Chapter 14

Rito stepped into the hotel's lobby, smiled at the receptionist, and headed for her room, forgoing the elevators to take the stairs two at a time.

Spending the night at Milli's probably hadn't been the most prudent decision, but she couldn't bring herself to regret it. Milli was fun and interesting, but more importantly, she made Rito feel comfortable and understood in a way nobody outside of her family ever had.

Milli came from a prominent political family with its own baggage. And while Rito's brother certainly had never tried to have her shot dead, with Milli, she could talk about things that to anyone else would've sounded strange or pompous. With Milli, she didn't need to fear being judged or misinterpreted. With her, just for a little while, Rito could be herself.

Preoccupied with her own thoughts, by the time she noticed Abhijat rushing down the stairs, it was too late. They collided headfirst, Rito's head bumping painfully into his shoulder.

"God, slow down," she winced, taking a step back. "Where're you off to in such a rush?"

Abhijat huffed, reaching out automatically to steady her. "The more pertinent question here, is where've you been all night?"

"I was with Milli. I spent the night at her place. Didn't Jehan tell you? I'd asked him to tell you."

Abhijat frowned, his lips pressed together into a thin line. "Listen to me Rito, you have to be careful around here. You can't be wandering around alone like that, not in Manganic."

Rito bristled. "I'm not a child–"

"I don't care!" He clutched her shoulders, forcing her to look at him.

The fear in his eyes made her swallow the sharp retort that had bubbled to her lips. What the hell?

After a second, Abhijat looked away, let go of her and took a hesitant step back. "I'm sorry – I." He swallowed, shook his head. "I know you won't believe me, but things aren't what they seem to be around here. You-you might be in danger."

He raised a hand, forestalling the questions that were clamoring to spill out of Rito's lips. "I know what this looks like to you. And I wish I could tell you everything, I do. But I can't. It's better if…" He sighed. "It doesn't matter. But you have to promise me you'll be safe, okay? You can't trust anybody here. Not Fasih, not the Maralanese, not even the Havals or the other Naijani delegates."

"What? Why? Look, Abhi, calm down, okay? What's going on here? Did Jehan say something to you about Milli and her mother?"

Abhijat laughed, the sound bitter and completely devoid of humor. "Jehan not saying what he should've said to me – to us – is precisely the problem here. All this time, he could've just said – but that doesn't matter now. Nothing does, except that he's been feeding us a string of lies. I don't know why I'm surprised, really." He sighed, a tinge of exhaustion creeping into his voice. "There's nothing for it now. He's made his move. He's left me with no choice but to–"

"Abhi," Rito cut him off, taking a hold of his arm and digging her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. "Look, I don't know what he said to you that's set you off like this, but you have to get a hold of yourself. I know Jehan isn't the most trustworthy person on earth, and I daresay he's told his share of lies. But he's…" She bit her lip. She couldn't believe she was about to say this. "He's not as bad as you think he is. He-he had his reasons for doing what he did–"

"And I have mine." He put a hand over hers, his tone almost gentle when he continued. "You know nothing about what he's done...what he's willing to do for personal gain. And you don't need to. Just…if anything happens – if something goes wrong here, catch the first flight back to Qayit, okay? Go home, take care of Maa and Papa. They'll need you."

A chill ran down Rito's spine. "Abhi, what're you talking about? I don't–"

"And no matter what, always remember that I love you, okay?" He pulled her into a hug. "Take care of yourself. And don't do anything stupid."

"Abhi–" She clutched at him, refusing to let him pull away. Her voice sounded desperate, even to her own ears. "What's the matter? Why're you acting like this? Just tell me what it is. How can I help you if you don't tell me what's wrong?"

"It's nothing," he said, pulling away gently, though his hands remained on her shoulders, steadying her. "Really, it's nothing. I was just–" he shook his head. "Be careful. And don't trust anything Fasih or his friends say. If anything happens, just go back home, okay? Go back to Qayit. I'll handle the rest." He took a step back. "I-I have to go. There's a meeting. We'll be late–"

Rito grabbed him by the wrist. "Okay. Alright, fine. We'll talk about this later, once you get back." She smiled hesitantly. "I'll see you in the evening?"

He nodded jerkily and looked away. "Yeah. Yeah, you will." A quick smile – which he probably thought was reassuring – and then he was down the stairs and out of the lobby before Rito could think to ask him when he would be back.

Her phone pinged, and she slid it out of her pocket with shaking hands.

A message from Milli. At any other time, it would've made her heart flutter. But there was a cold weight in her gut that made her feel off-balance, disoriented. Scared.

Tamping down on that growing sense of dread, Rito clicked on the notification icon. They'd exchanged numbers before she left the house earlier that morning, but she hadn't expected a message so soon. The messaging app flicked obediently open, and Rito clicked on Milli's name.

She frowned. There was no text, just the picture of a black cat. A black cat that wasn't Eri. Why would she just…Milli's words rang suddenly in Rito's ears–

"They say if you see a black cat, death is close by."

Rito gripped the ornate wood banister, her knuckles white. She forced herself to breathe past the ringing in her ears. Then, she turned around and darted down the stairs, banging the majestic double doors on her way out of the lobby.

***

Fasih emerged from the elevator in a purple cardigan that looked to be at least two sizes too big for him, with disheveled hair, and a pair of black slacks that had to be folded up at the bottom to keep him from tripping.

Abhijat raised an eyebrow. "Your aides allowed you to walk out of the suite in that?"

"I drugged them all," Jehan winked, striding towards the car. "Where's Prakash? And what're you doing here? I told you, it's just an informal brunch meeting. There's no need for excessive security."

"Prakash called in minutes ago to inform us that he won't be able to make it. There's been an emergency in his family. He needs to fly back to Qayit ASAP."

"Oh?" Jehan retrieved his phone from his pocket and began typing. "I'll tell Parul to make sure he doesn't have any problems getting back. Still doesn't explain what you're doing here, though."

"I'll be driving you. We couldn't find a suitable chauffeur to replace Prakash at such short notice. Besides," he continued, forestalling any arguments by holding the vehicle's door open. "This way, you won't need a separate security detail. Low profile, just as you prefer."

