The Brightest Fell

by Nupur Chowdhury

  Rito snorted. “Are you insane, lady? You want me to steal? And steal from the fucking prime minister, of all people?”

  “You seem to think this is a negotiation,” Rinisa said sweetly. “I can assure you, it is not.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Simply that I meant what I said before. I really do have nothing against you. Hell, I like you. But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t cause you some very real problems, if I wanted to. You know, like leaking some…ah…sensitive information to the press, let’s say.”

  For a second, Rito was too surprised to form words. Then, she laughed. “Are you serious right now? You’re trying to…to blackmail me?”

  “I don’t really care what you call it, my dear. But what I do know, is that you won’t like it when it happens. Not one tiny little bit, trust me on that. You’re no stranger to being a public figure, with your impeccable pedigree and all that. So you’d know better than most, some stories are not meant for…public consumption.”

  “And what is this story, exactly, that I’m supposed to be so eager to hide? Eager enough to steal from the prime minister?

  “Let me guess. Does this have something to do with the fact that I had a girlfriend at Weritlan University? Or that I…ah, what do they call it? Play for the other team? Is that it?” Rito chuckled. “And you think any of this is a secret? Lord, you must think I live an exciting life.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, Ms. Rayeek. I’m an open book, you see, and my life’s blander than vanilla.” She sighed. “My biggest secret is that I flunked geography in seventh grade. Apart from that, all other salacious details of my misspent youth are already available for…what did you call it? Oh yes, public consumption.”

  “Well, you’re very brave, I’ll give you that. A quality you’d expect in the daughter of such an accomplished leader. But I don’t much care who you’re sleeping with. And neither will anybody else, I’m sure. The times, they’re a-changing.

  “But while society may be more accepting of sexual...mavericks such as yourself, you know what they will not accept? A corrupt politician. A leader they cannot trust.”

  “Sounds like you’ll need to start job-hunting, then.”

  Rinisa let out a coy little laugh. “You have an...interesting sense of humor, Rito. Still, it isn’t me I’d worry about, if I were you. Especially seeing as the fortunes of your own family have dwindled quite significantly in recent months, no? I don’t know if the Shian name can withstand another blow.”

  “What’re you getting at?” Rito hissed through gritted teeth.

  “Just wondering how the people of this lovely nation might react to the news that their former – disgraced – prime minister allowed the metro terror attacks to happen, in exchange for a little...monetary consideration from the Maralanese government.”

  A chill ran down Rito’s spine. She bit down on her tongue to keep herself from saying something she'd regret. She needed to know what the fuck Rinisa was talking about. “You’re lying,” she said at length, the nails of her free hand digging into her palm. “My father has never accepted a bribe in his life. And he’s most certainly not a murderer.”

  “Of course he's not,” Rinisa agreed, a hint of a sneer in her voice. “Though I must say, your conviction is very touching. Family loyalty all the way!

  “Your father wasn’t corrupt, it’s true. But people in his government were; ministers, bureaucrats, you get the picture. And when Fasih booted out half the Cabinet – along with your dear father, might I remind you – they left behind one hell of a paper trail.

  “Fasih dragged your father’s name through the mud during his little...coup d'état. Remember that press conference of his? Still gives me nightmares. If your father hadn’t resigned voluntarily, an impeachment was almost inevitable.”

  “What’s your point?” Rito snarled.

  “Simply that the public doesn’t trust Rajat Shian anymore. People are already suspicious, wary of your family; Fasih has made sure of that. How hard do you think it will be for me to water those seeds of suspicion? Start some rumors in the media; push the...idea that the former PM may have been privy to the illicit dealings of his ministers. That he may have known more than he’s letting on, that he might even have been an active participant.”

  “You’ll never be able to prove anything,” Rito snapped, her voice hoarse.

