Assassins

by Mukul Deva

  Leon tensed, faltered, almost broke step, and then, realizing there was no way out but forward, continued.

  Trust the disguise. Stay calm. Look confident.

  Leon knew security people were trained to watch out for nervousness; he forced himself to relax. But his hand was gripping the microphone in his coat pocket tightly. Realizing it was useless and looked suspicious, he drew his hand out of his pocket.

  Deepa’s mobile buzzed to life. He heard it above the noise of the crowded lobby. He even sensed its vibration as keenly as if it had been in his own hand. From the corner of his eyes Leon saw her take the call, though his primary focus was still on the hunters.

  They had almost drawn level when Deepa got off the phone and turned to him. “My friend tells me the general’s talk is likely to be canceled.”

  “What happened?” Leon was convinced he had made the right call; Ravinder was onto him. He wondered what had happened at the stadium.

  Why had they not taken the bait?

  Why had the sniper rifles and bombs failed to create the required diversion?

  “It seems he has taken ill.” Leon realized Deepa was speaking. “They are planning to take him back to his hotel.”

  The line of hunters was abreast of them now.

  Leon saw the closest one focus on Deepa, who was still speaking. Realizing how beautifully she was distracting the hunter’s attention, Leon continued the conversation, keeping his eyes on her and tone chatty.

  Then Leon felt the hunter’s gaze settle on his face. It lingered. His face burned and his body tensed, ready to leap into action. But ignoring the hunter, Leon responded to Deepa. “I see. That is such a pity. I would have loved to hear him speak.”

  “Me too, sir.”

  The hunter lost interest, perhaps distracted by the sight of two people engaged in an apparently normal conversation. His gaze moved on.

  Leon noticed the paper in the nearest cop’s hand as they passed; it was a copy of the APB, with all four of Leon’s photos on the portion facing up.

  So they still have not made the connection to Naug.

  Strange?

  Leon sensed that would not last long.

  Then they were out of the lobby, down the seven steps to the porch.

  Ahead of him, a bare fifty steps away, lay the gate.

  Leon again took in the three security lanes at the gate. Most of the guards were facing outward and had their backs to him.

  The security lane for conference speakers was now to his right; that’s where Deepa was headed. Now that was all that lay between him and safety.

  “Why don’t you wait here while I get my thumb drive from the car?” he told Deepa as they walked up to the security lane and he placed his bag on the Rapiscan.

  “Are you sure, sir?” Deepa made a dubious moue, obviously unwilling to let her charge loose in the big, bad city.

  “Of course. I will be back in a moment.”

  The Rapiscan whined into action and his bag began to inch forward into the machine. Leon started forward toward the doorframe metal detector.

  The screech of tires on tarmac made him look up. Leon saw a Bimmer come careening around the corner and shriek to a halt across the road. Even before it came to a stop, the rear door flew open and Ravinder leaped out.

  Leon froze.

  * * *

  Ravinder spotted Saina waiting by the gate as he leaped out of the Bimmer; she was standing by the security channel on the extreme left, the one designated Conference Speakers Only. Waving to her, he changed direction, speeding up. He was now in a tearing rush to get inside the auditorium and find Leon, aware Leon would lose no time in getting clear once he learned Masharrat’s talk had been canceled.

  * * *

  Leon felt as though a mule had kicked him right between the legs. He froze as he saw Ravinder wave out from across the road and run toward him. For one frantic moment, he thought Ravinder had made him. Then he realized Ravinder was waving out to someone behind him. Relief flooded through him. Leon contemplated turning back, but realized he could not. The Rapiscan had already swallowed his bag, and he was now hardly ten feet from the doorframe metal detector. Deepa, beside him, was giving him an odd look; or so he thought.

  * * *

  Ravinder was greeted by an angry blast of horn as he stepped in the path of a car. He jerked to a halt and stepped back off the road, apologetically waving it on.

  Shaking an angry fist, the irate driver accelerated past.

