Chapter 8

What had he expected to find when he arrived at the La Fantome club? Abhijat wasn't sure, but he did know it wasn't this.

The décor was over-the-top, featuring colorful tapestries and ornate chandeliers. The music was soft and sensuous. His boots sank into the velvety, cream-colored carpet under his feet. 'Decadent' was the word his sister would have used, and Abhijat was inclined to agree.

The hall was large enough, but it felt cramped and overcrowded with nearly fifty people occupying the space, some swaying lazily to the music while others were too busy making out against the vibrantly adorned walls.

Boys and girls – most of them teenagers – sauntered around the room in flimsy, low-cut shirts and glittery makeup. He didn't think any of them could've been above twenty. Some of the girls wore short, almost see-through dresses and many of the boys were dressed in some kind of translucent toga that never quite reached their knees.

They moved with a sort of languid grace that might have been attractive on an adult, but looked forced and unnatural on kids barely past puberty. Some of them might even have been as young as thirteen or fourteen.

Vyas had told him that the La Fantome club was linked to trafficking and drug related violations. But Abhijat hadn't expected it to be this…blatant. He could see why it was so hard to get into this club. They couldn't risk anyone seeing what went on inside, if there was any chance they might talk about it once they got out.

Most of the customers were exquisitely dressed and looked to be middle-aged or older. Many of them wore artistic masks that hid the upper half of their faces. Abhijat could swear he spotted the jutting chin of a yesteryear movie star, who was still quite popular in the indie world. There was another man, surrounded by two girls and a boy, whom Abhijat recognized vaguely as an up-and-coming politician recently elected to Ishfana's legislative assembly.

A girl of about fifteen walked up to him with a tipsy smile, holding out an ornate tray with several flutes of champagne. She wore glitter around her eyes and some kind of shimmery makeup that made her cheekbones stand out in an unnatural manner. Her face had yet to shed all of its baby fat.

As she smiled up at him, Abhijat noticed that her eyes were unfocused. She didn't look scared or distressed, just kind of dazed.

Abhijat forced himself to smile back, trying to make his expression as reassuring as possible. He took one of the champagne flutes between his fingers and raised it to his lips, pretending to take a sip.

Putting a hand lightly on her shoulder, he drew her aside. She went willingly enough, ambling forward without the slightest hint of hesitation or resistance. It was almost as if she didn't mind being there.

A chill ran down Abhijat's spine.

Once they were no longer in the direct line of sight of the guards stationed near the main doorway, Abhijat removed his hand from her shoulder and drew a photograph from his pocket.

It was a headshot of Sajal, the electrician whose trail had led him to this godforsaken place to begin with. Before he could figure out what to do about La Fantome, he needed to find Sajal and take him into custody. There was much that man needed to answer for.

Crouching slightly so as to be level with his companion, he held out the photo for her to see. "Hey, can you tell me if you've seen this guy around here today?"

Head cocked to one side, she frowned at the picture. "I..." she shook her head, blinking a few times before focusing once again on the photo in Abhijat's hand. "I think he's in..." she looked over at a garishly decorated door near the back of the hall.

Abhijat followed her gaze. The door was shut, but not locked. Since he'd entered the club, he had noticed people come and go through it every few minutes, usually in pairs. Two large men stood guard on either side of the doorway, and a middle-aged woman sat at a small desk a few feet away.

The sound of heavy footsteps made him turn around. Three of the guards, who earlier stood near the main gate, were stalking towards them, their faces grim.

"Go," Abhijat told the girl, pocketing the photograph and stepping forward to stand between her and the advancing guards. She nodded once and scurried away, holding the tray close, almost like a shield.

A moment later, he was surrounded by three burly men who looked like they were itching for a fight. They wore uniforms, but looked more like thugs than security personnel.

Abhijat slid his hands into his pockets and raised an eyebrow, his posture relaxed but ready for a fight.

"What?" he snapped, trying to sound more miffed than threatening. It'd been a while since he'd played the spoilt rich brat. Rito had always been better at this sort of thing than him. Tantrums just came more naturally to her.

"What d'you think you're doing?" one of the men asked, taking a threatening step forward.

Abhijat forced himself to shrink back, feigning fear. He lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes in a show of clearly faked bravado. "Having a good time...or trying to. Is this how you treat your customers around here?"

"Customers should be havin' fun and mindin' their own business," said the largest of the guards, with a smirk. "Not prying into things and annoyin' the employees."

"Employees?" Abhijat sneered. "Is that what they're calling 'em these days? What, you guys offering health coverage and retirement benefits now?"

"Why you piece of –" the guard wrapped a meaty hand around Abhijat's upper arm. His grip was powerful, and might well have overpowered a civilian. Abhijat just dug his heels into the carpet and relaxed his stance, his hands clenching into fists.