  “You’re right, I wouldn’t. And the beauty of it, my dear, is that that’s completely irrelevant. I know I won’t be able to send Rajat to prison on charges of corruption or treason. But that won’t stop people from seeing him as a traitor. In fact, not going to prison will only hurt his reputation even more; make the common people think he used his wealth and privilege to get out of the punishment he deserved.

  “He was a darling of the media only a few months ago, but that won’t stop them from hounding him to the ends of the world. You know how it is. It’ll all blow over eventually, of course. And your father will still be a free man at the end of it. If he hasn’t thrown himself off the nearest parapet by that point, that is.”

  “My father is stronger than that.”

  “Perhaps he is. But are you really willing to risk it? Are you willing to see your family crumble all over again? And all for Jehan Fasih, the man who betrayed your father and caused this whole fucking mess in the first place? That’s the real question here, isn’t it?”

  “What you’re asking is not–”

  “I’m not asking you to kill him, though God knows he deserves it. I’m not even asking you to hurt him in any way. Just to get something back to me that was rightfully mine all along. Something he stole from me.

  “I mean, surely that can’t be a surprise to you. That’s what he does, you know that.” Abruptly, her voice softened. “Perhaps what he stole from you, from your family, was the most valuable thing of all – your dignity. And all for his personal gain, to get a position of power to which he had no right.

  “He’s the one responsible for all of this. So why not kill two birds with one stone? Save your family some undeserved heartache and let that manipulative prick have a taste of his own medicine for a change. That way, we’ll both get what we want. You’ll have your revenge, keep your family safe and sound. And I’ll be a queen.”

  The sounds of laughter floated in from the dining room. Through the curtain, Rito could just make out the silhouette of her father, leaning into Abhijat’s shoulder as he laughed about something her brother had said. It had been so long since she’d seen them like this…

  “Fine. What exactly is it that you want me to steal from Fasih?”

  “What’s the matter, darling? Is the kulfi too sweet?”

  Rito’s eyes snapped up to her mother’s worried face. Her hands felt sticky. She glanced down to see that her kulfi had almost melted, coating her fingers in milky residue.

  She reached for a tissue, even as her brother chuckled. “Must be something big if Rito is ignoring kulfi. Who were you talking to on the phone for so long, anyway? Is that Nikita calling you again?”

  “Abhijat,” their father warned. “Your sister isn’t a child anymore. She can handle herself. And if there’s anything she needs our help with, anything she wants to share, I’m sure she’ll tell us in her own time.” He turned to Rito, a slight frown marring his forehead. “That said, you really have been acting strange today. Is everything alright at the university?”

  “Yes, yes. Absolutely fine.” Rito smiled, scooping the semi-liquid dessert into a spoon and thrusting it into her mouth. That, at least, was not a lie. If there was one oasis of peace in the bedlam of her life at the moment, it was the university. For the first time in her life, she actually looked forward to Mondays.

  She considered telling them about Rinisa’s call. But what would that achieve? She’d just be passing on the responsibility, not solving the problem.

  If her family knew about Rinisa’s demands, they’d never allow her to go through with the plan. But Rinisa would still do what she’d said she would, ma
ke Papa a scapegoat for her own ends. Only then, it would be somebody else’s problem, not hers.

  A few years ago, she’d have blurted everything to Abhi, trusted him to handle it and make things right again. But the older she got, the more uncomfortably aware she became of the limitations of those on whom she had always relied for support and guidance.

  Her brother had left a job he loved, to become a glorified bodyguard to the man who had ruined their family, all for their sake. He had already sacrificed enough. And what could he do in this situation that Rito couldn’t, anyway? It wasn’t like there was anything he could do to stop Rinisa.

  Spreading the problem around wasn’t going to solve it, and Rito could no longer allow her brother to bear her burdens. She’d been shrugging off responsibility for the better part of two decades. It was time to step up.

  And if that meant stealing a sample of the Amven drug from Fasih, then that’s what she was going to do.

