The Brightest Fell

by Nupur Chowdhury

“All for the sake of national security, of course,” Milli smiled. “Corpses aren’t nearly as useful as an army of obedient yes-men.”

  “And what? The people of Naijan were supposed to be the guinea pigs for his twisted little schemes?” The thought of it made her skin crawl. She could feel a nascent fury building in her gut. “That’s why he paid off half the old Cabinet, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, he did more than that,” Milli chuckled, shaking her head. “You don’t know dear Grigori well enough if you think he’d be satisfied with such indirect meddling as that, and for something this crucial too. Still, Prime Minister Fasih’s intervention sure as hell threw a spanner in his works, at least for a while.”

  Rito frowned, lying back down with a groan. “You think he knew about all this when he did it? You think that’s why Jehan forced Papa to resign?”

  “I’ve no idea. But whatever his reasons, it worked. Naijan didn’t use Amven on those terrorists. And here I am, talking to you, perfectly lucid and not yet drugged into singing Grigori’s praises.” She shrugged. “Mamma says she likes him...Jehan, I mean. And quite frankly, I can see why.”

  “He can be charming when he wants to be. I don’t hate him myself, or at least not as much as I thought I would.” Rito smirked. “I have to say, though, that might change very quickly if I find out he’s out to steal my girl.”

  Milli scuttled closer until her forehead was inches from Rito’s. “Oh, he isn’t quite cute enough for that.”

  Laughing, Rito wrapped an arm around Milli, even as she reached under her pillow to retrieve her phone with the other hand. The device pinged, and Rinisa’s number flashed on the screen.

  Rito’s heart leapt to her throat.

  She’d forgotten all about the drug samples she was supposed to have stolen from Jehan, which Rinisa expected to get back from her before the New Year’s gala.

  God, she was as good as dead.

  Eri meowed from somewhere under the covers, as if in agreement.

  Chapter 14

  Rito stepped into the hotel’s lobby, smiled at the receptionist, and headed for her room, forgoing the elevators to take the stairs two at a time.

  Spending the night at Milli’s probably hadn’t been the most prudent decision, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. Milli was fun and interesting, but more importantly, she made Rito feel comfortable and understood in a way nobody outside of her family ever had.

  Milli came from a prominent political family with its own baggage. And while Rito’s brother certainly had never tried to have her shot dead, with Milli, she could talk about things that to anyone else would’ve sounded strange or pompous. With Milli, she didn’t need to fear being judged or misinterpreted. With her, just for a little while, Rito could be herself.

  Preoccupied with her own thoughts, by the time she noticed Abhijat rushing down the stairs, it was too late. They collided headfirst, Rito’s head bumping painfully into his shoulder.

  “God, slow down,” she winced, taking a step back. “Where’re you off to in such a rush?”

  Abhijat huffed, reaching out automatically to steady her. “The more pertinent question here, is where’ve you been all night?”

  “I was with Milli. I spent the night at her place. Didn’t Jehan tell you? I’d asked him to tell you.”

  Abhijat frowned, his lips pressed together into a thin line. “Listen to me Rito, you have to be careful around here. You can’t be wandering around alone like that, not in Manganic.”

  Rito bristled. “I’m not a child–”

  “I don’t care!” He clutched her shoulders, forcing her to look at him.

  The fear in his eyes made her swallow the sharp retort that had bubbled to her lips. What the hell?

  After a second, Abhijat looked away, let go of her and took a hesitant step back. “I’m sorry – I.” He swallowed, shook his head. “I know you won’t believe me, but things aren’t what they seem to be around here. You-you might be in danger.”

  He raised a hand, forestalling the questions that were clamoring to spill out of Rito’s lips. “I know what this looks like to you. And I wish I could tell you everything, I do. But I can’t. It’s better if…” He sighed. “It doesn’t matter. But you have to promise me you’ll be safe, okay? You can’t trust anybody here. Not Fasih, not the Maralanese, not even the Havals or the other Naijani delegates.”

  “What? Why? Look, Abhi, calm down, okay? What’s going on here? Did Jehan say something to you about Milli and her mother?”