Jehan's eyes twinkled as he slid into the backseat. "You know me too well."

As they drove through the congested highways of Manganic, Abhijat's mind flashed back to last night's conversation with Rinisa. She had said she'd ensure Prakash didn't show up to work today. He wondered if she'd paid him off, or if he really thought there was an emergency back home. If he was honest with himself, Abhijat didn't even know which one he'd prefer.

His body moved on autopilot, steering the car through the highways and flyovers of the foreign city without taking in anything apart from the slice of road right in front of him.

He'd asked Rinisa – after she gave him the address to which he was supposed to deliver Fasih – what she planned to do with him once she had him there.

He told himself it was idle curiosity, that he didn't really care. Rinisa seemed to buy it too. She'd smiled impishly and clapped him on the back, had told him what he didn't know couldn't hurt him, before sauntering away from the bar to mingle with the other guests.

The fact that his hands shook on the steering wheel didn't have to mean anything. Just the normal adrenaline rush preceding a potentially dangerous mission.

Rinisa had said she'd have the car adequately damaged, have him slightly roughed up so he could tell the authorities that the prime minister had been taken by force. That he'd tried to stop the attackers, to keep him safe. To do his job.

It was natural to be anxious, under the circumstances.

He wished lying to himself was just a matter of coming up with all the logical reasons why this shouldn't matter, why he shouldn't care what happened to Fasih after he'd done his part in the job. He wished he could convince himself that he'd return to the hotel and sleep peacefully tonight, knowing he'd done what he had to, to keep his family and his country safe.

Last night, talking to Rinisa at the party, he'd been scared and enraged; had felt righteous fury coursing through his veins.

Now, he just felt defeated.

"You look gloomy today," Fasih said, dragging Abhijat out of the suffocating quagmire of his own thoughts. "Or at least, gloomier than usual. I'd tell you to have a drink, if I didn't think you'd be a grumpy drunk."

"Getting your chauffeur drunk probably isn't the brightest idea you've ever had." Abhijat kept his eyes trained on the road. He refused to let himself glance at the rear-view mirror, to see what Fasih was doing.

This had to be done. He needed to do it. And he wasn't sure he'd be able to, if he looked at Jehan's face right now.

Fasih chuckled. "My history of not-so-bright ideas is long and glorious, as you once said. What's one more item on the list, if it'll get you to lighten up and stop looking like your dog died?"

Abhijat grunted in response.

Jehan leaned forward, his voice much closer to Abhijat's ear. "It hasn't, has it? Rajat never mentioned any pets, but for all I know I was just too high to remember."

"No," he said slowly, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "No, we – I don't have any pets. I'm just worried we'll be late for your meeting."

"Horrible traffic, yes," Fasih murmured, his voice farther away. Abhijat risked a glance at the rear-view mirror to see that he had leaned back, his body relaxed against the backrest. "This goddamn city's like Qayit on amphetamines. Not a moment's peace, is there? And on top of everything else, my phone's dead." He laughed. "Can you believe it? Of all the stupid problems to have. I'm sure I set it to charge before going to bed last night. But what do I know? I was too wasted to think straight, after the party."

Abhijat hummed noncommittally, his heart thundering painfully against his ribs. In another few minutes they'd be at an intersection. If he turned right, they'd be ten minutes early for Fasih's appointment with the finance secretary. If he turned left...

"So," Fasih began, in a tone of mild curiosity. "Did your sister enjoy the party last night? Seems to have taken quite a shine to the Maganti girl. Not that I blame her, of course."

It was an innocent enough question. And Fasih did know Rito had left with Ludmila Maganti last night. He was the one who told Abhijat about it, after all. There was no reason for Abhijat to think it was more than what it seemed – idle gossip. Chitchat.

Only, Abhijat knew from experience that Fasih didn't do chitchat. Every conversation he was a part of, every point he raised had a purpose, whether or not you realized it at the time.

Over the months, Abhijat had watched this play out time and time again, with politicians, diplomats, and journalists being ensnared by Fasih's seemingly pointless small-talk, failing to see the trap they were walking into until it was too late.

More often than not, it was harmless enough – Fasih trying to gain the upper hand in a negotiation or turn a critique into a compliment during a TV interview.

But when had Fasih's maneuverings ever proved harmless, when it came to his family? And after everything he'd done, if he was planning to go after Rito next, to somehow use her attachment to Maganti's sister to his advantage, as a tool for negotiation or–

Before he could finish that thought, the intersection came into view. His eyes on the road, hands steady on the steering wheel, Abhijat veered left.

***

The roads here were bumpy and uneven. The car lurched forward, jerking and groaning noisily every few minutes. Signs of civilization were farther apart the longer they drove.

"Where're we going?" Fasih asked conversationally, after almost twenty minutes of silence.

Abhijat had expected him to protest, to demand what was going on. So far, he had given no indication of distress or confusion. Abhijat wondered if he even knew they were headed the wrong way.

He said nothing, and Fasih didn't press the matter. He couldn't have failed to notice that they were no longer headed for the Central Secretariat. They had long since driven off the highway and were now nearing the northern edge of the city.

Abhijat gritted his teeth and pressed down on the accelerator, ignoring the way the car jerked in response. He'd made his choice. It was too late to turn back now. He had to move forward.

After a few more minutes of traveling through labyrinthine lanes and alleyways, the car lurched to a halt in front of an old warehouse about twenty kilometers from the city.

Abhijat reached inside his jacket and stepped out of the car, the comforting weight of the semi-automatic pistol in his hand. He held the back door open and pointed the gun at Fasih.

Jehan arched an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Get out," Abhijat barked, his skin prickling with unease. "And give me your phone."

"I told you, it's dead." He rolled his eyes, holding the device out for Abhijat to take. "Though I see now why that is. Your idea? Excellent planning, I have to say."

Something in Abhijat's expression must have given him away, because Fasih laughed. "You've no idea what I'm talking about, have you? None of this was your idea at all. Just a pawn on the chessboard, huh? Should've known." He sighed. "You aren't quite devious enough for all this. If you wanted to kill me, you would've shot me in my bed and hanged for it. Disposing of the body isn't really in your domain of expertise, is it?"

