BLOOD RED SARI (27 page)

She knew she should run. Or hobble away at a rapid pace. Make some attempt to escape. But she felt strangely compelled to watch. Just as her mind kept repeating that last glimpse of Philip, his throat exploding, his artery spouting blood like in a zombie horror film.
They’re coming to get you, Philip!
And she paused and watched.

The men coming after her seemed to have forgotten that they were in an animal habitat. Or they didn’t care. She had seen from personal experience that guns tended to do that to men. They tended to assume that a gun in any situation was like a magic kavach – invulnerable armour gifted by a Hindu deity. That all they had to do was hold the fucking phallic symbol and nothing bad could happen to them. From the way the torchlights moved and the glimpses and flashes of illumination, she saw that the hunters were breaking into a run, coming directly at her – and at the charging animals.

Because by then that’s what the animals were doing: charging straight at the invaders who had entered their habitat uninvited. They had built up a little momentum after bypassing Anita and their bulk was such that they really didn’t need to build up a lot of speed. The ratio of weight and size to each of the oncoming men was probably five to one or something like that, not to mention the fact that they were built like brick walls on legs. The impact was a no-contest.

She heard the sounds of hippo hide and bone thumping into human bodies. The unmistakable cracking of bones. The loud lowing of a hippo cow as she attacked the invaders that she probably felt were a threat to her calves. She glimpsed a great pink maw open and snare a man’s upper body, closing like a vice. The light turned away in a continuing arc but not before she caught a glimpse of blood and gristle exploding out of the man’s body as those gigantic teeth and jaws closed upon him. There were other sounds as the other men were either trampled or struck down or bitten or butted.

Two men managed to let off shots. But she had the impression that they went wild, probably up into the night sky. The helicopter hovering overhead seemed to grow aware that something was seriously wrong and shone its light downwards. But just then a third shot went off and Anita heard a distinct metallic
ping!
The chopper’s light wavered and veered away in a sharp arc, flying away from the habitat and out of sight.

In the instant the chopper’s light had been trained on the habitat, she had seen the hippos killing the men. It was a sight she would probably remember all her life.

She had a scattered recollection of the next few moments, either because of the drugs, or because she was so shocked by what she had just seen, shocked at her near escape as well as the almost-miraculous elimination of her pursuers. The next thing she knew, she was at the far wall of the habitat, struggling to get over.

A hand caught hold of her shoulder and pulled her over. She reacted instantly, trying to raise her crutch and strike out. But another hand caught the crutch and pushed it down. ‘You’re going to need that,’ said a male voice. It didn’t sound menacing or threatening and she realized the hand was helping rather than trying to hurt her. She accepted the help conditionally and let the unseen man in the darkness lower her to the pathway on the other side of the hippo habitat. There was a lot of shouting and screaming and yelling from behind. She glanced back.

‘They will send more men,’ said the man who had helped her over the wall. ‘They won’t stop until they catch or kill you. You have to keep moving.’

He started moving, still holding her arm on her good side. She stopped him.

‘Who are you?’ she said, trying to see his face in the light from the nearest lamp about ten yards farther down the path. The trees and foliage drank most of the light, but from the little illumination that got through, she could see that he looked youngish, fair-skinned, and blonde. He wore a dark coat and trousers with a dark-coloured tee shirt.

And a white collar band.

‘I’m Father Francis,’ he said. ‘I was a friend of Lalima’s. I’m here to help you.’

14.2

RAJENDRA POWAR’S HAND SHOT
out instinctively, pushing the Finnish woman’s shoulder away from Nachiketa. Perhaps he was rougher than he needed to be, but to be fair to the guy, he had seen people try to kill her twice already, and the gori memsaab, as he had named her, was being more than a little menacing. Klicky Koalmine or whatever her name was, wasn’t expecting the push. She reared back, lost her balance on her high heels, tottered for a moment, then fell back, landing on her ass with an audible thump.