  Abhijat laughed, the sound bitter and completely devoid of humor. “Jehan not saying what he should’ve said to me – to us – is precisely the problem here. All this time, he could’ve just said – but that doesn’t matter now. Nothing does, except that he’s been feeding us a string of lies. I don’t know why I’m surprised, really.” He sighed, a tinge of exhaustion creeping into his voice. “There’s nothing for it now. He’s made his move. He’s left me with no choice but to–”

  “Abhi,” Rito cut him off, taking a hold of his arm and digging her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. “Look, I don’t know what he said to you that’s set you off like this, but you have to get a hold of yourself. I know Jehan isn’t the most trustworthy person on earth, and I daresay he’s told his share of lies. But he’s…” She bit her lip. She couldn’t believe she was about to say this. “He’s not as bad as you think he is. He-he had his reasons for doing what he did–”

  “And I have mine.” He put a hand over hers, his tone almost gentle when he continued. “You know nothing about what he’s done...what he’s willing to do for personal gain. And you don’t need to. Just…if anything happens – if something goes wrong here, catch the first flight back to Qayit, okay? Go home, take care of Maa and Papa. They’ll need you.”

  A chill ran down Rito’s spine. “Abhi, what’re you talking about? I don’t–”

  “And no matter what, always remember that I love you, okay?” He pulled her into a hug. “Take care of yourself. And don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Abhi–” She clutched at him, refusing to let him pull away. Her voice sounded desperate, even to her own ears. “What’s the matter? Why’re you acting like this? Just tell me what it is. How can I help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong?”

  “It’s nothing,” he said, pulling away gently, though his hands remained on her shoulders, steadying her. “Really, it’s nothing. I was just–” he shook his head. “Be careful. And don’t trust anything Fasih or his friends say. If anything happens, just go back home, okay? Go back to Qayit. I’ll handle the rest.” He took a step back. “I-I have to go. There’s a meeting. We’ll be late–”

  Rito grabbed him by the wrist. “Okay. Alright, fine. We’ll talk about this later, once you get back.” She smiled hesitantly. “I’ll see you in the evening?”

  He nodded jerkily and looked away. “Yeah. Yeah, you will.” A quick smile – which he probably thought was reassuring – and then he was down the stairs and out of the lobby before Rito could think to ask him when he would be back.

  Her phone pinged, and she slid it out of her pocket with shaking hands.

  A message from Milli. At any other time, it would’ve made her heart flutter. But there was a cold weight in her gut that made her feel off-balance, disoriented. Scared.

  Tamping down on that growing sense of dread, Rito clicked on the notification icon. They’d exchanged numbers before she left the house earlier that morning, but she hadn’t expected a message so soon. The messaging app flicked obediently open, and Rito clicked on Milli’s name.

  She frowned. There was no text, just the picture of a black cat. A black cat that wasn’t Eri. Why would she just…Milli’s words rang suddenly in Rito’s ears–

  “They say if you see a black cat, death is close by.”

  Rito gripped the ornate wood banister, her knuckles white. She forced herself to breathe past the ringing in her ears. Then, she turned around and darted down the stairs, banging the majestic double doors on
her way out of the lobby.

  Fasih emerged from the elevator in a purple cardigan that looked to be at least two sizes too big for him, with disheveled hair, and a pair of black slacks that had to be folded up at the bottom to keep him from tripping.

  Abhijat raised an eyebrow. “Your aides allowed you to walk out of the suite in that?”

  “I drugged them all,” Jehan winked, striding towards the car. “Where’s Prakash? And what’re you doing here? I told you, it’s just an informal brunch meeting. There’s no need for excessive security.”

  “Prakash called in minutes ago to inform us that he won’t be able to make it. There’s been an emergency in his family. He needs to fly back to Qayit ASAP.”

  “Oh?” Jehan retrieved his phone from his pocket and began typing. “I’ll tell Parul to make sure he doesn’t have any problems getting back. Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here, though.”

