The Brightest Fell

by Nupur Chowdhury

  “What’s the matter?” he asked mildly, once he was close enough to be heard by the gathered individuals.

  “The president seems to be under the misconception that Afreen is a criminal,” Ruqaiya informed him, sounding annoyed. “He’s threatening to have her arrested.”

  “I can’t allow that, I’m afraid,” Ivanovna said decisively, her jaw set. “Afreen is my guest. And I can’t allow her to be mistreated in such a way while she’s visiting Maralana. Definitely not on the basis of unsubstantiated hearsay.”

  Jehan nodded, idly swirling the champagne in his glass. “I can’t allow it either, I’m afraid.” He smiled apologetically at Maganti, which seemed to infuriate the president even more. “Afreen is a Naijani citizen.

  “And as the prime minister, I can’t very well allow my citizens to be detained in foreign countries without due process…and a very solid reason. What’ll people say?” He turned to Afreen. “But what’ve you done to offend the president so much he wants to have you arrested?”

  “Nothing.” She looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. “I’d just asked President Maganti for a venue to organize an event in Manganic, on behalf of my organization. I’d planned to give a series of talks in the city, on the subject of trafficking.

  “As I was telling the president–” she stole a quick glance at Maganti, who looked like he was itching to wring her neck. “The people of Maralana should be made aware of the dangers of human trafficking, seeing as it’s emerged as such a pervasive problem in Naijan, a neighboring country.

  “In particular, I wanted to talk about what’d happened at the La Fantome club, and how new-age drugs are now being used by traffickers to lure children away from their homes. Mr. Sokolov has even agreed to fund the event.” She beamed at the older gentleman. “But the president seems opposed to the idea.”

  “That sounds like a fantastic idea!” Jehan beamed at Afreen, raising the champagne flute to his temple. “And I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding. There’s no way the president can be opposed to such a noble cause.”

  “Do you think I’m a fool? She’s an agent from Naijan!” Maganti thundered, pointing at Afreen. “Sent here to destabilize my government.”

  A few cameras flashed away at the peripheries of Jehan’s vision. He smiled.

  “That’s not true!” Afreen protested, scandalized. “Please, Mr. President. You’re welcome to run a thorough check on my background. I’ve worked internationally as a social worker for years now, to uplift the marginalized sections of society. I have an impeccable record. I’ve worked in more than twenty countries over the course of my career.”

  “She’s telling the truth.” A pale woman with dreadlocks came forward from the crowd that’d gathered around their little group. Jehan wondered which one of the northern city-states she was from. “Ms. Afreen and some of her colleagues had come to my ancestral village last year. From what I’ve heard from my relatives, they’ve done some excellent humanitarian work in the region.”

  Strong fingers closed in around his bicep. Between one breath and the next, Jehan was being pulled aside by Maganti.

  “I know exactly what you’re trying to do, you devious son of a bitch!” the older man hissed into his ear, his voice trembling with suppressed fury. “And let me tell you this. You will never succeed.”

  “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, Mr. President.” Jehan smiled pleasantly at Maganti, holding his drink carefully away from the older man. “I already have succeeded. Tell me, where’s Rinisa? When was the last time you saw her, anyway? I bet it’s been at least an hour, if not more.”

  Maganti’s eyes widened, his hold on Jehan slackening. He looked around frantically. A vein in his temple throbbed a steady rhythm, making him look slightly unhinged.

  “She’s gone.” Jehan stepped away, smiling. “And she’s just the first rat to leave a sinking ship. The others will follow soon enough.”

  Maganti sputtered. “You’re lying!”

  “Well, you could always try calling her, if you don’t believe me.” Jehan shrugged. “Might be a shock to the system, though. I’m guessing you’re not used to having your calls ignored.

  “Still, I wouldn’t hold it against her if I were you. At this point, she couldn’t have answered even if she wanted to.”

  Maganti glared balefully at him.

  Jehan suppressed a grimace. He never had managed to completely overcome his aversion to aggression.

  But it wouldn’t do to let Maganti think he had anything resembling the upper hand.

