21 Shades of Night, page 341
"There are ways we have of getting the information out of you." She says without raising her voice.
Before I can say anything Panky replies, his voice low, angry, "You don't worry me. You can manipulate the kids in your army. But not me."
"Your friend has a wild imagination," she says, sounding amused.
"You'll never get away with this." His lip trembles. "As we speak, the police must be mobilizing their forces. I am sure help is on its way." His voice is filled with hatred, yet it's steady.
She gives him a strange look, as if noticing him properly for the first time. Then, walks up to him and bends down thrusting her face close to his. Panky shrinks back, yet his eyes meet hers.
"No one can save you or this city." She says in a low voice and I just about catch the words.
"Wha … What do you mean?" His voice quivers with anxiety.
"Do you remember 26/11, when South Bombay was attacked and the hotels were taken hostage?"
I find myself nodding.
A few years ago, terrorists had come in from the sea and held the city hostage over four long days. Yet the images of the buildings under siege, gunfire in the background—all of it is etched in my mind.
Straightening, she looks at me, "Well, this is much bigger. My people are everywhere in the system. Even as we talk, they are taking out the police and army control rooms, the fire brigade and all communication lines, including the Internet." She smiles, just a curve of her lips, "Soon the power grid too will collapse."
I don't believe her.
Does she hold that much power over the city? How long has she been planning this? Years, decades even? Enough to have her people, her kids implanted everywhere. And now when she gives the signal, they are ready to act, to bring down everything which defines civilization for us.
Panky looks scared enough to have wet his pants. Yet he persists. "But the police have radios, and I know some of them are sophisticated enough to have batteries which last for up to a year—"
She is quick to crush his hopes. "Not if the devices are not functional. I've taken down the communication towers and killed the operators. Then, it will be the two of you."
"You would kill your daughter?" he asks and I almost faint then. He knows she is my mother. How? How did he guess? When?
My eyes flick to Vikram. He's still frozen, watching us. He can't hear any of this conversation and I send up a prayer of thanks for that.
"If I have to," she says. "But I won't. Not when I've spent all these years making sure she's strong enough to face what's in store for her."
I have no idea what she's talking about. Besides, I know that she's never particularly cared if I am alive or dead either.
"I know what you are thinking. How can a woman treat her daughter so?" She looks at me as she says that.
And I do want to know. Why? Why? Why?
"Just because she is my daughter doesn't mean she'll be getting off lightly. She'll have to prove herself like everybody else. If she wants to be part of the new world, she'll simply have to pass the tests."
Is that what all this is? A test?
Is that why she kidnapped Panky?
My breath whooshes out.
Panky shuts his eyes, flinching at the violence in her voice. "You lie!" he says hotly. "You will not hurt her. I won't let you."
"And that's the least of my worries." She grins. I bet she thinks she has won the argument with Panky.
She straightens and flicks her hair over her shoulders, "Why am I even answering your questions?"
"You are going to kill me anyway. Humor me first?" His eyes shift to me for a second. He's trying to keep her speaking, buying himself time.
"Why not indeed?" She nods, and holds up two fingers of her right hand. "Two questions. It's still my choice whether I want to answer them. Agree?"
Panky nods. "Deal."
She's always liked to play games. Only this one involves Panky's life.
"Where does the 'doctor' come from?" Panky asks. "Are you a medically qualified professional?"
She stares, then laughs. "No one's ever asked me that before." Without giving him a chance to reply, she continues. "I have a doctorate in Portuguese history, specifically the impact of Catherine of Braganza on the history of Bombay."
A doctorate? Seriously? She was always obsessed with her Portuguese ancestor of course. But still, to spend years researching history, and doing it well enough to write a thesis on it?
"How interesting!" Panky cries.
"Yes, it was." Her face is almost kind. "So you see, I know the real value of the artifact in your bungalow."
"Artifact?" Panky's voice is puzzled.
What is she talking about? Something niggles the edge of my memory but can't quite place it.
"Yes, the key to making my plans come true—" She looks into the distance and goes quiet, contemplative.
The creep calls out to her, his voice soft, "Dr. B?"
Gathering herself, she says, "Last question. Ask wisely."
Without waiting for Panky, I jump in with, "Why do you want to raze this city?" My voice wobbles on the last word. I am scared, but I know this is perhaps my only chance to understand what she's up to.
"I have a vision for a new world." She says, "One populated by the young, who have been given a chance to overcome their fears."
"And where will this new world be?" I ask.
"Why, right here. Imagine a world without dirt, corruption or any vices. Without so many people. And this city restored to its original seven islands. Virginal beaches. White sands."
She stops, biting her lips as if realizing she's spoken too much. She raises the detonator, and I yell, "No, please don't hurt him."
"So nice to find real friendship. Perhaps I should spare him just for that," She tells me.
Dropping the arm holding the detonator, she turns to the creep.
"Go on, then, get out of here," She says.
The boy's face crumples. "But …" he protests.
"No buts." She says, "Here—I'll give you a helping hand."