"Shut up!" Abhijat snarled, snatching the phone away from Jehan and disassembling it with one hand. "Your time's up, Fasih. Your goddamn mind-games won't work on me, not anymore.

"You thought you could destroy my family, subjugate my country, and I wouldn't notice anything? You thought I wouldn't lift a finger to stop you?"

"Clearly, you're lifting all five." Jehan stared pointedly at the gun in Abhijat's hand, sounding bored.

Abhijat moved, closing the distance between them. He reached forward and grabbed a fistful of Fasih's cardigan, pulling him closer even as he pressed the muzzle of the pistol to the side of his head. "The game's over, Fasih. No more lies, no more conspiracies. Not as long as I'm still alive. If it's the last thing I do, I'll make sure you can't hurt anyone else ever again."

"Hurt anyone? And here I thought you were the one pressing a gun to my head," he pouted. "Still, I wonder what bullshit they fed you, to get you this riled up. Even you aren't usually this irrational.

"Who was it? Maganti? No, of course not. He wouldn't waste his time on foot-soldiers. It was Rinisa, wasn't it?" He smirked. "What did she tell you? That I've been murdering puppies across Naijan? That I plan to sell the country off to the highest bidder?"

"I've seen it," Abhijat said quietly, letting go of Fasih's cardigan, though he still kept the pistol pressed to his head. "All that money Maganti sent your mother. The receipts, the bank statements, everything. It's no use lying to me now."

Fasih jerked, looking up to stare wide-eyed at Abhijat. "My-my mother?"

Abhijat wondered if he was genuinely surprised, or if he was just that good an actor.

"Well, I'll give them points for ingenuity. Even I hadn't thought of that angle, and I make it a habit to think of everything. Not that it makes a difference now, of course." He laughed, looking away. "Still, you might as well know. Not like we have anything better to do.

"I haven't spoken to my mother in more than ten years. Hell, I don't even know what she looks like anymore. My mistake. She returned to Maralana; I should've known they'd use her against me one way or another. Although this is not the approach I would've expected."

"You're lying," Abhijat said, ignoring the tremor in his own voice.

Of course he was. Had he really expected Fasih to confess the truth just because he had a gun to his head? He probably still thought he could trick Abhijat, manipulate him into doing his bidding.

And yet, that look of wide-eyed astonishment when Abhijat had first mentioned his mother. He couldn't quite make himself believe that that'd been a lie.

A sudden clamor made him whirl, one arm across Fasih's chest, holding him in a vice-like grip, the gun still pointed at his head.

Two burly men in leather jackets stepped out of the warehouse, followed by Rinisa, who was wearing a low-cut sweatshirt over a pair of red track pants. A strange gray locket dangled from a simple gold chain around her neck.

All three of them were heavily armed.

Rinisa smiled sweetly at Abhijat. "Thank you, darling. You've done very well. Really." Her eyes raked over Fasih in a way that made Abhijat's skin crawl. "So much better than I'd expected."

Before Abhijat could form a reply, the man to Rinisa's right raised his gun and pulled the trigger.

Fasih went limp in his arms, a tranquilizer dart sticking out of his chest. A moment later, Abhijat felt a sting in his neck. His vision swam and his knees buckled under him. The gun fell out from between his benumbed fingers.

Seconds later, darkness overcame him.

***

"The person you are trying to reach cannot accept calls at this time."

The voice was cool, friendly…detached. It had also repeated those same grating words to Rito more than twenty times over the last half an hour.

"Damn," Rito snarled, slamming the phone down on the passenger seat and reaching for the key in the ignition.

Milli's house was locked and she wasn't answering her phone. Rito didn't even know how to contact Madam Ivanovna. And even if she could, what would she tell her? Your daughter sent me the picture of a cat, so I think she might be in mortal danger? She could barely say it in her own head without feeling stupid.

Her phone buzzed and she snatched it up, hoping against hope for Milli's name to flash up on the screen.

It was Rinisa. Rito growled in frustration, banging a hand against the steering wheel.

"What do you want?"

"That's not a very nice way to talk to your friends now, is it?" Rinisa's saccharine voice cooed from the other end of the line.

"We're not friends. And I'd rather not be talking to you at all."

"You wouldn't have to, if you weren't so tardy about giving me the drugs you stole. I've been far too patient with you, Miss Shian. My patience is running out, and if you don't return to me what's mine…"

"You want the Amven samples? Fine. No time like the present, is there? Where do you want to meet?"

A moment of silence, then Rinisa laughed. "Well, that was easier than expected. You're bucking the Shian trend of unnecessary, self-destructive stubbornness, I see. I'll text you an address, how's that?"

"I'll be there in an hour."

Rito disconnected the call. A second later, her phone pinged with the arrival of a new message.

She dialed Laihan's number.

When he picked up, Laihan sounded tired but genuinely pleased to hear from her. She asked about Afreen and the children, about the work they were doing in Weritlan. Thankfully, Rinisa had left them alone after Rito agreed to steal the Amven samples from Jehan. Despite everything, she found herself smiling with relief.

"Listen, Lai. I wouldn't ask if I had a choice, but...I need you to do me a favor."

"Anything for you, my dear."

She sighed. "I'm so sorry to keep dropping these things on you out of nowhere but…a girl's life is in danger."

She could hear Laihan suck in a sharp breath, but he said nothing. She closed her eyes and continued. "Can…can you track a phone for me? In Manganic."

"You're in Maralana? Oh, of course. The New Year's gala. How could I forget?"

"Well?"

"Sure. Shouldn't be a problem. What is this about?"

"I-I'll tell you when I get back. And Lai? I'm sending you an address. Can you tell me if this phone was anywhere near that place in the last hour or so?"

"Piece of cake. Just give me twenty minutes, okay?"

Rito nodded, then realized that he couldn't see her. "Thanks Lai. You're the best." She swallowed around the lump in her throat.

Laihan chuckled. "I know. Just…" His voice turned serious, losing some of its humor. "Just promise me you'll be safe, yeah?"

