part 16

Babu picked up the briefcase and stepped out of the car. By ten at night, the pair of Yamdoots had brought him from Delhi to Gurgaon and had just dropped him off outside a restaurant-cum-bar named Aravalli, located on MG Road.

Babu had been there before, so he knew that the place was one of their many hideouts. He took a deep breath and stepped inside.

The doorman saluted him the moment he saw him and respectfully held the door open.

Babu passed through the door and moved further inside, but as he walked, a pang of regret hit his heart. If everything had gone according to his plan, he would have been soaring through the sky like a free bird by now.

Along with a hefty sum of money.

Along with his girlfriend.

But that was not written in his fate, and what was written instead was that these unwanted flies—Dara and Murad—would fall right into his carefully prepared pudding.

Babu let out a sigh and thought, "Is there still a chance to execute that plan?"

He shook off the thoughts swirling in his mind, turned a corner, and reached the manager's office. Knocking twice, he pushed the door open and entered.

"Come in... come in!"—Khurram Peerzada, known as Shahji, called out in a loud voice.

Khurram Peerzada was a stocky man in his forties, a crucial link in the vast network of Jagat Gosai. This network discreetly controlled drug supply in rave parties across Delhi and the entire NCR—especially Gurgaon and Noida. Khurram, who had the face of a schemer and a deceiver, was infamous for his cunning ways, and it was often said that he was so shrewd that the police had never been able to catch him.

"Come in, Babu,"—Khurram said—"Welcome!"

"Thank you, Shahji,"—Babu closed the door and walked to the massive platform-like table in front of Shahji, still holding the briefcase in his hand.

"Have a seat,"—Shahji, aka Khurram, said—"Why are you standing?"

Without a word, Babu sat in one of the several chairs placed around the table.

"Did you reach safely?"—Khurram asked.

"Yes, Shahji."

"What's the matter?"—Khurram asked—"Why do you look so down?"

"Nothing special—just like that."

"Nothing special, but still something. Speak up, what is it?"—Khurram pressed.

"Well… well…"—Babu wanted to speak, but the words just wouldn't come out.

He was still debating whether he should express his resentment about Dara and Murad laying hands on him.

And if he had to, was this the right moment—right after arriving?

"Nothing, Shahji,"—Babu finally decided to stay silent on the matter.

"Hmmm…"—Khurram stared at him for a moment, then leaned forward in his chair and said, "Looks like you have a complaint against Dara and Murad."

"No, Shahji."

"No?"

"No."

"Then, what about the goods? Are they fine?"

"The goods…"—Babu placed the briefcase on the table and slid it toward Khurram—"The goods are completely safe, Shahji."

"Did you check them?"

"Yes."

"Properly?"

"Yes."

"Then why wasn't the order fully delivered this time?"—Khurram asked—"Why was the quantity short?"

"The party complained that their order and payment were delayed this time, so…"

"Hmmm…"—Khurram stared at Babu for a few moments before speaking in a sharp tone—"That fat Marwari seems to have lost his mind."

Babu said nothing.

"Open the briefcase,"—Khurram ordered in the same tone—"I need to check the goods."

Babu obeyed, reaching into the inner pocket of his coat to retrieve a key and began unlocking the briefcase.

"By the way…"—Babu inserted the key into the lock and said—"If you don't mind, may I ask you something?"

"…about the sudden change in the final delivery schedule?"

"Yes…"—Babu looked at Khurram in surprise and said—"Yes."

"We had no role in it."

"Yes…"

"All such decisions are made by Gosai Sahib himself."

"But…"

"And we don't have the guts to question any of his decisions,"—Khurram cut Babu off—"So, once the order was given that a change in the final schedule was necessary, it was impossible for us to question the reason behind it."