part 13

Dheeraj and Ballu stepped out of the coffee house, and Ballu headed toward his parked taxi.

"Where are you, brother?" Dheeraj dialed a number on his mobile as he exited the Indian Coffee House and asked as soon as the call connected.

"Where else would I be? I'm right here," came the voice from the other end. "You tell me."

"I have a small task."

"What?"

"It's not something to discuss over the phone."

"Then come here and tell me in person."

"Where?"

The voice on the other end gave him an address.

"I'll be there."

"How long will you take?"

"At most, twenty minutes."

"Good," the voice replied. "Come."

Dheeraj disconnected the call and got into Babu's taxi.

His mobile vibrated, producing a faint hum. Darren immediately sat up in his bed. He glanced cautiously at his wife, who was sleeping beside him, then picked up his mobile from the side table to check.

There was a message from Gurgaon.

His "toy" had summoned him.

The dense winter nights of Delhi, especially when heavy black clouds loomed overhead, often felt even darker.

Darren turned off the screen light and took a deep breath before getting up.

"What happened?" Saya, who had also woken up, asked him.

"Nothing," Darren said in a low voice. "Seems like a technical issue, and I need to go to the office."

"At this hour?"

"It's not the first time, is it?"

"Are you the only one working at your office?" Saya asked irritably. "Isn't there anyone else?"

"Saya..." Darren leaned in, placed a kiss on her cheek, and said, "Big positions come with big responsibilities."

"But...!"

"Oh, Saya, forget all this and make me a cup of tea," Darren said, trying to avoid an unpleasant conversation.

"Send Sameer."

"He's already there," Darren lied. "But they need me too."

"But...!"

"Saya, now get out of it," Darren feigned annoyance. "And besides, we are going on a trip anyway, aren't we?"

Saya said nothing more and walked toward the kitchen.

Left behind, Darren glanced at the wall clock and saw it was nine o'clock. He walked over, pulled the curtains aside, and looked up at the sky.

The thick, black sky still held the ominous promise of heavy rain.

Babu had realized that his foolproof plan had collapsed and that this was no ordinary situation—these executioners had been sent after him for a reason. Did they already suspect him, or had something changed in their plans that he hadn't been informed about?

But how had his plan—one he hadn't shared with anyone—been exposed?

Babu had left for Jaipur that morning, picked up the consignment, and returned to Delhi via Ajmer and Alwar. The moment he stepped out of the railway station, this deadly duo must have been tailing him.

But why?

As always, Babu had completed his job with utmost diligence and had duly reported it to his superior. According to his exit plan, he was supposed to report to Batla House first and then deposit the briefcase at Jamia Nagar.

The stretch between Batla House and Jamia Nagar was his designated exit point. That was where, instead of delivering the briefcase, Babu planned to keep it with him and escape from Delhi.

For this purpose, he had already arranged for an Innova with a driver, who was supposed to pick him up on the way and take him to Chandigarh. Once in Chandigarh, he could go anywhere—take the Himachal route to disappear into the hills or head toward Nepal by road. After spending some time in isolation, he could return when the search for him had long died down.

But now, the absolute proof that his supposedly foolproof plan had failed was none other than the presence of Dara and Murad.

As the taxi reached Batla House, Babu signaled the driver to stop and stepped out.

"How much?" he asked the driver.

"Eleven hundred, sir," the taxi driver said, handing him back nine hundred rupees in change.

Babu pulled out a five-hundred-rupee note from the money he had just received and said, "Keep the rest."

The taxi driver was pleased.

Babu took a deep breath, tightened his grip on the briefcase, stepped out of the vehicle, and cautiously glanced at the black Indica that had stopped behind them before moving forward.

He had barely covered a few steps when the black Indica suddenly pulled up right next to him. Suppressing his frustration, Babu opened the rear door without a word and silently got in.

The Indica picked up speed immediately.

"What's going on?" Babu placed the briefcase on the car floor between his feet and asked in a cautious tone. "Why are you suddenly tailing me?"

"Khaleefa," Murad drove on and said, "Shahji gave the order, so who are we to ask why? Who are you?"

The duo referred to "Shahji" as Khurram Pirzada, who was a few ranks above Babu in this business. But he was only above Babu, not at the very top. The one truly at the top of the ladder, the king of kings, the emperor of this trade, was none other than Jagat Gosain.

In present-day Delhi, Jagat Gosain was the biggest name in this business.

"What... what do you mean?" Babu asked nervously.

"What?" This time, Dara turned around to glare at him.

"I was supposed to report to the Batla House location first."