No Safe Zone Page 4

  Feeling a bit more grounded, she hastily pulled on a bathrobe. She needed to call Rishi Mathur. He was the Girls Rock! go-to guy in Delhi for everything big or small. Trying to contact the elusive Ranveer Khanna at the Army Polo Club had been his idea but it wasn’t his fault for the way things had turned out. Perhaps he could arrange for her travel to Jyotinagar, the village on the outskirts of Jodhpur where Reshma lived.

  She speed-dialed Rishi and was glad to hear him pick up the phone at the first ring.

  ‘Hey, are you OK? I was worried about you.’

  ‘So you know about Khanna’s death, I guess.’ She baulked at saying ‘murder’.

  ‘It’s all over the news,’ Rishi said. ‘The taxi driver said he waited for you for hours but you didn’t show up.’

  ‘I got out before things went all crazy. When I came out, I lost my bearings.’

  ‘Oh well, at least you’re OK. How did you get back to the guest house?’

  ‘I met, uh, an acquaintance and he dropped me here. Rishi, I wish to leave for Jyotinagar soon.’

  A knock at the door interrupted her conversation. ‘Just a moment.’

  ‘Who’s there?’ she called out, as she held the phone away.

  ‘Kabir,’ came the terse reply.

  ‘Rishi, I will call you right back.’

  She disconnected and opened the door an inch. The sight of him, with his hand braced against the wall, a camera bag slung on his shoulder, made her throat dry up.

  Running her tongue over her lips, she tried to sound casual, ‘What’s up?’

  ‘We need to talk.’

  ‘I have some calls to make. So, if you could please wait in…’

  ‘Qiara,’ he interrupted her, ‘we need to talk right now. Unless you’d prefer to go to the nearest police station for an interrogation.’

  She looked at him as if he’d suggested she take on a horde of gun-toting killers with her bare hands.

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ he snapped testily, ‘Can’t we sit down and talk without clawing each other’s eyes out?’

  She inhaled deeply and opened the door to let him in. The whiff of his citrusy aftershave had her nerve endings tingling deliciously.

  The moment the door shut, the tension closed in on her. The pocket-size room with its queen-size bed dominating the space didn’t help either. Every cell of her body thrummed with awareness as he towered over her. She took in a deep breath, trying to relax the muscles that were bunching up at her shoulders.

  In one stride he reached the desk, took out the sole chair and ordered, ‘Sit down.’

  She pulled together the edges of her bathrobe and tightened the cloth sash around her waist.

  ‘Thanks, I’d prefer to stand…This is not going to take long, right?’

  ‘Your wish.’

  He flopped down on the bed. The soft spring of the bed sighed under his weight. Even sitting down, his eyes were level with hers and she kept her gaze on his face, trying not to be distracted by the toned and tanned chest that revealed itself between the torn ends of his shirt.

  He looked totally at ease. She, on the other hand, felt under-dressed. Her hair, still wet and curling all around her face, and her bare feet were doing little to boost her totally-in-tatters confidence.

  ‘What was your meeting with Ranveer Khanna all about?’

  Taken aback she asked, ‘How do you know I was meeting Khanna at the Club?’

  ‘His murder is currently top news on all channels. And I’m guessing there couldn’t have been two murders in the same place,’ he said sarcastically.

  She let that sink in for a moment, distracting her from her insane reactions to his presence.

  ‘Right. So, why exactly are you asking me all these questions?’

  ‘I might be the only one who can get you out of a very bad, very dangerous situation.’

  Her heart thumped hard against her ribs and she pulled her gaze away from his.

  ‘If you’re trying to scare me, you’re doing a damn good job!’

  He grabbed at her hand and her eyes swung towards him. ‘Tell me, dammit.’

  She pulled away, her skin burning up at his touch.

  ‘I work in the area of child rights. Khanna is – was – a major donor for such causes and I’d gone to interview him.’

  He leaned towards her forcing her to look at him.

  ‘And what happened?’

