Being caught

Raj slung the backpack over his shoulders. He sighed, adjusted the helmet, and climbed onto the bike, the engine purring softly. With one last look around, he took off and sped towards the address Jake had given him.

As he cut through the streets, the wind hitting his face, he couldn't stop thinking about what the hell he was doing. "My mom's gonna kill me... my dad's gonna have a heart attack..." he muttered, his voice muffled by the helmet. "I'm an astrophysicist. This shouldn't be on my 'to-do before 40' list."

His mind started to wander. "I should be in a lab... not carrying mysterious backpacks for a biker gang. If my mom finds out, she'll disown me... after making me listen to her lectures for five hours."

Raj gave it more gas, dodging cars. "Vishnu, Shiva, Brahma... someone, please, help me out here! I know I'm not the best devotee, but now would be a great time to step in."

He shook his head. "Look at me... asking Indian gods for help while hauling who-knows-what around. This is some bad movie stuff." The bike kept moving forward.

As Raj rode down the road, he was almost at the given address when the sound he dreaded most pierced the air.

*woo-woo-whoo, woo-woo-whoo*

The police siren. The high-pitched noise seemed to come from every direction at once. He froze, his hand faltering on the throttle.

Shit... shit... shit, he thought, feeling sweat drip down his forehead. His heart pounded, and his eyes widened behind the helmet visor. "No... no... this can't be happening. Not now!" he muttered, as if trying to convince the universe it was just a cruel joke.

His thoughts spiraled out of control. If I stop... they'll see the backpack... they'll open it... and that's it! Goodbye Raj! Goodbye Nobel Prize! Goodbye life! Goodbye... hot models...

He couldn't get his mind off one single thought: I'm going to jail. I'm screwed if that package is what I think it is.

He looked in the rearview mirror. The siren still blared, but he couldn't see the police car. Even so, the sound was there. "Okay, Raj... breathe. Keep riding... don't do anything stupid. Just... don't stop. Speed up a little, but nothing suspicious. You got this."

But every fiber of his being screamed to stop, throw himself to the ground, and start crying. Logic said one thing, instinct another, and he was completely lost in the chaos of his own mind.

For a brief moment, he sighed, thinking everything might work out.

But as if the universe was conspiring against him, Raj looked to the side, and there it was — the police car, right next to him, the officer giving him a serious once-over. Raj tried to force a nervous smile.

"What's in that backpack?" asked the cop, getting straight to the point.

Raj felt a chill down his spine and let out a nervous chuckle. "Oh, nothing much... just... some personal stuff. Like clothes... and, uh, other things. A gift for a friend, you know?"

"Clothes, huh? So you won't mind pulling over so I can take a look."

Raj froze for a second. 'Shit, this is it, my life's about to fall apart.' The officer went to open the car door, already prepared to push the situation.

In a desperate, impulsive move, Raj looked at him and blurted out, "Look... I... I gotta go now." And before the cop could react, Raj slammed on the throttle.

The cop, surprised. "Hey! Stop right there!"

But Raj was already gone, speeding like the devil was chasing him. The motorcycle's engine roared, and the wind nearly ripped his helmet off. 'Shit! Shit! Shit! Did I really just run from the cops?'

The siren started wailing again behind him, "woo-woo-woo," and Raj knew there was no turning back. He crouched down on the bike, feeling his heart race in his chest. 'I can't get caught, I can't screw this up. Not now...'

Raj gunned the bike, tires screeching on the asphalt as he weaved between cars. The sound of the siren faded, but he kept twisting the throttle, cutting through traffic like a madman. Horns blared behind him as he squeezed through every gap he could find.

.

.

.

Finally, he arrived at the marked address, an abandoned factory in the middle of a rundown industrial area. The place was eerie, with weathered walls and graffiti everywhere. Some windows were shattered, and the rusted entrance gate looked like it hadn't been touched in years. The ground was littered with dirt, shards of glass, and dead leaves blown around by the wind.

"Great, like I wasn't nervous enough already…"

"Just this one time. Tomorrow, I'll be back in my office, with my telescope, far away from this nightmare."

Taking a deep breath, he got off the bike, adjusting the backpack on his shoulders, and took a few hesitant steps towards the factory entrance.

Raj stopped in front of the factory's entrance, the backpack still on his back, looking around unsure of what to do. 'Should I leave the backpack here? Call someone? How the hell is this supposed to work?' he thought, trying to figure out how this drop-off was supposed to happen.

In the movies, there was always that tense moment. He remembered scenes where the buyer arrived, looked the delivery guy dead in the eye, and asked with a stern gaze, "Is everything I asked for in here?" Something like that.

Just as he was about to knock on the massive rusted gate, he heard the thing he feared most at the moment: a siren. Raj froze as soon as he heard the sirens. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, the red and blue lights reflecting off the old walls, and he knew he was screwed.

"Get on the ground, now!" the cop shouted, hand on his gun, running towards him.

