`*`CHASE`*` {A-K} Chp 14/2!!!pg. 152 ❤️

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GuJuHoTnEsS

@GuJuHoTnEsS

Voyager

Posted: 17 years ago

ANGAD KHANNA: An FBI Agent. Prithvi's childhood friend. Is soon about to go on a long vacation, but soon gets tangled in CHASE...where one false move will cost him everything that matters.

PRITHVI BOSE: Kripa's older brother. Parents died when he was a kid. Loves his sister like crazy. Angad's childhood friend. Soon will be risking his and his sister's life in a game of CHASE...one false move could cost him everything he ever dreamed of.

DOCTOR JOSH SHARMA: Angad's boss. Very cool and also a psychiatrists. Always there for him and takes care of him like an older brother. Will also be there for him in CHASE...

KRIPA BOSE: Prithvi's darling little sister. Has came to USA after lot of struggle. Couldn't be with her brother because of some problems. But what she doesn't know is her life is about to change drastically...where one false move can cost her what she never would have imagined.

MYSTERY MAN: Psycho who went and revealed his next target and is pulling everyone into a twisted game....

others chac: will be introduced as the story goes on:

guys this is the new concept of my story tell me if you like it and if i should continue.....

Chp 1 & 2-pg 1

Chp 3-pg 3

Promo-pg 4

Chp 4-pg 6

Promo-pg 8 & 9

Chp 5/1-pg 10

Chp 5/2-pg 12

Chp 5/3-pg 16

Chp 6/1-pg 24

Chp 6/2-pg 29

Chp 7-pg 35

Chp 7/1-pg 40

Chp 7/2-pg 42

Chp 8/1-pg 52

Chp 8/2-pg 66

Promo-pg 68

Chp 8/3-pg 71

Promo-pg 77

Chp 9/1-pg 78

Chp 9/2-pg 81

Chp 10-pg 90

Chp 11-pg 93

Chp 12/1-pg 102

Chp 12/2-pg107

Chp 12/3-pg 115

Chp 12/4-pg 123

Chp 13-pg 133

Promos-pg 141

Chp 14/1-pg 149

Chp 14/2-pg 152

Edited by ndnhottie110586 - 17 years ago

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Vijaya

@vallanki

Sparkler

+ 3

Posted: 17 years ago

Surely go ahead. will love to read.

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GuJuHoTnEsS

@GuJuHoTnEsS

Voyager

Posted: 17 years ago

Chapter One

It was hotter than hell inside the office...It was like being inside a coffin someone had absentmindedly left propped up against the wall and Angad Khanna thanked God he wasn't claustrophobic. He was rapidly becoming miserable though. The air was heavy and ripe with mildew, making his breathing as labored as when he was back at Penn State running that last yard to the goalposts with the football tucked neatly in his arm.

He waited at the regional office for his superior to join him. He wanted to discuss a case that happened over year ago, but that didn't seem to matter. He knew he was going to have to discuss it whether he wanted to or not. Angad sat down across from him at the polished oak conference table and listened for thirty minutes while Josh reviewed some of the particulars of the bizarre case. Angad stayed calm until Josh told him he was going to get a commendation for his heroic actions. He almost lost it then and there, but he was adept at concealing his true feelings. Even his boss, with his keen eye constantly on the lookout for any telltale signs of burnout or stress overload, was fooled into thinking that once again he was taking it all in stride-or so Angad thought.
"I think I might be burning out. Am I?"
Josh shook his head. "No, you're just a little fatigued, that's all. You're way past due for some time off, but that's my fault, not yours. I want you to take a month off now and get your mind centered again."