***

Little by little, Abhijat opened his eyes. His vision swam; the dim, gray room blurry and out-of-focus. He was lying on the cold concrete floor, his hands and feet manacled and chained to the wall. His throat was dry and he had a splitting headache.

He forced himself into a sitting position and bit viciously down on his lip, swallowing the bile that rose to his throat.

He pulled on the chains, testing them. Short and sturdy, they wouldn't allow him to get more than a few inches away from the wall.

His heart hammered in his chest and there was an uncomfortable roaring in his ears, but he forced himself to sit back against the hard, concrete wall and take stock of the situation. As he settled, his foot nudged something warm and soft at his side.

He jerked back, causing the manacles to dig into his skin. Fasih lay beside him, curled up on his side, pale and unmoving.

Instinctively, Abhijat reached out. The chains were barely long enough for him to place a hand over Fasih's chest.

He was still breathing.

Abhijat sighed, releasing a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

The room they were in couldn't have been more than a hundred square feet across. The floor and the walls were a dull gray, and part of the ceiling was obscured by cobwebs. Cold, bare, and draughty, the room was also quite dark, a series of narrow, grilled windows near the ceiling the only source of light.

Blinking groggily, Abhijat looked around for anything that could help him get out of the chains. But aside from a few boxes pushed together to form a makeshift table at the other end of the room, the place seemed completely empty.

In the shadowed corner a few feet away from him – too far away to reach – he could see what looked to be a bundle of rags. Was it moving? It was too dark to see, and his eyes weren't feeling particularly cooperative at the moment. Trying to focus too hard made his head swim.

A soft click, and a section of the wall swung open to let Rinisa into the room.

"Awake, I see." She smiled.

Her expression – serene and a little smug – made his hair stand on end. He sat upright, back pressed to the concrete wall, even as his hands clenched into fists, nails digging into the skin of his palm.

"What is the meaning of this?" he growled, teeth gritted against the headache that spiked when he forced himself to focus on her face. "What is this place? And what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Not super quick on the uptake, are you darling?" she laughed, perching lightly on one of the boxes. "Well, I already knew that. Honestly, I was surprised you fell for it as easily as you did. I'd thought I would have to work much harder to convince you to betray our darling prime minister.

"Though I suppose he did give you some very solid reasons to hate his guts. Helpful guy, isn't he? Did everything in his power to make my job easier for me."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Abhijat snarled. The ringing in his ears had drowned out much of her tirade. The dizziness had returned with a vengeance, and he had to fight to keep his eyes open. "And how dare you have me tied up like some animal?" He pulled at the shackles, but they just rattled and clanked without giving an inch.

"Do you really think you'll get away with this silly little kidnapping? Fasih had an appointment more than an hour ago that he didn't show up to. They'll be sending out search parties in no time. He's the prime minister, you bitch. They'll shoot at sight."

"Shoot at what?" she sneered. "Everybody worth killing will already be dead by then, including your precious prime minister.

"Really, I can't believe he let you screw him over so thoroughly; and after all his careful planning and maneuvering. The things a conscience can make you do." She shook her head ruefully. "Never underestimate the lethality of a self-righteous fool, that's what I always say."

Abhijat stole a glance at Fasih's insensate form. "What're you saying?"

"I'm saying Jehan Fasih hasn't seen or spoken to his mother in over a decade." She giggled. "Really, you fell for a few receipts and bank-statements? What was stopping Maganti – or anyone else, for that matter – from paying her without his knowledge? And to think we spent a shitload of money buying her silence, just in case you tried to contact her. But you didn't even do that, did you? Just jumped head-first into the worst possible conclusion."

Abhijat's breath hitched. "You said he-he would try to kill my parents."

Rinisa doubled over, laughing until there were tears in her eyes. "You Shians and your obsessive familial codependence. It's a goldmine, it really is." She braced herself against the wooden boxes, still laughing. "Those students at your parents' home? Fasih wasn't paying them, I was. And not for anything sinister, either.

"They really do think they're doing a survey, those poor schmucks. The worst they'd have done is to have your parents fill out a sixteen-page questionnaire." She giggled. "I know, 'cause I had that monstrosity typed out and printed. Half-assed isn't really my style, you see."

"You're lying!" Abhijat jerked forward, making the chains rattle. "You're a fucking liar! Why should I believe a word you say? What did you gain from any of this?"

"Why, Fasih of course. You just helped me pull out the biggest thorn in our side, Abhijat. And for that, you have our gratitude. Too bad you won't live long enough to properly enjoy the fruits of your labor." She winked. "Still, Grigori will be very pleased. You've managed in a day what he couldn't pull off over the course of a whole year."

For a second, Abhijat drew a complete blank. Then, something clicked in his foggy and disoriented brain, and all the puzzle pieces arranged themselves into a chilling picture. Grigori…President Grigori Aleksei Maganti. What did he...

"I didn't know you two were on a first-name basis," he said instead, sitting back against the wall. He forced his body to relax, breathe, think. "So how does it help your 'Grigori' to have the prime minister of Naijan – his guest – murdered in his own capital city?"

"He'll get Amven," she shrugged. "Fasih's death will be a scandal, of course, but not a scandal that'll involve either of us."

"Amven?" Abhijat let out a startled laugh. "He thinks having Fasih murdered will help him get his hands on the Amven drug? Whatever he's been smoking, I want it."

She smirked, sauntering towards him, a syringe in one hand and a pistol in the other. "Oh, my sweet, naïve Abhijat. How I hate to shatter your rose-tinted glasses. For years now, Grigori has been trying to get the Naijani government to use the Amven drug on captured terrorists and criminals. To provide a precedent for the use of Amven for–" she chuckled, "National security."

Abhijat froze, gaping at Rinisa as she knelt beside him and dragged the muzzle of the pistol slowly over his face. She had to be lying, but...

"Aww, you don't believe me, do you?" she pouted. "Tell me, darling, did it never occur to you to wonder why the Amven project – one of the most ambitious scientific undertakings in the history of Naijan – was so heavily funded by Maralana? I'll tell you why. It's because nobody was more invested in the success of this project than Grigori.