I hear the unmistakable sound of an oncoming train and she pushes him straight in its path.
I hear myself scream.
Chapter 8
NO, I AM not sorry that the creep is dead. I just wish I'd been the one to kill him.
"He was a nasty piece of work, but what you did was evil." I force the words out.
"There's a lot out there far worse. At least I am trying to restore this city to its former glory. For too long have its citizens exploited it for their own selfish gains. With me, Bombay will rise again." She snaps, "Anyway, that is of no concern to you. You just do as you are told."
"Why can't you just do as you are told, little girl?" Her voice ignites the anger simmering inside.
A movement catches my eye. Vikram. He's got his gun trained on her. He takes a step forward, then another. He's within earshot when the radio hooked to his belt squawks. She jerks, turning around.
I take a step forward only to stop when she raises the detonator again.
Throat parched with fear, I run my tongue over my dry lips, pleading.
"Let him go." I say, "Take me instead. I will be of more use to you."
She looks at me; her jaw hardening, and I know then that she's going to kill him. And that's all it takes.
A sliver of pain shoots up my spine, burning its way through the noise in my head. I know what I have to do.
"Vikram."
When I have his attention, I plead with him silently to follow my lead. He looks from me to her and nods.
Then, in as tough a voice as I can muster, I tell her, "Go on, give the detonator to the cop. Me for Panky, that's a good exchange for you, isn't it!" I mean every word. I will give myself up to save my friend.
Vikram bends to place his gun on the ground before walking to us.
Reaching her, he holds out his hand and she drops the detonator into it.
I loose a breath.
He looks up, meeting my eyes properly for the first time since he arrived on the platform. He is afraid for me. Our eyes hold before he moves past me, walking towards Panky. He raises an eyebrow at me as if to say, Don't do anything stupid now. Ha! If only he knew.
"Hey, cop!" She calls out, "If you want to join me, just call. You are welcome anytime."
"Thanks, but no thanks." His voice is mild.
"Here!" She throws him the key to Panky's handcuffs.
Vikram switches off the detonator and unchains him. I heave a sigh of relief as he pulls Panky to his feet and leads him away.
Fear balled up in the pit of my stomach loosens.
"Your friend? He is the first." Face intent, she outlines her plan. "There are other bombs scattered around the city. When I give the signal, it will be like a string of fireworks!" She claps her hands, startling me. "A fresh start. A new world populated with the strongest, the smartest among us. And you," she looks from me to Vikram's retreating back. "Both of you are going to help me."
What she is saying ... It's so odd, yet so familiar. It even makes sense in a twisted kind of way. But she's wrong. This is all so wrong.
And then I know I just have to get away. I can't let her get to me, can't let her take me with her. I break into a run towards the exit, my breath coming out in quick spurts.
In front of me, restive crowds break through the police cordon and onto the platform and something slams into me from behind. Hard.
I look down.
A blot of red appears on my shirt and the world swims around me. Who shot me? She didn’t have a gun, did she?
Putting out a hand, I try to right myself and find I am grabbing at air.
A scuffle breaks out behind me.
I turn to see Vikram wrestling another man to the ground. He smashes his fist into the man's face, stilling him; only a second guy sneaks up behind him, catching him with a blow to the side. Vikram collapses. The man turns and drags Panky away.
I swear aloud. This can’t be happening.
Another shudder runs through my side. It hurts. So much. The pain vibrates out in concentric circles and nausea rolls over me.
Biting my lip, I keep moving, half stumbling till I reach the exit.
I am outside the station now and, around me, people jostle each other. A police siren grows louder in the distance as if coming towards us. An ambulance's urgent cry.
"Ruby," She walks towards me. "I was expecting you here, by the way." That pulls me up.
I look at her as she stops next to me.
Sweat drips down my brow, stinging my eyes.
It was she who texted me earlier? Was she also behind the creep pushing me off the platform?
Blackness pours through me and I clutch my side shivering with the effort to stay conscious.
A Mercedes draws up alongside us, and from the other side, two men appear, pulling Panky's limp body between them. I watch helpless, as they fling him into the back seat, getting in on either side of him.
"Just a guarantee, you know?" So saying, she slips into the car, riding shotgun. The window rolls down to reveal her face. "You have five days to come get him and when you do, make sure you bring the artifact."
She is loud enough that I can hear her over the commotion of the people milling around us.
All I can do is swear, as the pain from the wound surges again, sweat plastering my hair to my neck.
And then, she's driven off.
My knees buckle and I half sway, but am steadied by Vikram, who has made his way to me. Blood stains his shirt and I can't tell if it's his.
"I am going after them." I grimace.
He grips my arms, holding me upright.
"I am sure you are, but for now, you need to leave here. Immediately!" A look comes into his eyes. A touch of gentleness perhaps?
"What?" I blink in confusion.
"The cops are onto you. You do need to get away from here."
"In case you haven’t noticed—" The pain is knocking at my side, so each word comes out on a hiccough, "—right now I can barely move, let alone run away from here..." Then, his words sink in.
