The Brightest Fell

by Nupur Chowdhury

  Rito waited for everyone to say their piece. Then she shrugged, trying to project a casual indifference she did not feel. “I’ve been invited by Professor Sinya Haval, who’ll be visiting Maralana with her husband. I’ve always wanted to go there, so I thought it’d be a nice vacation. Besides, Abhi will be there, so there’s really no reason to worry.” She smiled sweetly at her brother, who was glaring daggers at her across the table.

  Abhijat didn’t trust Dileep Haval as far as he could throw him, Rito knew that. Perhaps the only way she could’ve made this worse was if she told him the truth, that she was going to Maralana not as Sinya’s guest but as Jehan’s spy.

  She rubbed a hand over her eyes, pressing her lips together to suppress a sigh. This was exhausting. “I’m going to go turn on the TV,” she said, walking out of the room as fast as she could without making it seem like she was running away.

  “Badal is dead,” Rito said, as the rest of the family filed into the drawing room.

  She stared wide-eyed at the TV screen, where a news anchor was talking excitedly into the camera, trying to get in contact with her correspondent in Weritlan. Rito’s ears were ringing, her heart thumping painfully against her ribs. This wasn’t right. How could this have happened?

  “What?” Rajat exclaimed, striding into the room. “That’s impossible. I’d have known if he was unwell. What happened to him?”

  “He wasn’t unwell,” Rito said, her mouth dry. “He was shot. Shot dead less than half a kilometer from his house.”

  “Who did it? Do they know yet?” Abhijat asked, sitting down on the sofa beside Rito.

  She swallowed the bile that had risen to her throat. “Jehan Fasih, it seems.”

  A few minutes passed, during which all four of them gathered around the TV, Abhi and Rito curled up on one sofa while their parents occupied the other.

  As the story unfolded, they learned that Badal had been shot dead on his way back from the market earlier that evening. Two bullets lodged in his skull, he had died on the spot; and his body had later been discovered in an alley by one of the gardeners who’d gone out looking for him, when he failed to return home on time or answer his phone.

  Two suspects had been arrested by the local police in connection with the murder. Rumor had it, one of them had confessed to the crime, and during the interrogation had told the police that Jehan Fasih had hired him for the job.

  None of this had yet been confirmed by the police, yet analysts and experts on the news program were already speculating if Fasih had ordered the killing to keep Badal from revealing secrets that could’ve jeopardized his premiership.

  Apparently, reports had surfaced recently indicating that Badal had been gathering evidence that could’ve proved Rajat Shain’s innocence, and Fasih’s role in wrongfully defaming the former PM for personal gain.

  How so much information had come to light in the less than twelve hours since Rito had last watched the news, she didn’t know. It didn’t matter, though. It made for good television, and the news channels were having a field day, with new and exciting bits of information coming in by the minute.

  “I can’t believe this,” Lyani said, sitting back in the sofa and placing her head on her husband’s shoulder. “And to think Qia is there right now. Do you think she spoke to Badal before...”

  Her voice was drowned out by that of the news anchor, wondering who would represent Naijan at the New Year’s gala in Maralana, if Fasih was arrested for murder.

  Rajat scoffed. “This is bullshit. A smear campaign if ever I saw one. They couldn’t even wait for the police to make a statement, bloody hyenas. Not that I’d trust the police in Weritlan with an investigation like this one.”

  “Why’s it so hard to believe that after everything he’s done, Fasih might just go the extra mile and shoot someone in the head?” Abhijat muttered. “Or at least, arrange for them to be shot in the head. Sounds just like him, if you ask me.”

  Rajat frowned disapprovingly at his son. “Of course it’s not hard to believe that Jehan might off Badal. What is hard to believe is that he’d be so sloppy about it.

  “This is what happens when you let yourself be blinded by hatred and resentment; you fail to see the obvious. Jehan Fasih is a lot of things, but incompetent isn’t one of them. This wasn’t his doing.”

  Abhijat looked at Rajat as if he didn’t recognize his own father. Then, he grinned. “Okay, we’ll go with that for now.”