  Three more cars and then a bunch of two-wheelers followed closely behind it, forcing Ravinder to stay put.

  By now Ravinder was skipping with impatience, shifting his weight irritably from one foot to the other, waiting for a break in traffic. With his quarry now almost in his clutches, he was raring to go.

  * * *

  Leon took in the tall erect figure across the road. Ravinder still looked fit, with no hint of flab, barring a slight thickening at the waist. Leon sensed his impatience.

  The cloth head hasn’t changed much.

  He was dressed pretty much as Leon would have expected him to, expensively but not flashily. Leon remembered, even during their college days, unlike most other students, Ravinder, like Edward, had always had money to burn.

  Why not? They were the privileged bastards. Always had it easy.

  Without knowing it, he grimaced.

  I’m the one who got screwed.

  An admixture of anger and fear slashed through Leon. He knew if he had been packing right now, he would have drawn and fired, consequences be damned. The urge to see Ravinder go down in a welter of blood overwhelmed Leon. So strong he wanted to run across the road and beat Ravinder to death with his bare fists. Leon almost succumbed to the insane urge, but at the last minute, caught himself.

  Not now! Not here!

  Leon knew even if he managed to kill Ravinder, he would go down, too.

  Not acceptable. I’ll not be brought down again … not because of this son of a bitch. Not ever again.

  Leon contemplated retreating into the auditorium, for the moment at least, but knew turning back was not an option, not without attracting unwarranted attention. Also, now that the manhunt was under way, he’d be in danger as long as he stayed on the premises. Sooner or later the hunters would find him.

  Get clear of this trap first.

  Steeling his nerves, Leon resolved he would live to fight another day.

  Trust the disguise. He reminded himself.

  Now the doorframe metal detector was just a couple of feet ahead. And the man he hated another fifteen feet beyond that.

  Leon started forward.

  In tandem, as though the gods were orchestrating this personally, there was a break in traffic and Ravinder also darted forward.

  Will Ravinder recognize me?

  Leon tensed.

  I did. I recognized him immediately.

  His tension escalated.

  But then, I’d been expecting him.

  So is he!

  Leon cautioned himself to act confident; nervousness was a surefire attention magnet.

  Just a few more steps and …

  Something fluttered over Leon’s shoulder from behind. It was so sudden and so unexpected it nearly gave him a heart attack.

  * * *

  Ravinder saw Saina was holding up a security pass for him.

  “Toss it across,” he mouthed and made a throwing gesture, as he jogged purposefully across the road, toward the gate.

  She must have got the drift; wrapping its bright yellow ribbon around the pass, Saina tossed it up, along the security channel, toward Ravinder. But she misjudged the throw; instead of going over the gate it barely cleared the shoulder of the man navigating the security channel and struck the inner edge of the doorframe metal detector.

  * * *

  Leon, senses still operating at their zenith, followed its flight down, from the edge of the metal detector to the carpet. It was a conference card wrapped in its ribbon. Whoever was waiting for Ravi
nder had tossed it to him, not too accurately, as it turned out. The security pass landed plumb in the middle of the metal detector, just a few feet ahead of Leon. Heart in his mouth, thumping madly, Leon watched Ravinder speed up and stoop to retrieve it.

  * * *

  Ravinder had noticed the tall, nerdy-looking man accompanied by a young lady—obviously conference staff, judging by her outfit—halt by the metal detector. He saw them speak briefly, noticed she’d stopped on the other side, and then began to check something on her phone.

  However, Ravinder was so intent on getting to Saina, briefing her, and joining the search for Leon, that neither they nor the other people at the gate really registered.

  The security pass tossed by Saina distracted him further. Ravinder saw it fall onto the red carpet. He sped up to get to it. The nerdy-looking man coming through stopped as Ravinder stooped to retrieve it.

  There was something about him that … but Ravinder was in a terrific hurry.

