Reprisal

by Mark David Abbott

  He took another sip of his drink and walked into the dressing room. Racks of designer dresses and expensive saris hung above stacks of shoe boxes. Stepping through, into the en suite, his eyes quickly scanned the vanity unit, looking for an extra toothbrush, razor, anything that would point to another man having stayed over—nothing. He drained his glass, the drink calming him, the anger ebbing away. He stared at himself in the mirror, not liking the man looking back. He looked tired, old... and unhappy. Putting the empty glass down on the counter, he leaned on the marble top with both hands.

  Was it all worth it? He had power, he had money, he could snap his fingers and get anything done, but his wife had left him, his son was dead, and now, he was flying off-the-handle in jealousy. He had men staying in his house, following him everywhere, expecting an attack around every corner. Maybe he was paranoid? All this stuff with John Hayes had set him on edge. Closing his eyes, he tried to remember happier times—when he first got married, the birth of his son—times when things were so much simpler.

  Was it worth driving Maadhavi away? He had no one else now. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was a reasonable explanation.

  He sighed, straightening up, and took his empty glass back to the bar. Refilling it, he put the bottle back just as he heard the door swing open.

  “Oh, so now you send your goons to fetch me?” Maadhavi stormed in and stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at him. Her eyes blazed, and her chest rose and fell visibly with her breath. The two men followed her and stood in the doorway, one with a stupid grin on his face, the other staring around the suite with undisguised awe.

  “Get out, both of you,” Surya snapped and waited as the men backed out the door. “Close it!” he growled.

  Maadhavi hadn’t moved, staring at him with murder in her eyes. She looked beautiful, like an angry goddess. Surya gestured toward the sofa.

  “Sit down.”

  “No.”

  “I said, sit down.”

  Maadhavi flinched at the force of his command and reluctantly moved and sat on the sofa, as far from him as she could. She crossed one leg over the other, smoothed the folds from her sari, crossed her arms, and stared out the window, across the city.

  Surya took a sip of his drink, then glass in hand, walked around the sofa, and stood, facing her, blocking her line of sight, his back to the view. She moved her head slightly, so she could continue to look past him.

  “Who did you have dinner with last night?”

  Maadhavi looked up and sneered. “So, you’re spying on me now.”

  Surya could feel his temper rising again. He took a breath. “Answer the question.”

  Maadhavi narrowed her eyes and stuck her chin out.

  “None of your business.”

  “It is my business. I’m paying for everything here.”

  “Oh, so that gives you the right to know everything I’m doing?”

  Surya closed his eyes and counted to three.

  “Answer the question. I know it wasn’t someone from the film industry.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He was a foreigner.”

  “So what? You don’t own me.”

  Surya’s grip tightened on his glass, and he looked at it before tossing half the contents back, gulping it down, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He’d had enough with being polite.

  “Actually, I do. Do you really think you will get any work in this town without me? Do you?” Surya stepped closer until she had to bend her head back to look at him. He raised a finger and pointed it at her. “I control this town. I control you, so I’ll ask you one more time. Who was that man?”

  Maadhavi stood, her face inches away from Surya, her shoulders rising up and down, her face red with anger.

  “None of your business, old man. Now, get out.”

  “Get out?” Surya couldn’t control himself anymore. This bitch was getting too big for her boots. “This suite is mine. I pay for it. I pay for everything. Even last night’s meal while you were whoring around with some foreign guy. I’ve had enough. You get out.”

  “I’ll make sure everyone knows about us. About how you raped me, how you’ve been cheating on your wife. Surya Patil, the strongman of Karnataka. Ha! You can’t even be a man without those little blue pills.”

  “You bitch.” He swung his right hand and slapped her across the face with an open palm, knocking her backward across the sofa. She raised her hand to her face and pulled her knees into her chest as he stepped closer, bending down over her.

  “Out of respect, I’m giving you two days to clear your stuff and get out of here. I don’t expect to see you again.” Straightening, he finished his drink, dropped the empty glass on the sofa next to her, then walked toward the door. Before leaving, he stopped and looked back. “And don’t go thinking you can talk to the press. I know where your parents live.”

  He opened the door quickly, one of his men almost falling in. Surya glared at him as he stepped back, a guilty look on his face. Surya stepped closer and looked straight into his eyes. He said nothing, just glared at him until the man broke eye contact and looked down at his feet.

  “Get the car ready. I’m leaving.”

  “Yes, Boss.”

  Surya strode over to the lift and stared at his reflection in the steel of the door.

  Now, he really was alone.

  68

  John pulled the bolt open and wrenched open the door, looking left and right in a panic, not knowing which way to go. He decided left. The security vehicles would come from his right. He sprinted down the street as he heard shouts from Surya’s house. They would be on him in seconds. He whipped his head left to right, looking for somewhere to hide. High walls surrounded all the houses, affording no way in. He was trapped. John increased his pace, again cursing his new footwear. He reached the end of the street, indecision hitting him once more. They would expect him to go right, but left was back toward Patil’s house.