  Forcing his lips to curl into a mocking sneer, Jehan flicked imaginary lint off the president’s lapels. “She tried to steal your secret Amven stockpile from the Central Bank and leave the country…not two hours ago.”

  Maganti sucked in a sharp breath and Jehan felt something uncoil in his chest. He hadn’t known. Maganti was as surprised as Jehan had been, though he didn’t show it with anything more than the twitch of a brow.

  “Not that you need to worry about that,” Jehan continued, examining an exquisite flower arrangement on the wall behind Maganti. “All of that’s already been dealt with. Abhijat Shian has Rinisa in custody, as well as your stock of stolen Amven.”

  Maganti growled under his breath. Jehan laughed. “Let’s not kid ourselves, Mr. President. Stolen goods are stolen goods. Not that they’ll remain stolen for much longer, of course. Rinisa is a Naijani citizen and will be taken back to Qayit immediately, along with the drugs she was trying to flee with.

  “Soon, both your right-hand woman and your prize drugs will be in Qayit, out of your reach. And there isn’t a thing you can do about it.”

  “What’s he talking about, Grigori?” Ivanovna asked, stepping forward, a frowning Sokolov in tow. “What are these drugs that were stolen?”

  “He’s lying!” Maganti roared, advancing threateningly towards Jehan, forcing him to take a step back. “Don’t you dare–”

  “Tell me, Mr. President.” Jehan twirled the champagne glass between his fingers, staring contemplatively down at the golden liquid. “What would I find if I sent this drink over to the lab for a quick toxin test?

  “Could it be that I’d find – to my dismay – that this glass of champagne was laced with a drug that’d make me conveniently comatose? Or better yet, would give me a heart attack a couple of hours after I’ve left this lovely gala? Not that it’d be a particularly bad way to die, all things considered. But still, bit of a rude way to welcome your friends, wouldn’t you agree?”

  He glanced at Ruqaiya. “Could you get it to a lab for me? A cursory test shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours. Madam Ivanovna, if you will. It’s only fair that some Maralanese witnesses be present during the testing, to avoid allegations of sabotage or duplicity, if nothing else.”

  “If something is found in that glass,” Maganti interjected, an undercurrent of menace in his tone. “What’s to say you didn’t put it in there?”

  Balancing the champagne flute casually between two fingers, Jehan raised an eyebrow. “The simple fact that the woman who handed me this drink has been with you all evening, besides being a model for one of the clothing lines owned by your family.” He looked around innocently at the gathered attendees. “You can have the cameras checked, if you don’t want to take my word for it.”

  Maganti snarled, launching himself at Jehan.

  Seeing the attack coming, Jehan planted his feet, bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, and forced himself not to dodge or move out of the way.

  The optics would be worth a few broken bones, if it came to that.

  President Maganti attacking the unarmed leader of a neighboring country at his own gala… Just a month ago, Jehan would’ve given his right arm for this opportunity.

  And now–

  Maganti’s fist connected with his jaw, and Jehan offered no resistance, allowing himself to be thrown backwards into the wall. The champagne flute shattered against the concrete, spraying golden liquid everywhere.

 
; How dramatic. Jehan couldn’t have choreographed this better if he’d tried.

  By the time the stars dissipated from his vision, Sokolov and some guards were pulling Maganti off him, even as the president raged and ranted about international conspiracies and espionage.

  Jehan schooled his features into an expression of bewildered dismay, rubbing gently at his throbbing skull.

  He said nothing. He didn’t need to.

  His part was done. Anything more would be seen as unwelcome interference into the affairs of a foreign country.

  Besides, Maganti had made enough enemies within Maralana. They wouldn’t need Jehan’s help taking him down. Not anymore.

  He heard Ivanovna instruct the guards to escort the president home.

  “Make sure he doesn’t leave the house until we’ve decided how to proceed with this issue,” she said, turning away from her fuming stepson. “He’s clearly unwell.”

  “And unstable,” someone in the crowd muttered.