The guard's eyes narrowed, and he raised his free hand for what he probably thought would be a debilitating blow. Abhijat steeled himself, trying to calculate how to incapacitate the three men while causing the least amount of ruckus possible. The last thing he needed was to draw more attention to himself.

As he raised his own hands to block the oncoming attack, Abhijat glimpsed a flurry of purple and orange hurtling towards them through the corner of his eye.

Before he could react, an orange-haired boy in a purple toga had managed to push through the nonplussed guards and attach himself, with impressive determination, to Abhijat's side. Confused and slightly scandalized, Abhijat stiffened as the young man pressed sensuously up against his side, hanging off his shoulders as if he were drunk.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going? You promised you'd take me inside, remember?" The boy pouted, batting his lashes in such an extravagant manner it almost made Abhijat laugh.

"He told me he'd take me inside," he confided in the guards, leaning in to whisper the words directly into the ear of the man who'd been about to hit Abhijat moments ago. "To the Royal Suite, no less. Tell 'im we don't break promises around here, do we sir?"

"The Royal Suite?" the guard swallowed and stole another look at Abhijat, this time giving him a covert once-over, as if to assess whether or not he looked like someone who could afford the aforementioned suite.

Abhijat was sure he didn't, but he didn't give the guard a chance to reach that conclusion. Awkwardly, he wrapped an arm around the boy clinging to his side and cleared his throat. "Ah I-I'm sorry. I just got a little...caught up, as you can see." He glared at the guards.

"Right, of course, we're so sorry to have interrupted you, sir," said the shortest of the three guards, backing slowly away from the scene, a tight smile straining his lips. "Please, enjoy your evening."

"We will," the boy giggled. Then, as the guards turned away, he pulled Abhijat closer, leaned into his space, and pressed his lips to his ear. For the fraction of a second, Abhijat froze.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" the boy hissed into his ear, his voice soft but sharp.

Abhijat jerked. Taking a hold of the boy's shoulders, he pushed him off but didn't let him go, holding him firmly at arm's length.

On closer inspection, he realized that his companion was older than he looked. Long orange hair fell into his glittery eyes, which comprised at least three different shades of eyeshadow. Like the girl Abhijat had been talking to earlier, his face shimmered with some combination of cosmetics he was not familiar with, although he could tell the boy had a lot more layers of makeup on his face than the champagne girl did.

He raised a perfectly shaped brow at Abhijat. "You're staring, Shian. Which, while flattering, is also a waste of time."

Abhijat's eyes widened, his hands clenching of their own accord, which caused his nails to dig into the toga-covered shoulders. "Fasih?"

"At your service," he bowed slightly, the toga making him look like some character out of a fairy tale. "Now, take me by the hand and lead me down to the nearest washroom. We need to talk."

"Wh-what? I'll do no such thing. What is wrong with you?"

Both of Fasih's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "You're assuming that was a request," he hissed, holding out his hand. "It wasn't."

After a moment's hesitation, Abhijat blew out a frustrated breath, grabbed him by the wrist, and marched him down the hallway. A few of the patrons turned to stare at them, smirking knowingly behind their masks.

Kicking the washroom door shut behind him, Abhijat rounded on Jehan. He was fuming. "Fasih, for the last time, what are you doing in this damned club?"

"I believe I just asked you that very question."

"And why," Abhijat looked him over one more time, bewilderment and outrage battling for dominion on his face. "Are you dressed like…like–"

"A hooker? 'Cause it was the easiest way to get in without revealing my identity. I could hardly have entered this place as a client without causing the scandal of the century." He smirked. "It's called blending in, Shian. Something you're clearly incapable of doing."

"You are the prime minister of this country! For God's sake, you can't be seen dressed like that."

"And I won't be. At least, not by anyone who'd recognize me in this get-up. Not if you can keep your mouth shut and follow directions. Now, tell me what you're doing here."

"I was tracking a suspect who might've been involved in the fire at your office. And just for the record, you're certifiably insane."

"True, but irrelevant. We need to get into the sanctum. And you're going to help me get there."

"The what?"

Jehan rolled his eyes. "This hall is the outermost layer of the La Fantome. This is the part of the club that hosts the…casual visitors. Then there's the inner sanctum for the more…ah…adventurous clients."

"So that's the place with the suite you were talking about?"

"Yep. Exactly. See? You can be smart when you want to be."

"Why do you want to get into this sanctum?" Abhijat growled, his eyes narrowing into slits. "And why couldn't you get there without me?"

A moment passed in silence, faint music drifting in from the hall outside. Fasih sighed. "Okay, fine. I'm here to look into the disappearance of a social worker who'd been investigating this club. She's…a friend of a friend. And she works with trafficked kids. Which is why there's reason to believe that the owners of the La Fantome might've been involved in her disappearance."

