The Benefit Season Page 22

  ‘Get lost!’ Monal retorted, moving back.

  ‘Why? Can’t we also join in? Are we any less men?’ Shamim began to move towards her. Arjun made to rise from the bed, but Shamim signaled him with his gun to stay down. ‘So you are the stud she has the hots for, eh?’ he said, addressing Arjun. Arjun kept quiet, watching with disbelief the entry of new characters into the strangely unfolding, incomprehensible tale before him. ‘Your husband is pining for you, and you are here, without a care in the world, making merry and keeping your bed cozy with strangers.’

  ‘It’s none of your filthy business. Stay out of it and get out’; Monal glowered.

  ‘Otherwise?’ the man said mockingly.

  ‘Otherwise I will take your monkey business into the lockup, where many people will be keen to make honeymoon with you’, Krishnamala said, entering the room now with her gun sweeping in its arc both the goons.

  Shamim and Rahim stared with disbelief at the tall, funnily clad robust woman pointing a gun at them while the cymbals on her dress knocked together and clanked. But her hand was steady and her eyes steely. ‘What the fuck! Who’s she? Your personal entertainer?’ Shamim drawled. Her husband had a belly dancer to himself while his wife seemed a patron of folk dancers. He didn’t understand these rich, uppity folks.

  ‘Throw down your weapons’, Krishnamala commanded, the cop tone coming out unmistakably now.

  While the goons were still making up their minds whether to laugh or cry or obey the ridiculous woman, in walked the other agent, cootchie cooing to the now deliriously happy baby, oblivious to the show playing out in the room. Rahim, who was still debating on the merits or perils of holding onto his gun, rushed and grabbed Agent 9 around the neck and jabbed his gun in the side of his head. Agent 9 stood transfixed to the spot, his mouth gaping and the eyes bobbing out of their sockets. ‘No’, he managed to croak through the chokehold, holding out the baby.

  ‘No’, screamed the mother, rushing towards her baby.

  ‘No’, shouted Rahim and Shamim, pointing their guns at her. ‘Put it down’, they said simultaneously.

  ‘I am a cop- don’t hurt the baby!’ she said, not letting go of her weapon and still pointing it at them.

  Rahim sneered and pointed the gun at the baby now. ‘Cop or no cop, there’ll be no baby for sure’.

  ‘Okay, I’m losing it’, Krishnamala said, slowly bending down and placing the gun on the floor. ‘ I am from the crime branch- don’t push your luck- I’m taking out my badge now… easy’. She rose slowly and took out her badge and waved it. ‘Let the baby go- it’s mine- don’t make it personal’.

  Shamim snatched her badge away and peered at it. ‘Hold on’. He stepped back and called up his boss, speaking to him in a whisper. Then he shut off the phone and dropped it into his pocket. He grinned at Krishnamala.’ Boss sends his regards and compliments. He asks me to tell you that he thinks very highly of you- he’s impressed with your work and says he would like to make better acquaintance some day. But right now, you can have the baby, while we bring these two lovebirds to our boss who is very keenly awaiting them’.

  ‘What do you want of them?’ Krishnamala asked.

  ‘We are not allowed to tell you. You can ask him yourself- when he chooses to grant you an audience’. Shamim nudged Monal and Arjun out of the room with his gun. Once they were out of the room, Rahim pushed Agent 9 towards Krishnamala’s gun lying on the floor. Rahim bent down and picked it up, pocketed it and walked backwards towards the door, still pointing his gun at them. ‘Don’t try anything silly and don’t try to follow us. Consider it as a favor owed for not hurting your baby here. Tada,’ he said and shut the door after him.

  Krishnamala rushed towards the baby and taking it from her husband, clutched it to her breast, showering kisses on its head and face with relief. Then the couple slumped down on the bed, drained with the anxiety over the danger the poor baby had just faced. There was silence for a while.

  ‘I asked you to keep the baby out of this. We’d nearly finished this case. I had things under absolute control. By now we would have been at the station filing the reports, and the mystery would have been solved.’

  Agent 9 hung his head and looked at his feet silently.