Josh always told it like it was. Angad admired and respected him almost as much as he did his own father, or so he rarely argued with him. His boss was steady as a rock. He never would have lasted more than two week in the Bureau if he had let his emotions control his behavior. If he had any flaw at all, it was his maddening ability to remain calm to the point of being catatonic. Nothing ever fazed the man. He had been able to hold on to his sense of humor-no small feat, considering the section he ran. His idea of losing his temper had to repeat himself, though in all honesty, his raspy, years-of-smoking-cigars voice never, ever raised a decibel. One this was certain. His superiors knew gold when they spotted it, and in the six years that Josh had worked for the bureau, he'd been promoted four times.
A hint of smile softened Angad's bleak expression. "Center my mind?"
"Chill out," he explained. "Or try to anyways. When was the last time you went up to Bay to see that big family of yours?"
"It's been a while," Angad admitted, "I keep in touch with all of them by E-mail. Everyone's as busy as I am."
"Go home," he said. "It'll be good for you. Your folks will be glad to see you again. How's the judge doing?"
"Dad's fine," Angad answered.
"What about your friend Prithvi Bose?"
"I talk to him every night."
"By E-mail?"
"Yes."
"Maybe you ought to go see him and have those talks face-to-face."
"You think I need a little spiritual guidance?" Angad asked with a grin.
"I think you need a little laughter."
"I'll see you in a month, Angad, but not a day before Agreed?"
"Agreed."
His superior started out the door, and then paused. "Are you still getting sick every time you get on a plane?"
"Get sick every time I get on a plane?" Hell, yes."
Josh chuckled. "Good luck getting home then."
"You know, Josh, most psychiatrists would try to get to the bottom of my phobia, but you get a kick out of it, don't you?"
He laughed again. "See you in a month," he repeated as he strolled out of the office.

Angad was suddenly anxious to see his friend again. And he would finally get to meet Prithvi's only family, his baby sister, Kripa. She was eight years younger than her brother and had grown up in a boarding school in Mt Abu. Prithvi had tried several times to bring her to America, but the conditions of the trust and the lawyers guarding the money convinced the judges to keep her sequestered until she was of age to make decisions for herself.

Angad had never met her, but he remembered the photos of her that Prithvi had stuck up on the mirror. She'd looked like a street urchin, a scruffy-looking kid wearing a pleated black skirt and a uniform white blouse that was partially hanging out of her waistband. One of her knee-high socks had fallen down around her ankle. She had scabby knees and curly long brown hair that dropped down over one of her eyes. Both he and Prithvi had laughed when they saw the photo. Kripa couldn't have been more than seven or eight years old when the picture was taken, but what stuck Angad's mind was the joy in her smile and the sparkle in her eyes. She had a bit of devil in her and a zest for life that was going to get into sure trouble one day.

Yeah, a vacation was just what he needed, he decided. The key to all of his plans was getting back to his home base, San Francisco, and that meant he was going to have to get on the damned plane first. No one hated flying as much as Angad did. It scared the hell out of him, as a matter of fact. As soon as he entered the Cincinnati airport, he broke out in a cold sweat, and he knew his complexion was going to be green by the time he boarded the plane. He could feel his stomach tightening as he headed for check-in. He knew the drill. He presented himself, his credentials, and his clearance to the security officer. The prissy, middle-aged man name Kartik nervously chewed on his pencil-thin upper lip until his computer gave him Angad's name and code verification. He then escorted Angad around the metal detector the other passengers would have to pass through, handed him his boarding pass, and waved him down the ramp.

Captain Shabd Sareen was waiting for him in the galley, Angad had flown with the captain at least ten times in the past two years and knew the man was an excellent pilot and meticulous in his job. Angad had run a background check on the captain just to make certain there wasn't anything suspicious in his past to suggest the possibility of a nervous breakdown while he was flying. He even knew the kind of toothpaste the man preferred, but none of those facts made his nervousness subside. Sareen had graduated from the Air Force Academy at the top of his class and had worked for Delta for eight years. His record was unblemished but that didn't matter either. Angad hated everything about flying. It all boiled down to a question of trust, he knew, and even though Shabd wasn't a complete stranger-they wore on a first-name basis these days. Angad still didn't like being forced to trust him to keep almost 160 tons of steel in the air.

