The Brightest Fell

by Nupur Chowdhury

  “Jhilik sent me this photo after I asked her about the puncture wounds,” Sinya said quietly, as Jehan sank back into the sofa. “This is what I was afraid of.”

  “They’re using Amven,” Jehan said, pushing his hair back with shaking fingers. “I don’t know how, but it all adds up. Confusion, disorientation, memory loss…symptoms of Amven overdose. And that’s why those kids went willingly with the traffickers – they were drugged. They’d have jumped off a bridge without question if they’d been told to do so. God, does Dileep know about this?”

  Sinya shrugged. “I told him what I’ve told you. He was the one who asked me to talk to you about it, so he must’ve suspected something. He couldn’t call you himself, of course.” She glared at him. “You’ve made that quite impossible.”

  Jehan sagged against the tattered backrest of the sofa, tipping his head back with a sigh. He was suddenly exhausted. “It had to be done, Sinya. The phones could be tapped; some goddamn journalist could get their hands on the call records. We can’t afford to risk it.” He closed his eyes. “I can’t afford to risk it.”

  Sinya huffed out a breath, her eyes on the teacup clutched in her hands. “I know,” she said tiredly. “I know. I just–” she shook her head, as if to clear it. “Look at me, getting all sentimental and shit. La Fantome. That’s the name of the club Pragati was investigating. It’s somewhere in downtown Weritlan. I’ll email you the exact address once I have it.”

  Jehan nodded. “I’ll look into it. I’ll find your student, Sinya. Don’t worry about it. She’ll be alright.”

  “I know,” she said quietly, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. Her eyes found his and held them, forcing him to see her concern, her empathy. “But tell me, Jehan. Will you?”

  “You wanted to see me?” Ruqaiya asked, stepping into his temporary office on the ground floor.

  Jehan looked up from the report he had been pretending to read and smiled sweetly at her. He had requested a meeting with her a couple of hours ago. She’d said she would see him as soon as she was free. According to her schedule for the day, she’d been free for about an hour now.

  Her stance was relaxed, her expression cordial. She made no move to explain what had kept her so long, and he didn’t ask. She’d be more willing to cooperate if she thought she’d already scored a point, won the first battle in their little war.

  “Madam Dehran! So glad you could make it! Tea?” he asked, rising from his chair.

  Ruqaiya hesitated, but her sense of propriety eventually got the better of her. “I’ll make it,” she said, stepping towards the electric kettle tucked away in one corner of the huge office.

  “Don’t stand on ceremony with me, Madam. How long have we known each other again?” He waved her off and headed over to the little makeshift kitchenette near the back.

  She sat down on the chair opposite the one Jehan had recently vacated and crossed her legs. “Long enough for you to start calling me by my name, I should think.”

  Jehan reached for the kettle, ducking his head to hide the smile tugging at his lips. Slowly but surely, he was breaking down her walls. This might not prove to be as difficult as he had imagined after all.

  Handing her one of the exquisite porcelain cups, he returned to his seat and took an appreciative sip. Anuja’s lessons hadn’t gone to waste; he really did make very good tea.

  “I’m planning a trip south, to Weritlan and Waimar. Shouldn’t take more than a week, in all. You’ll be able to handle things here in the capital, I’m sure.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “I’m sorry, what?” Ruqaiya leaned forward in her chair, a frown marring her handsome face. “You’re going to Weritlan? When? More importantly, why?” She sounded more exasperated than wary or suspicious.

  Jehan let out the breath he’d been holding as he waited for her reaction. “Well, isn’t it obvious? To make sure Rinisa doesn’t screw up the Vanya dam negotiations with Ishfana, of course.

  “I told her I’d bring the dam under the jurisdiction of the central government if Eraon and Ishfana didn’t figure out a way to play nice and share the water like civilized people.” He sighed, shaking his head. “But we all know that’s easier said than done. It’d entail years of litigation, and a further drain on Qayit’s treasury that we really can’t afford.

