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True Lies
Chapter 2
Any man, who had been reared in the dingy corners of New Delhi, would have understood the whispered words "G.B Road" immediately. There was no ambiguity concerning the city's most notorious red-light district, and the illicit-not to mention illegal-activities taking place in the darkened rooms.
The area had a distinct feel to it-a feel found only in places where ignorance was a quality revered above all others. G.B Road, with its dilapidated buildings and orphaned shops; was coined to be the best hardware market in India. Possibly even the largest in all of Asia as well.
But it was also the home to over nine thousand exploited women-some Indian, some foreign. Despair lit the corners of the aging apartments, and a mlange of black soot ran down the age old walls. It fell upon the hardened earth with soft sounds, but to the prisoners behind the grail, it was comparable to a harsh ringing of gunshots.
There was only one difference today, for an actual sound of gunshots did diffuse into the atmosphere, shaking the women, children and clients alike. Screams ran through the crowd of kotha number 64, and a rampant stench of fear combined with unprotected sex assailed the bystander's senses.
Incoherent pleas rang out as everyone made their way out of the constricted cabins, and almost jumped down the staircases leading into inconspicuous shops. The owners only stared at their registers, not even bothering to move a muscle as half naked men and gaunt looking women raced out of their stores.
It was the usual, after all.
But not today.
Although the balding men and obese women had not batted a single eyelid as the crowd raced past, their bodies had risen from the plastic stools synonymous with the infamous Indian mentality, and their unseeing eyes had widened when the owner of kotha number 64 came running with the screams of murder gurgling from her throat.
A woman had been killed.
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It was this very sight that greeted her when she walked onto the chaotic scene. Abominable stenches mixed with the aroma of cowering fear traversed to her slim nose, and the diamond stud glinted harshly in the sunlight.
Pulling her hands out of those low waist jeans, she accepted a pair of latex gloves from the official photographer, and donned the ennuyeux material onto her slim fingers. It stuck to her already moist palms, subsequently raising her level of agitation to new heights.
There was a soft pitter patter of diluted water coming from the right, and it echoed gently in her ears; displacing the seriousness of the situation. In a sudden move, the clouds above her dislocated the glowing sun out of the wide sky, and darkened the decrepit area where she presently stood.
But another pitter patter, this one not quite so gentle; twisted her slender frame to face the oncoming stranger. Her shoulders lifted automatically, and sleek limbs pressed gently upon slightly wide hips. It was a stance meant to display authority, and to relay her position concerning who was in charge.
The same old khaki color invaded her vision, and her hazel orbs blinked continuously as she stared at the approaching man. A badge glinted upon his uniformed chest, and his posture too, implied that he was not unused to giving orders.
He stopped a few feet away from her, letting the strict position waver as his back slumped slightly. Her keen hazel orbs; trained to trace the minutest of movements; narrowed in on that motion. She didn't like this man; his fluctuating mannerisms announced an indecisive mind.
She hated nothing more than an indecisive officer.
If the man ahead discerned a change in the already convoluted atmosphere, he said nothing. Instead, his hand reached into the gleaming breast pocket; and drew out a sheaf of pristine ivory paper.
"This case is ours Officer Gupta."
Now her eyes did frost over as she stared coldly at the official document in his hands. His trembling hands, she noticed with an insolence that was almost insulting. A smirk lifted her full lips as she analyzed the recent development.
Why was he a police officer?
Officer Gupta laughed her gentle laugh; the very same one that had charmed professors, but had also warded off unwanted men. The current man in question-also unwanted-startled upon hearing the soft sound, and he too cracked a smile in return.
Aah, humans. So readily did her species blend into Society. Without even bothering to understand the reason for any particular action, every single person imitated an expected response. It was almost disgusting, not to mention pitying, to watch her kind fall prey to the norms of Society.
Her own slender hand slipped into her leather jacket, and she pulled out a similar looking document. Only the one she held within her fingers commanded a more sophisticated response. Immediately, the man ahead straightened as his eyes found the familiar insignia upon the letter.
"Would you like to read ACP Sharma?"
Her tone didn't imply interest, but it seemed that the man did have more of an intellect than she'd previously assumed. With only a small, almost imperceptible tightening of his eerie eyes; he nodded. She smiled at the action-this time a bit more genuinely, and tilted her head in a soft manner.
"My team will be here in a few seconds Officer Sharma. Aap chinta mat kijiye"
Sharma merely nodded once again, and silently stalked away from the crime scene. She watched his retreating back with interest shining clearly in her eyes, but her mind reminded her of the more pressing situation at hand.
