Omerta - Ch 11, Pg 29, 10/Sept - Page 10

Chapter 5:

"Why do you think it's a Chinese rip off?" Maan politely asked the man who was sitting on a sofa next to him. Everyone in the business knew how Maan interacted with other people. He spoke less and rarely drew a weapon. His calmness was his prime arsenal and eliminating people who ticked him off the wrong way was his second. Having Khan by his side had been a major advantage.

"First, it's the weight. It's much lighter than what is available in the market nowadays." The man replied in his native tongue. The translator parroted back to Maan's company.

Maan chuckled.

"I think you should start keeping a tab on what goes on in the world of science and technology especially in the field of materials and engineering. The weight is far lesser because of the composite being used; a mix of resins that's far lighter and much stronger than the one previously used or what most manufacturers use. But you see the number of quality assessments that a legit consignment goes through makes the lifecycle of releasing a new upgrade a snail paced process. However we accelerate these assessments by testing in field and not on dummy subjects," Maan replied. "And it is pricy due to the material and our…quality assurance," Maan replied casually.

"What we are looking for a large consignment – a quantity never supplied by you before," the man spoke rapidly. He seemed to have accepted Maan's explanation.

"What's your proposal?" Khan asked taking over the conversation. Maan's job was done. The man handed a small sheet of paper. Khan looked at the man sitting opposite to him and the sheet of paper again. This wasn't just large. This was huge. What they were asking could easily start a war.

"Is this right?" Khan asked surprised. The man nodded. Khan passed on the sheet of paper to Maan. Maan didn't react to the number. He handed over the paper back to Khan and said, "Take care of this. Make sure they explain their infrastructure to us. I want to know how many people here in this country, are already part of this," Maan said getting up.

"What do you mean?" Khan asked looking at Maan who was paying a respectful greeting to the foreigner.

"There are more people involved in this. What these people are asking from us is just weapons. He didn't ask us to ship it even when they know that shipping is free and insured with an order of this magnitude," Maan replied casually.

"Do we have to worry about that?" Khan didn't understand why Maan was worried about this. It was far simpler for them since they now didn't have the headache to smuggle goods into or out of the country. Maan had ensured they had storage facilities at major geographies. "Don't you know what datacenters are Khan?" He had told him once Khan asked why he felt the need to decentralize merchandise. Khan had researched about datacenters, which were quite common when information had to be stored virtually, and wondered what Maan was before he shifted jobs.

"It was pleasure doing business with you," Maan said and walked out. He knew that Khan would take care of the rest.

There was something else that was bothering him. A source had informed him that Varun Deshmukh would be trying to get a hold of him in Istanbul to buy weapons from him. Given the political tensions in the country he wondered what Varun's motive would be. He knew what his father's motive was and he had avoided Deshmukhs as much as possible and since senior Deshmukh never really came forward with a proposal, he didn't worry too much about it. But if Varun came in voluntarily, he didn't know how the situation would be translated to. Damodar Deshmukh had invited him to a party and was showing off art exhibits to a small set of very influential people before they were 'exported' to prospective buyers.

He noted wryly that the invitee list boasted of several influential celebrities, socialites and politicians along with someone like him. It stopped being an irony long time ago.

And then there was that bar dancer – the girl who had been messing with his mind.

*****

"You are on waitressing job tomorrow," Skoda's manager told her as she was walking towards changing room. Geet sighed. She personally hated being a waitress in bar since the patrons weren't all that gentlemanly about their ways. They had wandering paws and her instincts always got the better of her and she had managed to injure most if not all of them.

The manager had retained her seeing how people stopped groping the girls and just watched them from afar. This attitude wasn't an advantage to their job but it was disturbing how the men liked that.

"It's not going to be in Skoda," he said. She groaned loudly. She hated private parties more than waitressing at Skoda. "It's at our art gallery," he said noting her displeasure. She perked up at that.

"I am in," she said unpacking her stuff. "Wait, it's not going to be something…kinky right?" She asked, new set of worries invading her mind.

"Geet, it's going to be a socially elite event with the cities shining stars are going to attend. It's a private party without page three hounding out or inside the building. There is going to be more security personnel than the actual invitees," he said wringing his hands.

"What are you worried about?" She asked the man who looked tad bit worried.

"Be careful there Geet and don't ever talk about it. I am recommending you to this job because I know that you are a person who can be trusted. Do not talk to others about the people who are attending the party. I know that ACP Satya is hounding you yet I am asking you to go. I don't know if I can trust the other girls here as much as you; in drunken stupor or money or an offer for a free sniff, they have the tendency to spill beans." He replied.

She didn't respond to that.

To be continued.

Music companion of the day: You by Fisher