The Double Crosse, page 23
To calm his nerves, Walter poured the Minister a drink. He sipped at it in agitation, pausing to curse and scream at Jai. After a few minutes, he turned to Walter.
"Can this be stopped?"
Walter knew he wasn't asking about publishing the story in the press. As the owner (through subsidiary companies) of the printing house, he could kill the story right away. What the Minister wanted to know was how to permanently quiet the storm before it broke.
This was familiar territory for the P.A. As trouble-shooter for this firebrand politician over more than a decade, he had handled many similar problems. In fact, his very influence and power stemmed from his ability to deal with these sort of issues effectively.
"Yes, sir. Don't worry. I'll handle it."
"Good." He turned to Jai. "Now listen, you fool. You're the one who gave this little idiot the idea that he's a star investigator. Now, you go back and put the fear of the devil into his silly head. I don't want him getting the idea of taking this story to another publisher and working out a deal."
"Yes, sir. I'll take care of Benjy."
"And make sure you get your hands on all the proof he has. Don't let him make any copies. We don't want to deal with blackmailers later on."
Jai nodded his head.
"Now get out and leave me alone." He turned to Walter. "Send in Smitha."
Smitha was his receptionist. Rumor had it that she knew of more than one way to calm down her boss when he was agitated or excited. Walter hoped she would be able to work her charm on him this time. The Minister had a critical meeting with alliance partners in an hour.
<== XX == XX == XX ==>
Benjy was summoned to the conference room.
It was a closed hall, sound-proofed, where various staff members met to share presentations, or brainstorm ideas for feature articles and collaborative projects.
Jai addressed his star reporter. His tone was blunt, the words harsh.
"Benjy, we're not running your story."
"What? Why not? You scared of something?"
"Shut up! Benjy, stop playing games. This is the big time. There are folks playing for big stakes. And they'll stop at nothing. Wise men stay out of their way. Fools think they can dabble and get away. They get crushed."
"Bollocks! You don't scare me with that bullshit, Jai. I've been in dangerous situations before."
Jai's face turned into a cold, cruel mask. He handed Benjy an envelope.
"Benjy, this has something you have to study. Take your time. Think about it. Then, make your choice. Either way, it doesn't matter to me. It's your funeral. Literally."
Jai turned on his heel and walked out of the room.
Benjy sat in the suddenly quiet room, feeling all alone in the world. What had gotten into Jai? Why was he behaving so weirdly? He had always been friendly and supportive. What had changed?
He toyed with the envelope in his hand. Then, curious, he tore open the flap and pulled out the contents.
He couldn't believe what he was seeing! His temples pounded, and he felt like vomiting. A giant fist seemed to crush his chest, squeezing every last bit of air from his lungs. His mouth opened in a soundless scream.
The photographs was graphic, vivid and clear. In all of them, one man's face was always visible. It could be easily recognized.
The face was Benjy's.
Bastards! Uncouth, indecent scoundrels. How could any human being stoop so low?
Benjy pounded the armchair in impotent rage. He realized now why his brother had chosen to throw himself out of a window on his sixth floor office. It was futile to try and fight them. He couldn't win.
There was no use in destroying the pictures. They would simply print up more copies. Or create new ones that were every bit as fake. And then, backed by the strength of their publishing house, they could spread this false information and make it sound true.
Benjy knew when he was licked. Numb and feeling nothing, he picked up the envelope Jai had handed him, and walked out of the building. He didn't want to come back here to work. But he didn't have many choices.
He walked into a bar and proceeded to get thoroughly and wildly drunk.
Somewhere in the middle of his drinking binge, he thought about Sara. She had trusted him to expose her enemy. He had let her down. He had let his brother down. He had failed in his mission.
Lifting up the glass, he emptied the contents in one gulp. Then, he signalled to the bartender for a refill. There was little else Benjy could do.
Today...
The Gulfstream jet was making good time. They had good weather and a tail wind sped them along.
"We'll be landing in a few minutes at Majorca for refueling, Sir" announced their pilot.
Krish smiled wanly at Michael. His cousin didn't look too fresh either. Both of them were still suffering from the after-effects of all the stress and hectic activity of the past 24 hours.
"Should be nice to get out and stretch our legs for a while," said Krish.
"Yes. I've got a few calls to make, just to check everything is ok."
"Be sure you can't be traced" warned Krish.
"Don't worry, Krish. I'm super-secure" smiled Michael.
