CHAPTER EIGHT
"We have a problem, Mona." Ayaan's voice is sharp and urgent over the cell phone connection.
"Another one? Don't I have enough problems?" Zoya grumbles.
She cranes her neck to see over the pile of folders in front of her. She's seated at the large table in the center of Asad's conference room. Asad is working at his desk in his office across from her. As though sensing her gaze, he looks up from his laptop. Zoya quickly ducks down again, hiding behind her paperwork.
"What now?" She adjusts the Bluetooth headset she's wearing, shifting her hair to cover the earpiece.
"Rohan is at the cricket club until four o-clock today." Ayaan explains. "He's not going anywhere."
"What? Are you sure?" Zoya demands.
"Yes, I'm looking at the posted schedule right now. He's on the field for his practice session already." Ayaan pauses. "Then he gets a break to shower and change, have lunch with a group of scholarship winners at one then another break and finish with two hours of meeting with charity sponsors. Our plan is going sideways."
"No, it's not. What about his agent? I sent you Arun Sharma's picture, remember?" Zoya reminds him.
"He's out on the field watching Rohan right now," Ayaan reports. "I can see him at the sidelines over the closed-circuit television feed."
"He'll probably stay with Rohan whiles he's in public. That's what Arun did yesterday." She sighs. "I don't think we'll get anything from them while they're still at the club."
"So what's the next step in Mission Khiladi?" Ayaan sounds energized and determined. "We're not going to stop our plan to expose that rat Rohan."
"Expose!" Zoya's eyes widen. "Of course! We need to expose him!" She jumps out of her seat in her excitement.
"And we will." Ayaan's voice oozes cocky self-confidence. "That's why I'm here. I'm your sher and I'll protect all of Bhopal from that filthy little vermin."
Zoya's mouth drops open at his audacity. She has to clear her throat before she can continue. "Yes, my sher. You're my hero but we need to move forward with a plan."
"Of course," Ayaan agrees. "I'll just go into that stadium and squash him like the bug he is!" There is the sharp sound of hands slapping together.
Zoya's eyebrows raise so high they disappear under her fringe. "Take it easy, my sher. How about we try a plan with a little more finesse first?"
"Why?" Ayaan grumbles. "I want to show him how a real man acts."
Zoya slaps her forehead and shakes her head. "How about we try my plan first then try your Hulk-Smash if my plan fails?"
"Well...if I have to," Ayaan agrees reluctantly.
"Just for now, I promise," Zoya soothes. "Raabert, go into the men's locker room and tell me what you see."
"What!" Ayaan sounds genuinely shocked. "You want me to describe the men?"
"Allah miya, what's wrong with you, Raabert?" Zoya snaps. "Of course I don't want you to describe the men. I want you to describe the room." Zoya begins pacing. "The last place Rohan was seen before he disappeared yesterday was the men's locker room at the cricket club. There has to be a way for him to get out of the locker room. I couldn't find blueprints or floor plans online. Go in there and tell me if there are any doors or windows that lead out."
"Oh, okay." Ayaan's sigh of relief is audible even over the phone line. "Allah ka shukar hai. For a second there, I was afraid Bhaijaan was right about you."
"Oh, really?" Zoya's voice chills. "And what exactly did he say about me?"
"Who are you talking to?" Asad demands.
"What?" Zoya whirls around, her eyes widening.
Asad stands in the doorway, arms crossed behind his back. Ayaan speaks in Zoya's headset but she tunes him out to focus on Asad. She forces herself to smile brightly.
"What do you mean, Mr. Khan?" she says innocently. "Do you see anyone in the room other than us?"
Ayaan falls silent, as if afraid Asad can hear him over the phone line. Asad studies the glass-walled conference room, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. Zoya smoothes down her hair, making sure the headset is covered by the thick, silky strands.
"Why are you pacing?" Asad demands. "You only do that when you're upset or coming up with another one of your idiotic schemes."
"There you go again with calling me an idiot." She crosses her arms. "Why is it that the only things you ever say to me are insults?"
Asad sighs. "I did not insult you, Ms. Farooqui. I saw you were pacing and I know you only do that when you're stressed. Now you're talking to yourself. What's wrong?"
"Of course I'm talking to myself," Zoya snaps. "No one else wants to talk to an idiot like me, do they? Isn't that what's wrong with me?"
Asad uncrosses his arms to massage his brow. "Why do I even bother?"
"I don't know." Zoya's voice is brittle and bitter. "There is no point to it, is there? So why don't you go back to your office and leave me alone!"