  The scene on the TV shifted to an old footage of Badal announcing that he would be stepping down as deputy prime minister, looking for all the world like he’d swallowed a bottle of vinegar. Fasih stood behind him, smiling guilelessly for the cameras.

  “If he submits to an investigation, he can’t go to Maralana. And if he doesn’t, he risks looking callous, even downright suspicious. If he really is innocent – and that’s a big ‘if’ – it’d seem somebody's out to give Fasih a taste of his own medicine.” Abhijat rose to his feet, sliding his hands into his pockets and baring his teeth in a smile that'd make a shark uncomfortable. “Interesting times are ahead.”

  “But what makes you so sure I didn’t kill Badal?” Jehan asked Ruqaiya, pouring them both steaming cups of coffee.

  It had been less than twenty-four hours since the news about Badal’s death broke. Ruqaiya had just returned from Weritlan, and the two of them were sharing a pot of coffee and comparing notes in Jehan’s office.

  She shrugged, taking an appreciative sip of the beverage. “I’ve been investigating him for some time, you know. Even before I went to Weritlan myself. Ever since you told me Badal’s daughter and son-in-law owned the La Fantome club, in fact. It’s fascinating, really, how much he’s managed to get away with over all these years, right under our noses.”

  “And?” Jehan raised an eyebrow.

  “We managed to intercept some of his emails and phone calls. So I have a pretty clear idea about what he was doing the week before he died. That’s actually why I decided to go to Weritlan in the first place. Things were…escalating faster than I’d expected them to.”

  “Things?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t play dumb, Fasih. You know as well as I do he wasn’t trying to ‘expose’ you. He wasn’t interested in you at all.”

  “No. I’d wager he was far more interested in Maganti than in me.”

  “That he was. For more than a month, he’d been having some…vehement disagreements with the Maralanese. And if he was threatening to expose anyone, it was Maganti.”

  “About the metro blasts?”

  Ruqaiya smirked. “And here I thought I came bearing earth-shattering revelations.”

  “Sorry to burst your bubble. More coffee?” He poured some more of the beverage into her cup, then sat back in his chair. “I’ve known for a while now that Maralana had a hand in that attack. What I don’t understand is why Badal should use it to threaten Maganti now, after all this time?”

  “’Cause you spooked him, of course. He’d been promised he’d sit on the prime minister’s chair before the year was out. Instead, you snuffed out his political career altogether and then took down the La Fantome club. And if that wasn’t enough, Abhijat arrested that electrician, Sajal–”

  “So Badal did hire him to mess with the wiring in the balcony. That explains a lot.”

  “He did. And he had every reason to expect some…dire repercussions if Sajal told the authorities everything he knew. Which is why he wanted out. He was demanding a large sum of money from Maralana. I guess he was planning to cut his losses and settle abroad. Somewhere that doesn’t have an extradition treaty with Naijan.”

  “Good plan.”

  “Would’ve been, if not for the fact that Maganti seemed to think Badal was asking for more money than he was worth. Plus, I daresay the threats didn’t endear him to the Maralanese either. Maganti doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who’d take kindly to being blackmailed.”

  She tipped her head back and drained the cup. “In short, if anyo
ne had an incentive to kill Badal at this time, it was Maganti.”

  “And framing me for the murder was just a bonus,” Jehan said, vaguely impressed. “Two and a half birds with one stone.”

  “Two and a half?” Ruqaiya repeated.

  Jehan shrugged. “Take both me and Badal out of the picture in one fell swoop, then get Rito alone in Maralana so Rinisa can retrieve the drug samples from her with minimum interference.”

  “What?”

  “Ritadrija Shian. Abhijat’s little sister. You know the girl.”

  “Stop messing with me Fasih,” Ruqaiya snapped. “What the fuck does she have to do with any of this?”

  “I thought you knew, given your considerable sleuthing skills. Rinisa blackmailed her into stealing a prototype of Amven from the QRI.”

  She frowned, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I see. So her arrest wasn’t just you being a paranoid ass after all.”