His heart felt like it was about to explode in his chest. Before he realized it, his face was pressed against the asphalt, his hands cuffed behind his back. The cop was searching the backpack in a rush. The sound of the zipper opening echoed in his head, like it was the last thing he would hear before the end.

"What's your deal, huh?" the cop glared at him, holding up the package wrapped in duct tape. "Thought you could get away? Now tell me what's in here? Are you gonna talk, or do I have to guess?"

Raj tried to keep calm, but his mind was racing. I can't rat out Jake. In the movies, the snitch always dies first… And even if he wanted to talk, he didn't even know where to start.

"I'm just… just making a delivery, man. I don't know what's in there."

"Delivery? To who? Where?"

"I just had the address. I don't know anything else, I swear."

The cop let out a dry, cynical laugh, tossing the package back into the backpack. "It's always the same story… all innocent. Are you gonna cooperate, or do you want things to get worse?"

Raj didn't answer, his gaze fixed on the ground. He couldn't say anything more without digging himself deeper.

"You screwing with me, huh?" The cop pressed his boot against Raj's back, forcing him harder into the ground.

Raj opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He knew he was done for, no matter what he said. All he could do was pray. Shiva, Vishnu, Ganesha… someone help me, please.

The cop, realizing he wasn't getting any more out of him. "Not gonna cooperate, huh? Fine, you idiot. Keep quiet, then."

Without warning, Raj felt the cuffs tighten painfully on his wrists. The cop roughly yanked him up and shoved him towards the squad car. He was thrown into the back seat, the sound of the doors slamming shut ringing in his ears.

Time passed slowly. Raj was sweating cold, his heart racing. He kept imagining what was coming next. Goodbye, Nobel Prize… goodbye, models… Goodbye, life without a criminal record.

The car finally stopped, but that brought no relief. One of the officers opened the door and, without a word, placed a black bag over Raj's head.

"What… what the fuck is this?!" Raj shouted, but the cop ignored him.

"Shut up. We're gonna have a little chat."

Raj couldn't see a thing. The world had turned into total darkness. The sound of footsteps echoed, and he barely had any sense of where he was. When they placed him on a chair, the cold metal surface sent chills down his spine. He strained to hear anything that might help him figure out what was happening, but all he got was silence.

"Listen up," a deep, firm voice finally said. "We're not gonna hurt you. Not yet."

Raj could feel the tension in the air, his body trembling, but he tried to keep his cool. He just wanted to get out of there and back to his normal life.

"Are you gonna cooperate now, or do we have to switch to a different kind of conversation?"

"Alright, let's start over. I'm giving you a chance to save yourself here. Who gave you the package, and where were you taking it?"

Raj, sweating even more under the black bag, took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, but the words started pouring out uncontrollably.

"Look… I don't know who they were, I swear! I was just riding around, you know, casually, enjoying the bike, when suddenly this… this huge guy showed up out of nowhere! He must've been, like, seven feet tall, arms like tree trunks. He had this massive scar across his face and an eye patch, like a movie villain, you know?"

The cop crossed his arms but let Raj continue.

"So, this guy stopped me and… and he had a Russian accent! I think it was Russian, right? Could've been German too, not sure. Anyway, he threatened me with a wrench! Yeah, a wrench, like the kind you use to… I don't know, fix big stuff. He said that if I didn't take this backpack to the factory, he'd smash me with the wrench and then dump my body in a ditch. Or, like… in a mailbox! I don't really remember."

"So… so I agreed, right? I mean, who wouldn't? The guy was huge! And he had a gang with him! They all looked like… MMA fighters or something. One of them, I swear on Shiva, had tattoos on his eyeballs. I had no choice! They gave me the backpack, and I just… did what anyone would do! I didn't wanna die, man!"

The cop sighed. "So, let me get this straight… a Russian guy with an eye patch, a wrench, and a gang of fighters forced you to take this package to the factory. And you, of course, agreed right away."

Raj nodded vigorously. "Exactly! You get it! I'm a victim here, man! A victim of… of an international Russian smuggling ring! Or German. Maybe even Chinese. I'm not sure where they were from."

"Right, and how do you know they were smugglers?"

Raj hesitated for a second, trying to come up with an answer.

"Well, they were… they were listening to weird music on the radio! Like those Russian songs you hear at underground parties, you know? I saw it once in a documentary on TV. Oh, and they had a black van! And, you know, anyone driving a black van is up to no good. Everybody knows that."

"You think I'm an idiot, don't you?"

Raj squirmed in the chair, nervous. "No! No, sir! I'm just trying to explain how things went down. It's all true, I swear."

"Listen here, kid… you're gonna tell me the truth now, or you're staying under that bag until you decide to really cooperate. Last chance."

Before Raj could respond, his stomach let out a loud growl.

"Look… uh… any chance you've got a cookie around? I… I didn't have breakfast."