had made him switch off his mobile for the x-ray. He thought of calling back, but first he wanted to get back to Jorbagh, unload, and lie down.

  The visit to AIIMS had not proven to be such a good idea. The paperwork was as lax as he’d hoped it would be, but the attendant on duty proved to be a surprise. Not only did he not take bribes, he was so offended at being offered one, he made Leon wait. In the jam-packed, unheated waiting area, surrounded by people suffering from all kinds of injuries and disease proved to be nearly as painful as his elbow. The stench of disinfectant, which seemed to be the hallmark of hospitals worldwide, overwhelmed him. For the past twenty minutes, to add to his misery, Leon’s stomach had been acting up and he ached to take a dump. He had tried using the public toilet at the end of the corridor, but his courage failed at the sight and smell of the overloaded bathroom. Now the pressure was dangerously high.

  In his hurry, coping with that, worried Vishal was trying to reach him, and simultaneously trying to locate his car in the irregular street lighting, Leon failed to notice Ravinder and Jasmine, as they also exited the emergency ward a few feet ahead of him and headed for the parking lot.