Sighing, she pulled at the latex gloves; making sure that they were in position. She stretched them a bit more to cover her miniscule wrists, and refused to wince despite the harsh slap of rubber again the pale flesh of her arms.
Casting a critical look at the area around her, Officer Khushi Kumari Gupta made her way up the steep staircases leading to the kotha. Hastily painted advertisements lined the grimy walls, and posters warning of pimps and pickpockets decorated the crumbling structures.
The same stench, this time stronger; burned its way up her nasal passage, and she gasped to dispel the sickening smell. Stumbling slightly as she edged towards a toilet supplies shop, Khushi pressed a reluctant hand against the flimsy door.
Her four inch spikes were never a good idea.
But she had become far too used to the bad idea, and the habit refused to leave her. And anyway, the pain had reduced significantly from the first time she'd run in them. After all, four years of chasing criminals introduced plenty of new habits in one's day to day life.
Wearing lethal Blahniks was one of hers.
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His hands left the plush arm rests the very moment the metallic body touched down-quite smoothly-upon the runway. Whitened knuckles stood out in sharp relief against slightly tanned skin, and well defined muscles bunched under the cobalt cashmere he wore.
The woman beside him sighed dramatically as she recognized his condition, and let out an impudent smile. He knew the thoughts running around in that coy mind of hers. He'd understood her behavior throughout the flight all too well.
Caramel eyes floated towards the woman's left hand, and he smirked when a certain object caught his interest. The diamond ring glimmered despite the subdued lighting in the aircraft, and hit him directly in his face. He moved back gently, but continued to stare at those deceptive fingers.
There were three other rings upon those slender digits.
All three of them held bands which were slightly rusted, and stones that had begun to lose their luster. They looked like something she wore every day. Something that she never took off. And judging from the subtle darkening of the metal, these rings were at least four years old.
But the diamond ring looked like it was new. It glinted once again at him, almost as if agreeing with his analysis. Threads of copper intermingled with black in his lenses, and blended to color his eyes a deeper shade.
This woman was either very newly married, or was conducting a few illicit activities behind her husband's back. As a human, he was tempted to believe the first option. But abiding by the sheer impact of his profession in his life; he probed a bit further.
The woman had drawn out a photograph a young man halfway during the flight, and had swept her fingers over the surprisingly innocent face. She'd then fiddled with the very ring in question, and had wiped her eyes in a seemingly unnoticeable manner.
But he had noticed, and comprehended that she was a mother.
As the air hostess arrived on the aisle and explained that they'd reached a little early, and hence needed to stay within the aircraft a bit longer; he replayed his camarades conversation a few hours earlier, in his mind.
Bill had been the name of the man she'd conversed with. She'd also fingered her ring continuously during those three minutes before the plane had taken off. But then she'd taken out a photograph-a black and white photograph-of a couple ready to take their marital vows.
And then she had cried the hardest of all.
Falling back into the present, Arnav cast a look at the woman's sunken face, and he saw that she had stopped playing with the ring upon her finger. Instead, she'd picked up her age old Nokia, and dialed a number. There was a determination in her eyes, and he saw it far too clearly than expected.
"It's over Bill. I love my husband and my son. I won't do this anymore."
She ended the call.
The air hostess arrived on scene that very moment, and announced that they could now leave the suffocating vehicle. A round of relieved sighs rang out amongst the passengers, and the woman beside him smiled genuinely for the first time.
Arnav smiled as he lifted himself off the business class seat, and offered to help her with the luggage. She declined in a polite manner, but thanked him nonetheless. With the decorum that had been instilled into him by his loving parents, he replied with a gentle smile of his own.
He moved aside to let her proceed, and then walked out of the stifling atmosphere of the aircraft. His profession allowed him the comforts of life, but there was little that could be done to change his fear of flying.
The blond air hostess smiled a bit extensively at him, and forwarded a hand to brush imaginary lint off his sweater. He understood her implication, and in another second, he felt the crinkled mass of paper settle against his front.
She flashed him another smile, and tilted her head; those baby blues dancing coyly as she thanked him for choosing British Airways. He mock saluted her, and replied with a gracious response. At the sound of his husky voice, a few of the other hostesses turned towards him, and he was awarded with quite a few conspicuous winks.
With redness highlighting the tips of his ears, he made his way onto the Indira Gandhi International Airport. The place had been upgraded sufficiently since he'd last been here. But then it had been a very long time since he'd been here after all.
A fatigued sigh escaping him, Arnav walked towards the luggage belts; hoping that things would work out at least this time.
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