The Brightest Fell

by Nupur Chowdhury

  Abhijat wondered if he was genuinely surprised, or if he was just that good an actor.

  “Well, I’ll give them points for ingenuity. Even I hadn’t thought of that angle, and I make it a habit to think of everything. Not that it makes a difference now, of course.” He laughed, looking away. “Still, you might as well know. Not like we have anything better to do.

  “I haven’t spoken to my mother in more than ten years. Hell, I don’t even know what she looks like anymore. My mistake. She returned to Maralana; I should’ve known they’d use her against me one way or another. Although this is not the approach I would’ve expected.”

  “You’re lying,” Abhijat said, ignoring the tremor in his own voice.

  Of course he was. Had he really expected Fasih to confess the truth just because he had a gun to his head? He probably still thought he could trick Abhijat, manipulate him into doing his bidding.

  And yet, that look of wide-eyed astonishment when Abhijat had first mentioned his mother. He couldn’t quite make himself believe that that’d been a lie.

  A sudden clamor made him whirl, one arm across Fasih’s chest, holding him in a vice-like grip, the gun still pointed at his head.

  Two burly men in leather jackets stepped out of the warehouse, followed by Rinisa, who was wearing a low-cut sweatshirt over a pair of red track pants. A strange gray locket dangled from a simple gold chain around her neck.

  All three of them were heavily armed.

  Rinisa smiled sweetly at Abhijat. “Thank you, darling. You’ve done very well. Really.” Her eyes raked over Fasih in a way that made Abhijat’s skin crawl. “So much better than I’d expected.”

  Before Abhijat could form a reply, the man to Rinisa’s right raised his gun and pulled the trigger.

  Fasih went limp in his arms, a tranquilizer dart sticking out of his chest. A moment later, Abhijat felt a sting in his neck. His vision swam and his knees buckled under him. The gun fell out from between his benumbed fingers.

  Seconds later, darkness overcame him.

  “The person you are trying to reach cannot accept calls at this time.”

  The voice was cool, friendly…detached. It had also repeated those same grating words to Rito more than twenty times over the last half an hour.

  “Damn,” Rito snarled, slamming the phone down on the passenger seat and reaching for the key in the ignition.

  Milli’s house was locked and she wasn’t answering her phone. Rito didn’t even know how to contact Madam Ivanovna. And even if she could, what would she tell her? Your daughter sent me the picture of a cat, so I think she might be in mortal danger? She could barely say it in her own head without feeling stupid.

  Her phone buzzed and she snatched it up, hoping against hope for Milli’s name to flash up on the screen.

  It was Rinisa. Rito growled in frustration, banging a hand against the steering wheel.

  “What do you want?”

  “That’s not a very nice way to talk to your friends now, is it?” Rinisa’s saccharine voice cooed from the other end of the line.

  “We’re not friends. And I’d rather not be talking to you at all.”

  “You wouldn’t have to, if you weren’t so tardy about giving me the drugs you stole. I’ve been far too patient with you, Miss Shian. My patience is running out, and if you don’t return to me what’s mine…”

  “You want the Amven samples? Fine. No time like the present, is there? Where do you want to meet?”

  A moment of silence, then Rinisa laughed. “Well, that was easier than expected. You’re bucking the Shian trend of unnecessary, self-destructive stubbornness, I see. I’ll text you an address, how’s that?”

  “I’ll be there in an hour.”

  Rito disconnected the call. A second later, her phone pinged with the arrival of a new message.

  She dialed Laihan’s number.

  When he picked up, Laihan sounded tired but genuinely pleased to hear from her. She asked about Afreen and the children, about the work they were doing in Weritlan. Thankfully, Rinisa had left them alone after Rito agreed to steal the Amven samples from Jehan. Despite everything, she found herself smiling with relief.

  “Listen, Lai. I wouldn’t ask if I had a choice, but...I need you to do me a favor.”

  “Anything for you, my dear.”

  She sighed. “I’m so sorry to keep dropping these things on you out of nowhere but…a girl’s life is in danger.”