Shabd could have been a model for an airline poster with his silver-tipped, immaculately trimmed hair, his perfectly pressed navy blue uniform with razor-edge creases in the trousers, and his tall, lean physique. Angad wasn't overweight by any means, but he still felt like a bull moose next to him. The captain radiated confidence. Though Angad had the government clearance and FAA approval to carry his loaded Sig Sauer on the plane, he knew it made Shabd nervous-and that was the last thing Angad wanted or needed. In preparation Angad had already unloaded his gun. As the captain greeted him, he dropped the gun's magazine into his hand.
"Good to see you again, Angad."
"How are you feeling today, Shabd?"
Shabd smiled. "Still worried I'll have a heart attack while we're in the air?"
Angad shrugged to cover his embarrassment. "The thought has crossed my mind," he said, "It could happen."
"Yes, it could, but I'm not the only man on board who can fly this plane."
"I know."
"But it doesn't make you feel any better, does it?"
"No."
"As much as you have to fly, you'd think you'd get used to it."
"You'd think I would, but it hasn't happened yet."
"Does your boss know you get sick every time you get on a plane?"
"Sure he does," Angad answered. "He's sadistic."
Shabd laughed, "I'm going to give a real smooth ride today," he promised. "You aren't going on with us to London, are you?"
"Fly over an ocean? That's never going to happen." The thought made his stomach lurch. "I'm going home."
"Have you ever been to Europe?"
"No, not yet. When I can drive there, I'll go."
The captain glanced at the magazine he held in the palm of his hand."Thanks for letting me hold on to this. I know I don't have the legal right to ask you to give it up."
"But it makes you nervous to have a loaded weapon on board, and I don't want a nervous pilot flying this plane."

......well guys here is the first part..tell me if you liked it or not..i might cont if majority rules

Edited by ndnhottie110586 - 17 years ago

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nycdesiqt

@nycdesiqt

Dazzler

Posted: 17 years ago

omg!! loved it!! please do continue! and sooon!!!
loved angad's character...aww he doesn't like flying!!
and poor guy...he needs a break and thank god he is taking one!!
can't wait for him to meet kripa!
wonderful part!! 👏 👏 😃

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sameira

@AKForever

Voyager

Posted: 17 years ago

hey awsome part part..continue soon 👏

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aditi

@AngelsHeaven

Inactive

+ 2

Posted: 17 years ago

fab part
angad scared of something... it is the first time i have heard it...
can v have kripa's descripition???
continue soon

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GuJuHoTnEsS

@GuJuHoTnEsS

Voyager

Posted: 17 years ago

Thanks guys for all your wonderful cooperation. Yeah I wanted to portrait different Angad than the macho man…..hope you guys will like his character….. Since you guys are eager for Kripa's description I thought maybe since I got little time I should post an intro for her. Here it is…ENJOY!!!!!