Abhijat frowned. "So why didn't you just order an investigation? The NIA could've sent a team down here and–"

"There wasn't enough time. There were rumours that…" Jehan closed his eyes and bit his lip, as if forcing himself to get the words out. "That this club was making illegal use of a prototype of the Amven drug. I wanted to see for myself if that was true.

"Amven is…it can be a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands. Particularly because not many people understand how exactly it works. Of course, this is just a prototype. But I wanted to know how advanced a version they'd managed to get their hands on."

He ran a hand through his bright orange hair and groaned. "Damnit. You've no idea of the trouble this could lead to. You think this club is bad? It's just the tip of the fucking ice-berg. I need to know where they're storing the drugs, how much of it they've got."

Abhijat frowned. "All of which could've been unearthed and brought to light via an official investigation. And it wouldn't have required you to walk around in a frock, drenched in glitter."

"It's not a frock," Fasih said absently. "And it'd have been too late. The owners of this club are powerful people. They have the local authorities in their pocket, including the police. How else do you think this operation's been carried on for months in one of the city's main commercial districts, without anybody noticing that something was amiss?

"An official investigation, ordered by the central government, would simply have spooked the local authorities. This whole setup would be gone by the time a team from the NIA arrived to investigate. It'd just ensure we never came to know the truth about the Amven prototype they're using here.

"Besides, by the time an official investigation was greenlighted, it'd have been too late to save any of the boys and girls trapped here. These kids would've been sent off to the next destination, perhaps even abroad, before an NIA agent got within a hundred feet of this club."

"You expect me to believe you decided to dress up like a tramp high on ecstasy out of concern for some wayward kids from rural Eraon?" Abhijat sneered. "Besides, from what I've seen, they seem quite happy to be here."

Fasih flinched like he'd been slapped. "I don't care what you believe, Shian," he said icily. "But even you can't be so ignorant as to not know the basics of how Amven affects people. That damned drug has been all the rage in Qayit for over a decade now. You couldn't watch the news for a week without hearing it mentioned–"

"What's your point?" Abhijat snapped.

"My point is that Amven – or at least most prototype versions of it – makes you passive…docile and compliant. Less aggressive; more willing to follow orders.

"Do you get it now? These kids are happy to be here. They'd be happy to jump in front of an oncoming train, if ordered to do so." He looked Abhijat in the eyes, letting the words sink in. "Which makes it the perfect drug for this sort of an operation. After all, you can't rape the willing."

His hands clenching into fists, Abhijat looked away. "Fine. I'll help you get inside the sanctum if you think that'll help," he said through gritted teeth. "But why do you need me to get in there, anyway?"

Jehan leaned against the tiled washroom wall and pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose. "Those kids you saw outside in the hall…they were drugged, yes. But the dosage administered to them was pretty low.

"The inner sanctum…that's a whole different ball game. From what I've observed, that's where you'll see what the Amven drug can really do. The escorts who go in there are far more heavily drugged than the ones outside. And I believe that's where they're holding Afreen, the social worker I was talking about. Who knows, you might find your man in there as well."

"So why haven't you gone in yet?"

"'Cause I can't go in alone. That door is heavily guarded round-the-clock. The only way to get in is with a client. And the clients can't go in by themselves, either. They have to book a suite beforehand, and be accompanied by at least one escort. Did you notice that woman sitting at the desk near the back door?"

Abhijat nodded. "What about her?"

"To gain entry into the sanctum, a client must book a suite at the desk. It's not cheap, but the money isn't really for the room. The client is given a keycard to the suite, and the escorts accompanying him are given a shot of Amven. You know, to ensure that they'll remain pliable and obedient inside. From what I've noticed in the past few hours, the dosage is pretty much as high as you can go without risking an overdose.

"Obviously, I couldn't allow myself to be drugged out of my mind in the company of a stranger. Even I'm not completely immune to the effects of the drug, and with that high a dose…I couldn't risk it.

"But of course, that's not a problem anymore," he grinned. "Now you're here, I can just go in with you. I thought it was over when I saw you picking a fight with those guards. But guess what, your presence mightn't be a total disaster after all."

He walked over to the mirror and carefully smudged some of the makeup on his face.

"What're you doing?" Abhijat asked.

"Well, we don't want it to look like we were in here all this time having a heart-to-heart, do we? Anyway, once we get into the sanctum, we can wait inside the suite until the drug wears off. It shouldn't take too long. Like I said, I'm largely immune. And you can always punch me or something if it takes longer than expected.

"After that, we'll check all the other suites and see if we can find Afreen or your guy in any of them. If everything goes according to plan, the whole thing shouldn't take more than an hour."

"Okay, just back up for a second here. Are you suggesting I take you into this sanctum pretending to be your 'client'?"

"Obviously. How else would you do it?"