"But what good is a miracle drug that no one can use?" She sighed. "He tried everything. He paid off politicians, funded separatist groups, stirred unrest in Zanyar and Birhani territories...all so that – just once – the government of Naijan would be tempted to use Amven on its enemies. For the welfare of the country, of course.

"He had his people everywhere; in the government, the bureaucracy, the Union Cabinet," she smiled. "Daddy dearest would've told you all about that, I suppose. He even had moles amongst the scientists at the QRI. For years, we tried everything we could think of. And yet, we had less than nothing to show for it.

"Fasih, that slippery bastard, guarded Amven like his first-born child. Wouldn't hear of it being used until it'd been 'perfected', whatever that means." She rolled her eyes. "And of course, he had your father wrapped around his little finger. It didn't matter that he was losing support among his own ministers. No matter what anyone said, Rajat Shian wouldn't lift a finger to oppose Fasih where Amven was concerned. Trusted him like his own son," she chuckled. "Funny, that."

Abhijat blanched, bile rising to his throat. "The metro blasts," he gasped. "God, you sick bastards. More than forty people died. They were dragging bodies out from under the rubble for days–"

"Eggs. Omelets. Can't make the latter without breaking a few of the former. You know how it is. You're a soldier. Sacrifices," she sprang to her feet, pocketing the syringe, while the pistol dangled loosely from between her fingers. "Need to be made.

"And it wasn't for nothing. Those people died for a cause. It worked, goddammit! The government's approval ratings dropped like a sack of bricks. The public was furious, baying for blood. Everybody was terrified, everybody wanted revenge. Even your father had to agree to use Amven on the captured terrorists, he had no choice. He knew his government would collapse if he didn't. We were this close–"

"And then Fasih held that press conference and forced him to resign from office," Abhijat murmured, his voice shaking.

"Him and half the Union Cabinet," she snarled, glaring at the man lying prone and unmoving beside Abhijat. "All those people we had paid and groomed over the years, to lobby for the use of Amven for national security purposes. All gone. All that careful work turned to dust in one fell swoop." Suddenly, she grinned. "You can see why that would be upsetting."

"My condolences," he intoned. "But what're you getting out of this? How much money can possibly be worth the risk of murdering the sitting prime minister and the son of the former PM? If anything goes wrong–"

"Your concern for my welfare is touching," she chuckled, sitting cross-legged on a wooden box across the room. "But if I were you, I'd be more worried about my own hide than anyone else's. After all, you'll be the one taking the fall for our little regicide. Probably a good thing you'd be too dead to wallow in regret, by that point."

"Even you can't pin a murder on a corpse, Rinisa," he grunted, feigning nonchalance.

He needed to know what she was planning, and why. And as long as she thought he wasn't a threat, that he was living on borrowed time, she'd be happy to gloat in his face.

He wasn't sure why he was still alive, but he was, probably because Maganti needed something from him. And he couldn't let this opportunity go to waste. Even if he didn't get out of this alive, he had to try and save Fasih. And not just because of the guilt gnawing at his stomach.

Naijan needed Jehan Fasih to stay alive.

"Who says I can't?" she asked. He turned to get a better look at her, his eyes tracking her every move. "You'd be surprised at what people are willing to believe, given a good story. And there's nobody in Naijan or Maralana who doesn't know the story of how Fasih betrayed your poor father. How hard do you think it would be to make people believe that Rajat Shian's son wanted a bit of revenge? Hell, some of those people might even sympathize with you."

"And then what? Will Maganti orchestrate a heist at the QRI?" he sneered. "Steal the Amven formula from under Dileep Haval's nose? Is that the big idea you nutcases are so excited about?"

"Nothing as dramatic as that," she laughed. "Really, Abhijat, you missed your true calling as a B-movie director of subpar action flicks. Once Naijan has successfully used the Amven drug on terrorists and sundry outlaws, it would create an international precedent. Other countries would rush to bolster their own defenses with Amven.

"Besides, Grigori would be able to judge the efficacy of the drug on a large enough sample size and get his own scientists to make any tweaks and modifications he might deem necessary. Without Fasih there to maintain his stranglehold on Amven production, Maralana too would be able to cite international precedent to use the drug for national security.

"Much easier than having your political opponents killed or imprisoned, really. That kind of thing raises eyebrows these days. But with Amven, all that would be completely unnecessary.

"You just have your enemies arrested on trumped up corruption charges and held in detention for a couple of days, long enough for the drug to be administered and take effect. As soon as the international outcry begins, they'd be put on trial, found innocent of all charges, and released." A beatific smile lit up her doll-like face. "And there you have it, a free and fair judiciary and no pesky human rights activists crying foul, demanding international interference.

"A few state-sponsored medical appointments a month, just to make sure the drug doesn't wear off too much, and you've got yourself the perfect democracy."

"One that doesn't have an Opposition?" Abhijat let the sarcasm bleed into his tone.

"Oh, it has an Opposition, alright. Just one that isn't too prone to opposing, at least not when it matters. Nobody wants to be seen as a tyrant, of course. Or a dictator, for that matter."

"No, I guess not. They just want to be one."

"Precisely!" she giggled. "No international treaties broken, no bullets fired…and no internal opposition to speak of. All within the ambit of a democratically elected government. That's what you call having your cake and eating it too.

"After the metro blasts, Badal assured Grigori that Prime Minister Rajat would finally use Amven on the terrorists. That there was such media frenzy, so much public pressure, that he wouldn't have a choice. We were so close," she shook her head. "And look where that got us. Fucking Fasih turned on his mentor, accused him of corruption, and your father ran out of parliament with his tail between his legs. After all that work, all that meticulous planning, we were back to square one."

"And so you and Badal decided to lick your wounds and traffick some children in Weritlan?"

"Oh, that was just an experiment," she said dismissively. "Though I will say, a very lucrative one while it lasted. Like I said, we needed a large sample size to test the effects of Amven when it was used at scale. We couldn't very well risk using it on a powerful politician, only to realize that some people are more resistant to the drug than others.

"But of course, it wasn't very accurate. We didn't yet have access to the final version of the drug, so we were just using an old prototype. And as always, Fasih just had to poke his nose where it didn't belong and blow it all out of the fucking water."