  He went left just as a white SUV screeched around the corner into the street behind him. John ducked low, crossed the road, and ran. He could hear the vehicle getting closer, but again he had nowhere to go, high walls lining both sides of the street. The red flashing lights got brighter, and there was no way he could get away, so he threw himself to the footpath beside a car, rolled off the curb, then pulled himself under the vehicle, the rough road surface scratching his stomach and knees. Lying there, gasping for breath, he prayed he hadn’t been spotted as the vehicle skidded to a stop at the junction. He heard doors open and slam shut and shouted commands while the red lights flashed. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, and all he could see were the vehicle’s tires and the brown shoes of the armed police as they fanned out across the street. John counted four pairs of brown shoes and a pair of black boots, which he assumed belonged to the commando. John watched as two pairs of shoes headed away from him while two came closer. Holding his breath, he tried to make himself smaller, his heart pounding away as one pair stopped near his car. John closed his eyes. Was this where it was all going to end? Lying under a car in the street, never to see Adriana again?

  John pictured Adriana by the pool in Oman, her skin kissed by the sun, her hair piled high on her head, a bead of sweat trickling down her elegant neck. Even behind her Ray-Bans, he knew she was smiling at him.

  “Adriana,” he whispered.

  He tensed as he heard a foot scuff on the ground. Opening his eyes, he watched the shoes move away, further up the street. Hearing the engine rev, he turned his head to see the SUV roll forward as radios squawked and buzzed. Another shouted command and the two pairs of shoes closest to John turned and jogged back to the SUV. The vehicle rolled slowly away from John, the men spread out around it. John breathed out in relief as the flashing red light lessened in intensity.

  He seemed to have survived to fight another day.

  69

  “Rajiv, your phone.”

  Rajiv muttered under his breath and toweled his face d
ry. Hanging the towel on the rack, he ran his fingers through his hair, then stepped out of the bathroom. One of these days, he would just turn his phone off, pretend he had lost it. He had only been home ten minutes, and it was already ringing. Jogging down the stairs, ducking his head in the kitchen, he gave Aarthi a quick kiss on the cheek. She smiled and pointed to the phone, lying on the dining table.

  “It’s rung twice already.”

  Rajiv shook his head and sighed. “It must be the station, probably lost something or too scared to make a decision for themselves.”

  He picked up the phone and glanced at the call log—two missed calls from the commando captain.

  “Shit,” he muttered and pressed redial.

  “Ankit, sorry, I was tied up.”

  “We’ve had an intruder.”

  Despite the lights and the siren, it still took thirty minutes for Rajiv to reach Patil’s house, the roads so jammed, the vehicles couldn’t move out of his way. He used the time to make calls, mobilizing his men, arranging for them to question the neighbors. He didn’t expect them to turn up much, most people hidden away in their luxury cocoons, but he had to try.

  Rajiv alternately cursed and thumped the horn, forcing his way through the traffic. By the time he pulled up and double-parked outside Patil’s gate, he wasn’t in the best of moods. Jumping out, he tossed his keys to one of the armed police manning the gate.

  “See if you can get someone to park it.” He muttered almost to himself, “Can’t upset the neighbors.”

  Hearing raised voices, he pushed through the gate. Surya Patil was waving his arms around as he ranted and raved at the two commandos while his two hired thugs smirked in the corner.

  Rajiv cursed. His boss Muniappa had arrived before him and was glaring at Rajiv as he approached. Rajiv nodded a greeting as Surya Patil noticed him and turned to Muniappa.

  “This is your man?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Patil stepped forward and raised a finger, pointing it at Rajiv’s chest.

  “Why haven’t you caught him yet?” His lip curled in a snarl. “You are useless, all of you.”

  Rajiv glanced over his shoulder at Ankit, who rolled his eyes and gave his head an imperceptible shake.

  Patil stepped even closer until Rajiv could feel his breath on his face. The smell of whisky was strong.

  “I. Will. Have. You. Transferred.” He punctuated each word with a jab of his finger in Rajiv’s chest.

  Rajiv’s jaw tightened, and he ground his teeth together. It never paid to argue with these people. Better to let them vent.

  Patil turned and glared at Muniappa.

  “I’ll have you transferred too!”

  Muniappa’s eyes widened in panic as the attention switched to him, his eyes darting from Rajiv to Ankit and back again.

  “Sir, let’s not be too hasty.” He gestured toward Rajiv. “Detective Inspector Sampath is my best man. If anyone can catch this man, it will be him.”

  “Why haven’t you done it already? You’ve had plenty of time!”

  “S-S-Sir, these things take time, but we will catch him.”

  Patil stared at him, then turned slowly and fixed Rajiv with his beady eyes. Raising a finger again, he opened his mouth as if to say something, then changed his mind. He turned and walked toward the house, pushing Ankit out of the way, and went inside, slamming the door behind him.

  Rajiv exhaled as Muniappa approached him. He too poked Rajiv in the chest with his forefinger.

  “Make sure you get results fast, or I’ll bloody well have you sent back to the village. I’m not taking the blame for this.”

  Rajiv kept eye contact with his boss while he imagined grabbing the finger with his right hand and twisting it back until it snapped. Instead, he nodded.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Muniappa stared at him for a moment longer. “I want a report first thing in the morning.”