Asad's face flushes. He opens his mouth to retort but thinks the better of it. Instead, he sighs and shakes his head. He slams the conference door shut and stalks back to his office. Zoya stands very still, breathing heavily, until he goes to his drafting table, deliberately turning his back on her. She finally relaxes and sinks back into her seat, hiding herself behind the stack of paperwork.
"Raabert?" Zoya touches the headset in her ear. "Are you still there?"
"Mona?" Ayaan sounds subdued. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine," Zoya assures him. "How much of that did you hear?"
"All of it," Ayaan admits. "Your cell phone is very clear."
"It's my headset," she explains. "I needed to have both hands free."
"Mona, do you and Bhaijaan fight like this all the time?" Ayaan asks, his voice gentle and sympathetic.
Tears appear in her eyes but she blinks them away. "Yes, but it's useful."
"Useful?" Ayaan sounds confused. "How can Bhaijaan being angry be useful?"
"It keeps him distracted," she explains. "As long as he's busy being mad at me, he's not paying attention to what else is going on. Having me for a target means he won't focus on you and Rohan."
Ayaan is quiet for a long time. "Mona, be careful. Bhaijaan makes a very dangerous enemy."
"I know," Zoya agrees, her voice wavering. "He's like a tiger. He doesn't look for a fight but he's relentless once he's provoked."
"He's not a tiger." Ayaan says. "Bhaijaan's name means lion."
"Ahh, but Raabert, you are my lion." Zoya deliberately lightens her voice. "Didn't you say you're the sher who'll protect me?"
"You know I am." Ayaan's voice brightens and returns to its usual easy drawl. "In fact, it brings a sher to mind." He clears his throat dramatically.
Shers have more than courage and might
Shers have more than courage and might
They have the brains to do what's right
Every day and every night
Zoya winces at his horrible rhyme but manages to keep her voice cheerful. "Then it's settled. I'll keep our smart tiger distracted while you take care of the jaguar."
"The jaguar?" Ayaan repeats. "Do you mean Rohan?"
"Yes, he's quick and light, like a jaguar." Zoya explains. "That makes him fast and very cunning. We have to expose him."
"Never fear, Mona, your Raabert is here," Ayaan assures her. "I'm in the locker room and you're right. There's a door here leading to the staff hallway." Ayaan pauses. "I can see the kitchen down at one end and a door leading outside on the other."
"I knew it!" Zoya squeals and jumps up again. "I knew there had to be another way out of the locker room."
"Yes, but - shhh!" Ayaan stops speaking.
Zoya stands very still, as if that will help her hear. There is a soft swooshing sound then she hears sharp footsteps on concrete.
"May I help you, sir?" a gruff voice asks.
"No, thank you." Ayaan says. "I just went to the wrong door."
"Yes, sir," the voice says. "Would you like me to help you find the proper door?"
"No, I'm fine." Ayaan says.
There is another pause then Ayaan speaks softly. "Mona, there's an alarm system and security cameras back here. The guard came over as soon as I opened the door to the hallway."
"It's because Rohan is there," Zoya explains and sits back down. "They've tripled their guard staff and are monitoring the hallways to make sure no one gets in. Even members like you are watched to make sure you don't sneak up on Rohan."
"Makes sense," Ayaan agrees. "Wait. I see someone going to the outside door."
Zoya strains to listen. More sharp footsteps are heard then she hears screams so loud she winces at the vibration in her earpiece. She snatches off the headpiece but can still hear the screaming. She waits several minutes until the noise dies down then puts her headset back on.
"What was that?" she demands.
"I left the hall door a little open so I could see out," Ayaan explains. "Someone from the kitchen went to throw out trash. A whole group of guards came with him. They opened the back door and crazy fans actually tore the garbage out of his hands! Then they pushed their way in and the guards had to push them out again. You should have seen it. It was insane!"
"Allah miya, Rohan. You're even smarter than I thought," Zoya mutters. "The cricket club's restaurant has always been one of the best in town, even when you were a child. You remember the layout and garbage schedule."
"What?" Ayaan's voice is perplexed over the cell phone connection.
"That's why I couldn't find blueprints or floor plans for the cricket club online," Zoya continues. "It was built before blueprints were computerized."
"I still don't understand. What does the cricket club floor plan or garbage schedule have to do with exposing Rohan?"
Zoya ignores his question. "Raabert, I need you to go outside and find that exit. You have to record that door, everyone around it and the surrounding area."
"How will that help us?' Ayaan demands.