"And that's why you tried to implicate him in Badal's murder?" Abhijat prodded. "As some kind of revenge?"

She sighed. "Badal, that stupid fucker. We had a good thing going. But you can't expect much of cowards, can you? Fasih exposed the La Fantome club and stole a sample of the Amven prototype we'd been using on the escorts. And then they arrested that bloody electrician," she frowned. "What was his name? Sajal, right?"

"Sajal!" Abhijat gasped. "He was working for you? You'd hired him to tamper with the wiring in the prime minister's office?"

"Well, technically, Badal had. But that was just a backup plan, in case the metro attacks didn't yield the desired results. Of course, we had no way of knowing that both Rajat and Badal would be kicked out of the Parliament House before the month was out.

"But Sajal's arrest, so soon after the La Fantome debacle…well, it spooked Badal. He wanted to leave the country, settle in Maralana. Obviously, we couldn't allow that. For Grigori, it'd be as good as an open admission of guilt. But Badal refused to see reason, threatened to expose us if he didn't get what he wanted."

Abhijat nodded sympathetically. "Traitors, they tend to be irritatingly disloyal. Who'd have guessed?"

Rinisa rolled her eyes. "Well anyway, none of that had anything to do with revenge. That's your problem, you know that? Always with the petty squabbles and grudge-holding. You can't see the bigger picture.

"If Jehan was put on trial for Badal's murder, he wouldn't have been able to come to Manganic for the New Year's gala and drum up support from Grigori's opponents in the country. Even you couldn't have failed to notice him getting cozy with Ivanovna at the party last night."

"Oh please," he scoffed. "You want me to believe that you went to all that trouble just so Fasih wouldn't be able to suck up to Madam Ivanovna at a party? This isn't the middle ages, you know. What was stopping him from giving her a call if he was so desperate to form an alliance against President Maganti?"

Rinisa's eyes narrowed into slits. Abhijat swallowed his excitement and forced himself to look away, feigning indifference. He'd managed to hit a nerve.

A few minutes passed in silence. Then, she hopped off the box and began pacing the room.

"Oh well, I'm basically talking to a corpse, aren't I? And it was a pretty clever plan, if I do say so myself." She grinned. "I might as well tell you. If Jehan had been implicated in Badal's murder, it was very probable that he'd have had to step down as prime minister. And if that happened, it was almost inevitable that your father would've been reinstated."

"I don't see how that would've served your cause." Abhijat frowned. "No way in hell was Papa going to approve the use of Amven so long after the metro attacks, and after all the controversy that'd been stirred up the last time he tried."

"Oh, he wouldn't have had to approve anything. He'd have been dead before the month was out. And all the evidence would've pointed towards Jehan's involvement in the assassination.

"I mean, the motive was obvious enough, and he was already accused of one murder. Who'd have doubted it?

"After that, he'd either have been hanged for double murder or – and personally, I think this is more likely – killed by you as revenge for your father's death." She chuckled. "Either way, he'd have been out of our hair. Him and your father, both.

"Conveniently leaving a power vacuum in Qayit, which Grigori could then fill with a suitable candidate who'd be...pliable to his suggestions...about Amven and other things."

"He wanted to install a puppet ruler in Naijan," Abhijat breathed. "And you were helping him do it. Are you insane? Naijan is your country too. You want to enslave your own people?"

"Aww, you're so cute! You and your quaint little notions of patriotism and loyalty. They're not my people, Abhijat. And they're not yours, either." She glanced at Fasih, still lying unconscious beside Abhijat. "Look at what 'his people' did to him, after all he'd done to protect them. People are people, inherently vicious and murderous. They're not going to be nice to you just because you happened to be born inside the same borders.

"There's only one thing human beings understand, fundamentally. And it's power. Everything else is hogwash, fairy tales they feed you since the day you're born, to keep you in line and keep the system going."

"And what did Maganti promise you, in return for all this? The premiership?"

Rinisa's eyes widened. Then, she burst into giggles. "What? No. Oh my God, no. You sweet, naïve man! You think I'd settle for that, after everything I've been through, all that I've sacrificed for the cause? No, sweetheart. I've no intention of being a pawn when I can be a queen."

"A – what?" Abhijat gaped at her, his mind racing. "You think – he told you he'll marry you? Is that it?"

"It's only reasonable," she shrugged. "This war – and it is a war, make no mistake – he'd never have won it without me. So why shouldn't I want to share the spoils, fifty-fifty? A prime minister can be replaced if she becomes inconvenient; governments collapse all the time. A wife…well, we both know that's easier said than done."

Abhijat cleared his throat. "So, what made you change your mind?"

Rinisa raised an enquiring eyebrow.

"About pinning Badal's murder on Fasih. That hitman changed his story overnight. I'm guessing that was your doing?"

"Well, Jehan Fasih is quite possibly the biggest spoilsport this world has ever seen." She pouted. "He threatened to go public about the use of Amven at the La Fantome club."

"You mean how you used it to drug children and force them into prostitution?"

"Precisely," she sighed, rubbing tiredly at her eyes. "Can you imagine what the media would make of that story if it ever came out?"

"I've some ideas. For one, if the public became aware of the drug's potential for misuse, no government hoping for re-election would dream of ratifying its use in the justice system. Maganti's grand plan of a unilateral power-grab via the use of Amven on prisoners would be over before it even began."

"Well, you're certainly proving to be smarter than you look." Her eyes traveled slowly over the length of his body. She smirked, "Not that I have any problems with the way you look. But you can see why we had to scrap that bright little idea. Couldn't let Amven get a bad rap in the media. Not when the situation's this delicate. You come from a family of politicians, you should know that. Public opinion is everything."

"And Maganti thinks that having the prime minister of Naijan murdered in the capital of Maralana, the day before the New Year's gala he is supposed to be hosting," he let the skepticism seep into his voice. "Will help with his reputation?"