  “Is that what you thought it was?” Jehan giggled. “Still more charitable than Abhijat’s interpretation of the situation. Anyway, I had nothing to do with it. Dileep found a woman trying to pilfer drugs from one of the QRI labs and called the police. He didn’t even recognize her. I had no idea any of this had happened until her brother came barging into my apartment with all the finesse of a rampaging gorilla.”

  “Your apartment?”

  “I stay there sometimes when I have work to do. There are things I’d rather the secretaries didn’t see, even by accident.”

  She snorted. “Like I said, paranoid.”

  “Never denied it.”

  “Well, Rinisa’s dug her own grave this time. If she thinks she can get away with manipulating Rajat’s daughter...” She shook her head. “I’m surprised she’s still in one piece, considering Abhijat’s track record.”

  “Oh, he doesn’t know. I asked Rito not to tell him anything, yet.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “’Cause I want her to keep Rinisa hanging. As long as she thinks Rito has those samples, she’ll believe she has a chance of getting them. That’ll keep her – and by extension, Maganti – in line until we get to Maralana.”

  “You’re signing your own death warrant by messing with the Shian girl, you know that?”

  “Messing with her?” he chuckled. “Gods, Ruqaiya, you make it sound downright sordid. She’s a full-grown woman, although none of you seem to have noticed that yet. I asked for her help. If she didn’t like it, she was free to refuse. It’s not like I had her chained in my dungeon, forced to do my evil bidding.”

  “Tell that to Abhijat when he finds out you’ve been using his sister as bait for Rinisa and her Maralanese paramour. You’d be lucky if you don’t find yourself chained in a dungeon first.”

  “Your concern is touching. Still, if I were you, I’d spend more time worrying about the actual murder than the hypothetical one. How did Maganti know enough about Badal’s routine to be able to corner him alone? Badal wasn’t exactly a careless guy. Last I checked, both his home and office were extremely secure, and he rarely went out alone.”

  Ruqaiya’s scrutinizing gaze rested on him. “You think it was Rinisa, don’t you?”

  He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table and fingers steepled in front of his eyes. “It’d make sense, wouldn’t it? She was his daughter’s sister-in-law. Technically, they were family; perhaps even friends, since they must have collaborated to some extent in the running of that club.

  “I know for a fact that Badal stole the formula that was used to create the drug they were using on those kids. Of everyone involved with the La Fantome, he was the only one who had ever had access to the Amven research.

  “So all things considered, it’s not unlikely that she might’ve visited his house, might’ve known his routine and the general layout of the neighborhood.”

  “And after all that, she sold him out to Maganti.”

  “Would it surprise you?”

  She sighed. “Not in the least.”

  “Anyway, the only way to prove any of this is to go to that goddamn New Year's gala. In fact, at this point, that’s pretty much the only way to prove my innocence.” Jehan groaned and buried his face in his hands. “God, do I ever hate being outmaneuvered!”

  “You think that hitman’s evidence will hold up in court? It’s basically his word against yours.”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s holding up in the media, and this is a democracy. Ergo, that’s all that matters.”

  “And that might just be Rinisa’s endgame, to get you impeached and out of this office before you can get anywhere near Maralana.”

  “Perhaps. But you know what’s funny? I’d have expected you of all people to be excited about the prospect of me being kicked out and Rajat Shian reinstated as prime minister.” He gasped. “Madam Dehran, don’t tell me I’ve corrupted you!”

  Ruqaiya rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, Fasih. That fire in the balcony of your old office wasn’t an accident, it was an assassination attempt. And we know that electrician was hired by Badal, but I don’t think it was his idea, at least not entirely. So, there’s a chance it might happen again. And if someone really is trying to assassinate the prime minister, I’d much rather you sit on that chair than Rajat.”

  “Heartwarming,” he smiled sweetly. “It’s a blessing you never tried diplomacy. You’d have started a war.”

  She smirked. “If you think I consider that an insult, you don’t know me well enough. But what I don’t understand is this. Why did Maganti invite Badal to Maralana if he meant to kill him?”