  “Sorry about that.” Ravinder murmured as he grabbed up the security card, cleared the doorframe metal detector, and then stepped aside to let him pass.

  The channel was narrow, and the two men brushed as they crossed.

  * * *

  Leon was shaken, but the momentary respite as Ravinder stooped to pick up the security pass, fleeting though it was, gave him the chance to compose himself. By the time Ravinder had straightened up, Leon was ready, his face immobile.

  Knowing his eyes could give him away, Leon focused on keeping recognition out of them.

  “I’m sorry,” Ravinder murmured as their eyes met briefly; then he turned sideways to let Leon pass down the narrow lane.

  Ignoring him, not trusting himself to speak, Leon kept moving. And then they were crossing, not even inches apart. Instinct warned Leon to turn away from Ravinder as they brushed past. The desire to see his enemy up close made him want to turn toward Ravinder.

  Desire won.

  Leon knew he should not stare; that always draws attention, but he was unable to look away. He soaked in every wrinkle on that hated face as they slid past each other. The mustache arched up. The beard neatly fixed down. Every fold of the turban pulled taut with military precision, beads of sweat glinting on the forehead, despite the winter chill. Face taut with tension. Breath coming slightly fast, possibly due to exertion.

  Or was it excitement?

  And Leon could not mistake the aftershave, Hugo Boss Bottled.

  Just the sort of cologne Ravinder had always favored: male, strong, and dominant. The flame of almost forgotten familiarity flared up. So strong and stark it nearly overwhelmed Leon.

  Leon was only able to start breathing again as he stepped away from the man he would have loved to kill.

  The metal detector beeped, breaking the spell. Leon cursed himself, realizing the items in his pocket had set off the detector. He made to take them out and show them to the guard; however, the man waved him on, not too perturbed by what the professor was taking out of the auditorium; his mandate was to keep bad stuff out. But that sudden beeping flustered Leon further.

  Still dominated by the need to get away, and controlling the urge to speed up or break into a run, Leon kept going at a steady pace toward the car park across the road. He could see the Lexus parked a few cars from the exit.

  Leon had gone a few steps past Ravinder when he heard the guard manning the Rapiscan call out.

  “Excuse me, Professor. You forgot your bag.”

  Then louder, since the guard thought Leon had not heard him.

  “Professor. Sir. You forgot your bag.”

  * * *

  Ravinder, acutely aware that time was critically short, was aching to bring Saina up to speed and get started with the search for Leon when the gate guard called out.

  The security man’s actual words bounced off Ravinder’s mind, but he turned, thinking the guard was addressing him. Seeing the guard was talking to the man who had just passed him in the security channel a moment ago, Ravinder lost interest and turned back to Saina.

  Then the guard called out again, louder this time.

  It was the word professor, that caught Ravinder’s attention. Though, when he turned around again, he had still not processed the thought, hence was not sure why it seemed significant.

  Ravinder saw the man who had just passed him in the security lane also turn around and head back toward the Rapiscan.

  * * *

  Leon felt sudden alarm when the guard called out even louder the second time. Desperate not to draw attention to himself and cursing himself for having forgotten the bag, Leon swiveled to head back and grab the bag off the Rapiscan.

  He saw Ravinder had also turned. Without meaning to, Leon looked at him.

  Their eyes met again.

  This time, even more unsettled by the guard’s sudden call, Leon flinched.

  There was momentary puzzlement on Ravinder’s face. Then Leon saw his eyes widen. Recognition flared. And Leon knew Ravinder had made him.

  For a moment both men froze, stunned.

  Ravinder’s mobile began to ring.

  * * *

  Ravinder was so shocked he could not move. Then he saw Leon reach into his coat pocket and assumed he was reaching for a gun.

  The hiatus ended.

  Galvanized, Ravinder went for his gun, whilst at the same time rushing forward to tackle the assassin. But even as he started forward, Ravinder sensed he was too late; the distraction caused by his mobile, though fleeting, and that moment of shocked inaction was going to cost him. Ravinder saw Leon’s hand emerge from his pocket, holding something black and tubular, like a pistol barrel.