  She rose to help one of the servants carry the dishes, but was waved off by Abhijat, who was already stacking plates together. Shrugging, she walked over to the couch and lay down with her head on her father’s lap, as he browsed through the channels before settling on a tolerably entertaining late-night comedy show.

  They were doing a sketch on the prime minister. It shouldn’t have been as funny as it was.

  Rinisa had said Jehan stole a sample of the prototype drug that was being used at the La Fantome. And while she didn’t admit it in so many words, Rito gathered from her long-winded explanation that that drug was one of the older Amven prototypes developed by Fasih and his team.

  So, assuming Jehan wasn’t playing an incomprehensible game of roulette with his own invention – and the future of his country – Rinisa had somehow pilfered the formula for one of the old Amven prototypes from the QRI. And the only person who could’ve helped her do that, the only person who had high enough clearance, was Badal.

  And now, Fasih had stolen a sample of the drug created using his own formula from Rinisa. Why he would do that, Rito couldn’t begin to imagine. But the fact remained that Rinisa wanted it back, and she wanted it back before the Maralanese New Year.

  From everything she’d said, Rito got the distinct impression that Rinisa was working some kind of an angle with Maganti, though she didn’t yet know what exactly it was. Still, she seemed almost besotted with him, like a teenager with a crush. All her plans and goals seemed to revolve around him in one way or another. And what was that she’d said about being a queen?

  Queen of what, Rito wondered. Corruption and blackmail?

  In any case, Rinisa wanted the stolen samples back before the New Year’s gala in Maralana. And nobody seemed to know where the hell it was. Or at least, nobody who’d tell Rito about it. Still, she needed to find it, and she had less than two weeks in which to do so.

  Her phone beeped, and Rito sighed. The pictures of the stolen drug samples were coming in, just as Rinisa had promised. At least now she’d know what she was looking for.

  “It’ll be alright, Rito,” her father murmured, carding his fingers gently through her hair. “Everything will be alright.”

  Professor Haval stepped out of the class, Priya Parekh hot on her heels to get her opinion on some assignment or the other. Ducking behind the nearest wall, Rito held her breath and willed them not to look her way.

  The last class before lunch break had just ended. Rito prayed she’d got the day right. A couple of times each week, Sinya would head over to the QRI building to meet her husband during lunch.

  The Qayit Research Institute was located at the opposite end of campus. Dileep Haval, Sinya’s husband, was a renowned chemist and the current head of the Amven project. Apparently, he and Jehan had been the best of friends before the latter’s political ambitions manifested earlier that year, causing a very public dispute that had since become campus legend.

  Rito had spent the last few days researching Fasih, reading up every last scrap of information she could find on his past, his career, his hobbies – anything that could help her figure out where he might’ve stashed the drug samples he stole from the club.

  He was one of the most famous people in the country at the moment, but information about him wasn’t easy to come by. Fasih seemed to have taken pains to keep information about his life and his past from the clutches of the media; not an easy task when you were the youngest prime minister in the history of the country.

  Still, Rito was no amateur when it came to research. And being a member of one of the most prominent families in the city did have certain perks. She had access to resources and people that the average snooping reporter could only dream of.

  Fasih had been hailed as a child prodigy from the time he first surfaced in the capital city. Not that he was exactly a child at the time. He was almost fifteen when his father died, and that was a couple of years before he joined the QRI.

  Growing up, Rito had heard her father mention Jehan every now and then. After all, Rajat had played a key role in setting up the Amven project. Still, until that fateful press conference a few months ago, she had only been vaguely aware of Fasih’s existence.

  She certainly hadn’t known that his father had killed himself because of the land redistribution drive her grandfather initiated, or that their home had been attacked by the local farmers, forcing Jehan to flee to the capital with the family cook.

  The cook, Anuja, had apparently had a daughter. It had taken Rito some time to connect Sinya Banik, Anuja’s daughter and Jehan’s childhood friend, with Sinya Haval, her supervisor and the HOD of Comparative Lit. at one of the top universities of the world.