Chapter Two

The wait was making her nuts. When it came to her brother's health. Kripa found it impossible to be patient, and sitting by the phone waiting for him to call, her with the results of the blood tests required more stamina than she possessed. Prithvi always called her on Friday evening between seven and ten, but he didn't' call this time, and the longer she waited, the more worried she became.
By Saturday afternoon she had convinced herself the news wasn't good, and when Prithvi still hadn't called her by six that night, she got into her car and headed out. She knew her brother was going to be upset with him because she was following him to Kansas City, but while she headed toward Des Moines, she came up with a good lie to tell him. Kripa had been of age for some time now and had moved to Chicago three years ago to be close to her brother. Her background was art history, she would remind him, and the lure of the Degas exhibit on temporary loan to the Nelson Atkins Museum in Kansas City was simply too appealing to resist. Granted, she had already seen the exhibit in Chicago, several times as a matter of fact when she had worked at the art gallery, there, but maybe Prithvi wouldn't remember that. Besides, there wasn't a rule that you could see Degas's wonderful ballerinas only once, was there? No, of course not.
She couldn't tell Prithvi the truth, even though they both knew what that was, that she became consumed with panic every four months when he checked into the medical center for tests. She was terrified that the results weren't going to be satisfactory this time and that the cancer, like a hibernating bear, was waking up again. Damn it, Prithvi always had the results of his preliminary blood tests by Friday evening. Why hadn't he called her? Not knowing was making her an emotional wreck. She was so scared inside she was sick. Before she had left Chicago, she had called her tai, uncaring that she was acting like a neurotic mother hen. Tai had a kind, gentle voice, but her news wasn't good. Prithvi, she'd explained, was back at the hospital. And, no, she'd told her, the doctor hadn't been happy with the preliminary tests. Kripa was sure she knew what that meant. Her brother was undergoing another brutal round of chemotherapy.
Damned if she'd let him go through that ordeal without family by his side this time. Family…..he was the only family she had. After their parents' deaths, she and her brother, children at the time, had been forced to grow up on opposite sides of the ocean. So much had been lost over the years. But things were different now. They were adults. They could make their own choices, and that meant they could be there for each other when times got rough.
The alternator light went on just outside the town of Haverton. The filling station was closed, and she ended up spending the night at a no-frills motel there. Before leaving the next morning, she stopped by the motel office and picked up a map of Kansas City. The clerk gave her directions to the Fairmount which, he informed her, was close to the art museum. She still got lost. She missed her exit off of I-435 and ended up too far south on the highway that circled the sprawling city. Clutching the soggy map she's accidentally spilled Diet Coke all over, she stopped at a gas station for more directions. Once she got her bearings, getting to the hotel wasn't difficult at all. She followed the street marked State Line and headed back north.
Prithvi had told her that Kansas City was pretty and clean, but his descriptions didn't do the city justice. It was really quite lovely. The streets were lined with well manicured lawns and old, two-story houses with flowers in bloom everywhere, she cut over to Ward Parkway, the street that he had promised would take her directly to the Fairmount's front door. The parkway was divided by wide grassy medians, and twice she passed groups of teenagers playing football and soccer there. The kids didn't seem to mint the oppressive heat or the stifling humidity.
Just as she began to worry she'd gone too far, she saw a cluster of pretty Spanish-style shops up ahead. She guessed that this was the area the motel clerk had called the Country Club Plaza and she felt a sense of relief. A couple of blocks farther and there on the right was the Fairmount. An hour later she was feeling human again. She'd been driving since early that morning, but a long, cold shower revitalized her. It as Sunday which meant Prithvi would be home. She put on a pale pink, ankle-length, linen, sleeveless dress with a high mandarin collar. The skirt had a slit up the left side, which she hoped Tai wouldn't think was too racy. Her long dair was still damp at the nape, but she didn't want to mess with it any longer, and after she fastened the dainty straps on her sandals, she grabbed her purse and sunglasses and went back downstairs.The heat felt like a slap in the face as she stepped outside, and she couldn't quite catch her breath for several seconds. The poor doorman, an elderly man with salt-and- pepper hair, looked in jeopardy of melting, dressed as he was in his heavy gray uniform. As soon as the valet brought her car around the circle, the doorman stepped forward with a wide smile to open the door for her.