"And you plan to get drugged up to your gills while we're at it?"

Jehan shrugged. "It's the only way in. It doesn't matter, though. Amven isn't particularly addictive, and it doesn't cause any pain. Withdrawal is minimal, and would only manifest after multiple doses anyway. There's nothing to worry about."

Abhijat laughed, but the sound rang hollow and humorless even to his own ears. "Docile and compliant, you said. God, I'd gladly pay to see that. You sure being locked in a room with me while under the influence of your wonder-drug is the brightest idea you've ever had? What's to say I won't take advantage of the situation and make you do something you don't want to?" He bared his teeth in a predatory smile. "Like sign a resignation letter, maybe."

"Because, as my head of security, it's your sworn duty to protect me." A seraphic smile appeared on his shimmering lips. "And the Shians, you know, are nothing if not dutiful."

***

Unlike the outer hall, the décor in the sanctum was both tasteful and minimalistic. The foyer was well-lit and furnished with cozy-looking sofas, the floor covered with a simple cream carpet. There was a large bar near the back, and beside it stood a winding staircase with intricate, off-white railings.

One of the sofas was occupied by a tall, balding man who had an escort writhing in each arm. He had a joint between his fingers, but seemed too distracted by the amorous attentions of his companions to smoke it.

As Abhijat passed the trio with Fasih in tow, the man turned to leer at them, the corners of his chapped lips twisting in a smile that made Abhijat's palms itch with the urge to punch him.

Tearing his eyes away from the drug-addled kids – neither of whom could've been above eighteen – he swore to himself that he'd burn this hellhole down to the ground before he left the city.

Summoning one of the attendants who kept discretely to the shadows, he held out his keycard and asked her to direct him to the Royal Suite.

***

The room was luxurious, but not as ostentatious as Abhijat had expected it to be. It could've been a suite in any high-end hotel. The bed was large and inviting, littered with little round cushions in various shades of red. Atop the bedside table sat a small steel bucket, which held a bottle of champagne and some ice.

Locking the door, Abhijat directed the befuddled prime minister to the bed, and threw himself down onto the couch, which was the only other piece of furniture in the room.

After a moment of silence, Abhijat leaned forward for a closer look at his companion. Fasih looked slightly unfocused and woozy, but apart from that seemed well enough. He was gazing curiously at the champagne bottle sitting in its bucket beside the bed.

"Want a drink?" Abhijat asked, sitting back and stretching his legs out in front of him. "Not sure that'd be the brightest idea, what with the drug in your system. Then again, you seem to be on a roll tonight."

Fasih clicked his tongue. "That doesn't matter. But did you know there's almost eight grams of dissolved carbon dioxide in this bottle? That means more than 20 million bubbles per glass. And even that's just 20 percent of it, 'cause 80 percent of the gas escapes through direct diffusion—"

Abhijat grinned. "Alright genius, here's a trick question for you. Why doesn't it matter?"

"Huh?"

"You said just now, it doesn't matter that you're drugged. And earlier in the washroom you said you were immune to Amven. Well, no offense, but you don't look particularly immune to me. What's the deal with you?"

Jehan giggled and shook his head, orange hair flopping into his eyes. "That's not how it works. Being immune doesn't mean it doesn't affect me. It just…affects me less. And I get over it faster. That dose wouldn't last more than forty minutes on me. On anyone else it'd last at least six hours, more if it was their first time taking the drug."

"And why's that?"

Jehan shrugged. "Cause I'm used to it. Your body develops a certain amount of resistance to any drug that's administered to you consistently over a number of years."

"And what? You've been getting high on Amven at the QRI all these years?"

"Of course not." Jehan rolled his eyes. "You can't get high on Amven. Not in the recreational sense, anyway. I was testing it."

"Testing it?" Abhijat raised an eyebrow. "On yourself? Why? The institute run out of guinea pigs for you to play with?"

Jehan frowned. "I was fifteen when I started developing Amven. Of course, that was a very crude version, nowhere near as potent as this. Still, I really had no idea what I was doing, those first few years.

"It was a previously untested compound, quite unstable. Initially, I wasn't very sure about how it'd affect the nervous system, you know, what it'd do to an actual living creature. I mean, in theory I knew. But I couldn't begin animal testing until I was sure the drug wouldn't cause any permanent damage."

"And so, you decided to test this…unstable compound…on yourself?"

"It had to be tested on someone," Fasih shrugged. "I've never liked relying purely on theory, anyway."

"I see your history of terrible ideas is long and glorious," Abhijat sighed. "For how long did this go on?"

"Only the first few years. We did start testing on animals eventually, once we'd stabilized the formula and were reasonably certain of the correct dosage and possible side effects.