  “Anyway, I don’t think she’d oppose me outright, but she might try to stall the negotiations or undermine Eraon’s claim to the dam; allow Ishfana to get away with unfair terms in the final agreement. Eraon needs someone to argue impartially on its behalf. And Henna Sameen certainly isn’t going to be any use in that department.”

  “Henna Sameen isn’t any use in any department,” Ruqaiya muttered through gritted teeth.

  “My thoughts exactly,” Jehan nodded. “And Rinisa, of course, will do everything in her power to ensure that Eraon gets the worst possible deal. The higher she can drive the price of drinking water in that state, the happier she’ll be.”

  “And so you want to go there and play mediator?”

  “Well, somebody has to. I could set up a committee, but you know as well as I do committees never solve anything. And I could send you, but then they might say you’re supporting Eraon ‘cause you’re Birhani. If Rinisa manages to raise enough of a racket about political bias in the media, the whole thing could prove counterproductive and put us back in square one.

  “Besides, I’m hoping my presence would smooth any ruffled political feathers in Weritlan. The government in Ishfana wouldn’t be happy about having to share their precious dam with Eraon. That’d be hard enough to sell to the voters, without us making them look like losers.

  “The people of Ishfana need to feel like they’re doing a favor to their neighbors, not like their leaders are being arm-twisted into compliance. I’ll visit Weritlan first, before Waimar. Give a few rousing speeches about interstate solidarity and national unity. Make them feel appreciated, like their sacrifice is being recognized by the central government and their fellow countrymen. That’ll mellow them; give both sides something to feel good about, a line to sell to the electorate. Which will in turn make the negotiations less contentious when they begin.”

  Ruqaiya was looking at him with a combination of surprise and skepticism. “I can see where you’re going with this. Of course, a lot will depend on the execution. Rinisa has a support base in both the states, that damnable wretch! And you’re almost completely unknown outside of the capital. Going up against her on her home turf won’t be easy.”

  “Who said anything about going against Rinisa? I wouldn’t dream of doing any such thing. I’m on her side; anyone with half a brain can see that. She’s the Deputy CM of Eraon. Surely, she must want only the best for her state. Well, that’s what I’m offering.

  “Central backing for a mutually beneficial settlement between Ishfana and Eraon, ensuring that her state will never fall into a water crisis. Exactly what she’s been trying to achieve all these years, if her campaign speeches are to be believed. What more could she possibly want?”

  Ruqaiya snorted. “Well, who do you want to take with you on this glorious mission to hoodwink your taxpayers?”

  “Doesn’t matter who. What matters is how many. Handpick the best negotiators we have. But the delegation must remain as small as possible. I don’t want to make this visit look like a big deal and draw undue attention from the media.

  “If the press takes too much of an interest, the governments of both Eraon and Ishfana will feel the need to prove a point, and become uncooperative and confrontational. Nobody likes to look weak when there’s an audience watching.”

  Ruqaiya nodded, looking satisfied, though her eyes still bored into Jehan as if she thought she could read his mind, if only she looked hard enough. “Fine, I’ll do what I can. When do you leave?”

  “As soon as possible. I was hoping…in a couple of days, maybe?”

  She frowned. “Not undoable. But what’s the rush? You’ve waited this long. Wait two more weeks an
d I’ll get you the best team of negotiators and arbitrators Naijan has to offer. We have time on our side.”

  “Time,” Jehan smiled ruefully. “That’s the only thing that’s never been on my side, isn’t it? And the only thing I’ve ever needed.”

  He stood abruptly, walking over to the window without a backward glance at his companion. “Make the arrangements, Ruqaiya. I’ll be leaving in two days.”

  Ritadrija Shian was a lot of things, but she was not a morning person. Rito blinked blearily at the cup of piping coffee the canteen lady set in front of her. Then, she wrapped her fingers around it and took a grateful sip.

  “Like liquid energy,” her father always said. She could see his point. Liquid energy was exactly what one needed when prepping for class at 9:30 in the morning.