  * * *

  Leon caught hold of the microphone in his coat pocket on the very first try. Whipping it out, he took two quick steps forward and lashed out at Ravinder’s head. Powered by rage and desperation, the blow was delivered with all the force he could muster. But Leon was in motion and the blow was hastily aimed. And Ravinder was also rushing forward. The blow landed around Ravinder’s left ear, blunted mostly by his turban. However, it landed with enough power to give him a nasty gash and send him reeling.

  * * *

  Ravinder felt a jolt of pain as the metallic bulb of the microphone landed on his cheekbone, just short of his left ear. Blood spurted, a large dollop of it into his eye, half blinding him. The shock of the blow drove Ravinder back and down. That proved to be the saving grace.

  * * *

  Leon was now in a tearing hurry to drop Ravinder and make a run for it: aware he would have a fighting chance of escaping if he could get to the car park. There were enough people milling around and they would provide him the distraction he needed, as well as make it hard for Ravinder or any of the guards to open fire indiscriminately. He saw the gate guards had taken note of the scuffle. They seemed undecided between intervening and holding their positions. But Leon knew this was at best a temporary respite.

  Driven by his desperate need to get away, Leon swung again with all his might. However, reeling from the first blow, Ravinder had been pushed backward and down. The second blow missed completely, its momentum throwing Leon off-balance.

  Realizing he had missed the window of opportunity surprise had won for him, Leon cursed, swiveled, and ran. A few quick strides and he was across the road. A look over his shoulder and he saw Ravinder was rising; though one hand was pressed to his left cheek and he looked dazed. The need to keep Ravinder down a while longer mated with his desire to destroy him.

  Leon threw the microphone at him, simultaneously reaching for the clicker in his left coat pocket, trying to arm it and at the same time trying to increase the distance between them.

  But he was trying to do too many things at the same time; everything slowed down. To make it worse, the clicker snagged in his pocket.

  * * *

  Ravinder sensed more than saw the microphone fly at him. He could not make out what it was, but instinct made him drop the pistol and reach out with both hands to catch the incomi
ng projectile and stop it from striking him.

  Fired from hardly ten feet away, the heavy microphone came in fast, cartwheeling through the air. There was a meaty thwack as it slammed into the palm of Ravinder’s hands. It was a catch that would have made the Indian team captain proud. It also caught one of Ravinder’s fingers awkwardly, sending pain shooting through him.

  * * *

  Leon saw Ravinder catch the microphone and knew half his job was done. The microphone was now inches from Ravinder’s face. Another few seconds and the man who had condemned him to this bloody life would be dead.

  But the clicker was still caught in his coat pocket.

  With a furious snarl, Leon tore it free. The pocket ripped out with it; the piece of cloth was trapped between the clicker buttons and his fingers.

  * * *

  Ravinder realized what it was the minute he caught it. The microphone he had found near Vishal’s body leaped into his mind. He did not know the relationship between the two, but his instincts were screaming, warning him that the microphone did not just happen to be with Leon … that the microphone was bad news.

  Without thinking, Ravinder flung it back in the same motion, straight at Leon, who had pulled something out of his coat pocket. Ravinder lunged forward.

  * * *

  Leon lost another vital second to toss off the torn pocket, flick the on switch of the presenter, and then depress the pointer button to arm it.

  One, two, three …

  Five seconds had never seemed so long to Leon before.

  Five.

  Finally.

  His thumb fumbled to locate the slide-forward button on the clicker, to trigger the microphone.

  Found it!

  Leon was thumbing down the button when he saw Ravinder fling the microphone back at him. He managed to stop himself from triggering the sarin, but was unable to duck out of the flight path. The microphone hit him hard below the chin, smack on his Adam’s apple.

  The blow was hard enough to stagger him and left him winded. By time he recovered, Ravinder was upon him.