  She glanced at him wondering what he was leading up to. Blurting everything out about the NCA, Reshma’s disappearance and why she’d met Ranveer would be stupid – not until she knew more about his intentions. Her gaze locked somewhere near his chest.

  ‘My exposed abs bothering you? Should I cover up?’

  The smile accompanying his question was pure Kabir. The Kabir she’d once known. A pang of something twanged inside her.

  ‘Since when have you gotten so vain?’ she countered.

  He shrugged casually. ‘I’ll give you a list of my conquests after you answer my questions.’

  She clenched her hands into fists, trying not to rise to his bait, and sat down in the chair.

  ‘Oh well,’ he sighed dramatically, ‘Since my state of undress is bothering you so much, perhaps you could mend my shirt for me, while we talk?’

  He moved to shrug himself out of his shirt, took one look at her incredulous expression and guffawed.

  ‘Just kidding. Since when have you become such a sourpuss?’

  His eyes crinkled around the edges making her look away hastily.

  Jeez! She got up and charged towards the suitcase that was lying open on a low stool near the bed.

  His tone softened, ‘Qiara, what’s wrong?’

  ‘Everything,’ she said with feeling.

  She continued to rummage through her suitcase and finally found what she was looking for – safety pins – and put them on the bed next to him.

  ‘Here, these should take care of your shirt.’

  He struggled with the pins.

  ‘Unless you talk to me, I won’t be able to help you. What happened when you met Khanna?’

  She may as well give him some details if she wanted to get him out of her room quickly.

  ‘I’d planned to interview him about some of his donor projects, but we didn’t get round to it.’

  She watched him attempt to pin up his shirt and her frustration grew with every passing moment until she couldn’t take it any more.

  ‘For God’s sake!’

  She grabbed the pins and went about getting the job done.

  ‘Who is your employer?’

  They both asked the question at the same time.

  Kabir gave her a lop-sided smile and said, ‘Ladies first.’

  So, he did remember! His breath touched her face and her hand shook for a fraction of a second as he repeated the old line they had so often laughed about in the past – he would duck her incessant questions with a ‘ladies first.’ Till she had been thoroughly fed up and turned the joke on him, annoying the hell out of him. Her fingers slipped at the old memory and the pin pricked his warm skin.

  ‘Ouch.’

  ‘Sit still,’ she ordered, hiding the smile that tugged at her lips. ‘I work for an organisation called Girls Rock!’

  He went very still as she finished pinning up the shirt and she deliberately gave him another tiny pin prick.

  ‘Hey, quit doing that!’

  ‘What, our macho hero can’t take a little pin prick?’

  Their eyes clashed. His eyes had turned flint hard and his voice was no longer tinged with humour.

  ‘What exactly did you plan to discuss with Khanna?’

  ‘What are you? Some kind of an investigator, a private detective?’ she countered.

  His eyes were inscrutable and his voice quiet.

  ‘Qiara, I’m part of an international investigation team that’s looking into Khanna’s financial dealings.’

  It was not so much his words as his tone that made her wonder at just how much trouble she was
in. She looked at him, worry gnawing at her insides.

  ‘Is Girls Rock! a money-laundering operation for Ranveer Khanna?’

  ‘What!’

  The shock of his preposterous question was topped by a mind-numbing realisation – he was investigating her!

  ‘You were tracking me down at the Polo Club?’

  ‘Not really. But your meeting with Khanna raises a lot of questions about your organization’s links with him.’

  ‘Just because I met Khanna minutes before he got killed, we are being suspected of money laundering for him?’ Her voice rose along with her anger. ‘What kind of bizarre logic is that?’

  She paused to catch a breath.

  ‘Don’t you get it! I just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.’

  He reached for his bag and pulled out a sleek camera. Flicking through the modes, he identified one shot and turned the screen towards her.

  ‘Do you recognize this man?’

  Qiara’s blood turned cold as she saw the image – Khanna talking to the man who had attacked him.

  Eyes wide, she whispered, ‘He’s the killer.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  She gulped down the panic that bubbled to her throat.

