Heroes R Us (19 page)

Arnab was deeply ashamed of what he had been reduced to, and wondered what he would tell Khan when he asked what he was doing. But it all seemed to be worth it when Aggarwal called; informing him that someone was on the way to Delhi with the money. Arnab called Arif and set up a meeting for later that night.

At midnight, carrying a suitcase filled with ten million Rupees, Arnab set out to meet Arif, and hopefully to unravel the mystery of the terror attack that he wanted to prevent.

***

ELEVEN

Arnab reached the designated meeting point, near an old mosque in Old Delhi. At this time of night, there were few people around, except a couple of urchins asleep on the pavement and the occasional drunk tottering back home. Arnab realized that he was more nervous than he had thought he'd be. Part of that came from being alone, since he had not told Khan anything. Not knowing what he was about to get into, he had not wanted to expose the old man to any unnecessary risk. It had seemed like the right decision at the time, but now, walking into a situation where he had no idea what to expect, he was not so sure any more. For all his powers, he realized he did not have the presence of mind of someone like Khan, and hoped that his trip would not bring with it too many unpleasant surprises.

As he saw Arif appear from an alley to his right, he realized that something was amiss immediately. Arif was not alone, but was accompanied by a short, squat man, who was draped in a shawl. It was by no stretch so cold as to require a shawl, and Arnab was immediately on his guard. When the two men were within a few feet, Arnab called out to them to stop. As he looked them over, he saw that Arif appeared even more haggard than when he had last met him, but his friend was looking at him with sharp, predatory eyes. If there was trouble, Arnab had already decided that he would take Arif's friend down first. Arif defused some of the tension by waving to Arnab and speaking.

'This is Ali, the friend I mentioned. He came from Srinagar when he heard about you.'

Arnab was not about to let his guard down, and addressed Ali directly.

'I have the money you wanted in this suitcase. When can you get me full information about what this operation is and when it is going to take place?'

Arif opened his mouth to say something, but Ali silenced him with a wave of his hand.

'We will give you some information that we have after we see the money. We can get more in a day or two', he said, pointing to the suitcase in Arnab's hand. Arnab was hardly a master negotiator, but dealing with the likes of Aggarwal and Balwant had taught him to be cautious.

'Not so fast, Ali. Tell me what you know, and take half the money. I'll give you the rest when you get me everything there is to know about this operation.'

Ali threw aside the shawl, revealing an AK-47. He did not raise it or point it at Arnab, but the point was made. Arnab held his ground, knowing that one man, even one with an automatic rifle, would not stand much of a chance if he chose to fight. Knowing that he was speaking from a position of strength gave him a bit more confidence.

'Ali, I could strike you down before you bring the gun up to firing position, so don't waste my time. Either you accept my offer, or go back under the rock you crawled out of.'

Arnab was surprised at the venom in his own voice, almost as if someone else were speaking for him. Perhaps he was just getting tired of being pushed around by scum like Balwant and Aggarwal. But there was no way he was going to do the bidding of a thug like Ali. His words seemed to have their desired effect, as Ali sullenly put the shawl back on and walked forward saying, 'Okay, it's a deal. We'll tell you what we know as of now.'

Ali was just a few feet away from Arnab when his head exploded in a mist of blood. Arnab recoiled away and dove towards the ground as shots rang out all around them. He could see Arif had also been shot, and lay a few feet away, bleeding profusely from his stomach. He looked around frantically at who the attackers were, and saw a jeep at the far end of the alley, backing into a side street, presumably turning around to come back and finish the job. He didn't know who they were, but guessed that Arif's erstwhile comrades had finally caught up with him and were repaying him for his betrayal. He realized he had only a few seconds to act. Ali was clearly dead, but Arif still seemed to be breathing. Arnab rushed to him, asking him frantically.

'Arif, tell me what you know. Now!'