  “Precisely because he meant to kill him, I’d say. Throws off the scent pretty nicely, doesn’t it? Not that most people would’ve suspected him anyway, seeing as there’s no obvious motive. But like you said, why invite someone you mean to put a bullet in, especially when you didn’t have to?”

  She hummed thoughtfully. “Well, that puts us in a bit of a pickle, doesn’t it?”

  “A bit? I was under the impression we were drowning in it.”

  “Semantics. The point is, you need to go to Maralana to know what Maganti’s up to. And both Rinisa and Maganti will do everything in their power to ensure that you can’t.”

  “And unfortunately for us, there’s quite a lot that’s in their power.”

  “Unless...”

  Jehan’s ears perked up at her tone. “Unless?”

  “Unless you can give Rinisa a very good reason to want you out of Naijan.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Rinisa risked antagonizing the Shian family by blackmailing Rito, and even she knows that’s not a small risk to take. Despite the recent dip in their fortunes, they can cause her some real trouble if they put their minds to it.”

  “From what Rito said after I bailed her out, it seemed Rinisa was pretty desperate to have those samples back before the gala.” He frowned. “What’re you getting at?”

  “I’m saying you should call another press conference.”

  Jehan’s eyes lit up. “Much as I hate those things with a burning passion, I think you’re on to something.”

  “Of course, the only purpose of the conference will be to officially proclaim your innocence vis-a-vis Badal’s murder–”

  “But I’ll strongly imply that if forced to defend myself in court, I’ll fully reveal the events of the La Fantome club, and Badal’s involvement in it. Of course, I don’t want to do that, as the case is still under investigation and the whole thing could be hamstrung by excessive media attention. So I’ll only do it if I’m left with no other choice.”

  “And if the La Fantome case gets entangled with such a high-profile murder case,” Ruqaiya continued with a grin, “Then all information about the drugs used at the club will soon become public. The fact that an Amven prototype was used for child trafficking will be the story of the decade. Any government that doesn’t immediately ban usage of the drug will have a hell of a lot to answer for.”

  “Which means that even if Rinisa managed to g
et those samples to Maralana, they would be useless to Maganti. Even he wouldn’t dare to authorize the use of Amven amidst an international outcry.”

  “No, he wouldn’t. And I have a feeling, once all of that sinks in, Rinisa will be very invested in the continuation of your premiership. I’d bet you good money that hitman will change his tune before the weekend rolls around.”

  “Well, I’m glad I convinced you to be my deputy PM–”

  “Coerced me, you mean.”

  “Semantics. The thing is, we were meant to work together!” He grinned. “We make a fantastic team. See, this would be a perfect plan, if not for the one teeny little loophole.”

  Ruqaiya raised an eyebrow. “Which is?”

  “That both Rinisa and Maganti are murderous sociopaths? Until now, they were only trying to remove me from the premiership. But now that I’m about to make myself out to be a direct threat to them,” he shrugged. “You know they’ll try to kill me. And they’ll have the perfect opportunity to do so in Maralana, when we’re on Maganti’s home turf. I’d be handing him my head on a platter when I step into that country.”

  “That’s true,” she said, tapping a pen against her chin. “Quite the dilemma. But look on the bright side. If you die in the service of the nation, you’d be a martyr. And if you’re a martyr, they’ll raise a statue of you at the entrance to this building.”

  “A pretty statue,” he said decisively. “Promise me you won’t let them build an ugly statue of me, Ruqaiya. I’m sure half the civil war heroes would’ve deserted if they knew what’d be done to their faces.”

  “Fine,” she nodded solemnly, after a moment's consideration. “If Maganti puts a bullet in your skull, the least I can do is to ensure that it’s immortalized as a pretty skull.”

  Jehan hated press meets.

  You’d think he’d have gotten used to them by now, considering all the havoc they’d helped him wreak over the past year.

  But nope, they were still suffocating, and too bright, and made him want to crawl under the nearest piece of furniture.