  She could hear Laihan suck in a sharp breath, but he said nothing. She closed her eyes and continued. “Can…can you track a phone for me? In Manganic.”

  “You’re in Maralana? Oh, of course. The New Year’s gala. How could I forget?”

  “Well?”

  “Sure. Shouldn’t be a problem. What is this about?”

  “I-I’ll tell you when I get back. And Lai? I’m sending you an address. Can you tell me if this phone was anywhere near that place in the last hour or so?”

  “Piece of cake. Just give me twenty minutes, okay?”

  Rito nodded, then realized that he couldn’t see her. “Thanks Lai. You’re the best.” She swallowed around the lump in her throat.

  Laihan chuckled. “I know. Just…” His voice turned serious, losing some of its humor. “Just promise me you’ll be safe, yeah?”

  Little by little, Abhijat opened his eyes. His vision swam; the dim, gray room blurry and out-of-focus. He was lying on the cold concrete floor, his hands and feet manacled and chained to the wall. His throat was dry and he had a splitting headache.

  He forced himself into a sitting position and bit viciously down on his lip, swallowing the bile that rose to his throat.

  He pulled on the chains, testing them. Short and sturdy, they wouldn’t allow him to get more than a few inches away from the wall.

  His heart hammered in his chest and there was an uncomfortable roaring in his ears, but he forced himself to sit back against the hard, concrete wall and take stock of the situation. As he settled, his foot nudged something warm and soft at his side.

  He jerked back, causing the manacles to dig into his skin. Fasih lay beside him, curled up on his side, pale and unmoving.

  Instinctively, Abhijat reached out. The chains were barely long enough for him to place a hand over Fasih’s chest.

  He was still breathing.

  Abhijat sighed, releasing a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

  The room they were in couldn’t have been more than a hundred square feet across. The floor and the walls were a dull gray, and part of the ceiling was obscured by cobwebs. Cold, bare, and draughty, the room was also quite dark, a series of narrow, grilled windows near the ceiling the only source of light.

  Blinking groggily, Abhijat looked around for anything that could help him get out of the chains. But aside from a few boxes pushed together to form a makeshift table at the other end of the room, the place seemed completely empty.

  In the shadowed corner a few feet away from him – too far away to reach – he could see what looked to be a bundle of rags. Was it moving? It was too dark to see, and his eyes weren’t feeling particularly cooperative at the moment. Trying to focus too hard made his head swim.

  A soft click, and a section of the wall swung open to let Rinisa into the room.

  “Awake, I see.” She smiled.

  Her expression – serene and a little smug – made his hair stand on end. He sat upright, back pressed to the concrete wall, even as his hands clenched into fists, nails digging into the skin of his palm.

  “What is the meaning of this?” he growled, teeth gritted against the headache that spiked when he forced himself to focus on her face. “What is this place? And what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Not super quick on the uptake, are you darling?” she laughed, perching lightly on one of the boxes. “Well, I already knew that. Honestly, I was surprised you fell for it as easily as you did. I’d thought I would have to work much harder to convince you to betray our darling prime minister.


  “Though I suppose he did give you some very solid reasons to hate his guts. Helpful guy, isn’t he? Did everything in his power to make my job easier for me.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Abhijat snarled. The ringing in his ears had drowned out much of her tirade. The dizziness had returned with a vengeance, and he had to fight to keep his eyes open. “And how dare you have me tied up like some animal?” He pulled at the shackles, but they just rattled and clanked without giving an inch.

  “Do you really think you’ll get away with this silly little kidnapping? Fasih had an appointment more than an hour ago that he didn’t show up to. They’ll be sending out search parties in no time. He’s the prime minister, you bitch. They’ll shoot at sight.”

  “Shoot at what?” she sneered. “Everybody worth killing will already be dead by then, including your precious prime minister.

  “Really, I can’t believe he let you screw him over so thoroughly; and after all his careful planning and maneuvering. The things a conscience can make you do.” She shook her head ruefully. “Never underestimate the lethality of a self-righteous fool, that’s what I always say.”

