CHAPTER 8
Thirty minutes later, Neil sat under the bright lights at the table in the village fair and watched her bring the food from the stall.
Narmada was excited to finally be with other people and wouldn’t stop talking to everyone who made eye contact with her. She switched topics to talk about their time in college when she realized it was hard for him to talk about his past.
She set the tray of food in front of him and settled down to eat. “I am so glad we stopped here… Did I pick up the right order?”
“Yes, you did. Thank you. I offered to bring the food.” He smiled.
“Hey, you ordered the food, I picked it up.” She wasn’t into the habit of anyone treating her like a lady, she had enough of being treated like she couldn’t do anything by herself, all her life.
She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she took a few bites of the local food.
“This is so good.” She finally looked up from her plate.
Neil was not eating. He hadn’t even touched his food. He was looking up at something behind her, almost into the sky. She turned around to follow his gaze and realized he was staring at a Ferris wheel.
“Never seen a giant, wheel-shaped roller thing at a carnival?”
He looked at her and shook his head. “Every time I see a Ferris wheel or a giant wheel like that, it reminds me of something, but I just can’t place it.”
“You probably had a bad experience on it.” She laughed.
“No… I haven’t been on one before.”
She almost choked on her bite of food. “And I thought I had a traumatic childhood.”
“Seriously, what does that thing remind you of?” He looked at the slow-turning giant wheel that people rode for fun.
“Maybe a water mill, a giant water mill.”
“No.”
“A windmill, an airplane turbine… Oh… the London Eye?”
He scrunched his nose and shook his head.
“This one is like the mini London Eye, the tallest Ferris wheel in Europe.” She giggled.
“I don’t know… but it’s not London. I’ve never been outside India.”
“Where did you grow up?”
“From what I can remember, I grew up in the orphanage run by a church, then with the bastard who turned me into a killer, and later with the person who came close to being my father. I will stop the killing once I get to the last guy, and Raj has the information.” He clenched his jaw.
“How in the world does that idiot have information, and how does he know?”
“I will kill him with my bare hands if he is messing with me,” he growled and added, “I don’t believe him either, but I cannot take a chance. His only source is through the connections he has with the Mafia.”
“That moron has connections to the Mafia.”
“Don’t call him names so much, he plans to win your hand in marriage.”
She spewed the sip of water she had taken. “I will kill him before I marry him.”
“I like that.” He laughed.
“What?”
“You said you would kill him, not yourself,” he teased.
“I’m a Senani. Senani women kill before they die,” she said with pride.
“I believe you.”
“You better believe it. I have an entire research paper about my grandpa’s cousin, the only woman of their generations… she was a true warrior queen.”
“Is that your history research?”
“Yes, and potentially my book about the families in the region.” She beamed with pride.
“What region?”
“My grandpa’s province, a land with its own story.” She had a sense of pride in her voice.
“Interesting.”
“What’s your story, Neil?” A hush fell between them.
He shrugged. “Just like everyone else’s story.”
“No… you are different. Your eyes tell me you’ve seen it all… like nothing will faze you.” Her eyes bore into his for answers.
He smiled shaking his head. “The historian is turning into a psychologist.”
“What do you really do?” she asked softly.
“I kill, I kill for money.”
A shiver ran through her spine in reaction to the cold, hard truth.
“Why do you have to kill?” It was an innocent question.
He didn’t answer immediately, and she wondered if he was going to go silent on her again.
She slowly reached to place her hand on his. “You have nothing to lose by sharing.”
“Because one of those morons was the reason my life became shattered,” he growled.
“What happened?” She realized he had a lot of pent-up darkness, and over the years, it had turned him into a monster, a killer, and a hunter.
“I was eleven when I was sent to the local market to assassinate one of the goon’s enemies.” He gritted his teeth.
“Neil, who is this goon you keep mentioning? How did you end up with him?” She remembered he was in an orphanage.
“The goon raided the orphanage run by the church, beat up the pastors, and loaded all the kids there into a truck and transported them to the city.”
“How old were you?”
He shrugged. “Probably five or so.”
“How did you end up at the orphanage?” She grew up with a family around even if they weren’t the loving family she hoped for. The whole idea of a kid not being with parents or some family did not make sense to her.
“Just like how all orphans end up in one place. Someone finds an abandoned child and brings them to the orphanage.” He made it sound like an everyday thing, making her sick to her stomach.
“When were you brought to the orphanage? Do you remember anything before you were taken there?”
He shook his head, but his dream of the woman with the child walking to the fountain, surrounded by a lotus pond, kept flashing in front of his eyes. He didn’t know why he saw that particular scene play and why every time something happened to the woman who was part of his dream.