  Rito groaned. Could her life get any more complicated?

  So anyway, Fasih had started developing Amven after fleeing his home, now an orphan for all intents and purposes. His mother was still alive, of course. But Natalya Fasih had returned to her hometown in Maralana as soon as the land redistribution drive began, and had never set foot in Naijan since.

  Rito supposed Fasih’s decade-long obsession with the drug could be attributed to all that early trauma. Her fifteen-year-old self would probably want a mind-control drug too, after being so thoroughly fucked over by every adult she’d ever known. And then there was the fact that he’d apparently tested early versions of Amven on himself. The man was a psychiatrist’s wet dream personified.

  And yet, none of that had solved the problem of where she could find the drug samples Rinisa wanted. Until she remembered that she had found Afreen’s picture, along with the name of the La Fantome club, on Professor Sinya’s desk, all those weeks ago.

  How had Sinya gotten her hands on that picture? More importantly, why did she have it? And then Fasih had shown up at the club, kickstarting the mess that Rito now found herself in.

  Sinya had known Jehan since they were both children. Could it be that she was helping him behind her husband’s back? Could she be passing information to him in secret, or vice versa?

  Such were the considerations that had convinced Rito to follow Sinya the next time she went over to the Institute to see her husband. Fasih had worked in that building for years. He couldn’t meet Dileep’s wife in public, of course, but there was a chance that he might’ve contacted her through one of his old colleagues at the QRI.

  It was a long shot, she knew that. But it wasn’t like she was swimming in options. And every new scrap of information could make a world of difference.

  The QRI building wasn’t designed to facilitate snooping. Every surface was glossy, every corner illuminated, and every corridor well-lit. It was profoundly annoying.

  By the time Sinya entered a cheerfully painted waiting room, Rito had almost given up on the idea entirely. After all, she wasn’t looking forward to explaining why she’d followed Professor Haval to her husband’s workplace. That was one conversation she could live without having.

  Still, she’d come too far to turn back now. She needed those samples, and this might be the only place where she’d find any clue abo
ut their location. If nothing else, Sinya’s husband was the head of the Amven project now that Fasih was out of the picture.

  She might be able to pilfer some samples of the older prototypes from him, and pass them off as the ones Jehan stole from the La Fantome, if it came to that. But to do any of that, she needed more information than she had at the moment.

  Rito pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to think. She couldn’t very well keep lurking near the door of the waiting room until Sinya left. And entering the room was out of the question. It was spacious and sparsely furnished, and the only person inside was Sinya. There was no way she wouldn’t notice Rito walking in.

  The door on the opposite side of the room creaked open, and for the fraction of a second, Sinya turned away, her attention on the newcomer.

  Panicking, Rito rushed inside and dove for the attached washroom, shutting the door quietly behind her, even as a little man in an oversized lavender cardigan entered the waiting room.

  “Oh my God, I’ve missed you,” Jehan Fasih said, pushing overgrown hair out of his eyes and leaning forward to pull Sinya into a hug.

  Rito would not have pegged Professor Sinya Haval as the type to have a clandestine affair. And yet, a clandestine affair was precisely what she appeared to be having. And having it with none other than the prime minister himself; one floor below her husband’s office, at that. Rito didn’t know whether to be scandalized or impressed.

  Sinya kissed Jehan on the cheek, and a moment later, they sat down across from each other at the far end of the waiting room. An oddly chaste affair, if that’s what it was. Not that Rito had the best vantage point, peeping through the restroom door a few feet away, feeling a little like a pervert. But from what she could see, it looked more like a business meeting than a reunion of star-crossed lovers.

  Barely a minute after Jehan’s entry, the backdoor creaked again – somebody really needed to get those hinges oiled if people were going to have clandestine meetings in here – and in walked Dileep Haval. Rito’s breath caught in her throat. A fistfight was not what she'd been expecting when she decided to follow Sinya to the QRI that morning.