  Abhijat stole a glance at Fasih’s insensate form. “What’re you saying?”

  “I’m saying Jehan Fasih hasn’t seen or spoken to his mother in over a decade.” She giggled. “Really, you fell for a few receipts and bank-statements? What was stopping Maganti – or anyone else, for that matter – from paying her without his knowledge? And to think we spent a shitload of money buying her silence, just in case you tried to contact her. But you didn’t even do that, did you? Just jumped head-first into the worst possible conclusion.”

  Abhijat’s breath hitched. “You said he-he would try to kill my parents.”

  Rinisa doubled over, laughing until there were tears in her eyes. “You Shians and your obsessive familial codependence. It’s a goldmine, it really is.” She braced herself against the wooden boxes, still laughing. “Those students at your parents’ home? Fasih wasn’t paying them, I was. And not for anything sinister, either.

  “They really do think they’re doing a survey, those poor schmucks. The worst they’d have done is to have your parents fill out a sixteen-page questionnaire.” She giggled. “I know, ‘cause I had that monstrosity typed out and printed. Half-assed isn’t really my style, you see.”

  “You’re lying!” Abhijat jerked forward, making the chains rattle. “You’re a fucking liar! Why should I believe a word you say? What did you gain from any of this?”

  “Why, Fasih of course. You just helped me pull out the biggest thorn in our side, Abhijat. And for that, you have our gratitude. Too bad you won’t live long enough to properly enjoy the fruits of your labor.” She winked. “Still, Grigori will be very pleased. You’ve managed in a day what he couldn’t pull off over the course of a whole year.”

  For a second, Abhijat drew a complete blank. Then, something clicked in his foggy and disoriented brain, and all the puzzle pieces arranged themselves into a chilling picture. Grigori…President Grigori Aleksei Maganti. What did he...

  “I didn’t know you two were on a first-name basis,” he said instead, sitting back against the wall. He forced his body to relax, breathe, think. “So how does it help your ‘Grigori’ to have the prime minister of Naijan – his guest – murdered in his own capital city?”

  “He’ll get Amven,” she shrugged. “Fasih’s death will be a scandal, of course, but not a scandal that’ll involve either of us.”

  “Amven?” Abhijat let out a startled laugh. “He thinks having Fasih murdered will help him get his hands on the Amven drug? Whatever he’s been smoking, I want it.”

  She smirked, sauntering towards him, a syringe in one hand and a pistol in the other. “Oh, my sweet, naïve Abhijat. How I hate to shatter your rose-tinted glasses. For years now, Grigori has been trying to get the Naijani government to use the Amven drug on captured terrorists and criminals. To provide a precedent for the use of Amven for–” she chuckled, “National security.”

  Abhijat froze, gaping at Rinisa as she knelt beside him and dragged the muzzle of the pistol slowly over his face. She had to be lying, but...

  “Aww, you don’t believe me, do you?” she pouted. “Tell me, darling, did it never occur to you to wonder why the Amven project – one of the most ambitious scientific undertakings in the history of Naijan – was so heavily funded by Maralana? I’ll tell you why. It’s because nobody was more invested in the success of this project than Grigori.

  “But what good is a miracle drug that no one can use?” She sighed. “He tried everything. He paid off politicians, funded separatist groups, stirred unrest in Zanyar and Birhani territories...all so that – just once – the government of Naijan would be tempted to use Amven on its enemies. For the welfare of the country, of course.

  “He had his people everywhere; in the government, the bureaucracy, the Union Cabinet,” she smiled. “Daddy dearest would’ve told you all about that, I suppose. He even had moles amongst the scientists at the QRI. For years, we tried everything we could think of. And yet, we had less than nothing to show for it.

  “Fasih, that slippery bastard, guarded Amven like his first-born child. Wouldn’t hear of it being used until it’d been ‘perfected’, whatever that means.” She rolled her eyes. “And of course, he had your father wrapped around his little finger. It didn’t matter that he was losing support among his own ministers. No matter what anyone said, Rajat Shian wouldn’t lift a finger to oppose Fasih where Amven was concerned. Trusted him like his own son,” she chuckled. “Funny, that.”