“Why did the goon take the children?” She couldn’t help herself, she needed to know everything.
“Part of his business.”
“What?”
“Every child was assessed to do something, either they sell cheap goods at every traffic light, or they beg all day and bring the money or… the girls were groomed to be sold to sick men overseas as sex slaves and…” His voice trailed off like he had a block in his throat.
“What did they make you do?” her voice shook.
“I didn’t fit either of their normal profiles because the day I was taken to the goon’s warehouse, I tried to escape, and when they caught me, I took one of the men’s gun and shot him in his thigh.”
She gasped covering her mouth with her hand. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. I pulled the trigger, and to this day, I don’t know how I did it. I knew what a gun looked like and as soon as I took it in my hands, it was like I knew what to do.” He ran his fingers through his hair.
“Oh my God… did you escape?”
“There was no escaping the warehouse. They caught me, beat me up, threw me into an empty underground water tank for a day to contain me.”
“Oh shit!”
“The water tank was nothing… anyway, that was a long time back, and it’s no use talking about it.” He brushed it away.
“I want to know, Neil, I want to know what made you, you.”
“Why does it matter now?”
“It may not change the past, but it can influence your present, and, in turn, define the future. Remember, I am a historian.” She smiled trying to lighten the conversation.
“Well, let’s just say I was trained to kill, I was the goon’s golden goose. He had me do demonstrations of my shooting skills, and for that, I got him to treat my friends better.”
“Your friends?”
“Yes, the other kids who were living in the warehouse with me.”
“How many years?”
“I lost count of years until I was captured by a police officer and rescued from the mess.” His voice held sadness.
“Who is this man and what happened to him?” She leaned closer to him, her voice a whisper.
“We need to go, Narmada,” he declared abruptly and stood up.
“What?”
“Too many people noticing you. Move.” He walked around to her side and grabbed her by her hand.
“Okay, okay… I’m coming.”
*****
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Mishra.” Abhay shook hands with the jailer of one of the most secure jails in India. Abhay had asked Dev to stay outside as he knew Dev would attack the goon the moment he saw him.
“I appreciate you coming here this late, Mr. Singham. We normally don’t allow civilians in this facility and couldn’t let anyone see you.” The jailer led him out of his office through a dark, stone-walled hallway.
Abhay had to put in a request to a central minister to get permission to talk to the goon who would know something about his little brother’s whereabouts. Dev and Abhay were hopeful they would find their brother in spite of everything they had heard about what could have happened to him. It took them a long time to find the person they were looking for—the person who kidnapped their brother from the orphanage.
“This man you are about to talk to is a beast. He is very tough to extract information from, no matter what we do,” the officer confessed.
Abhay didn’t care what the man was like. He had to stop himself from taking the man’s life when he saw him knowing the atrocities he had committed against small children, his brother being one of them. He could only imagine killing him with his bare hands.
“We cannot let you into the cell, Mr. Singham. It is not safe.”
For the goon, Abhay thought to himself.
Abhay followed the man in silence along the long hallway stopping at a dozen gates and finally down a flight of stairs. The lower level of the large facility had smaller cells with heavier bars on the gates. Abhay noticed most of the cells were empty, and there was an eerie silence that enveloped the area.
The jailer stopped at another set of double doors. “We moved him into isolation last week because he tried to escape for the seventeenth time.”
“I only have a few questions for him,” Abhay assured.
“I will wait here. He is in the second cell to your right. All other cells are empty.” The jailer sounded nervous.
“Thank you.” Abhay stepped into the dimly-lit area. He took a few steps toward the cell, anticipation building inside him. He dreaded the conversation, worried he might hear the worst news, but he refused to give up.
Abhay stood staring at the metal bars into the darkness of the cell.
“Who are you?” a gruff voice inquired.
“I am here to ask you a few questions.”
“Are you a lawyer?” the voice challenged.
“No”
“Are you here to get me out?”
“No.”
“Go away. I have nothing for you.”
Abhay expected this behavior, and he came prepared. “I can secure the future of your child if you answer my questions.”
There was complete silence, and Abhay knew why. To Abhay’s surprise, the goon laughed, and he could tell he was moving closer to the bars.
The dim light showed a big man with distinct blue eyes that had the look of a killer. He gripped the metal bars with his fingers and continued to laugh. “Who are you trying to fool?”
“I’m sorry to break the news to you that your wife survived the accident.”
“Not possible,” the goon yelled.
“I know you were the one who wanted her killed because she testified against you in spite of the fact that she was pregnant.” Abhay continued to anger him.
“That whore doesn’t deserve to live,” the goon snarled.