  ‘Yes, that T-shirt…’

  The knock on the door almost made her jump out of her skin.

  Her gaze skittered towards Kabir as a voice from the other side of the door announced, ‘Madam, nichey police khadi hai. The police are here to question you.’

  Kabir raised his hand, motioning her to stay put.

  He pushed away from the bed and opened the door.

  She strained to see past Kabir’s broad shoulders. She froze as her eyes fell on the man’s T-shirt: blue and white with the Polo Club logo stitched on it in black.

  Four

  Kabir stared at the swarthy man standing with a gun pointed at his chest.

  ‘Get inside and let me talk to the chick. Don’t try any stunts unless you want me to blow your…’

  Even before he could finish his sentence, Kabir grabbed the man’s arm, gave it a mighty twist and banged the door shut.

  The suddenness of the attack took the man by surprise. He dropped the gun trying to save his fingers from getting caught in the door. But he was a little too late.

  The sound of crunching bones was drowned out by his blood-curdling howl.

  Kabir picked up the gun, threw the door wide open and dragged the howling man inside.

  Heaping the filthiest of abuses, the man launched himself at Kabir, pinning him to the floor and choking him with his bloodied fingers.

  Heart in her mouth, Qiara watched the two men struggle to get the better of the other. She leaped out of the gun’s range.

  Should she call for help? The gun clanked to the floor as Kabir lost control of it.

  Quickly, she picked it up and touched the muzzle at the base of the man’s head. ‘Stop, or I’ll shoot.’

  Her voice quavered as she gripped the cold metal with both hands. She had no clue how to use a gun and that made her even more nervous.

  The man released his grip around Kabir’s neck and swung around. That was all the leverage Kabir needed. He brought his knee up forcefully against the man’s groin and followed it up by twisting the man’s broken fingers till he was screaming in agony.

  Kabir grabbed the weapon from Qiara and jabbed it in the man’s gut. Breathing heavily, blood smeared all over his neck and face, he looked at Qiara.

  ‘You OK?’

  She nodded, her mind still reeling from all that had just happened.

  He turned to the man.

  ‘Who sent you, you prick?’

  Qiara’s eyes were peeled on Kabir as he pushed the cornered man into the chair.

  ‘Sit down or do you want me to shoot your balls off?’

  The man fell into the chair.

  Without taking his eyes off him, Kabir barked, ‘Qiara, get something to tie him up.’

  The man made a desperate lunge at Kabir.

  Qiara’s heart jumped to her throat as the gun went off.

  The man collapsed on to the floor like a rag doll, blood spraying from his side where the bullet had gone in.

  Fear and adrenaline pumped hard and fast in her bloodstream.

  ‘Is he dead?’

  Kabir stooped over to check his pulse.

  ‘No, still breathing.’

  The door burst open and a worried face peeked in.

  ‘Is everything alright? We heard…’

  The guy did a double take when he saw the unconscious man sprawled on the floor.

  Kabir quickly cut in, ‘Call the police.’

  The man melted away and Kabir turned to her and took her in his arms.

  ‘I have never been so scared in my life.’

  The laughter in his voice made her lift her face. He was grinning down at her.

  ‘Scared?’

  ‘Yeah, the way you were handling that gun…I couldn’t tell if I was the target or him.’

  A laugh broke out of her – a tad hysterical – but who could blame her.

  He pressed his lips to her forehead. The fear seeped away from her and a new warm buzz enveloped her.

  She closed her eyes and whispered into his chest, ‘I was scared to death too!’ Of losing you…

  He stroked her hair and cupped her face to gaze into her eyes.

  ‘I need to take care of a couple of things. Will you be OK on your own for a while?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Get your stuff together and wait for me in the lobby. The police should be here any minute. They will have some questions for you.’

  He gently pulled out of her embrace.

  ‘And Qiara…don’t worry. I’ll be there with you.’

  She nodded trying to get her wayward emotions under control.

  ‘Kabir.’

  He looked at her, eyes filled with concern. She gulped as her heart plunged into her stomach.