  She was about to rebuke him further but said no more as she saw he was feeling bad enough already. Then she remembered he’d come along because he was worried for her. She reached across the bed and hugged him and ruffled his tousled hair. There was nothing more to be done that night except to make a call to the Neemrana DSP to send out a lookout notice and put up roadblocks for the fleeing thugs. They would find out by morning surely where they had gone. And then there would be another day of chase- this time with backup since armed gangsters had now become involved- for what reason- she had no clue right now. But if it was what she feared most- the involvement of the betting mafia- then things could take uncertain and perhaps dangerous turns.

  Meanwhile, she wondered, whether she could take advantage of the romantic settings of the old, slumbering fort, and make love to her man, all night, and all day, till it was time to set out on the hunt once again.

  ϖ

  Chapter 13

  A Tiger by the Tail at Sariska

  Monal shivered uncontrollably as the thugs drove them in their Prados to somewhere in the middle of craggy mountains. They crossed a number of pickets where sleepy old men noted down their car number and waved them through. Arjun thought Monal was cold and covered her with his pullover, but she wouldn’t stop trembling. Finally, he wrapped his strong arms around her and she laid her head on his chest and began to relax and the tremors stopped jerking her body. She slept, though restive, she slept. Something had apparently frightened her- he wondered what it was. She was the kind who always remained in calm control of themselves and the situation. But here was something that had obviously shaken her badly.

  They kept climbing the narrow, winding road cutting through the overhanging branches of Dhok and Gum trees. The rolling hills, of red clay - that they could make out once the slanting rays of the sun peeped through the lifting fog, were sparsely covered with scrub forest and tangled thorn thickets- ideal habitat for wild animals. In the grey of the early morning they could spot Sambars, Spotted Deers, and an odd hyena even, foraging through the forest. Arjun guessed since they’d travelled roughly 120 kilometers- as per the car speedo- in a southerly direction, they would probably be wandering somewhere in the Sariska forest reserve. He’d travelled through these parts as a kid during a school excursion. He looked for tigers but being nocturnal creatures, there were none at this time. He hoped they hadn’t killed them all. Sariska had been the notorious hunting ground of poor, hapless tigers, whose legs could not carry them fast enough out of the reach of the gunpowder and lead of the Rajasthani royals and the British rulers who came here to boost their manhood by posing for pictures with their dead bodies.

  At the steep hilltop they came upon the imposing gates of a crumbling old fort, probably a timeworn hunting lodge now definitely out of use. Its looming ramparts clung desperately to the steep and slippery rock face. It seemed there was no escape from this place. Even if one managed to evade the guards and scale the massive stonewalls, one would fall to his death from the sheer drop on all sides. Behind the fort lay the vast expanse of the hostile forest teeming with wild animals that would tear you apart in no time. The only way out was through the gates and down the road in a safe vehicle. A small sign along the dry moat lining the walls read, “Kankwari Fort”. It seemed more like a haunted place, like the 17th century deserted city of Bhangarh that lay below at the foothills of the Aravali Ranges in the sleepy, barren countryside.

  The driver got out and shouted to two armed guards who appeared above the fort gates. After identification they said something to the guards below who were manning the gates. A massive, creaking bridge was lowered over the dry moat separating them from the fort gates. The gates creaked open, sending out a jarring noise that sent the birds screeching and fleein
g from the bushes, bringing the sleepy forest rudely awake. They drove through and came upon the pale, worn walls of the fort’s narrow, congested living quarters. The road was slippery with moss and ivy had climbed the corners of the double storied buildings, and crept around the rusty iron bars of its windows set deep inside the thick walls. It resembled a dilapidated prison lying in ruins. The cars were parked by the wayside and the captives were ordered to walk. They walked through another couple of high arches, to the sides of which precariously hung half shut heavy wooden gates with iron studs, till they came upon a vast expanse of rolling greens. The grounds were surprisingly well cared for, and were nothing like the grey, crumbling edifice that lay without. The structures outside were meant for the stables and staff apparently. Even a few horses grazed peacefully in the vast parks! In the midst of the sylvan greens lay a beautiful mansion that apparently had been the living quarters of the royals. The captives were rudely bundled into a large hall that had very high ceilings and lovely windowed alcoves, and told to wash up and get ready for breakfast in the grounds outside, where “Bhai”, or the Big Brother was going to meet them.