“You don’t get to decide that, and if you answer the questions I have for you, I will arrange for you to meet your son.”
“I don’t care, that child is not mine. That whore must have slept with someone else.”
Abhay opened the file he held in his hands and pulled out a small photograph of a child and a woman. “I don’t know about you, but I can tell this child is yours just by looking at him. I also have DNA reports if you don’t believe me.”
The man looked at him in silence as Abhay flipped the picture for him to see. Abhay watched as the man’s eyes narrowed. He saw anger first, and then something flickered in his crystal blue eyes.
Abhay saw the opportunity and grabbed it. “The resemblance is uncanny, the blue eyes and that cleft in the chin are pretty significant.”
The man had softened outwardly like he suddenly found a purpose in life as his eyes took in the image of his wife and child.
Abhay put away the picture and pulled out another one. A picture of his little brother, Rana, when he was four years old. One of the last pictures taken in London.
Abhay looked at the picture fondly. He remembered when the picture was taken. It was the first time Rana was going for a ride on the London Eye, and he looked super happy.
He turned the picture slowly for the man to see and looked keenly for a response. What he did not expect to see was a reaction.
“That bastard,” the goon yelled trying to grab the picture from Abhay’s hand. “I will kill him. I will kill him with my own hands.”
Happiness knew no bounds when Abhay heard the words from the goon’s mouth. It only meant Rana was still alive.
“I would like to find him, too. Where is he?” Abhay contained his excitement and asked him in a calm tone.
“Who are you?” The man seemed suspicious.
“One of the many people looking for him.” He took a shot in the dark.
The man looked at Abhay in silence, and after a long stare, he spoke with confidence. “You are a relative, aren’t you? Are you his brother… yes, you have to be his brother?”
When Abhay did not respond, the man laughed like he was enjoying every second of his life. “That bastard has a family… but he was my dog… my well-trained dog who had no loyalty…”
The man’s voice trailed off when he felt a hand circle his neck from between the metal bars.
“Where is my brother?” Abhay tightened his hold on the man’s neck.
The man fought tooth and nail to free Abhay’s grip, but it was no match to his strength that was powered by rage. Abhay pulled his hand closer to him while holding onto the man’s neck smashing his face into the metal bars. The man let out a loud cry, but nothing was going to stop Abhay from making the goon speak.
“Tell me where my brother is,” Abhay demanded, his teeth clenched as he kept the man’s bleeding face pinned to the metal bars.
“Mr. Singham, please stop.” The jailer came running in with two guards running behind him. It took all three men to pull Abhay away from the man, and it wasn’t because they had the strength, but because of their pleas to let the goon go.
“Open up the cell, Mr. Mishra. I will save the government all the money they will spend to feed a pig like him.”
The goon laughed, wiping the blood off his face. “This is the safest place for me as long as I want to stay. When I get out, your dear brother will be my first target.”
“Mr. Mishra, I just need five minutes.”
“Sir, please. It is against the rules to let you in here. I cannot open the cell.”
Abhay gave the goon one last look and started to walk away.
“Mr. Singham, I will let you know when I kill him,” the goon called out making Abhay stop short in his tracks.
“I don’t care about that whore and that whore’s son. My goal is to find that little bastard dog that got me into this situation.”
Abhay slowly turned to look at him. “What did you say?”
The goon stepped away from the metal gate of his cell. “I will kill the little bastard dog and then let you know where he is.”
“Mr. Mishra, how long has this pig been in jail?” Abhay demanded without averting his eyes from the good.
“It’s been ten years in this jail, and he was in a district jail for two years before that, sir,” the man informed shakily.
Abhay’s lips curved up with pride as he took a step closer to the goon. “He is not a dog, you bastard… he is a Singham!” Abhay’s voice resonated as he continued. “He is a Singham who put you in jail when he was a boy… do you think you stand a chance with a Singham man?”
Abhay left the area, pride coursing through his veins. He was right about being hopeful.
“Mr. Mishra, I need every detail I can get on his case, and I want to talk to the police officer who arrested this pig,” Abhay ordered.
Abhay stepped into the waiting area where Dev was pacing talking on the phone. “Increase the security. Do not let anyone into the mansion.” He turned to find Abhay standing behind him. “I have to go. Keep them safe.”
“What’s happening, Dev?” Abhay knew something was wrong.
“The Senani men attempted an attack today… Anika and Sabitha were on their way to the hospital…” he growled.
“We expected this, they were mourning all along and now… just up the security. They probably know we are away.”
“Yes. What did the goon tell you?” Dev was eager.
“Dev, our little brother is out there and is thriving, we just need to find him,” Abhay declared, a small smile of hope playing on his lips.