"But since I was already immune to the drug to a great extent, I just volunteered to be the test subject every time we developed a new prototype or something." At Abhijat's raised eyebrow, he proceeded to explain. "It was just more accurate that way. Rats can't report very reliably on the nuances of the variations in physiological symptoms caused by two different prototypes, you know."

Abhijat shook his head, aghast. "I can't believe the QRI signed off on this."

"Who said anything about the QRI?" Jehan frowned. "I mean, we did use their labs sometimes, but very little of the actual research was conducted on campus. Amven is one of the highest priority projects funded by the central government. Much of the research is still classified. You don't think we were testing those drugs on the premises of a public institution, do you?"

"I'm almost tempted to order you to tell me everything you know, but I have a feeling that'll turn into a biochemistry lecture I'll most probably sleep through."

"Your self-awareness is admirable."

"Can I punch you now?"

Fasih shook his head. "Only if the drug doesn't wear off by the end of an hour," he said earnestly. "We still have thirty-five minutes to go."

Abhijat leaned forward, eyes shining with interest. "Yeah? And why is that?"

"'Cause if it doesn't wear off in an hour, then this prototype's more potent than I thought it would be. In which case, we'd have to resort to plan B."

"What's plan B?"

"Violence," Jehan smiled.

"Come again."

"The effects of the Amven drug can also be counteracted by pain. For example, an electric shock or a broken bone will enable a person to regain control of their mind, even before the drug has worn off naturally. The only requirement is that the sensation of pain has to be sudden, unexpected, and intense."

"So, now you want me to electrocute you?"

"Of course not. I'm just saying that you might have to. Although I really would prefer a broken nose, if it's all the same to you."

Abhijat bared his teeth in a grin that was almost feral. "I aim to please." His eyes wandered over to the champagne bottle on the bedside table. Could this be considered drinking on the job? "So, you'll do anything I say, huh?"

Jehan cocked his head to the side and squinted at him suspiciously.

"Pour me a drink."

At Jehan's glare, Abhijat shrugged. "What? It's for science. We've been spending the taxpayer's money on the Amven project for years. I need to know if your claims hold water. Now, touch your nose with your tongue and pour me a drink."

Jehan rolled his eyes and poured out two drinks, handing one to Abhijat.

"You still have to touch your nose with your tongue."

"Even Amven can't make one perform impossible feats."

"It's not impossible at all. It's easy. You just stick your tongue out until it reaches your nose."

"Please, feel free to demonstrate." Jehan smirked, reaching for his cellphone and flicking on the camera. "I'd be honored to learn from you."

"You're a terrible captive."

"I've had better captors." He sipped the champagne. "This stuff isn't half bad."

"Why'd you betray my father?"

Jehan froze. Abhijat waited with bated breath, his heart thundering in his chest.

It was a gamble, and this was probably the worst possible time to make it. They were in enemy territory, with no one to rely on but each other. And Fasih certainly seemed to know more about what was going on here than he did. Making an enemy of him was perhaps not the best idea, under the circumstances.

But Fasih would never volunteer the truth of his own accord. And Abhijat needed to know. It wasn't logical, but he knew he'd never forgive himself if he let this opportunity pass.

If he couldn't give his father his old position back, the least he could give him was the truth.

Jehan grinned ruefully. "All this…you were trying to get me off my guard."

Abhijat said nothing. He didn't trust himself to speak. He just stared at the other man and willed him to tell the truth.

Jehan bit his lip, gazing down at his own hands. He seemed to be fighting with himself. For a moment, Abhijat was sure that despite the drug in his system, despite everything, Jehan wouldn't talk.

Then, he blew out a breath and sagged against the headboard. "Fine," he said, refusing to meet Abhijat's eyes. "You want the truth? You'll have it. I betrayed Rajat so that–" he inhaled sharply, his voice shaking. "So that he'd be safe. So he'd be happy."

Incredulous laughter escaped Abhijat's lips. "Happy?" he began, his voice rising. "You thought casting aspersions on his character, questioning his integrity, painting him as a traitor in the media, and destroying his reputation would make him happy?"

Jehan flinched, shrinking imperceptibly back into the bed. Despite the effects of the drug, he retained significant self-control. Abhijat noted these facts almost subconsciously, his training kicking in despite the fury rushing through his veins.

Part of him wanted to walk out of the room and not look back, leave Fasih alone in this hellhole to whatever fate might await him. It was what the bastard deserved.

But a bigger part of him wanted to know the whole truth.

"Happier than he would've been dead," Fasih murmured, staring blankly up at the ceiling. "A ruined reputation can be fixed, but corpses can't be stitched back together into a person. God knows, I've tried."

A terrified, blood-curdling scream rang out from beyond the locked door of the suite.

Abhijat rushed over to the door. Through the peephole, he noticed that a group of people had gathered near the bar. A man was writhing on the floor, screaming. The crowd looked agitated, but Abhijat couldn't see enough to understand what exactly was happening.