  “I’ll be driving you. We couldn’t find a suitable chauffeur to replace Prakash at such short notice. Besides,” he continued, forestalling any arguments by holding the vehicle’s door open. “This way, you won’t need a separate security detail. Low profile, just as you prefer.”

  Jehan’s eyes twinkled as he slid into the backseat. “You know me too well.”

  As they drove through the congested highways of Manganic, Abhijat’s mind flashed back to last night’s conversation with Rinisa. She had said she’d ensure Prakash didn’t show up to work today. He wondered if she’d paid him off, or if he really thought there was an emergency back home. If he was honest with himself, Abhijat didn’t even know which one he’d prefer.

  His body moved on autopilot, steering the car through the highways and flyovers of the foreign city without taking in anything apart from the slice of road right in front of him.

  He’d asked Rinisa – after she gave him the address to which he was supposed to deliver Fasih – what she planned to do with him once she had him there.

  He told himself it was idle curiosity, that he didn’t really care. Rinisa seemed to buy it too. She’d smiled impishly and clapped him on the back, had told him what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, before sauntering away from the bar to mingle with the other guests.

  The fact that his hands shook on the steering wheel didn’t have to mean anything. Just the normal adrenaline rush preceding a potentially dangerous mission.

  Rinisa had said she’d have the car adequately damaged, have him slightly roughed up so he could tell the authorities that the prime minister had been taken by force. That he’d tried to stop the attackers, to keep him safe. To do his job.

  It was natural to be anxious, under the circumstances.

  He wished lying to himself was just a matter of coming up with all the logical reasons why this shouldn’t matter, why he shouldn’t care what happened to Fasih after he’d done his part in the job. He wished he could convince himself that he'd return to the hotel and sleep peacefully tonight, knowing he’d done what he had to, to keep his family and his country safe.

  Last night, talking to Rinisa at the party, he’d been scared and enraged; had felt righteous fury coursing through his veins.

  Now, he just felt defeated.

  “You look gloomy today,” Fasih said, dragging Abhijat out of the suffocating quagmire of his own thoughts. “Or at least, gloomier than usual. I’d tell you to have a drink, if I didn’t think you’d be a grumpy drunk.”

  “Getting your chauffeur drunk probably isn’t the brightest idea you’ve ever had.” Abhijat kept his eyes trained on the road. He refused to let himself glance at the rear-view mirror, to see what Fasih was doing.

  This had to be done. He needed to do it. And he wasn’t sure he’d be able to, if he looked at Jehan’s face right now.

  Fasih chuckled. “My history of not-so-bright ideas is long and glorious, as you once said. What’s one more item on the list, if it’ll get you to lighten up and stop looking like your dog died?”

  Abhijat grunted in response.

  Jehan leaned forward, his voice much closer to Abhijat’s ear. “It hasn’t, has it? Rajat never mentioned any pets, but for all I know I was just too high to remember.”

  “No,” he said slowly, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “No, we – I don’t have any pets. I’m just worried we’ll be late for your meeting.”

  “Horrible traffic, yes,” Fasih murmured, his voice farther away. Abhijat risked a glance at the rear-view mirror to see that he had leaned back, his body relaxed against the backrest. “This goddamn city’s like Qayit on amphetamines. Not a moment’s peace, is there? And on top of everything else, my phone’s dead.” He laughed. “Can you believe it? Of all the stupid problems to have. I’m sure I set it to charge before going to bed last night. But what do I know? I was too wasted to think straight, after the party.”

  Abhijat hummed noncommittally, his heart thundering painfully against his ribs. In another few minutes they’d be at an intersection. If he turned right, they’d be ten minutes early for Fasih’s appointment with the finance secretary. If he turned left...

  “So,” Fasih began, in a tone of mild curiosity. “Did your sister enjoy the party last night? Seems to have taken quite a shine to the Maganti girl. Not that I blame her, of course.”

  It was an innocent enough question. And Fasih did know Rito had left with Ludmila Maganti last night. He was the one who told Abhijat about it, after all. There was no reason for Abhijat to think it was more than what it seemed – idle gossip. Chitchat.