The airplane prepared to land in Spain, en route for Brazil.
They'd come a long way from the lonely hide-out they spent last night in.
Yesterday...
Krish Thomas was holed up in a little-known shack in the middle of nowhere. The car he rented to drive up was well concealed in the bushes, and couldn't be seen from the main road. Krish had bought this place to use as a secret meeting place, and no one but Michael even knew it belonged to DiabZyme's CEO.
Alone in the comfortably furnished one-room hideaway, Krish sat down to think about the events of that afternoon.
The attack in the car park had taken him by surprise.
Who could have ordered it? And why was the Minister involved? It simply didn't make any sense at all. He still had two weeks before the deadline to pay up the next installment. And for the Minister to kill his golden goose sounded simply insane.
Could he have made a mistake about the car? No. The logo and icon on the bonnet were unmistakable. It was the Minister's vehicle. But why did he want Krish dead?
The best way to find out was to ask Walter.
Krish activated the special feature on his cellphone that routed all calls through a proxy server, making it impossible to trace his location using GPS or other tracking methods.
He called the P.A.
"Walter, this is Krish Thomas."
"Yes, Krish. How are you?" He sounded like everything was normal. Obviously, Water was unaware of the attempted murder. Or else, he was a consummate actor.
Quickly Krish narrated the events of the evening. "I'm confused, Walter. Why does your Minister want me killed?"
Walter sounded shaken. The man wasn't pretending. He really didn't know about this attack, had definitely not authorized it.
"Krish," he said, hesitantly. "I'm not sure what's happening here. Let me talk to people and find out. I'll call you back."
"No, I'm hiding out. You can't reach me. I'll call you, just tell me when."
"Half an hour."
The line went dead.
<== XX == XX == XX ==>
The next thirty minutes were the longest in Krish's life. A thousand different possibilities floated through his mind, each wilder and more unreal than the other. All the while, he was alert to any unnatural noises or activity that might indicate that his hiding place was uncovered.
Exactly half an hour later, he called Walter's number.
"Listen carefully, Krish. I can't repeat this. Someone in your office leaked confidential information about our deal to a reporter. He filed a detailed story, naming my Minister in the affair. Of course, we had the story killed, and the reporter won't be making any more trouble."
"But why try to have me shot? It's not my fault a reporter got wind of this!"
"Apparently it is. The leak came from your office."
"My office?" Krish was astonished. "What do you mean?"
"The Minister had the leak investigated. It appears that your private secretary was the culprit."
"Sheila. No way. She's on her honeymoon now. Got married last week."
"The name I heard was Sara."
Krish reeled in shock. Sara? But how could Sara have access to any sensitive data? She doesn't have authorization.
"But..." His voice trailed off.
"Krish, we know. Don't ask how, but we found out."
He was still shocked at the information, but needed to find out more.
"Ok, but what did he hope to achieve by shooting me? Does he still want me killed?"
Walter was silent.
"Well?"
"He over-reacted, ok? He didn't ask anyone, just fired off the order. Now he's thought it over and realized that he acted in haste."
"So he doesn't want to kill me?"
Again, Walter remained quiet.
"Walter, you're hiding something from me. Go on. Tell me the worst."
"Krish, he said that he'd call off his hit men on two conditions. One, that you take care of the leak. Permanently. Second, that you pay him the rest of the money within a week."
Krish was stunned at the blatant demand. Anger coursed through his veins. Who did this guy think he was? God? But with a strong effort, he held himself in control. The man still wielded enough power to order his assassination. Krish needed some time to make plans for his own escape to safety.
"But Walter, I can't do anything unless the roadways project is confirmed. You know that."
"That project is guaranteed. But we can't make the announcement until the election plans are final. Don't worry too much about that now. Just think up other ways to raise the rest of the cash."
He hung up the phone abruptly, leaving Krish stunned, angry... and scared.
<== XX == XX == XX ==>
Krish slowly put down the phone, his mind a confused medley of conflicting thoughts and emotions.
He couldn't believe that anyone in his office could have leaked incriminating documents about the deal. He wasn't convinced that Walter's Minister had enough influence - or intelligence - to pin the responsibility on Sara. He didn't want to believe it was Sara anyway. Because he...
Because he still loved her!
The thought struck Krish with the force and suddenness of a punch in the solar plexus.
As hard as he had tried to mask that primal passion under a veneer of professional relationship, the emotion was still as intense as it had been on that summer day, long ago, when he had caught his first glimpse of the young woman walking back with her friends from the step well in Frank's village!