The jeep had now turned towards them, its headlights shattering the darkness of the street. Arif was mumbling something incoherently, when Arnab shook him hard.

'We don't have time. Tell me what you know.'

Arif looked up at him with glassy eyes, and he said just one word, straining to say even that much.

'Twenty.'

Arnab asked him again, but Arif held up a hand, as if asking him to listen. He said the word again.

'Twenty.'

With that, Arif's head lolled to one side, and he fell silent. Arnab had no idea what he meant, but as the jeep bore down upon them, and three masked men leaned out, with AK-47s at the ready, he knew he had no more time to waste. He grabbed the suitcase and ran for home, leaving the scene of utter carnage behind, wondering just how horribly wrong things had turned out.

The next morning, Arnab called Jayantada to say that he wasn't feeling well and wouldn't be coming into work for a couple of days. Right after that, he rushed to Khan's place. When the old man saw Arnab's expression, he pulled him inside.

'What have you been up to? I've been seeing you back in action on TV and the papers, but you never told me anything.'

He stopped chastising Arnab when he saw just how frightened he looked and gently asked him to sit down and tell him what had happened. When Arnab finished telling Khan about the events of the previous night, the old man sat down next to him on the bed, letting out his breath in a long, audible sigh.

'We are a bit screwed, aren't we?'

'Khan chacha, I had my doubts about what Arif was saying, but after last night, I'm sure there is something major about to happen. And I cannot do anything about it since I have no idea where the attack will happen or what it involves.'

'One thing is clear though. If they do actually hope to cause five hundred thousand casualties, I presume they are not going to do so with AK-47s.'

Khan's words send a chill down Arnab's spine, as he recalled the scale of the atrocity that was supposedly being planned. He had never felt so impotent before. Here he was, able to knock down a dozen grown men or outrun a speeding car without breaking a sweat and all he could do was to sit and wait as terrorists unleashed their worst attack yet on India. Khan tried telling him that it was not his fault, but Arnab couldn't help wondering if he could have done something different. Should he have reached Arif sooner? Had he wasted too much time in haggling with Ali instead of asking them what they knew? Had he been a coward to have run from the jeep? The rational part of his mind told him that he probably had done the smart thing- standing his ground before three or four trained terrorists carrying AK-47s would have been suicide. He may well have dodged the fire from one or two, but he knew from painful experience that he was certainly not faster than a bullet. However, doubts continued to nag him, and he was in a foul mood all day. So much so that he didn't bother answering the many calls from Sharma on his phone.

When he did finally answer the phone, it was not Sharma, but Balwant himself at the other end. The Minister sounded really irritated as he waded into Arnab.

'I thought we had a deal. Ignoring my calls is not the best way to show that you plan to honour it.'

Arnab was about to retort in anger when he realized that, no matter how much he had failed in achieving his objectives, he had after all made a deal with Balwant. To back out now would mean that Balwant would no doubt find some new way of ensuring he was put out of action, which would make it impossible for him to do anything about the terrorist attack. He listened quietly to the Minister's tirade, and agreed to meet Sharma the next day for detailed instructions.

Sharma met him at an abandoned warehouse. He had come alone, and as soon as he met Arnab, he got straight to business.

'Tomorrow is the first day of polling in Delhi, and the Minister's own constituency is in South Delhi. Here is a list of the key polling booths around Delhi.'

He handed a sheet of paper to Arnab, who took it wordlessly as Sharma continued.

'During every election, unknown to most people, a little game is played out the night before polling. We want you to win that game for us.'

'Game?' Arnab asked incredulously.

Sharma sniggered as he responded.

'The great game of Indian democracy at work. The game to decide which political party can take control of the polling booth. Both sides send thugs and musclemen to capture key booths, and once they are successful, ballot papers are stamped inside. The next morning, voters queue up in the heat, thinking they are about to decide the fate of Indian politics, but that fate has often been sealed the previous night.'