  Monal was strangely quiet and distracted. She had folded her legs and lain huddled in the massive, antique wing chair by the large windows that looked out onto the water channels and fountains lining the mansion. The washroom was well stocked and Arjun was glad to use it. A small fire had been lit up under the cranky old water tank providing piping hot water. Arjun gratefully bathed himself by filling the stainless steel bathtub with buckets of mixed hot and cold water. He relaxed in the tub and decided not to try and escape. He felt it was time to unravel the mystery that his life had become of late and try and make sense of what was happening. He needed answers and he decided to stick around till he got them. He, to the best of his waking knowledge had no truck with these mean guys, or they with him, but it definitely had something to do with Monal and Vishal, and coax her hard though he would, she would not say anything- she had clammed up. He knew he was some kind of pawn, and nothing more, in the game that was being played around him, and he was being kept totally in the dark, and it was this lack of knowledge, and his being utterly of no consequence to anybody now, was what was possibly going to keep him out of harm. Or so he thought. Anyway, he was going to hang around and watch. When he came out all scrubbed and shiny, Monal was still glued to her spot by the window. She seemed to have aged overnight. The glow had departed from her damask cheeks and the sparkle had run with the mascara. ‘What has happened to you’, he asked repeatedly.

  ‘It’s gone all wrong, all wrong. He promised me no one would find us. We were supposed to be on a flight to Seychelles. It wasn’t supposed to be like this’, was all she muttered under her breath, clenching and unclenching her fists, rocking back and forth like a mourner- with dry eyes and stony face.

  He finally managed to coax her out of her blanket to go and freshen up. He almost had to lift her in his arms and carry her to the washroom where he gently nudged her inside and shut the door on her. Then he walked out into the sun deck, where she joined him shortly.

  ϖ

  A sumptuous table, feast fit for kings had been laid out in the lawns. A water channel punctuated with fountains ran the entire length of the palace. The gardens were made in the image of geometric patterns found in nature. The landscaping was subtle, and it combined trees, flowers, waters and even birds and sounds in harmony for a soothing and charming effect. A raised marble lotus water tank in the center reflected the image of the imposing façade within its mirror like waters. Colorful flowerbeds separated by stone pathways lined the water channels. Tall Cyprus trees covered the pale fort walls, beyond which were the sheer cliffs on one side and dense forest on the rest. Liveried men stood around politely, and drew chairs for them as Monal and Arjun walked out into the garden.

  Arjun was ravenous and looked forward to the banquet. Monal turned from the food in disgust; the pleasing environs had failed to raise her spirits. Soon there were sounds of men approaching and the staff stiffened noticeably. The “Bhai”, Chotta Shameel, feared and revered equally from Dongri to Dubai, dressed in black, surrounded by his men and two lusty tigers, stepped out of the French windows in the far corner of the building and strode towards them. He needed no introductions and greeted his captives warmly, crushing them in bear hugs, as if he’d met long lost pals.

  He sat at the center of the long table- fit to seat 50 people. Arjun and Monal were seated at the head and end of the table, respectively. They had to shout to be heard. The two tigers lay down at the feet of the dreaded don, who raised a toast of water that set the waiting staff on a spree among the myriad dishes on display. Monal pecked at the boiled beans on her plate while the Don and Arjun proceeded to secure the nourishments on offer with the sworn vigor of the depleted and the deprived. They sat by the fleshpots and ate the bread to the full and drank the sweet water that had been drawn forth from the rocks.

  After the first round of manna had been partaken of and the fires of hunger and thirst that had spat at their innards been sated, the Don dabbed at his lips and moustache appreciatively with gold-hemmed linen napkins, cleared his throat and signaled that he was now ready for a tete-a-tete with the visitors. ‘I got this place on a 99-year lease from the original owners- the royals of Alwar. The tigers- probably the only ones left in Sariska- were complimentary’, he explained. ‘They are generally well fed, except when we have unwelcome visitors- then we want them in a foul mood. They’re man-eaters, yeah’, he suggested with a sneer. ‘So how do we rate you- welcome or unwelcome?’ he laughed raucously, his two cronies joining him in a cackle of mating calls.