Nachiketa winced. That must hurt. ‘Oops,’ she said, grinning. She wasn’t one to take pleasure at a pratfall but it had been a bitch of a day.

The Finnish woman glared up at her with such venom, Nachiketa lost her grin. ‘You stupid cow,’ the woman said, her accent overwhelming her Etonian English – or Helsinki English or wherever the hell she had learnt the language – making her sound as if she were gargling with marbles in her mouth. ‘Who do you think you are?’

The fall of the queen of Finland attracted the attention of everyone in the office. All the groupies in their dark jackets and indigo jeans turned and stared and looked shocked. Several came to help up their goddess, glaring at Rajendra Powar and Nachiketa as if wondering what monsters would do such a thing. Even the meeting in Shama and Tyron’s office seemed disrupted and the suits all looked around, trying to see what was happening, their view hampered by the partitions and groupies.

‘Chalo,’ Nachiketa said to Powar – god bless him – who understood at once and wheeled her to the office, right past Miss Finland International, who was getting to her feet aided by two able-bodied male groupies and a female one.

The office door was glass but it was shut.

Nachiketa’s hands were bandaged, which made them useless for knocking on doors; so she used her elbow, banging the door a little harder than intended. The glass rattled in the frame, making a row of perfect haircuts and well-groomed faces turn and gaze at her speculatively.

Shama’s head popped up from amidst the circle of management degrees, and after a moment, so did Tyron’s bearded face. Tyron vanished as quickly as he’d appeared, resuming his seat before Nachiketa could finish her wave and ‘hi, guys!’, but Shama remained standing, leaned over and said something to the top of Tyron’s head, then made her way through the suits and to the door.

‘Hi, Shams,’ Nachiketa said, ‘I’m really sorry to barge in on you like this but …’

‘Nachos,’ Shama said, glancing around at the outraged Finnish goddess and her equally outraged devotees. ‘What are you up to? Listen, it’s not a good time.’

Nachiketa gestured at the suits in the cabin, then at the office in general. ‘What’s going on? Did the Finnish Embassy take over the place?’

Shama frowned, as if puzzled by the reference. ‘I really can’t talk much, Nachiketa.’ She glanced at her friend’s bandages and then at Powar, her frown deepening. ‘It’s … unfortunate you’re going through such a hard time, Nachos. But I really can’t talk to you now.’

Nachiketa felt as if someone had physically assaulted her. ‘What? But we spoke just a while ago. I told you I was on my way here. You said you were closing an issue.’ She looked around. ‘It looks more like you’re moving out.’

Shama glanced around then gestured to Powar to bring the wheelchair to the far corner of the office. There was a small alcove there with a pantry and a door leading off to the toilet. It was empty now. She walked to the pantry platform near the microwave and tea machine and turned back, waiting for Powar to wheel Nachiketa up to her. ‘Nachos, we’re merging,’ she said briskly.

‘Merging?’ Nachiketa stared up at her. ‘What do you mean, merging?’

‘Don’t you know what merging means?’ Shama said with more than a trace of irritation. ‘Look, I really don’t have time to explain every concept to you.’

‘Okay, okay,’ Nachiketa said, trying to pacify her. She had never seen Shama like this before, except maybe the time when Shama’s father had had a heart attack and died in the middle of Daryaganj while driving his grandchildren – Shama’s and Tyron’s son and daughter – to school one morning. Shama had gone to pieces when she got the call and Nachiketa had happened to be around. That was back when Nachiketa’s legs still worked and she hadn’t even met Jignesh Shah yet, let alone married him. She had held Shama and comforted her when she cried, then had driven her to Daryaganj Police Station to pick up her car and her children. Shama had told her a few days later, after the cremation and the initial mourning period was over, ‘You were there for me, Nachos. I’ll never forget that. Sisters for life.’

Now she looked away grimly, hands folded over her ample bosom, as if she blamed Nachiketa for her father’s heart attack.