  Only, Abhijat knew from experience that Fasih didn’t do chitchat. Every conversation he was a part of, every point he raised had a purpose, whether or not you realized it at the time.

  Over the months, Abhijat had watched this play out time and time again, with politicians, diplomats, and journalists being ensnared by Fasih’s seemingly pointless small-talk, failing to see the trap they were walking into until it was too late.

  More often than not, it was harmless enough – Fasih trying to gain the upper hand in a negotiation or turn a critique into a compliment during a TV interview.

  But when had Fasih’s maneuverings ever proved harmless, when it came to his family? And after everything he’d done, if he was planning to go after Rito next, to somehow use her attachment to Maganti’s sister to his advantage, as a tool for negotiation or–

  Before he could finish that thought, the intersection came into view. His eyes on the road, hands steady on the steering wheel, Abhijat veered left.

  The roads here were bumpy and uneven. The car lurched forward, jerking and groaning noisily every few minutes. Signs of civilization were farther apart the longer they drove.

  “Where’re we going?” Fasih asked conversationally, after almost twenty minutes of silence.

  Abhijat had expected him to protest, to demand what was going on. So far, he had given no indication of distress or confusion. Abhijat wondered if he even knew they were headed the wrong way.

  He said nothing, and Fasih didn’t press the matter. He couldn’t have failed to notice that they were no longer headed for the Central Secretariat. They had long since driven off the highway and were now nearing the northern edge of the city.

  Abhijat gritted his teeth and pressed down on the accelerator, ignoring the way the car jerked in response. He’d made his choice. It was too late to turn back now. He had to move forward.

  After a few more minutes of traveling through labyrinthine lanes and alleyways, the car lurched to a halt in front of an old warehouse about twenty kilometers from the city.

  Abhijat reached inside his jacket and stepped out of the car, the comforting weight of the semi-automatic pistol in his hand. He held the back door open and pointed the gun at Fasih.

  Jehan arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Get out,” Abhijat barked, his skin prickling with unease. “And give me your phone.”

  “I told you, it’s dead.” He rolled his eyes, holding the device out for Abhijat to take. “Though I see now why that i
s. Your idea? Excellent planning, I have to say.”

  Something in Abhijat’s expression must have given him away, because Fasih laughed. “You’ve no idea what I’m talking about, have you? None of this was your idea at all. Just a pawn on the chessboard, huh? Should’ve known.” He sighed. “You aren’t quite devious enough for all this. If you wanted to kill me, you would’ve shot me in my bed and hanged for it. Disposing of the body isn’t really in your domain of expertise, is it?”

  “Shut up!” Abhijat snarled, snatching the phone away from Jehan and disassembling it with one hand. “Your time’s up, Fasih. Your goddamn mind-games won’t work on me, not anymore.

  “You thought you could destroy my family, subjugate my country, and I wouldn’t notice anything? You thought I wouldn’t lift a finger to stop you?”

  “Clearly, you’re lifting all five.” Jehan stared pointedly at the gun in Abhijat’s hand, sounding bored.

  Abhijat moved, closing the distance between them. He reached forward and grabbed a fistful of Fasih’s cardigan, pulling him closer even as he pressed the muzzle of the pistol to the side of his head. “The game’s over, Fasih. No more lies, no more conspiracies. Not as long as I’m still alive. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll make sure you can’t hurt anyone else ever again.”

  “Hurt anyone? And here I thought you were the one pressing a gun to my head,” he pouted. “Still, I wonder what bullshit they fed you, to get you this riled up. Even you aren’t usually this irrational.

  “Who was it? Maganti? No, of course not. He wouldn’t waste his time on foot-soldiers. It was Rinisa, wasn’t it?” He smirked. “What did she tell you? That I’ve been murdering puppies across Naijan? That I plan to sell the country off to the highest bidder?”

  “I’ve seen it,” Abhijat said quietly, letting go of Fasih’s cardigan, though he still kept the pistol pressed to his head. “All that money Maganti sent your mother. The receipts, the bank statements, everything. It’s no use lying to me now.”

  Fasih jerked, looking up to stare wide-eyed at Abhijat. “My-my mother?”