  “Sir.”

  “And I will request more security,”—he turned and pointed at the two commandos—“because you obviously can’t handle it.” With that, he turned and marched off to the gate.

  Rajiv watched him leave and realized his jaw was still clenched. Willing himself to relax, he turned to Ankit, and they shared a grim smile. They had both been here before.

  “I should have listened to my father,” Ankit joked. “Stayed on the farm.”

  Rajiv shook his head and sighed.

  “What happened?”

  “We escorted Mr. Patil to the Vijaya Palace Hotel. While we were out, someone got in through the back door. When our team returned, he assaulted one of the staff and escaped though the property at the back. We searched the streets for thirty minutes, but there’s no sign of him.”

  Rajiv exhaled sharply. “Did anyone see the man? Do we have a description?”

  “Venkatesh, Patil’s servant, said it was a foreigner.”

  “He’s sure?” Rajiv narrowed his eyes. “It wasn’t just a burglary gone wrong?”

  “I think it’s our man.” He gestured toward the house. “But ask him yourself. He’s in the kitchen. He’s pretty shook up.”

  “I will. Thanks, Ankit. What’s your plan now?”

  Ankit looked around the front garden.

  “We’re doubling patrols, increasing the men on watch each shift. The house behind is unoccupied. I’ll put a couple of men there, so he can’t get back in that way. There’s not much more we can do. We can’t leave the house unattended anymore, but I’ll work it out.” He nodded toward the upper floor.

  “I’m sure he’ll also put in a request for more manpower.” He jerked his head toward the two thugs, who were smoking. “He’ll probably get more of them.” Ankit shrugged. “But this guy can’t be too hard to track down. He’s a foreigner, he’ll stick out.”

  “Yeah, I hope you’re right.” Rajiv grimaced. “I’ve got my boys conducting door-to-door inquiries as we speak. He’ll pop up somewhere. If it was the foreigner, he won’t be able to hide. I’ll go in now and see if I can get a decent description.”

  Stepping past Ankit, he entered the house, crossed the lobby, and walked down the corridor into the kitchen. The servant sat on a stool, sipping chai while a lady, Rajiv assumed to be the cook, fussed over him. He jumped up when he saw Rajiv enter, almost spilling the chai.

  “It’s okay.” Rajiv waved toward the chair. “Please sit down.”

  The man nodded, sat back on the edge of the seat, and looked down at the floor, avoiding eye contact.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Venkatesh, Sir.”

  “Okay, Venkatesh, why don’t you tell me what happened.”

  Venkatesh stuttered. “S-S-Sir, I went out to open the front door. I heard the cars coming back. When I walked out, I saw a man by the stairs. He hit me and knocked me over.”

  The cook handed Rajiv a cup of chai, and he sipped on it gratefully. It was much better than the stuff at the station. He smiled at the cook, then looked back at Venkatesh.

  “Then what happened?”

  “Sir, he ran out the back door... but I didn’t see anything after that.”

  “Okay.” Rajiv took another sip. “Are you okay, are you hurt?”

  Venkatesh shook his head.

  “That’s good, Venkatesh. Now, I need you to concentrate and tell me what he looked like.”

  Venkatesh nodded eagerly. “He was huge, Sir, very strong.” He made a fist with his hand. “He had a fist as big as a cannonball, and teeth, sharp teeth like a demon.” The cook took a sharp intake of breath and covered her mouth. Venkatesh, enjoying the attention, continued, “He was pale, white like a ghost, and...”

  “Venkatesh,” Rajiv interrupted, his tone of voice putting a stop to Venkatesh’s tale. “What color was his hair?”

  “Ah... yellow, Sir. No, lightish like ah... corn... I think.”

  Rajiv nodded. “Good. And was he clean shaven?”

  “Yes, Sir.” Venkatesh nodded eagerly. “I mean, no.”

  Raj
iv took a deep breath and counted to five.

  “Venkatesh, drink your tea and think very carefully. I need to find out what he looked like.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Venkatesh took a sip of his tea and stared at the floor. After a moment, he looked up. “Sir, he had a beard.” He motioned to his own face. “Full beard, Sir.”

  “Good. And how tall was he?”

  “Very tall...”

  “Venkatesh.”

  “Ah, Sir.” Venkatesh glanced toward the cook. “Same as you, Sir.”

  Rajiv nodded, finished his tea, and handed the empty glass to the cook.

  “What was he wearing?”

  “Pants, Sir.”

  Rajiv closed his eyes and counted to five again.

  “Venkatesh, what color pants?”

  Venkatesh swallowed, “I-I don’t remember, Sir.” He hung his head.

  Rajiv moved closer and squatted down in front of him.

  “You have been very brave, Venkatesh. Thank you. Is there anything else you can remember? Anything I should know?”

  Venkatesh shook his head, still looking down at the floor.

  Rajiv patted him on the knee and stood.

  “If you think of anything, you tell the captain. Okay?”

  Venkatesh nodded.

  Rajiv stepped back and turned to the cook. “Thank you for the chai. It was very good.”

  The cook blushed as Rajiv turned and walked out the door. He didn’t have much to work on, but he could guess who it was.

  70