A Distant Heart by Sonali Dev (5)

5

Rahul
Present day

 

The minister stood in the doorway of his office studying Rahul. When had Kirit turned into an old man? Rahul barely recognized him anymore, with his skin sallow and his still-thick hair almost all silver. This past year seemed to have wrung every remaining bit of youth from Kirit, sucking him dry when he finally had what he’d spent years fighting for—Kimi’s life.

“Do you know who Kimi’s donor was, sir?” Rahul asked.

Kirit swayed on his feet and sagged against the door frame. Rahul went to him, and taking his arm led him back to his chair.

“Do you want me to call a doctor? Where’s ma’am?”

“I’m fine. Rupa is on one of her pilgrimages, making sure we all stay in her beloved Krishna’s good graces.” Kirit pointed to a bottle on his desk and Rahul extracted one white pill from it and handed it to the minister.

Kirit placed the medication carefully under his tongue and leaned back. “Kimi was on a waiting list for heart recipients in Hong Kong and as soon as they brought in a brain-dead patient who was a match we flew her out. The donor wanted complete anonymity. That’s all there is to it.”

That had been two years ago. It had been the best and worst time. Kimi finding life and Jen losing her life. And Rahul hadn’t been able to help either one of them.

At least he had Jen’s killer in custody, even if he was hooked up to machines and no bloody use to anyone. All Rahul wanted to do right now was storm into the bastard’s hospital room and pull the plug. But that would leave too many questions unanswered. Who had protected Asif when he was killing all those people? Why had he come after Kimi? Her transplant surgery had taken place in Hong Kong. What possible interest did Asif have in it?

Kimi might have done the right thing in walking away from him, but that look in her eyes when she walked out that door meant Rahul could not rest until she had her answers.

“I’m going to lay down for a bit,” Kirit said, dismissing Rahul.

Rahul didn’t move. “Where did she go, sir?”

If Kirit was surprised that Rahul did not immediately comply with his wishes the way he usually did, he hid it well. “She made me promise not to tell you.”

Rahul’s heartbeat sped up. Over the past month Rahul’s team had dismantled most of Khan’s gang, but a part of it was still at large. Not keeping an eye on Kimi was not an option. “I won’t tell her you told me.”

“You know blood is thicker than water, right, son? She was serious this time. I think your involvement with the Jennifer Joshi case might have done your friendship with Kimi more damage than you know. I kept trying to tell you to back off, to not let your emotions get involved, but you didn’t listen.” With nothing more than that Kirit turned and left the room, dragging his feet in a way Rahul had never seen him do before.

Two people had walked out on him today, and it wasn’t even eight a.m. Not the most promising omen for his next task. Visiting Asif Khan and his doctors was always as much fun as having your fingernails plucked out. The doctors kept assuring Rahul that Asif was on the verge of waking up, that his body was healed and it was just a matter of his brain catching up. If they were right, Rahul had to figure out exactly where Kimi was headed.

He let himself out of The Mansion and took the marble steps that led down from the pillared porch. Bougainvillea spilled over the sandstone compound wall that was two heads taller than Rahul, who was only about an inch under six feet. The wrought-iron-trussed wooden gates were even higher so passersby could barely see any more than the sloping roof when they came around to look at it as part of the “Homes of Bollywood Stars” tour.

Tina, his Enfield Bullet and “other best friend,” as Kimi liked to call his motorbike, stood in wait. He took her off the stand and straddled her before noticing a folded piece of paper tucked into the seat. He picked it up and stared at his name scrawled across it. No one else wrote his name the way Kimi did. “Rahul” with the tail of the R too long and the back of the H too high, as though it were her signature, not his.

He unfolded the paper.

He knew that. It had been a long time coming. From that moment when he had told her he didn’t feel the same way she did or want the same things, he had known that he would have to let her go. Eventually.

If Asif had attacked her for a reason, then his men were still a threat to her. And if there was any chance she was in danger, he was going to make sure she stayed safe. She’d have to wait a little longer to leave him. That’s all there was to it. As soon as he kick-started his bike, his phone buzzed and he pulled it to his ear.

“Boss, are you close to Lilavati Hospital?” Maney, the best damn assistant in the world, said with enough desperation that Rahul knew what it was even before Maney finished.

“Did the bastard wake up?”

“Yes.”

Maney speaking in monosyllables was not a good thing. They didn’t call him Maney-Loose-Bowels for nothing. Generally, the man suffered verbal diarrhea and you had to cork him up.

Rahul popped in his Bluetooth earpiece and sped down the hill, automatically avoiding every pothole and putting all his focus on not hitting the crisscrossing pedestrians. Maney was breathing heavily on the phone. As though he had just run a mile. “Please tell me I’m going to find him at the hospital when I get there.”

Silence.

“Maney?”

“It happened too fast, boss. Two men held the children’s ward hostage. Khan walked out of there with another three men holding three doctors at gunpoint.”

“Fuck! The children?”

“No casualties in the children’s ward.”

That meant there were casualties elsewhere.

“They got Pandey and two constables. And one of the nurses got a bullet in her shoulder. But we got four of his men.”

“I want the entire department on this. Right now!”

“Every single chowki in the city is on alert, boss. Code Red. We have roadblocks everywhere. He’s not getting far. We’ll find him.”

“Where was he last sighted?”

“Koliwada. Abandoned Mahindra Jeep. I’m already here.”

“I’m almost there.”