"I'm not sure but it feels like the right thing to do," she admits. "Hurry, Raabert! I'm counting on you! I--"
She stops speaking abruptly when a hand reaches down and plucks the headset out of her ear. She looks up to see Asad looming over her. She jumps up from her seat.
"Mr. Khan, what are you doing?" she demands loudly.
Asad brings the headset to his own ear. "Hello? Is this Raabert?" He listens for a second then holds the headset out to Zoya. "Your friend hung up."
She takes back the headset. "Of course he did. Allah miya, what's wrong with you, Mr. Khan? How could you invade my privacy like that?"
"Ms. Farooqui, I'm responsible for you." Asad speaks through clenched teeth. "How am I supposed to protect you when I don't know who you're with? How do you know this Raabert? Where did you meet him? How long have you known him? What makes you think you can trust him?"
She puts her hands on her hips. "That's none of your business."
"Yes, it is!" Asad roars. "Everything about you is my business! Every breath you take affects me like it's my own!"
"And I know how much you hate that!" Tears fill her eyes but Zoya's voice stays strong. "Well, I officially absolve you of that responsibility. You don't have to pretend to care about me ever again!"
She turns to rush out of the room but he grabs her right wrist.
"I didn't mean it like that," he snaps. "And you know it!"
She stiffens as she looks down at her arm. Her long sleeve covers her skin to her wrist, hiding the scars. Relaxing a bit, she twists her wrist to free herself but he doesn't release her.
"You're hurting me, Mr. Khan." She twists her wrist again for emphasis.
He looks down and instantly releases her. Then he steps so close that she can feel his breaths as angry puffs against her cheek. Zoya takes a step back, coming flat against the door, rubbing her wrist where he held her.
"I meant what I said, Mr. Khan." She blinks and the tears spill down her cheeks. "Let's not pretend to be something we're not."
"Ms. Farooqui." Asad's voice softens noticeably. "I'm trying to do the right thing."
"So am I, Mr. Khan." She dashes her tears away. "I know you don't believe it. You think I'm selfish and impulsive but I am trying. Please, let me be alone now."
She turns to tug open the door but he pushes against it, holding it shut.
"Where do you think you're going?" he demands, his voice quivering from the strain of keeping himself under rigid control.
"To the only place in this building where I can get away from you!"
He blinks and his mouth drops open, a sure indication that her words have hurt him. He reluctantly takes his hand off the door. "Ms. Farooqui, please calm down."
He reaches out to touch her shoulder but she ducks and pulls open the door.
"I'm going to the ladies room." Her voice is thick with tears. "Then I'll come back and do my work. Even you have to admit that I do that properly, don't I?"
"Ms. Farooqui, you deliberately misunderstand what I say." Asad rubs his forehead and sighs in frustration.
"Oh really, Mr. Khan?" she whispers, her voice soft and sad. "Have you ever wondered why?"
Asad stares at her with regretful, aching longing as she quietly walks away.
***
"Mona, I've got something!" Ayaan's voice is so high-pitched and triumphant that Zoya has to pull out her earpiece. "Your sher has come through again!"
She winces and puts the headset back in place. "Take it easy, Raabert. You're going to burst my eardrum."
"Sorry." Ayaan lowers his voice a few decibels. "It's just that I'm so good my charisma even reaches through the phone line!"
Zoya sighs and rubs her forehead, the way Asad does when he's annoyed. "Really? What did you find?"
"I went out behind the cricket club to record the action by the kitchen door," Ayaan reports. "Guess who I saw exiting the club?"
"Who?" Zoya prods impatiently.
"Arun Sharma, of course." Ayaan says smugly.
"What?" Zoya looks at the clock in the corner of the computer screen. "But it's only two o'clock now. Rohan is still at the cricket club. When did you see Arun?"
"I told you, when I went outside after our last call. By the way, are you okay?" Ayaan's voice softens, losing the smug confidence. "I heard Bhaijaan and decided it was better to hang up than let him know we're working together."
"You did the right thing, Raabert," she reassures him. "Don't worry about your Bhaijaan. I know--" Her voice cracks and she has to swallow before she can get out her sentence. "I know how to distract him."
"That makes you the only one," Ayaan points out. "Normally, nothing distracts Bhaijaan. Like you said earlier, he's relentless. What's your secret?"
The tip of Zoya's nose turns red and her eyes fill with tears. She ducks down to keep herself hidden behind her paperwork.
"I just have a way with him." Her voice is light and only slightly choked. She takes a deep breath and blinks away the tears. "Anyway, what happened?"