"Damnit!" he snarled, kicking the wall.

He turned to see Jehan sitting on the edge of the bed, wide-eyed. He sighed. Whatever chance he'd had of getting the truth out of Fasih, it was gone. At least for now.

He held out a hand. "Come on, we need to get out of here."

For the fraction of a second, Fasih hesitated. Then, he nodded and clasped Abhijat's outstretched hand.

Abhijat pulled him up, spun him around, and twisted his hand up behind his back until he could hear the bones popping.

Jehan screamed.

"Feeling feisty yet?" Abhijat hissed into his ear.

"I should've known you'd enjoy this way too much," Fasih snapped, pulling himself free and rubbing gently at his swollen wrist. It was going to bruise. Abhijat grinned.

"You're welcome. Now move it."

***

The balding man Abhijat had seen on his way to the suite was lying on the floor by the bar, clutching his crotch and screaming obscenities. A few feet away, two women were being held down by the club attendants.

One of the huge guards previously stationed at the sanctum door had also stepped inside, and was currently trying, without much success, to subdue a weedy man at least two heads shorter than him.

One of the women was screaming in pain. The other was trying to kick her captor in the groin.

Abhijat rushed forward and pulled the attendants off the struggling women. One of them had blood on her face, and curled into her side, coughing, as soon as she was released. The other one sprang to her feet, swiping hair away from her bruised face, her gaze fixed on the guard and his slender opponent.

"Rito?" Abhijat gasped, this breath catching in his throat.

***

"When did you call for backup?" Abhijat asked, as they were escorted out of the club by the prime minister's security detail.

"Long before you arrived. I told you I was there to try and find Afreen. What did you think I planned to do after I found her? Fight my way out of the club with a drugged and injured woman in tow?"

"Where will they take the children?" Afreen asked, clutching a bloodied napkin to her nose.

"To a government home in the suburbs, for now," Fasih reassured her. "Ruqaiya has been in contact with Pragati. Their volunteers will work with the government to rehabilitate the children. I expect most of them will be returned to their families in Eraon. But you'll get to know the details soon enough. Your colleagues are quite eager to see you. They've all been very worried."

"Ruqaiya knew about this?" Abhijat asked, aghast.

Fasih shook his head. "Not initially, but she's just found out."

"She'll kill you, you know that, right?"

"But I can publish this story so long as I keep you out of it, right?" The weedy man enquired, turning to Jehan with imploring eyes. Laihan, Rito had called him. Abhijat made a mental note to look him up as soon as they got back to the hotel.

Rito smacked him on the head, even as Jehan shrugged. "I don't see why not."

Abhijat glared at his sister. "You and I are going to have words."

"Yeah? 'Cause I was the one hiding in a room with the fucking prime minister dressed like a hooker, was I?" she snapped. Then, she turned to Jehan. "No offense."

"None taken," he assured her, a wide grin splitting his face. "Please, continue. This is very entertaining."

"You will die by my hands, Fasih," Abhijat growled, getting into his car as Rito and Laihan helped Afreen into the back seat. "And you'll die slowly."

***

Rito and Laihan collapsed onto the bed as soon as they walked into Abhijat's hotel room. "God, I could sleep for a century," Rito moaned, rubbing her face into a pillow.

"I thought we'd never get out of that place," sighed Laihan, spread-eagled beside her.

They'd dropped Afreen off at the offices of Pragati on their way to the hotel. She needed to see a doctor, anyway. Abhijat was pretty sure her nose was broken.

"I suppose I should call Ruqaiya," Jehan muttered reluctantly and stepped out of the room, pressing his phone to his ear.

Abhijat thought about asking him not to wander the corridors covered in glitter, but decided it would be funnier to take pictures. After all, opportunities like these didn't present themselves every day.

With only the three of them left in the room, he rounded on his sister. "What were you thinking going to a place like La Fantome without telling me about it? Without telling anybody! Are you out of your mind? What do you think would've happened if we hadn't been there? You'd all be dead, that's what."

"It's ironic how you don't see the hypocrisy of that statement," she retorted. "You went there all alone, didn't you? Without any backup. Does Papa know about that?"

"You know, she does have a point," Jehan said, stepping back into the room and pocketing his phone.

"Shut up. And I was literally doing my job. What's your excuse?"

"I don't need an excuse. I was there to help my friend."

"What I'm curious about," Jehan said, sitting gingerly down on the couch and massaging his injured wrist. "Is how you managed to infiltrate the sanctum in the first place."

"Afreen took us inside. As her clients," Laihan piped up, rolling to his side to face Jehan. "We found her in the outer hall minutes after we entered the club, kinda dazed and acting really strange. Rito knew her from her college days, so she recognized her straight away, despite all that weird makeup."