Angad went back to the front of the plane and got settled in his seat. He was in first class today, and though the seat was wider, it still felt cramped. His legs were too long to properly stretch out. After shoving his briefcase under the seat in front of him, he leaned back, clipped his seat belt together, and partially closed his eyes. It would have been nice if he could have at least tried to get comfortable, but that was out of question because he knew that if he took his suit jacket off, he'd freak out the other passengers when they saw his holstered gun. They wouldn't know it wasn't loaded, and Angad wasn't in the mood to calm anyone else down. Hell, he was hovering on the edge of a panic attack now, and he knew he'd stay that way until the plane had taken off. He'd be all right, sort of, anyway, until they began their descent into (SOF) San Francisco International Airport. Then the anxiety would start all over again. In his present, claustrophobic, neurotic state, he thought it was damned ironic that Josh wanted him to join the crisis management team.
After stopping by his SA office to drop off a couple of folders, tie up some loose ends, and take a little ribbing about the possibility that he had only squelched the hijacking to delay having to fly-everyone in the department seemed to think his fear of flying was hilarious- Angad finally headed home. Traffic was a killer, but then it always was. He was tempted to head his '84 Porsche toward the highway and open her up just to see how the reconditioned motor would manage but decided against it. He was too tired. Instead, he maneuvered her through the familiar side streets. She handled like a dream.
He pulled into the basement garage of his brick town house, hit the remote control to close the door, and felt his entire body begin to relax. He was finally home. He climbed the steps to the main floor, dumped his Hartmann bag in the back hallway outside the laundry room door-his housekeeper, Rosie, had trained him well- and had his suit jacket and tie off before he reached the newly remodeled kitchen. He dropped his briefcase and his sunglasses on the shiny brown granite island, grabbed a Coke from the Sub-Zero refrigerator that always made a weird sucking sound whenever he closed the door, and headed for his sanctuary.
The library was his favorite room in the house and the only one he'd bothered to furnish since he'd lived there. It was located in the back on the first floor. When he opened the door, the scent of lemon furniture polish, leather, and musty old books wafted about him, and the scent not unpleasant. The room was large and spacious, yet still felt warm and cozy on harsh winter nights when a blizzard was raging outside his window and there was fire blazing in the hearth. The walls were a dark walnut that stretched twelve feet up to the ornately carved eighteen-century moldings bracketing the ceiling. Two of the four walls bore shelves slightly bowed from the weight of the heavy texts. A ladder rolled back and forth along a brass pole across the bookcase so the volumes on the top shelves could be easily reached. His mahogany desk, a gift from his uncle, faced the fireplace, and mantel a clutter of photos his and his sister had placed there after he'd moved in. Double French door with a Palladian arch above them were straight ahead. When he pulled the draperies back and opened the doors to the walled garden with the old cherub fountain and paver-brick patio, that had been laid down God only knows how long ago, sunlight and scent filled the library. In the spring it was lilac first, then honeysuckle, but now the heavy smell of heliotrope was prominent.
He stood there surveying his peaceful haven for several minutes until the heat began to press in on him and he heard the central air conditioner kick on. He closed the doors, yawned loudly, and took a long swallow of his Coke. Then he removed his gun, took the magazine out, and put it all inside his wall safe. He sat down at his desk in his soft leather swivel chair, rolled up his sleeves, and flipped on his computer. The tension in his shoulders was easing, but he let out a loud groan when he saw the number of his E-mails waiting for him. There were also over twenty logged calls on his answering machine as well. With a sigh, he kicked off his shoes, leaned back in his chair, and began scrolling through his E-mail while he listened to his phone messages. Some were from his younger brother Sujal, who desperately wanted to borrow the Porsche for the Fourth of July weekend and promised to take good care of the car. His mother called to tell him not to give the Porsche under and circumstances.
The last message stopped him cold.
"Angad, it's me Prithvi. I'm in real trouble, Cutter. It's five-thirty my time, Saturday. Call me as soon as you get this message. I'm in Kansas City at my town house. You know where it is. I'm going to call Josh too. Maybe he can get hold of you. The police are here now, but they don't know what to do, and no one can find Kripa. Look, I know I'm rambling. Just call, no matter what time."

Edited by ndnhottie110586 - 17 years ago

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storm

@lovestorm

Inactive

Posted: 17 years ago

awww... Prithvi's such a cute brother. lovin it... contd. soon 😛

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GuJuHoTnEsS

@GuJuHoTnEsS

Voyager

Posted: 17 years ago

hey thanx for the comment!!!!!!!no kirpa didn't ran away..she went out after prithvi becuz he has cancer and she never got any calls from him so she is worried about him..so she went to see him

Edited by ndnhottie110586 - 17 years ago