"I saw Arun Sharma leaving as I was coming back in," Ayaan explains. "I thought it was suspicious since you said he normally stays with Rohan when Rohan's in public. So, being the amazing detective that I am, I followed him."
"You followed Arun?" Zoya perks up. "Raabert, you're brilliant! Where did he go?"
"Yes, I know," Ayaan agrees easily. "North, south, east or west, Ayaan Ahmed Khan is the best!"
Zoya rolls her eyes and sighs again but avoids rubbing her forehead. "Raabert, what about Arun?" she asks with great patience. "Where did he go?"
"Oh, yeah, him." Ayaan's enthusiasm dips now that they're no longer talking about him. "He went to this tiny, nasty little lot in the oldest part of town. He met up with some guy there. Arun called the guy Lucky and said he was still working on getting him the papers."
"What papers?" Zoya sits up straight.
"They didn't say but I think it has something to do with that little lot they met at."
"Why do you say that?" Zoya demands.
"Arun said he had to get back to the cricket club before Rohan came out of the locker room. I figured there was no point in following Arun if he was just going to hang out with Rohan so I made the brilliant decision to stay with Lucky." Ayaan sounds pleased with himself.
"And?" Zoya prompts impatiently.
"Lucky made a phone call. He told whoever he was speaking with to get shovels, torches and metal detectors."
"Torches?" Zoya repeats. "Why would they need torches?"
"Lucky told the guy on the phone to meet him at midnight so that Arun doesn't find out they're digging up the lot. They need torches to see at night," Ayaan explains.
"Oh." Zoya frowns. "Wouldn't it make more sense to use flashlights? They're a lot safer and harder to detect than setting a piece of wood on fire."
"Mona, get with the program," Ayaan chides. "You've got to learn how we groove here."
"Groove?" Zoya repeats, a frown wrinkling her brow. "They're going to dance under the torch lights?"
"No, Mona." Ayaan's sigh is so heavy it reaches across the phone line. "We call flashlights torches' in India."
"Oh, now I understand." Zoya nods even though Ayaan isn't there to see her. "So Lucky thinks there is something valuable buried on that lot and he wants to search for it after dark?"
"Right. So how did I do, Mona?" Ayaan laughs in triumph. "Isn't your sher the best in town?"
Zoya rolls her eyes again but this time cannot contain her smile.
"Of course you are, Raabert." She gets up to begin pacing. "Now we know that Arun has ties to a local guy named Lucky and has to give him some papers. They met at a plot that is valuable enough that Lucky wants to search it without Arun knowing about it. But what does this have to do with Rohan? Is the lot itself valuable?"
"Not from what I saw," Ayaan says. "It's small and has a little shack but the building is crumbling and the land appears to be used as a waste site for the factories around it."
"So you don't know if the land itself is valuable?" Zoya asks.
"I don't think so based on the condition of the area. There are mostly abandoned factories around it. Bhaijaan would be able to tell you more."
"We can't involve your Bhaijaan," Zoya reminds him. "It's up to us to figure this out."
"And I know exactly how to do it," Ayaan announces.
"You want to go to that lot tonight and see what they dig up, don't you?" Zoya says.
"How did you know?" Ayaan sounds disappointed.
"Because it's the only smart thing to do," Zoya soothes. "My sher is the best and smartest in town. Of course you would think of it."
"Exactly! I'm go there tonight and I'll see what they find. I'm going finish our mission in no time," Ayaan brags.
"Yes, you are," Zoya agrees. "And I'm going with you."
There is a stunned silence for a moment.
"Mona, are you crazy?" Ayaan finally demands. "I can't take you with me. Bhaijaan will kill me!"
"Raabert, I won't let you go alone," Zoya insists. "We're partners in this mission. You'll need someone to watch your back. Plus, we'll be able to observe and learn more if we approach from different sides. Trust me, your Bhaijaan will never know."
"How will you hide it from him?" Ayaan demands.
"They're meeting at midnight," Zoya reminds him. "That's more than two hours past our normal bedtime. I'll sneak out of the house and meet you at the corner by the Khan Villa." She touches her headset. "Do you have a helmet Bluetooth headset? We'll need them to stay in constant communication even on opposite sides of the yard."
"Sure, I do," Ayaan agrees. "But I don't have an extra helmet. It's too dangerous for you to ride on a bike after dark without one. Sorry." He sounds relieved.
"That's not a problem," she assures him. "Mr. Khan's old helmet is in the store room. It's wired for Bluetooth, too."