"I asked her what was wrong," Rito continued, sitting up on the bed. "But she didn't seem to care. One of the attendants came up to us and asked if we'd like a suite with the girl." She shrugged. "We thought it'd be a good idea to talk to her in private, get to know what the matter was."

She looked over at Laihan, who grimaced. "She was too far gone to tell us anything useful. But we knew they'd injected her with something at the door, so we thought maybe it was because of that. She just kept smiling and agreeing with whatever we said. She didn't seem to be in any pain, but..." he shuddered.

"She seemed fine in the car," Abhijat frowned.

Rito lifted a shoulder. "I don't know what happened. We waited a while in the suite for the drug to wear off, you know. Asked her to shower and change, 'cause we thought the water might help.

"But nothing seemed to be working, so eventually, we left the room. Thought we'd try to find a way out. Some kind of a back door or something, or maybe we could sneak Afreen out as a client. We weren't really sure, but we knew we couldn't leave her there. We had no idea what they'd given her, or what kind of side effects it might have. She needed a doctor."

Laihan nodded. "We were just about to go back out into the hall when this random dude at the bar tried to grope Afreen. He was drunk, and he seemed to recognize her. We tried to ignore him, but he was a persistent motherfucker, so Rito kneed him in the groin."

She grinned. "He tried to punch me, but his aim was off and he hit poor Afreen instead. God," she shuddered. "There was so much blood."

"Hmm. That's probably what caused the drug to lose its effect." Jehan glanced at Abhijat. "Sudden, intense pain, remember?"

"Your turn," Rito said, her eyes narrowed. "What were you two doing at that club? And why in the name of God are you dressed like that?"

"For camouflage, I'll bet," Laihan chimed in before Jehan could answer. "It's really quite impressive. I wouldn't have recognized you if it weren't for Rito. Shit. Why didn't I think of that?"

"Cause all the tacky makeup in the world wouldn't help you pass for a teenager," Rito quipped. "I can't believe you agreed to this, Abhi. This is ridiculous. Not to mention dangerous. He's the damn prime minister, for heaven's sake."

"I didn't," Abhijat snapped, trying to glare at all three of them at once. This proved to be quite difficult, so he focused on his sister for the moment. "I didn't agree to any of this. And just for the record, you're all out of your fucking minds."

Laihan cocked his head at Abhijat. "So, what were you doing at the La Fantome?"

"If you say you have a thing for glitter-drenched teenagers, I'll have to disown you," Rito warned.

Abhijat could feel the veins throbbing in his temple. Rito's lips started twitching, and he had to resist the urge to smother his sister with the pillow she was giggling into.

"I was tracking a suspect, who might've been responsible for the fire in the PM's office," he said through gritted teeth.

He didn't realize his mistake until he heard her suck in a sharp breath. "You mean...you mean to say that fire was deliberate? An assassination attempt?"

It was too late to backtrack now. "It might've been. We aren't sure of anything yet, but we have to explore all possibilities."

"Don't bullshit me, Abhi. Did Qia know about this? How could she keep something like that from us?"

"The more relevant question here, I think," Jehan interrupted astutely. "Is did you manage to find the guy you were looking for?"

Abhijat thrust his hands into his pockets and walked over to the window overlooking the crowded streets of Weritlan. The city was almost as chaotic as Qayit, if not quite as chic. "We did." He pulled out his phone. "I just received word that Sajal was arrested from one of the suites in the sanctum. Just like you'd said," he glanced over at Jehan.

"He was caught during the raid that followed our departure. He's currently in custody, being processed by the local police. The NIA will take over soon enough, take him back to Qayit for questioning. If I'm lucky, I'll get to have a go at him before we leave the city. It won't be easy to convince Vyas, though."

"He will find himself thoroughly convinced, before the day is out," Jehan assured him. "You really think you'll be able to get anything useful out of this guy?"

"I do, if his initial reaction is any indication. Apparently, he's naming names already, and the interrogation hasn't even started yet."

Jehan arched an eyebrow. "And who has he named?"

Abhijat hesitated, glancing at Laihan and Rito on the bed.

"Oh, come on," his sister needled. "We've already seen the prime minister wearing glitter eyeshadow. Nothing can possibly shock us now."

"We're immune to astonishment," Laihan agreed.

Abhijat looked uncertain. "This case is still under investigation. This is classified information."

Rito turned to Jehan. "You outrank him. Can't you order him to tell us what he's found? My brother's annoyingly anal retentive."

"I agree. And I'm pretty sure I can," Jehan nodded solemnly.

"Fine. But if Ruqaiya asks any questions, it's all on you," Abhijat pointed an accusatory finger at him. "This hasn't been verified yet, but I learned from a source that Sajal – that's the guy I was chasing – has named Badal in connection with the fire."