  Abhijat blanched, bile rising to his throat. “The metro blasts,” he gasped. “God, you sick bastards. More than forty people died. They were dragging bodies out from under the rubble for days–”

  “Eggs. Omelets. Can’t make the latter without breaking a few of the former. You know how it is. You’re a soldier. Sacrifices,” she sprang to her feet, pocketing the syringe, while the pistol dangled loosely from between her fingers. “Need to be made.

  “And it wasn’t for nothing. Those people died for a cause. It worked, goddammit! The government’s approval ratings dropped like a sack of bricks. The public was furious, baying for blood. Everybody was terrified, everybody wanted revenge. Even your father had to agree to use Amven on the captured terrorists, he had no choice. He knew his government would collapse if he didn’t. We were this close–”

  “And then Fasih held that press conference and forced him to resign from office,” Abhijat murmured, his voice shaking.

  “Him and half the Union Cabinet,” she snarled, glaring at the man lying prone and unmoving beside Abhijat. “All those people we had paid and groomed over the years, to lobby for the use of Amven for national security purposes. All gone. All that careful work turned to dust in one fell swoop.” Suddenly, she grinned. “You can see why that would be upsetting.”

  “My condolences,” he intoned. “But what’re you getting out of this? How much money can possibly be worth the risk of murdering the sitting prime minister and the son of the former PM? If anything goes wrong–”

  “Your concern for my welfare is touching,” she chuckled, sitting cross-legged on a wooden box across the room. “But if I were you, I’d be more worried about my own hide than anyone else’s. After all, you’ll be the one taking the fall for our little regicide. Probably a good thing you’d be too dead to wallow in regret, by that point.”

  “Even you can’t pin a murder on a corpse, Rinisa,” he grunted, feigning nonchalance.

  He needed to know what she was planning, and why. And as long as she thought he wasn’t a threat, that he was living on borrowed time, she'd be happy to gloat in his face.

  He wasn’t sure why he was still alive, but he was, probably because Maganti needed something from him. And he couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste. Even if he didn’t get out of this alive, he had to try and save Fasih. And not just because of the guilt gnawing at his stomach.


  Naijan needed Jehan Fasih to stay alive.

  “Who says I can’t?” she asked. He turned to get a better look at her, his eyes tracking her every move. “You’d be surprised at what people are willing to believe, given a good story. And there’s nobody in Naijan or Maralana who doesn’t know the story of how Fasih betrayed your poor father. How hard do you think it would be to make people believe that Rajat Shian’s son wanted a bit of revenge? Hell, some of those people might even sympathize with you.”

  “And then what? Will Maganti orchestrate a heist at the QRI?” he sneered. “Steal the Amven formula from under Dileep Haval’s nose? Is that the big idea you nutcases are so excited about?”

  “Nothing as dramatic as that,” she laughed. “Really, Abhijat, you missed your true calling as a B-movie director of subpar action flicks. Once Naijan has successfully used the Amven drug on terrorists and sundry outlaws, it would create an international precedent. Other countries would rush to bolster their own defenses with Amven.

  “Besides, Grigori would be able to judge the efficacy of the drug on a large enough sample size and get his own scientists to make any tweaks and modifications he might deem necessary. Without Fasih there to maintain his stranglehold on Amven production, Maralana too would be able to cite international precedent to use the drug for national security.

  “Much easier than having your political opponents killed or imprisoned, really. That kind of thing raises eyebrows these days. But with Amven, all that would be completely unnecessary.

  “You just have your enemies arrested on trumped up corruption charges and held in detention for a couple of days, long enough for the drug to be administered and take effect. As soon as the international outcry begins, they’d be put on trial, found innocent of all charges, and released.” A beatific smile lit up her doll-like face. “And there you have it, a free and fair judiciary and no pesky human rights activists crying foul, demanding international interference.

  “A few state-sponsored medical appointments a month, just to make sure the drug doesn’t wear off too much, and you’ve got yourself the perfect democracy.”