  Arjun ignored him, believing he had no choice really in the matter, piling the bacon, the pancakes and cheesy omelets in a tall heap on his plate, while quaffing from a large mug of orange juice. Monal simply scowled at the Don- no reply was expected. The Don had already made up his mind, on whatever it was.

  After another round of sweeping the refreshments clean off the plates the Don looked up again for speech. This time he seemed less amiable and more business like. ‘Well, dear, I am told you have been looking after something that belongs to me’, he said, turning to Monal, while winking at Arjun.

  Monal blanched; ‘I don’t know what you mean sir’.

  ‘Really! Are my words not clear, am I not making sense? Do you need an interpreter?’ his men tittered behind him, waiting to burst into guffaws on cue from him.

  She remained tongue-tied.

  ‘Where’s my money, dear, that your husband claims you have run away with, with your love bird here, on your way to sun kissed shores somewhere in the Indian Ocean?’

  ‘What money’, Arjun asked; nonchalantly flipping the hash browns from his plate into his mouth. Sure that he had nothing to do with the gangster’s money, or anybody else’s either, he knew the skeletons were on their way out from the cupboards into broad daylight. ‘Who’s running away?’

  ‘I don’t have any money’, Monal said, set a tremble again.

  ‘Well, I have it on oath. From your husband’.

  ‘I know nothing about any money, or your money.’

  ‘Who knows then? You?’ he asked Arjun, with scorn. Arjun who was brandishing a ladle of maple syrup over the nut chocolate muffin shook his head without looking up, and sighed with contentment at having some real food after days in captivity, and after the spicy, oily and deep-fried Rajasthani food at Sariska. He was thoroughly enjoying his freedom, or whatever shape it manifested in at this moment.

  ‘See he doesn’t care. Come on tell us the truth. My tigers are not used to feminine flesh, but my men are’, he said, jerking a thumb at his men, who grabbed their crotches and leered down at her.

  ‘I swear I have no money’, she pleaded.

  ‘Okay, I call upon witness No 1, Vishal Nagrath’, he said dramatically and banged the table with his fist, shaking the plates and Monal who jerked up in her seat. She looked at him with horror and then looked at Arjun, who’d for the f
irst time in that morning, began to show an interest in the proceedings.

  ‘Which Vishal- her husband? Isn’t he dead’ Arjun asked in disbelief.

  ‘Now why would you say that?’ the don turned toward him.

  ‘Because I shot him. And he fell into a deep pit and there was a JCB that buried him under sand’.

  The don laughed heartily. ‘Then who is that monkey you just caught flying away to Seychelles with that Arab belly contortionist’, he turned to his men and asked.

  ‘Seychelles? With who?’ Monal said, trembling.

  ‘Haven’t you heard? Doesn’t the man tell you anything? Oh, I forgot, you were too busy romancing your lover boy here. Well, Chand Mohammed, that is ex-Vishal Nagrath, your husband, has converted, to take as his wife Ruby Al Maqtoum, daughter of Rashid Al Maqtoum, the grand sheik, who enjoys tremendous influence with the big Bhai at Dubai: our supreme commander and leader. Weren’t you even invited? Well, neither were we. And on top of it he was making away to Seychelles without letting his old friend here throw him a reception! But we wouldn’t hear of it, no sir. We told the sheik there was this small matter of our missing money that hadn’t been fully resolved- as to its exact whereabouts. Money that we trusted your husband to keep safely for us. Money that he now claims has flown with you. You who he claims have eloped with the stud here. So the sheik let us keep the man, in return for the freedom of his daughter. We arranged for a quick divorce right at the departure lounge- you should’ve seen that woman take off without even looking over her shoulder. And the conversion- all that pain came to naught! You know the sheik made him undergo circumcision without anesthesia, just to test his faith!’

  ‘Vishal married? That Moroccan? And he was flying to Seychelles? He was supposed to do that with me- he promised it would work out fine!’

  ‘What was to work out fine dear? What was the plan?’

  ‘Why don’t you ask him yourself? It was his bright idea!’ she said, flaring at the nostrils, aggression taking over fear, now that the beans were being spilled.