  Jehan shook his head sadly, looking away as the president was all but dragged out of his own gala, screaming and fulminating.

  Abhijat drove like a man possessed.

  He prayed he’d made the right decision in taking the shortcut to the airport. If Ivanovna’s spies had spotted Rinisa at the Central Bank, he figured it was already too late to try and intercept her there. She’d have left long before they got there.

  But to make a stop at the bank, Rinisa would’ve had to take the long way around to the airport. If they made good time, they could get there before her.

  The car screeched to a halt a few blocks away from the international terminal. Abhijat leapt out of the vehicle. He instructed the guards accompanying him to spread out around the premises and keep an eye on the entrance.

  “Contact me immediately if you see her.”

  His heart thundered as he strode towards the building. This was it. The last opportunity he’d ever have, to right some of the wrongs he had committed.

  If Rinisa got away tonight, she’d be out of his reach forever.

  After everything she’d done – to him, to his family, to Naijan and Fasih and to all those children they’d found drugged out of their minds at the La Fantome, she would get away with it all, never having to answer for any of her crimes.

  His blood boiled in his veins, just thinking about it.

  He found a large, well-lit display and stood under it, allowing the prismatic lights of the digital billboard to cast shadows on his face. It hid him from the eyes of the casual observer, without making it look like he was trying to hide.

  He slipped his phone out of his pocket and flicked open a video game, keeping an eye on the entryway without looking as though he were keeping watch.

  Soon, a cab pulled up in front of the terminal and a diminutive, slender woman stepped out.

  The lower half of her face was obscured by a scarf, tied at the back of her head in a style that was common during the summers, when women tried to protect themselves from the dust and heat by covering their faces.

  She carried a small leather briefcase, very much like the one Abhijat had seen at that nightmarish warehouse.

  Blood roaring in his ears, Abhijat snapped a few words into his communicator and broke into a run.

  Within seconds, he was facing Rinisa.

  Her eyes widened, the blood draining from her face. She turned around and ran – or at least tried to – even as three uniformed guards closed in on her from all directions.

  “By order of the prime minister,” Abhijat said, stepping into her space. “I can’t allow you to leave this country at the moment.”

  He reached for the briefcase she was holding. She jerked away, wild-eyed.

  He smirked. “You can give it to me. Or I can take it from you. Personally, I’d prefer the latter. I’ve been itching for an excuse to shoot you all day.”

  For a moment, Rinisa looked like she was about to cry.

  Then, her features smoothened out, all emotion draining from her face. She reached behind her to undo the knot of the scarf covering her face, and her lips quirked into an inviting smile.

  “You could do that,” she murmured, taking a small but deliberate step towards Abhijat, until their faces were inches apart. “Or, we could think of something more…interesting for us to do. Somewhere far away from this godforsaken city.”

  “Mmmm…” Abhijat closed his eyes, breathing in her sweet, floral perfume. He took her free hand gently between both of his own. “We could do that. Or,” With a flick of his wrist, he spun her around, twisting her arm behind her back until she hissed in pain.

  “Or I could arrest you for being in possession of regulated substances in a foreign country and drag you back home, where you’ll be charged with smuggling and treason, if you’re lucky. Trafficking and murder too, if I have anything to say about it–”

  “Abhijat, please,” she whimpered, struggling against his vice-like grip.

  “Please,” he repeated, relieving her of the briefcase. “Don’t make a scene. Unless, of course, you want to give your darling Grigiori a reason to have you murdered before we can get you out of his country.”

  She shivered.

  Escorting her over to the waiting car, Abhijat grinned. “All the same to me. Just so long as I get to put you on a pyre and light the goddamn match.”

  Chapter 17

  A black ball of fur leapt onto Rito’s shoulder from the top of a filing cabinet.

  Abhijat tensed, his hand going automatically to the gun at his belt. His sister just laughed and caught the meowing creature with both hands, burying her nose into its inky fur.

  Milli burst into the large drawing room where a small, private party was underway. She wore a simple yellow dress, her cheeks flushed and hair in disarray.