"What do you mean, about the cops? I haven't done anything wrong. Besides, you are a policeman, so can't you—"?
"Precisely. It's because I am with the police force that I can tell you how it looks. You flounced right in there and struck up a conversation with that woman as if you knew her all along. Now she's gone and you are here. Do you think they are going to simply let you go?"
Of course, he's right.
"Hey, don't blame me for—" I stare at the space behind him. What I see makes me forget the rest of the sentence.
Smoke pours out from behind the handsome Victorian building that is Bandra station.
Brick red tiles are ripped off the sloping roof of the building, as if like a zipper being undone. Is this really happening? It feels as if I am not here, that I am looking down on myself, watching as the sound waves from a resounding crash plough into Vikram. The force pushes him towards me.
A violent jolt runs through the ground, vibrating up through my bones, up from my feet; it's as if my head has been snapped clean off my neck.
At the last second, I move aside, pain forgotten, to avoid Vikram's falling body from crushing me. When I look up, it's to see one of the spires of the station crumple.
Chapter 9
THE DUST SWIRLS over me. It's in my mouth, in my nose, in my hair. I'm being buried alive. I scream and tear at it, and it clears abruptly to reveal a figure in white. She smiles and holds up her fingers.
All five fingers of her right palm.
I open my eyes.
Her maiden name was Braganza, so it's not unusual that she use it. But what artifact is she talking about?
And could she destroy the city? I refuse to believe that.
It's not a coincidence either. The five days that she said, I have to rescue Panky. The five days that the gentleman-beggar indicated were left till the end of the world. Something is building up all around me. I am being manipulated, and there's nothing I can do about it.
Trying to swallow, I find my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. A glass of water appears in my line of vision.
Then, my head is being held up so I can sip from the glass.
Gulping it down, some of the liquid splashes onto my face. I raise a hand to wipe it off; surprised to see my palm is shaking.
"You are going to live, then?" a low, rusty voice inquires and I stiffen. His sarcasm cuts through the fog in my head.
"Of course I'm going to live," I huff.
"You wouldn't have said that if it had been you in this chair the last three days." Vikram sounds on edge, his words strung together with a thread of fatigue.
"Three—?" I have no memory of being carried home or to the, bed, which is where I am now. Nice! The cop, it seems, loves coming to my rescue. In fact, he's making an annoying habit of it. Everywhere I turn, there he is.
Then, I remember. "Panky. They took him." The last image of what I had seen shoots through me, cutting through the haze of pain. Three days, I've been out for three days. That means only two days left to rescue Panky. I struggle to sit up and the world spins around me.
Vikram places his hand on my shoulder and pushes me back.
"Get your strength back first," he says.
I fall back against the sheets. Not because I am obeying him or because he is right, but because I do feel shaky.
"You were hurt too" I say, but when he motions with his hand I don't ask further. He's still standing, so I guess it wasn't anything serious.
"Thanks for taking care of me," I say finally.
"I had no option, you were half delirious and pleading not to be taken to a hospital."
I redden. I do hate hospitals. And I definitely don’t want to go there, not now with this strange lightning tree on my back which will invariably lead to other questions.
"All those people at the station, are they dead?" The words pour out in a rush. "I was there," I insist. "I could have done something, warned them."
Vikram runs his fingers through his hair. The strands curl around his fingers as if reluctant to let go. "I was there too." He turns. "There's nothing we could have done."
I want to believe him. Yet, something insists I take responsibility.
"You always thought too much, little girl."
I don't pay any attention to her voice.
"Panky?" I ask
"They drugged him before they took him,” he replies leaning forward. "It probably saved his life. If he had been left at the station, he'd be gone like the rest. Believe me, though, we're doing everything we can to find him."
Panky is still alive. I suppose I should be grateful for that. Still, the thought of the station collapsing, all those people wounded. Mothers, fathers, and children dead … a roaring fills my ears. No, I am not going to faint, not now. I bite down on my lips so a sharp twinge shudders through me.
"It wasn't just Bandra station that was blown up." He says.
"You mean—?"
"All the key stations on the Western Line—Churchgate, Andheri."
I am quite numb now. It's worse than I thought.
"The most crowded ones?"
He nods.
"How many people—"
"Thousands. You know how crowded those stations are at rush hour. And that's not all."
Before I can ask anything more, he switches on the TV set in the room. The newscaster's voice fills the room. It takes me a few seconds to understand why it sounds so different.
It's not the breathless, excited voice so characteristic to newsreaders on local TV channels. No, the man's voice is subdued, almost shell-shocked. Then, I see the images on screen and forget everything else.
The newscast washes over me, "... the thermal power station has also been bombed. The older part of the city"—South Bombay, where I grew up—"is already without electricity."
The camera zooms in on two men dragging the body of another towards a heap of already piled corpses. Next to them is a woman, wailing in front of a hut on fire. Half her arm is gone and she is bleeding from her forehead. People gathering up whatever belongings are strewn on the ground.