"Perhaps it wouldn't have, if you hadn't fallen for my story as easily as you did. But you did, didn't you?" She winked, her lips quirking as her gaze flickered over to Fasih once again. "You drove him here to this abandoned warehouse, all by yourself and seemingly under no duress, when you were supposed to be escorting him to a brunch appointment on the other side of town. Not the kind of thing you can pass off as an honest mistake.

"Now, why did you do that?" She shrugged. "Let's see. Jehan Fasih betrayed your father, caused your sister to get kicked out of Weritlan University, and has in general caused all kinds of trouble for your family. Some might even say he was the reason you had to leave the military. Is it so very unlikely that after all that, you might've wanted some revenge?

"Especially if Maralanese intelligence operatives – acting on a tip about a possible assassination attempt against the Naijani prime minister – happened to find you trying to kill Jehan in this very warehouse. And then, of course, they'd have to shoot you in order to save the prime minister. But as you can imagine, they'll have arrived too late.

"Fasih was already near death by the time they located the warehouse. He couldn't be saved, and died tragically on the way to the hospital. That's the story the reporters will get, at least.

"That gun you were pointing at Fasih not so long ago, with your fingerprints all over it? You can be sure that's the weapon we'll use to send him on his way, once we're done with him. You dismantled his phone, left your prints all over the parts that're now lying outside this building, begging to be found. My poor little soldier boy, I couldn't have created a more airtight case against you if I'd tried.

"And what's the alternative theory, anyway? President Maganti has nothing to gain directly from your death or Jehan's. What reason would anyone have to suspect him? And even if they did, they certainly wouldn't be able to prove anything."

"Not a bad plan," Abhijat said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "Not that it'll do you any good, but points for trying.

"You said it yourself, if Fasih had to step down, my father would almost certainly be reinstated as prime minister. That holds equally true if Fasih were to die. And if you think he's going to toe Maganti's line about Amven, or about anything else for that matter, you're even more deluded than I thought."

Rinisa hummed softly, examining her pistol. "Mmm, well, that would've been a problem, if not for a convenient little rumor suggesting that Rajat Shian might have conspired with his son to murder Fasih...a fitting retribution for his betrayal of the Shian family."

"You'll never be able to prove–"

"I wouldn't need to. That's the beauty of it, don't you see? It's all a game of perception and public opinion. I'll never need to prove his guilt in a court of law...I wouldn't even try. Just as long as enough people believe it to be true, or even suspect that it might be true, your father isn't sitting on the prime minister's chair ever again.

"His reputation would be ruined beyond repair. No one can withstand a blow like that, twice in less than a year. Politically, he'd be as good as dead. And I don't particularly care if he hangs himself or becomes a goat farmer after that." She smiled, her eyes far away. "And whoever comes after him would've no problems with – what did you call it? Ah yes, 'toeing Maganti's line about Amven,' if you know what I mean.

"And there you have it, my idealistic soldier boy. The perfect happy ending to our sordid little fairy tale."

Something stirred, pulling Abhijat out of the nightmarish reverie his mind was sinking into. He whipped around to see Jehan moving.

He coughed, his body jerking with each hacking exhalation of breath. A few seconds later, the coughing stopped and Fasih tried to move. A whimper, followed by another round of hacking coughs, and his body stilled once again.

As Abhijat watched, helpless, he realized that Fasih was barely breathing.

"So why're we still alive, then?" he demanded, turning to Rinisa. His voice was shaking, and for once, he didn't care. God, what had he done?

"Well, we still need to know where the latest version of the drug is being stored. Wouldn't want Dileep Haval to take the final Amven prototype and disappear, once he hears of his best friend's tragic and untimely demise in Maralana."

"And you think Fasih's going to give you that information? Why? 'Cause you asked nicely?"

She chuckled. "No, silly. 'Cause I'll ask with Amven. Remember the drug they used at the La Fantome? You were there with Jehan, weren't you? Well, it was one of the early prototypes that Badal had managed to get his hands on. Nowhere near as effective as the final version, I daresay. But it did the job. Did it quite well, actually, if a little ham-handed.

"Anyway, a large enough dose of even the old prototype should be enough to get him talking." She walked over to Jehan and prodded him with the tip of her sneaker. "It's not like we'll need the effects to last forever, just so long as it'll get him to answer a few simple questions."

Abhijat bit his tongue, swallowing the retort that rose spontaneously to his lips. Fasih had said he was immune to Amven, but how far did his immunity extend? And did Rinisa know that Jehan had developed a resistance to the drug? Would she have that accounted for or would it come as a surprise to her?

And if it did, how could Abhijat use it to his advantage?

He shook his head, focusing back on his captor. "And I take it you'll kill him, after you have your answers." It wasn't so much a question as a statement of fact.

"Eventually," she shrugged, nudging Jehan with her foot until he was lying flat on his back. "Cute, isn't he? I've always thought so." The tip of her sneaker caressed Jehan's cheek, making him groan incoherently and shrink away. "Would be a shame to put that on a pyre without getting a taste of it first, wouldn't you agree?"

"You're sick," Abhijat hissed, nauseated. "He isn't even conscious. Leave him alone."

Stepping away from Jehan, she smirked. "Aww, don't be jealous, big guy. I haven't forgotten you. In fact, I'll be sure to give you my full attention after I've put a bullet into Fasih. After all, we both know that political control isn't the only thing Amven is good for."

Her tone made Abhijat's skin crawl, but he said nothing. Now wasn't the time.

Walking over to the door, she reached for the handle, then turned around with a speculative look in her eyes. "But we still need to wait for Grigori to get here before we can get this show going. In the meantime, try not to cause any trouble, okay? I'd hate to have to kill you before we can have some fun together."

She stepped out, and Abhijat heard her speaking in some Maralanese dialect he couldn't quite place. Moments later, the two burly, leather-clad guards he'd seen earlier, stepped into the room and took up positions on either side of the door.

"We're literally in the middle of nowhere, and this warehouse is surrounded by Grigori's men," Rinisa cooed, poking her head through the door. "So I wouldn't try anything stupid if I were you. You must realize just how dispensable you are to us right now. The smallest false move, and the next time they shoot, it won't be a tranquilizer dart."

The door clicked shut, casting the room into shadows.

