Part 3: Tryst

Present day...

Mehar flipped through the receipts her assistant gave her. A sign there and a sign there, and she pushed off the rest for tomorrow. There was something more important to deal with now.

After giving strict instructions and telling her to call if anything went wrong, Mehar and her migraine went to the Van parked a couple blocks down the back entrance of the hotel.

A lady in the periwinkle uniform sari went in and came out in a blood red gown. Her shoulders less stiff, a graceful sway in her strut, and eyes teasing, this could be a whole different woman.

She walked down the familiar corridor to the bar. Green lights streamed from the glass door, and she pushed them open, making them spill onto the floor. Her red dress dragged over the pattern it made on the floor as she walked to her regular seat.

She lifted her dress slightly to perch on it and called out to the bartender with a scar on his cheek. "What did you say when they asked about it?" she asked, nodding to the scar.

A minute of confused silence passed before she got an answer.

"Told them it an accident with a razor, as you told me to," came his reply, finally recognising her.

"Good to see you're listening to your superior," she commented with mock triumph. 

"Let's cut to the chase, you're here to know about him, right? Tell me what's going on. I saw your face look less like snakeskin for a moment when you met him."

"It's an old case, nothing to worry about now," she dismissed him.

"He's out there by the pool. He left a note for the lady who orders Vesper martinis. I'm guessing that's you."

He handed her a business card, jet black, with an inscription on a diamond. It had an email ID and contact number at the very bottom. She flipped it over to the other side. Scribbled on with a pencil was, 'Meet me by the pool'. Mehar noted how Balthazar had known where to leave a message, when and with whom.

The pool looked enchanted. The lights lining the blue water made it luminous. The green coping around the pool reflected onto Mehar's red dress, making her look unreal. As she was. 

"Don't you have a lot to tell me?" he asked, swimming towards her. 

He took his time coming up the drop-in stairs, Balthazar knew she'd only reply carefully. Part of this deliberation of hers could be to test how eager he was. He isn't going to give anything away. He nonchalantly dried his hair, going as far as shaking his head and sprinkling her with water. The motion surprised her, and she broke into laughter. But the tension in the air isn't the kind that would dissipate over something as simple as that, but it did make it lift a little.

"What is it that you want to know?"

"Let's start with why you drugged me," he derides. 

"You already know why," she shrugged.

"And you also know what I want to know."

The mistakes they made years ago would never happen today. They knew what game they were playing now; they could see right through each other.

"I'm not going to tell you who I work for. It isn't something you have to be bothered about anymore."

"Thank you, but I'll decide what to be bothered about and what not to, by myself."

"Then you can find out whatever you want to know, yourself," she beamed at him and was off. He struggled to wrap a towel around himself and took off after her. When Balthazar caught up to her, it was his turn to flash her a smile. 

"Want to grab a bite of dinner? Just to lighten things up between us, we do have to work together," he offered. 

Mehar considered the prospect. This was a ploy to get her to answer him. But she did have to confirm certain things. They each have just as much as the other to lose, which makes the past something that has to be buried. But this unsaid agreement of theirs had to be settled, and done so carefully. Mehar will have to use tonight to come to a consensus. 

Turning to look at Balthazar, she replied, "Not if you're dressed like that."

"Just give me a minute," he said before taking off in a curious trot, the towel restricting his motion. 

The sight made Mehar chuckle to herself. It wasn't the performance itself, but him trying to put forward a playful and casual image in the hopes of turning her guard down just straight-up tickled her. She didn't like being underestimated, but if it involved enticing men making a fool out of themselves, she could try to put up with it.

He was out in moments; hair still damp from the swim. He offered her his arm, like that one time before which brought them here, to this point. 

"Where we off to?" she asked.

"I figured neither of us would want to get into a vehicle the other drives or into one where the other instructs the driver, so let's just go to this hotel's restaurant?"

"Not bad for someone so easy to knock out," she remarked.

With a smile that could beat Gelos's, he ignored the snide and held the door open for her.