  What was the point of 10 am lectures anyway? It’s not like anybody attended them. She certainly never had, and she’d always been relatively studious.

  But Sinya Haval had asked her to take the morning lecture with the second years. And Rito would rather bite off her own tongue than disappoint Mrs. Haval. She had never been inclined to hero-worship, but if she had been, Mrs. Haval would’ve been pretty high on her list of potential heroes.

  She reached into her handbag to retrieve the sheaf of test papers she would be returning to the students during class. She wasn’t looking forward to explaining to Priya Parekh for the hundredth time why the hermeneutic circle could be thought of as an ontological issue as well as an interpretative one. Sinya thought she did it for the grades, but Rito had a sneaking suspicion that the girl just got a kick out of riling up the professors. She sighed. Morning classes were bad enough without drama.

  Her fingers bumped against her phone as she laboriously pulled the test papers out of the embroidered cloth bag Nikita had given her for her last birthday. She’d thought of throwing it out; but it really was a very pretty bag...

  The phone was vibrating. Rito frowned. Who on earth would be calling her this early in the morning? She swiped the green icon and pressed the device to her ear.

  “Rito? Rito! Oh, thank God you picked up!” Falguni’s panicked voice rang in her ears. She was sobbing. Before Rito could say anything, Falguni wailed into the phone, “Rito, please, you’ve got to do something. Afreen’s gone!”

  Priya gave her a dirty look on her way out of the classroom. Rito ignored her. She hadn’t meant to snap at her, but she had more important things to worry about right now than Priya’s hurt feelings.

  For the first ten minutes of her conversation with Falguni, Rito had had no idea what she was talking about. The girl had been weeping, nearly hysterical. Rito fished an aspirin from her bag and popped it into her mouth. This was going to be a long day.

  She had met Afreen while volunteering at the anti-trafficking nonprofit Pragati, during her time at the University of Weritlan. It had been one of the highlights of her stay in that city, the most fulfilling and interesting work she had ever done.

  Falguni was one of the girls Pragati had rescued from an inner-city brothel they had raided during Rito’s stint at the organization. She had been fourteen or fifteen at the time, and had already spent more than two years at the brothel. She’d been sold to the traffickers by her father, and had no home to return to after being rescued.

  Rito and Afreen had taken her under their wing, enrolled her in a residential school close to Pragati’s headquarters, and signed up as her local guardians.

  When Rito left Weritlan, she had promised to send Afreen the money for Falguni’s school fees and other expenses every other month. She was due to make the first transfer next week.

  And now, Afreen was gone. Disappeared without a trace while investigating some goddamn club in the downtown district. While trying to rescue more children like Falguni.

  Rito took her head into her hands and tried to get her breathing under control. During the phone call, she barely had time to process what she was hearing. She was too busy trying to calm Falguni down and make her stop crying.

  She closed her eyes. Her heart ached to think of Falguni. To lose the only friend, the only anchor she had in the city that’d taken everything from her. God…as if she hadn’t gone through enough already.

  She had to go to Weritlan. If for no other reason than to check up on Falguni, to comfort her and let her know she still had someone who was looking out for her.

  But moreover, she needed to know what had happened to Afreen. She was her friend, and she had spent her life trying to rescue and rehabilitate lost and forgotten children like Falguni. Rito would be damned if she let her be forgotten, without doing everything in her power to find her and get her back.

  Sucking in a deep breath, she rose from her chair. She needed to talk to Mrs. Haval, ask for some time off. How she would justify it so soon after starting a new job, she had no idea. But it had to be done. Steeling herself for the conversation, she headed for the HOD’s office.

  Rito knocked on the door and pushed it open without waiting for a response. Sinya rarely responded when she was reading or grading papers. On Rito’s first day at work, she’d told her to let herself in if she needed anything.

  The room was empty, but a bunch of papers littered the ground, as if they had just fallen off the desk. Rito frowned. This was strange. It was a quarter past eleven. It wasn’t like Sinya to be this late.