Bloody fucking hell. Koliwada was a study in high-density housing. Shanty hutments and plastered brick-and-mortar buildings all piled on top of one another at the edge of the ocean. It was going to be damn near impossible to find the rat bastard. He could be camped out in any one of the half-million homes. No civilian in their right mind would hand a gangster with Asif Khan’s reputation over without the fear of losing every single member of their extended family.

His men had the immediate area surrounded. But Mumbai was a seamless mass of humanity with every neighborhood and suburb bleeding into the next. Within hours Asif could be anywhere in the city.

Kimi.

He dialed her number and got a message telling him her number had been switched off. Fantastic. He sent her a text message. But it went undelivered.

Next he dialed Nikhil’s number. Asif Khan had attacked Jen’s husband, Nikhil Joshi, and his girlfriend, Nikki, two months ago, and Rahul had pumped Asif full of bullets and put him in a coma. The bastard was like a bloody earthworm; you could chop off parts of him and he kept regenerating back to life.

Rahul hadn’t expected to become such good friends with Nic and Nikki, but it must be true what they say about surviving near-death experiences together—it did create an instant bond.

Neither of them was answering their phones. They were set to leave for America this week, which meant they were out and about doing whatever it is people did before they traveled. Which meant they were exposed targets. Rahul dispatched men to Nikki’s flat and left messages on both their phones that made him sound as panicked as he felt. So much for Stonewall Savant. He hated that stupid nickname of Kimi’s.

Rahul wasn’t in uniform but Maney and the rest of the team were. Rahul felt a flash of pride, spotting the Mumbai Police badges shining on epaulets as they combed the crowded lanes. Civilians scattered in panic as they passed. Windows and shopfront shutters slammed around him as the public sensed danger.

He found Maney at the mouth of a narrow lane, about to lead three sub-inspectors into the alley, gun drawn. Rahul caught his eye and nodded, pulled his own pistol from his holster, unlocked the safety, and turned Tina around and into the parallel lane. “I’ll meet you on the other side,” he said into the earpiece.

“We just spotted three targets,” Maney responded. “One black kurta, two white, over jeans.”

“No civilian casualties. Draw them into the open toward the beach.”

Rahul pulled into the unpaved lane, raising dust around him, and hopped off Tina, as three gunshots went off and the three hunted men ran across the lane. He ran toward the beach across the road where he knew they were headed, his gun drawn, shouting at the crowds to get out of the way. “Get down!” The caked earth pounded beneath his shoes. Something good had come out of the monsoon playing hide-and-seek with Mumbai: Dry earth was so much better for running.

The fuckers wove through the quickly thinning crowd, exchanging fire with Maney and his men, who led them straight into Rahul’s path. He had them. His sight shifted like clockwork between the three as Maney and the others boxed them in and kept them from scattering again.

They flew across the road and hit the beach, horns shrieking around them, screams rising from the crowd. The cold metal recoiled in Rahul’s hands. The familiar flash of warmth kissed his palm as the impact of the bullet leaving the muzzle shoved his arm muscles up as if he were pushing snug sleeves up his elbows.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Three shots.

He spun the pistol around his trigger finger and shoved it back in his holster. The bastards were out cold. All three of them. He sauntered over to the bodies sprawled across the dry sand. They hadn’t even made it to the wet part of the beach. No point hurrying; the bastards weren’t going anywhere good. Hopefully, they were already burning in the special hell there’d better be for fuckers who held children at gunpoint.

Avoiding the bloodstains that spread around the bodies in imperfect circles, he leaned over the first body and shoved two fingers at the pulse that didn’t even stutter. Just the way the cop had done to Baba when he lay bleeding on Rahul’s lap. He didn’t bother to push away the memory and withdrew the hand he found rubbing the spot on his thigh where the imprint of Baba’s head would never stop burning.

Every single time he put one of these bastards down, he relived that day when the constable had shoved a finger into Baba’s neck. The memory was inevitable. He’d given up fighting it years ago. He let it slash through his mind and pass. It was easier that way. Less messy than struggling with it, because it always won.

“Gone, boss?” Maney said, running up behind Rahul.

Rahul straightened without answering. Of course he was gone. If they cut him open, they’d find Rahul’s bullet exactly in the center of his heart.

“We got one more down that way.” Maney ran the finger check on the other two bodies. “Perfect shots, boss, as always.” He waved to his team, which was already cordoning off the scene. “Oy, boys, over here, come see, Savant-sir’s handiwork.”

Now that the danger seemed to have passed, a crowd was gathering again. The resilience of Mumbai’s citizens never ceased to amaze Rahul. It was almost as if they were so numb to danger and violence that they didn’t even internalize it before moving past it.

But the danger was alive and well. Asif wasn’t among the dead.

“I think we got all of them from the hospital, boss!” Maney said, but one look at Rahul’s scowl and his cockiness dissipated. “Except Asif, of course.”

Rahul turned away from the bodies and headed back to Tina.

Maney fell in step beside him. “He can’t keep running. We’ve dwindled his gang down to almost nothing. We’ll get him. It’s just a matter of time.”

Time. The starkest truth of life—either you didn’t have enough or then it went on and on. And bastards like Asif used every moment of their endless lives to make it purgatory for the rest of the sods who trudged along trying to get by. It was about damn time someone ended his time here.

Leaving Maney to deploy search teams, Rahul headed back up the hill to The Mansion. The sun was almost all the way up in the sky and blazing with that pre-monsoon intensity that parched every inch of the city and made it beg for the rains like a starving child.