"Shit," Rito muttered. "Is there anything that bastard isn't involved in?"

Abhijat frowned suspiciously at his sister. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She turned to Laihan and shrugged. "Tell him, dude. He might as well know everything if he's going to investigate this fricking mess."

Laihan nodded and pushed himself up on an elbow. "I'd done quite a bit of research on the La Fantome club, for an article I was writing for my website. The thing is, that club is owned by a shell company, which is in turn held, through several offshore subsidiaries, by the former deputy PM's only daughter."

"And her husband," Rito added.

"Wait, isn't Badal's daughter married to Rinisa's brother?" Abhijat exclaimed. The conversation between Jehan and Rinisa he'd overheard on the day of the swearing-in ceremony rang in his ears.

"She is," Jehan grinned, looking positively gleeful. "This is gonna make the meeting in Eraon even more fun than I'd expected it to be. Once the La Fantome scandal breaks...well, that's another sword I can dangle over Rinisa's head, isn't it?"

"The point is, we need to remove Sajal from police custody and get him to Qayit as soon as possible," Abhijat said. "The local authorities can't be trusted, not when people as powerful as Badal and Rinisa are involved."

Laihan nodded. "Much of the local police force is definitely in their pocket. A section of the state bureaucracy is too. Quite frankly, I'm surprised they cooperated as much as they did." His gaze rested on Jehan. "Although I suppose they had to, since the prime minister's safety was involved."

Abhijat looked over at Jehan, who reclined on the couch, looking peaceful and ingenuous. He wondered if Fasih had taken that fact into account, that his presence at the club would force the hand of the local authorities, compel them to raid the premises of the La Fantome. He wondered if that was one of the reasons why he had gone there by himself.

"But I don't understand," Rito said, turning to Laihan. "Why would Badal do all this? What could he possibly have to gain by it? Why risk his position as deputy prime minister of the country to run a – a trafficking ring? He would've been prime minister in another couple of years. It doesn't make any sense."

"Well, I don't think losing the position of deputy PM was part of his plan," Jehan said, his head tipped back and eyes closed. "In fact, I'd bet he was counting on becoming prime minister rather sooner than expected.

"As for the rest, well, I certainly do think he has a special interest in the Amven drug. After the terror attacks on the metro stations, he was one of the most vocal advocates for using the drug on the captured suspects, despite knowing exactly how volatile and unreliable Amven is. And I don't think he was solely motivated by the desire to curb terrorism."

"Really?" Rito bristled, glaring daggers at Jehan. "I thought it was our father who was forcing you to use Amven against the wishes of the vaunted QRI."

"He was, but he was far from being the most insistent faction," Jehan said matter-of-factly. "Badal, on the other hand… How did he even manage to acquire such a large sample of one of the older Amven prototypes? Large enough to keep more than fifty people drugged over a period of weeks. Even if he'd somehow gotten his hands on the formula during his time as deputy PM, Amven isn't cheap to manufacture. He must have had substantial funding."

"You suspect foreign interference?" Laihan asked. "You think Maralana's involved, don't you? Maganti's been waxing poetic about the potential of the Amven drug for almost half a decade now. I don't think there'd be anyone much happier than him when it finally becomes available for largescale commercial use."

"You're a perceptive man, Mr. Ajera," Jehan smiled. "It's a possibility, yes. But we still don't know who bankrolled the metro station blasts. Once we know that, I suspect all the other pieces of the puzzle will fall into place."

"You don't believe it was domestic terrorism?" Rito frowned.

Jehan snorted. "Let's hope not. If our homegrown separatists had that kind of ammunition, we'd have another civil war on our hands."

"That's precisely what I thought when news of the attack first broke," Laihan said, nodding.

Resting her chin on her palm, Rito gazed down at him. "I'd say you two were long lost twins, if he wasn't too pretty to be related to you."

"Good burn," Laihan nodded appreciatively. "Still, nice as this has been, I do have work tomorrow." He pushed himself off the bed. "See you later, kids. I'll check up on Afreen on my way to work in the morning. You wanna come with?"

Rito nodded. "I'm not leaving Weritlan until I know for certain she and the children are gonna be okay."

"I'll drop you off, then." Jehan rose to his feet, holding his injured hand close to his chest. "I have a plane to catch in the morning, anyway."

"Where're you off to?"

"Waimar. Can't keep Rinisa waiting, can we now? We have an impending water crisis to avert, after all," he said cheerfully. "And if I can catch a hold of her before the news about La Fantome breaks, I'll have the exquisite pleasure of rubbing salt into her wounds as she bleeds money from every pore."

"And in the meantime, I'll settle for the very crass pleasure of making Sajal bleed his guts out for all the trouble he's caused me." Abhijat bared his teeth in a shark-like grin.

Laihan shuddered. "I can't imagine why you two don't get along."