‘What’s really going on?’ Nachiketa asked, a seed of suspicion sprouting in her heart. ‘Did all this happen after I called? In the past one hour?’

Shama rolled her eyes. ‘Of course not. It’s been in the works for a long time. We just happened to say yes now.’

‘So it
did
happen in the past hour? The saying-yes part?’

Shama looked at her sharply. ‘Are you a director of
Pink
Publications? It’s none of your business, Nachiketa. Unless you’re asking in your capacity as a lawyer. Are you?’

Nachiketa knew something was very wrong now. Shama had never spoken to her this way, would never speak to her this way unless …

‘Shams,’ she said. ‘Tell me the truth. What have you heard about me since I spoke to you an hour ago? Who’s been filling your head with nonsense about me? Don’t deny it because I know you well enough to know someone has said something. Who was it? What did they say to make you behave like this towards me?’

Shama looked down at Nachiketa with a look so cold, Nachiketa felt she would rather die right there than have to see a friend as dear as Shama look at her that way, whatever the reason. ‘So you want me to believe that Shonali’s dead? Raped and killed in your office?’

Nachiketa spread her bandaged hands. ‘Yes, exactly, that’s what happened to her. I was there, I should know, but that was only the beginning …’

‘Then Addy was attacked too? By the same people?’

‘Well, yes, I guess. That’s what I’m trying to figure out.’

‘And you were awarded a huge payoff from your in-laws in your compensation case today, and they went berserk, threatening Shonali and attacking her in your office? And then they burnt your office down, trying to trap you and kill you inside?’

Nachiketa felt her mouth fall open. ‘My in-laws? Is that what you heard?’

‘And then, when you were in hospital being treated today, Advaita was with you and they came again and attacked you both, and a German tourist who tried to help was killed in the attack?’

‘Tourist?’ Nachiketa almost tried to get up from her chair, something she did very very rarely, and only when she was upset enough to forget, momentarily, that she was physically challenged. ‘He was no tourist. He was an assassin. He tried to kill me. Addy tried to protect me and he shot her. If it wasn’t for this guy,’ she pointed to Powar behind her, ‘saving me both times, I would have been dead too by now, too.’

Shama shook her head, looking disappointed. ‘Really, Nachos, I thought at least you had your head on your shoulders. Really, you need some help. These are really terrible things to go around saying about your friends. Think of Shonali’s family. What will they think when they hear you spouting these stories? And Addy.’

Nachiketa shook her head. ‘Look, I agree it sounds bizarre but it’s all true. Shonali really is dead and so is Addy. I wish they weren’t, but they are. That’s why I came here, to ask you for help.’

Shama sighed wearily, pushing a half-grey half-black bang off her forehead, tucking it into her hairline. ‘And what is the motivation behind all these shootouts and car chases and killings and murders and rapes?’

Nachiketa was ready to explode but controlled herself. ‘You’re blowing it all out of proportion.’

‘It’s already way out of proportion, Nachos. I know the judgment came against you; that you lost in court. Deal with it. Appeal. If you want support, we’re here for you. But don’t do this. Don’t throw away your career like this.’

Nachiketa was speechless. She didn’t know what to say. Then she remembered and held up the envelope that was lying in her lap. ‘Look, forget all this. Don’t believe me. But look at these documents. See for yourself.’

Shama nodded. ‘I know about that too. All of Delhi does. Our industry at least. Media persons.’

Nachiketa stared up at her. ‘Know what?’

‘That you’re on some kind of crazy vendetta, blaming the NGOs for not helping you during the time you were suffering abuse at your in-laws’. You have to be realistic, Nachos. You can’t blame the world for your problems. Okay, so you lost the case. Fine. Move on. Get on with your life. But don’t take it out on those collectives. Those organizations helped you after you escaped from that hellhole; they helped you put your life together, get your law degree, gave you cases, recommendations, helped you build your practice. How could you repay them this way?’

‘What way? What are you talking about?’