  ‘You’re a bloody mess.’

  He guffawed, grabbed the wet towel that she had discarded after her shower. He left the room, talking into the phone and Qiara felt the warmth leach away.

  She glanced at the man who was out cold just a couple of feet away. For a few heart stopping minutes she relived the scene. What if the gun had gone off and killed Kabir? She felt her insides freeze up. No, this wouldn’t do, she chided herself.

  Taking a few calming breaths, she got dressed and hastily finished packing. The police would be here and she would be taken away for interrogation. It could be days before she would get a chance to follow up on her agenda of finding Reshma. By then, it might be too late for the girl. Zipping the backpack shut, she strapped it on her back. She was good to go.

  Sonagarh Jal Mahal

  Sweat poured down his face as Suraj Pratap Singh dug his heels into Viking, driving the champion horse to go faster. It had been months since he had last ridden and he’d never felt so unfit. The polo tournament was coming up and he needed to get into shape. It wouldn’t do to have the host of the event and the captain of the home team put in a poor performance.

  The evening breeze cooled his heated skin as Viking galloped, sure-footed as ever, past the thick woods towards the palace. Viking was a great horse but would never be as good as its sire, Monarch. Annoyance simmered inside Suraj and he swatted the animal with his riding crop, making it buck sharply and increase its pace.

  Slacken the hold on the reins even for a bit and everything goes to seed, Suraj pondered. That’s what his father, His Royal Highness, Raja Saheb Vishwa Pratap Singh, who had reigned over the Sonagarh principality with an iron fist, had taught him. Unfortunately, age and illness had withered away Raja Saheb’s command over his territory and subjects. The prestige and power of Sonagarh’s royal family were being eroded as fast as its coffers were emptying out. But as Raja Saheb’s heir to an ancestry dating back centuries, he’d be damned if he gave up without a fight. His dream of restoring Sonagarh to its pinnacle of glory was we
ll within his reach. And the polo tournament was going to be the first milestone towards his goal.

  As Viking turned the next corner, Suraj was blown away by the grand sight in front of him. A sight he’d grown up with and yet would never grow out of: the placid waters of the Sonagarh Lake reflecting the soft purple-pink hues of a sky just after a resplendent sunset.

  Reining the horse in to a trot, he approached the wooden bridge. His heart soared with pride at the thought of following in the footsteps of his ancestors who had ridden down this very same bridge to reach the portals that opened into the sprawling palace at the edge of the lake.

  Savouring the sight of the majestic pink stone palace, with its classic grilles and domes rising beyond the waters, he knew he would do whatever it took to safeguard his heritage. He’d very nearly lost it once – to the pretender who had sought to challenge his rightful place in the royal family – but he had crushed him like a cockroach scurrying out of the gutters. An usurper whose name he had forever erased from the annals of their royal lineage. Just as it deserved to be!

  So lost was he in his prideful ruminations, he was startled to find Dewan Mehender Singh, in his trademark white kurta-pajama, his silver hair fluttering in the light breeze, standing at the mouth of the bridge. Dewanji was his father’s loyal friend and palace minion, who would willingly sacrifice his own life if he was so ordered by the Raja Saheb.

  Dismounting from Viking, he approached the elderly man.

  ‘Dewanji, is everything alright?’

  ‘Kunwar Saheb, there’s bad news.’

  The fine grooves in Dewanji’s face were etched deeper with worry.

  ‘Ranveer Khanna is dead.’

  Suraj gripped the riding crop in his hand tightly, trying to leash the violence that threatened to spill out of him at Mehender Singh’s words, but failed. The rage within bubbled over and he thrashed the crop against the wooden rails of the bridge with such force that it snapped into two.

  Nostrils flaring, he flung the broken end into the lake, turned blood-red eyes at Dewanji and erupted, ‘Bloody hell! All that he had to do was retrieve Ranveer’s tablet.’

  Mehender Singh said calmly, ‘I don’t know what went wrong. The man who was hired to do the job is now in a hospital with cops swarming all over the place.’