***

Abhijat reached out and grabbed a fistful of Fasih's cardigan, trying to shake him awake. It wasn't easy. Any sudden movement made the chains jangle noisily, drawing the attention of the guards.

Fasih's eyelids fluttered. He moaned, then shrank further into the corner, showing no signs of awakening.

Abhijat bit his lip to keep himself from growling in frustration.

Carefully, he wrapped the metal chains around one hand to keep them from clinking noisily together every time he moved. Then, he reached under his shirt and unbuckled his belt. As quietly as possible, he wrapped his fingers around the buckle pin and broke it off, before pushing it quickly up his sleeve and leaning back against the wall.

One of the guards glanced over at him, frowned, then turned away without saying a word.

Abhijat sighed, heart thundering in his chest. Over the next few minutes, while pretending to take a nap, he slowly kicked off one of his shoes and placed the pin between his big and index toes.

Fasih had shifted too far away for Abhijat to reach him with his bound hands, but he was still within kicking distance. The manacles around their legs were attached to slightly longer chains.

Positioning the pin between his toes as accurately as possible, he extended his leg towards Fasih inch by careful inch, trying not to make any noise. When he was close enough, he pulled slightly back, then jabbed the blunt head of the pin into Fasih's neck as hard as he could.

Fasih jerked back, banging his head against the wall. His eyes flew open and he gasped, looking around groggily with terror-filled eyes.

Abhijat pressed his foot against Fasih's shoulder, willing him to stay still, keep quiet, and not draw the guards' attention to himself. "Be quiet," he hissed, meeting Jehan's panicked eyes. "Or you'll get us both killed."

For a second, something like shock flickered behind Fasih's eyes. Then he stilled, breathing deeply. "What the–" he coughed, making his chains clink as he instinctively raised a hand to cover his mouth. "What the fuck? Don't tell me you got us kidnapped!"

His eyes darted across the room, taking in the damp, concrete walls, the manacles around Abhijat's limbs, and the armed guards standing at the door. "Of course you got us kidnapped," he sighed, his tone melancholy.

Abhijat raised an eyebrow. "I'm glad to see you're feeling better."

"Well, at least you didn't shoot me. For a second there, I almost thought you would." He shook his head. "Should've known you'd just get yourself chained to a wall, instead. Very classy. Oh hey there, Milli! What brings you to our cozy little murder den?"

Abhijat whirled. Following Fasih's gaze, he realized that the bundle of rags he'd noticed earlier was moving, a mess of tangled auburn hair sticking out from under the pieces of cloth.

Pushing herself into a sitting position, chains clinking, Ludmila Maganti blinked at them. Dazedly, she stared down at the manacles around her wrists. "Oh my God," she whispered. It was almost a sob. "My God, he really did it."

"Do you know how you got here?" Fasih asked her, his voice oddly gentle.

She shook her head. "I-I saw some cars pull up outside the house. I thought – I knew something was wrong. He'd threatened my mother–"

"Who?" Jehan asked. "The president?"

She nodded. "He'd told Mamma that if she – if she…" Milli trailed off, biting her lip as she stared fixedly down at her manacled hands.

"Yes?" Fasih prodded. "If she helped me, right? He threatened her because she was helping me."

After a moment's hesitation, Milli nodded, still refusing to meet their eyes. "I don't remember much. I saw the cars, and then there were footsteps on the stairs. I tried to lock myself in my room but…" Her hand went to her neck, fingers caressing the skin below her ear.

"A tranquilizer dart," Jehan said. "That's what they used on us too. Or at least that's what it felt like. Not that I had a chance to analyze–"

"I think," Milli gulped and looked up to meet their eyes. Abhijat wondered if she'd been crying. "I think he wants to use me to…to blackmail my mother."

"I'm sure President Maganti wants a lot of things," Fasih shrugged. "And if wishes were horses, I'm sure he'd get a ride. Unfortunately for him, what he wants and what he'll get are two very different things."

Milli stared at him. "I-I don't understand–"

"We'll get out of here, is what I'm saying. But first, I need both of you to start talking in Birhani. Those guards mustn't understand a word of what we're about to discuss. You know the language, don't you Milli?"

She nodded. "I lived in Naimar for a year, as part of an exchange program," she said in fluent Birhani, only the slightest accent distinguishing her pronunciation from that of a native speaker. "Mamma always said I should practice, that it'll be useful someday."

"And she was right, as usual," Jehan beamed. "Now, Milli, I'll need you to start sobbing shortly, okay?"

"W-what?"

"Sobbing. Can't you sob? It's quite easy. Just gasp convulsively, as if you can't breathe, over and over again. You don't even need tears; it's too dark in here to see them anyway. I'd do it myself, but I need to talk. And it's hard to talk while sobbing, even if it's only pretend.

"And not to be sexist, but I don't think Abhijat here can sob convincingly at all." He shook his head sadly, his tone one of mild disappointment.

"No, that's not…" Milli swallowed, tried again. "I mean, why?"

"So they don't think we're planning anything." He glanced briefly at the guards. "Nobody sobs while planning an escape. Very awkward way to go about it."

"An escape isn't possible," Abhijat interjected grimly. "Believe me, I've tried. It's impossible to get out of these things." He jerked viciously at his manacles, cursing under his breath as they clanked in protest.

"A real ray of sunshine, aren't you?" Fasih rolled his eyes. "Ever heard of optimism? Rinisa's selling it at a discount today, you should buy some."

"You heard that?" Abhijat frowned. "What she was telling me?"

"Some of it. It's all kinda hazy. Awfully optimistic, that woman. Not very good at scheming, though. Her plans were so convoluted they gave me a headache. Simplicity, that's what you need for a plan to work. Anything you can't put in a nursery rhyme is too complicated to be reliable."

Abhijat looked at him blankly. "What're you–"

"A pinch of Amven, a pin that pricks

A key around the witch's neck

Be a puppet, steal the key

Fool the warlock and you'll be free."

Jehan looked at them expectantly, a serene smile on his lips.

"Umm, what does that mean?" Milli's voice was an intermingling of curiosity and trepidation.

"It's our escape plan, of course," Fasih said matter-of-factly. "In a nursery rhyme."