Sharma laughed at his own words, though Arnab could find nothing funny in them. If anything, he was feeling even more angry and humiliated, at having been reduced to being little more than Balwant's hired muscle, and at not even having made any headway on stopping the terror attack, which would at least have made this seem like a fair price to pay. Sharma seemed to sense his dark mood, so he cut the conversation short, not wanting to stay alone with Arnab any longer than was necessary.

'Our men have been advised to all wear green headbands so you know who they are. Good luck.'

As Sharma left, Arnab looked at the sheet of paper in his hand and set out wordlessly for the nearest booth. He was still stewing with rage, and was in a way looking forward to taking it out on the thugs he encountered there.

***

When he reached the first polling booth on his list, Arnab found a half dozen men already there. They were not wearing green headbands, and presumably were not on Balwant's payroll. Three of them seemed to be keeping a watch while the others were busy trying to pry open the door of the booth with a crowbar. The stench of alcohol and a couple of empty whisky bottles explained why they never noticed Arnab until he was just a couple of feet away. Part of Arnab wanted to wade into them, but he remembered what Khan had told him about playing to his strengths. There was a solitary streetlamp nearby, and Arnab picked up a rock and shattered the bulb, plunging the area into darkness. The men swore as they tried to see what had happened, and Arnab took advantage of his night vision by going behind the largest of the men and tapping him on his shoulder.

The man whirled around, trying to swing the crowbar that he was holding in his hand. Arnab hit him so hard that he flew towards the door, shattering it as he fell inside the booth. His friends, shocked at the sudden attack, and floundering in the darkness, were too dazed to react, and Arnab did not give them a chance. Within thirty seconds, all six men were unconscious on the ground or moaning in pain. Satisfied that his job here was done, Arnab made for the next booth at top speed.

When he reached, he found the booth the scene of a tense stand-off between two groups of men. Five of them were wearing green headbands, and armed with hockey sticks and a country made pistol, they were facing off against seven men armed with iron rods and the occasional knife. The solitary gun meant that the second group wasn't readily pressing home its numerical superiority, but in a street fight like this, one gun would never be decisive, so the two groups were locked in a stalemate, threatening and abusing each other. When they saw Arnab, Balwant's men visibly relaxed, and their leader, a tall man carrying the gun, walked up to Arnab and nodded at him. Arnab ignored him, focusing on the seven men who now faced him. Unlike the group at the previous booth, they were sober, and when some of them recognized him, they began whispering among themselves. They were all strongly built, and had been recruited from gyms and wrestling schools in nearby towns and villages and brought in for the elections. While they had been paid handsomely in cash and liquor for their services, taking on someone known for superhuman strength and speed was not what they had bargained for, and something their compensation certainly was not enough to cover.

One or two of them began to waver and took a few steps back, but one of them was foolhardy enough to swing at Arnab with the rod he was carrying. As the other men watched on with morbid fascination, the man seemed to be lifted off the ground and thrown several feet away in less than a split second. That was enough for his friends to drop their bravado and make a hasty getaway. Arnab was about to leave when the leader of Balwant's men said something that stopped him in his tracks.

'Thanks. It's great to have you in our team.'

Arnab turned towards the man, blood pounding in his ears as he struggled to control his temper.

'I am NOT on your team.' He said, spitting out the words.

The man laughed and sniggered, not really knowing what he was about to unleash.

'Whatever. We're all being paid by the same master to do the same thing. In my book, that makes us part of the same team.'

Arnab looked at the man. He was unshaven, his once muscled frame long having degenerated due to an excess of alcohol and food into flab and his lips were stained by years of chewing tobacco. His dull eyes gave away that what he perhaps had in street-smarts at best struggled to compensate for lack of much by way of education or intelligence. Arnab stopped and stared, asking himself whether, with all the compromises he had made, he was truly becoming no better than this lout before him. No better than being yet another muscle for hire. He shook his head at the thought and said to nobody in particular.