And now he had been ordered to kill her!
What was it about him that destroyed all the special people in his life? He had let Abdul die. He had been responsible for Frank's death. And now, Sara?
There was no other option. No second choice. Walter's words were clear, leaving no room for misunderstanding. If he wanted the highways project to go ahead, he must fix the source of the leak inside DiabZyme Corporation.
Permanently.
Krish thought back about the cost of his promise to Abdul. To keep that word of honor he had given to his little friend as a boy, he had built a business in his village; left his sick mother under Michael's care, to study in another town; travelled halfway around the world; built a huge business; negotiated high-risk deals.
And he had paid a terrible price.
His best friend from high school, an honest, principled gentleman who would not agree to join his illegal scheme, had taken his life rather than be part of the dream.
"The ends never justify the means, Krish" he had written in his last message. Krish read it only the day after he died. Frank had made the ultimate sacrifice, proved the principle true by giving up his life for it.
Yet without the highway project, all of this was in vain. Even Frank's loss. It made no sense if the project had to be abandoned in the end. And unless he followed Walter's instructions, there was no way to avoid that fate.
Krish sat slumped in the hard chair, his cheeks sunk into cupped palms. His face was tired and drawn, lines of stress showing in sharp relief to the granite hard cut of his handsome features.
The stress of the past few weeks, and the terror of his recent narrow escape from death, multiplied the impact of Walter's phone call, leaving Krish in a horrific, tangled dilemma.
He was unsure of how to move forwards, what to do next, which choices to make. For a fast, decisive, logical thinker like himself, this was unfamiliar terrain.
But the more Krish thought about his options, the clearer one thing became.
He could not harm Sara. No matter what.
He loved Sara.
And so, his creative, imaginative mind came up with a desperate alternative. To implement it, he too must make a huge sacrifice.
He must give up his creation, his achievement, his success story.
He must give up DiabZyme.
Because without his dream - his promise to Abdul - everything else meant little or nothing to him. He saw an alternative that might still salvage the highway project. But it would involve destroying the billion dollar corporation he built from scratch.
So be it.
Yes, the highway plan would have to be shelved. But maybe not forever.
Maybe not permanently.
Because nothing was permanent. Everything, life itself, was evanescent.
Loyalties and alliances shift. Situations change. Maybe, in the future, a time would come when the stars aligned to give his dream another chance.
But even if they didn't, he couldn't harm Sara. That much was clear.
So Krish drew up a daring alternative. A plan that could destroy everything that he had painstakingly built up over years. A plan that might leave him lost and drifting, a villain hated by millions.
But a plan that would save Sara's life.
He set events into motion, and they would shake the world of business and finance. But he didn't care. Only one thing mattered.
Sara must be alive.
Sara must be safe.
<== XX == XX == XX ==>
Krish called Michael.
"Where are you? I heard about what happened in the car park. I was terrified. I thought you had been kidnapped - or worse." Michael's anxious voice indicated the tension under which he had been laboring over the past few hours.
"No, I'm fine. Well, not fine, but alive. I had a very narrow escape."
"Where are you? Do you need any help?"
"Yes. I'm at the shack. You remember the one?"
"Of course. Do you want me to come there?"
"Yes. And bring some things with you."
He gave Michael a list.
<== XX == XX == XX ==>
An hour later, Michael sat across from Krish. He balanced a notepad on his knees, and was scribbling furiously.
The list of things he was to do kept growing longer. Krish's agile brain was working feverishly, and despite all his other concerns, Michael couldn't help but marvel at his cousin's genius.
"Tell me if you've got all the things I mentioned. Read out your list."
"Book tickets to Brazil. Send Sara there right now. She's to rent a villa, and wait for further instructions."
"Right. Then?"
"I meet the bankers, arrange for deposits of another $200 million from DiabZyme's account. Then, make cash withdrawals. Deposit those funds in Pravin's company."
Pravin was a close personal friend of Krish's, and a leading investment banker with his own financial consulting and investment agency. He was their wealth manager and advisor, too. Krish trusted him implicitly.
"I'll call Pravin right after you leave, and tell him to expect you."
Michael glanced at his list.
"Next, I take the papers from the bottom shelf of your private cabinet, and bring them along with me."
"Correct. Among those papers are the sales deeds of the real estate purchases. They are sure to go up in value when the highway project happens."
If it happens, Krish thought to himself.