  She crouched near the desk and started collecting the fallen papers. As she arranged them into a pile, a dark blue letterhead on one of the sheets caught her eye.

  She pulled it out. The familiar logo of two doves with their beaks touching, along with the stylized letters of the word ‘Pragati’, adorned the top of the page. Below was a grainy photograph of Afreen. The words ‘La Fantome’ were scribbled untidily below the picture, along with an address in downtown Weritlan.

  Rito stared dumbstruck at the piece of paper. It didn’t make any sense. Why would Sinya have Afreen’s photo? How could she possibly know…

  Footsteps echoed down the corridor. Rito jumped to her feet, arranged the fallen papers as neatly on the desk as her shaking hands would allow, and pocketed the one with her friend’s picture on it. Then she hurried out of the office, barely allowing herself to breathe until she had locked the door behind her in the ladies’ room.

  Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she typed the words ‘La Fantome’ into the browser. As expected, the first few results told her that it was a high end, ‘exclusive’ club that had opened recently in downtown Weritlan. Their website was gorgeous, dynamic and intuitive, and completely devoid of any relevant information. Rito growled, frustration gnawing at the pit of her stomach.

  Sitting down on the toilet seat, she backed out of La Fantome’s fancy website and scrolled down, looking at the other search results. Most of them were bland PR pieces about the club’s inauguration party and the celebrities who had attended it.

  On the second and third pages, she found some articles – published by obscure local newspapers and small-time e-zines – about rumours of illegal drug use and trafficking activities in the club. Some of the articles even contained anonymous eyewitness reports claiming that children as young as eight and nine had been spotted in and around the club, looking dazed and lost.

  No wonder Afreen had tried to infiltrate the club. Helping trafficked children had always been one of her greatest passions. Rito gritted her teeth. Whoever was behind this was both cunning and influential. These reports were few and far-between, and had only been published by obscure papers and zines with a non-existent readership.

  Even then, many of them had published retractions in later editions, even apologized for the ‘defamation’ they had unintentionally caused. The whole thing stank of political maneuvering and interference.

  By the time she reached the fourth article on the topic, the details had begun to solidify in her mind. She didn’t have anything definite yet, but she was beginning to understand what she would be dealing with once she arrived in Weritlan.

  As she s
crolled down to get to the meat of the article, her eyes caught the name of the website. The Loquacious Laihan.

  Despite the situation, Rito giggled. If there was one person she knew who would ridicule himself on his own website, it was Laihan Ajera. She scrolled up quickly to see the name of the author. It simply said ‘admin’. He didn’t have the revenue to hire employees yet, she supposed.

  The Loquacious Laihan was one of the few publications that had neither taken down the article, nor published a retraction or apology of any kind.

  Rito smiled, pulling up her contacts and scrolling until she found the phone number she was looking for. Laihan Ajera – her old classmate, friend, and co-conspirator. And one of the most interesting people she had ever met.

  It was time for a reunion.

  “Have you been smoking?” Rito demanded of the gruff voice that greeted her.

  “Uh...no?” Laihan’s tone was defensive, his voice rough and husky.

  Rito smirked. “Well, in that case you’ve been kissing. I’m not even sure which I’d prefer.”

  “Jealous?” She could hear the laughter in his voice.

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, Ajera. What d’you know about the La Fantome club?”

  Laihan chuckled. “And here I thought you missed me.”

  “Aww my poor baby. I’ll buy you ice-cream when I get to Weritlan.”

  “You’re coming to Weritlan?” His tone was sharp. “What for?”

  “It’s still a free country last I checked. I can go wherever I want. What’s gotten you so riled up?”

  “Listen, Rito.” Laihan cleared his throat. “It’s just...this isn’t the best time, okay? There’s stuff going on around here...nasty stuff you don’t wanna be involved in.”

  “Well, it’s too late for second thoughts. I’m coming. Now tell me what you know about that damned club!”

  “Why’re you so interested in La Fantome anyway? You left the city the week before it opened for business.”