  “Oh, thank goodness,” she said, once her eyes landed on Rito and the cat. “You found her. Don’t let go. She has mischief in her eyes.” She scooped the cat out of Rito’s arms, smiling. “She intends to wreak havoc in here.”

  “Don’t annoy the cat, Milli.” Madam Ivanovna walked up behind her daughter, resting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s a party. Eri deserves to have her bit of fun as much as any of us.”

  “She would, if her idea of fun didn’t involve scratching our guests.”

  “Madam President,” Jehan said, stepping forward to take Ivanovna’s hand between both of his. “So kind of you to invite us to your home. I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done.”

  “Nothing you wouldn’t have done for me,” Ivanovna countered, her eyes twinkling.

  Along with Milli and Eri, she led them further into the house. Inside, a beaming Mr. Sokolov poured Fasih a drink. “To the man who felled a dragon,” he said, his voice booming.

  “More like an oversized bat,” Jehan murmured, taking a sip. “I heard many of his top party members have been indicted.”

  Sokolov laughed. “Corruption, treason, money-laundering, espionage – you name it, they’ve done it. Not like any of it was a secret, anyway. People just didn’t dare to say it. At least, not until now.”

  “Now, they’re shouting it from the rooftops.” Ivanovna sipped her own drink, taking a seat at the head of the table. “Marching on the streets, writing editorials, arguing on TV. The people are angry, and they’re not afraid to show it. Not anymore.”

  “So I’m guessing the election next month is just a formality.” Fasih took a seat next to Madam Ivanovna. President Ivanovna. It still tripped Abhijat up to think it, sometimes.

  “Pretty much,” Ruqaiya said. She emerged from the kitchen along with Afreen, a wine glass in one hand and a plate of pirozhki in the other. She looked slightly flushed. Abhijat wondered how many glasses she’d had before their arrival.

  Ruqaiya pulled out a chair on the other side of Ivanovna. “The deal was sealed when they made Ivanovna the interim president. Everyone knows she’s too popular to be voted out so soon, especially now that most prominent members of the ruling party are in prison. T
here’re essentially no challengers.”

  Mr. Sokolov nodded gravely. “No one with a tenth of her credibility, anyway.”

  “Maralana needs a fresh start,” Milli said, passing the refreshments around. “And now that Afreen’s agreed to move here, perhaps we can all start anew. Create a government that actually gives a shit about the people.”

  “She has?” Rito asked, massaging Eri behind the ears. Eyebrows raised, Fasih turned to Afreen.

  “Oh yes. Yes, that’s true.” Afreen blushed. “I’m so sorry, I haven’t had the opportunity to tell you. Mr. Sokolov is planning to donate some land to Pragati…you know, the nonprofit I work for.”

  “Yep. It’s prime land, too. Right at the center of Manganic.” Ruqaiya leaned back in her chair and eyed Mr. Sokolov approvingly.

  He laughed, embarrassed. “It’s the least I could do, after everything.”

  “And since you’ve all been so kind to my poor country,” said Ivanovna, smiling at Afreen. “When the time comes, I’ll sanction funds to help Pragati begin operations in Maralana. We can work together to mend some of the things Grigori had broken, during his time in office.”

  “Only so long as you don’t plan to strand poor Laihan all alone in Weritlan,” Rito told Afreen, her tone mock-serious.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Afreen said, grinning.

  Jehan rose, walking over to the music system and flipping the switch. “Party’s not a party without music.” Returning to the table, he clapped Rito on the back. “Get off your ass and dance.”

  “I’m not your pet monkey,” she quipped, before rising to her feet and extending a hand to Milli. Blushing, Milli took her hand and stepped forward. With her free hand, Rito pulled Afreen off her chair.

  Soon, the three of them were at the center of the drawing room, giggling and twirling in a bizarre three-way waltz.

  Something warm bloomed inside Abhijat’s chest. He closed his eyes, cherishing the moment, etching it into his memory.

  Ivanovna’s voice pulled him out of his reverie. She was holding out a bottle, waiting for him to extend his recently emptied glass.