Chapter Forty Six
He dove into the car, leaving the door open as he reached over to pull a Glock and another magazine out of the glove compartment. He grabbed the phone and continued to shout at the stunned ladies watching him. "Go," he screamed. "And tell them to come armed."
He jerked the gear into drive and slammed his foot down on the gas pedal. The momentum shut the door as the car shot forward. He punched the speed dial for Josh's cell phone. He knew he always carried it and that the only time the power was turned off was when he was home or in the air.
He got his voice mail on the first ring. Shouting a blasphemy, Angad disconnected, then hit the speed dial for Josh's home number. As he raced up the hill, going seventy miles an hour now, he chanted into the phone, "Come on, come on, come on."
One ring. Two rings. Then on the third ring, Josh answered the phone…
Angad shouted, "It isn't Rajeev. It's Kartik. He's using Kripa to get to me. It was a setup from the very beginning. He's going to kill her and Prithvi. Get some help, Josh. We're all targets."
Kartik Mishra, known to the residents of Holy Oaks as that nice, polite farmer, Aparajit Deb, was crouched down below the railing of the choir loft, waiting and watching for his opportunity. Oh, how he had planned for this day. The celebration was finally at hand. It as going to be his moment of glory, and Angad Khanna's day of reckoning.
His good mood was being sorely tested now, thought, by Angad. The mule was, in fact, making Kartik quite frantic. Trying to ruin all of his wonderful plans by making him waste time worrying.
Once again he slowly inched up over the wall and searched the crowd below. He could feel the rage building inside and fought to contain it. All in good time, he promised himself. And then he looked again. Where had the mule disappeared to? After searching through the crowd a third time, Kartik concluded he wasn't in church. Where oh where could he have gone? And then the thought occurred to him that perhaps the mule was standing in the back, under the balcony.
Kartik had to be sure. He decided he would have to risk it and sneak downstairs to look for himself. He had to be certain. Had to, had to, had to. It was imperative that the mule attend the celebration. He was the guest of honor, after all.
Keeping his head down, Kartik crawled back to the bench where he'd put the key to the iron gate. He was reaching up to grab it when he heard the screech of tires. Scrambling over to the window, he peered out just as the mule's green Explorer came barreling up the driveway.
Kartik grinned. "Good things come to those who wait," he whispered. Then he sighed. Everything was back on schedule. The guest of honor would be strolling into the church any minute now.
He picked up the rifle, adjusted the scope, and then got into position, hunched down on his knees beside the tripod.
The video camera was focused on the altar, and he reached up and pushed the button to start the tape. Timing was everything, of course. What good was killing Prithvi and Kripa if the mule wasn't there to watch? No good at all, Kartik reasoned. He was determined to get boast that he had bested the FBI if he didn't have the goods to prove it? Kartik knew he was smarter than all the mules put together, and son now, very soon, the world would know it too. The tape would mock them, prove their incompetence, humiliate them in the same way that Angad had humiliated him.
"You messed with the wrong man, Khanna." he whispered, his voice shimmering with hate. His fingers curled around the smooth barrel. He could feel the power under his fingertips growing stronger, more potent with each caress.
And still he waited for Father to finish the wedding ceremony and go up the steps and gets back behind the altar table to start mass. Kartik had done his homework. He knew exactly where everyone in the wedding party would be sitting. He'd been pretending to be working in the balcony while the rehearsal was going on, and he knew that the bride and groom, the best man, and the maid of honor were going to follow the priest up on the altar and sit in chairs, like royalty, slightly behind the altar table and to the right, against the north wall. Both bothers and sisters would be center stage in the camera's lens.
It was going to be perfect. He would kill Pritvi boy first---one shot through the center of his forehead that would look absolutely marvelous on film. And while Angad was still reeling his best friend's death---Kartik would swing the rifle to the right and kill Kripa. The camera would be capturing her reaction to her brother's death. Kartik pictured the look of horror in her eyes the scant second before he killed her, and he smiled again. It was going to be delicious. Bam, bam, thank you, ma'am. He'd get the brother and sister before the crowd had time to react. Kartik was counting on the guests to panic and stampede their way like cows to the doors. He needed the pandemonium to give him time to get downstairs through the trapdoor he'd built in the floor behind the organ. He'd land in the closet off the vestibule, get outside through the front window, and blend in with all the hysterical men and women. He might even decide to have little more fun and do some screaming too.
"So much to do, so little time," he whispered. For, in those precious two or three seconds, maybe even as many as four, before the crowd swelled from their seats, he was going to try to kill his housemates. He knew he was being greedy, but he didn't care. He had to get rid of them. He'd been fantasizing about it for as long as he'd had to endure living with them. They were pigs, Vile, filthy pigs. He couldn't abide the thought of letting such garbage continue to pollute the world. No, that wasn't an option. They had to die, and if he couldn't kill them today, then he would come back and get them later. He wouldn't bother to film their deaths, however, for like the w****, Simone---they weren't worthy enough to be remembered.
He stifled a girlish giggle as he thought about the garage door opener he'd made such clever adjustments to. It was clipped to the visor in his van. No on would notice it or give it a second thought. It wasn't going to open any garage doors. No, Sirree. One push of the button, and wham, bam. News at Eleven.
Are we having fun yet? Oh, yes, yes indeed.
Indian Mythology
Sampoorna
CID
Current Affairs
Cricket
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