"Mona, this is a bad idea," Ayaan warns. "Bhaijaan will be furious if he finds out. He may not like you but he is responsible for you. He takes that responsibility very seriously."
Zoya looks across to Asad's office. He's bent over his paperwork, his telephone tucked into his shoulder as he speaks and makes notes. Still, as if sensing her, he looks up and meets her eyes through the glass walls. Abruptly he stops talking and stares at her. Zoya holds his gaze but her eyes fill with tears, breaking their connection.
She sits down, hiding herself behind a pile of folders. "It's okay, Raabert. Your Bhaijaan is always furious with me." She blinks and the tears spill down her cheeks. "Nothing I do is ever good enough for him."
***
"Why are we stopping here?" Ayaan asks but obediently pulls the bike over to the side of the narrow lane.
"We don't want to alert Lucky that we're coming." Zoya dismounts. "It's so quiet they'll notice a motorcycle engine."
Ayaan turns off the bike and hides it in a dark corner. He's wearing jeans, a dark jacket and a black motorcycle helmet. He raises his hands to take off his helmet but Zoya stops him.
"No, leave it on," she whispers, her voice slightly electronic through their headsets. "We don't want anyone to see our faces."
"But we haven't seen each other's faces," Ayaan protests. "I don't know what you look like!"
"So?" Zoya pulls down the sleeves of her black sweater and adjusts her own helmet. "I don't know what you look like, either."
"Then how do I know it's you?" Ayaan demands. "How do I know you're not some other girl pretending to be Mona?"
"Allah miya, what's wrong with your Raabert?" Zoya puts her hands on her hips." We planned this together earlier today. You know my voice! How many girls did you expect to find dressed in jeans and a helmet and talking to you through their headset other than me?"
"Well..."Ayaan reaches up to scratch his hair but ends up scratching his helmet instead.
"What are you doing?" Zoya demands.
"Old habit." Ayaan stares at his hand through the thick glass of the motorcycle helmet.
"Save it for later," Zoya advises. "It's nearly midnight. Where is the lot?"
Ayaan leads her down the narrow lane, past abandoned, deserted factories and into the darker shadows.
"We're here," he announces a moment later when they stop at the end of the lane.
"And just in time." Zoya listens to the sound of car engines approaching. "You hide near this entrance and I'll go around back. Stay quiet and record everything you see."
"It's too dark to give us good pictures," Ayaan warns.
"The light will be better once they turn on their flashlights, uh, torches," Zoya explains. "And I brought a digital camera. That should give me better shots."
"Be careful, Mona," Ayaan urges. "Let me know if you notice anything the least bit odd. I can hear you loud and clear. I'll be there in seconds."
"I'll be careful," Zoya promises. "I'll call you at the slightest hint of trouble."
They separate. Ayaan crouches down in the overgrown grass near the entrance. Zoya follows the brick wall to the back of the property and peeps up from the alley. Seconds later, car headlights appear at the entrance, illuminating the lot. It is small and dirty, barren except for mounds of trash and a small brick shack that only has two walls standing. Most of the roof has crumbled but the far corner of the tiny building is still covered. The headlights shut off and the sound of doors shutting reverberates in the silence.
The tiny yard is filled with men holding shovels, flashlights and metal detectors. An older man dressed in dark slacks and a pullover sweater watches as a younger man in jeans and a jacket directs the men. They use their torches to illuminate the ground as they search the land and shack with their detectors.
"Whatever is here, Papa, it's not metal," the younger man says. "No gold, no silver or even iron bars."
"Are you sure?" the older man asks. "I'm sure there's something valuable here."
"Maybe it's something else," the younger man suggests. "Maybe it's documents or an object wrapped in a plastic bag."
"No, that doesn't make sense." The older man looks around. "Paper would be ruined. A plastic bag wouldn't protect its contents. It would eventually disintegrate."
"But are you sure something is buried here, Papa?" the younger man asks. "If we can dig it up and carry it away, couldn't Sharma do the same?"
"True," the older man agrees. "But why else is Sharma so eager to buy this property?"
"I looked up the property history online." The younger man pulls out an iPad. "It belongs to a company called NAAS Properties, as do most of these factories. The taxes are current but I can't trace the owner. I found some names but all of them are dead ends."
"You and your technology, Sunny," Lucky chides. "India has only really used computers for the last decade. This lot is much older than that."
"Then how do we find out what's so important here, Papa?" Sunny wonders.
"The way I've done business since before you were born," Lucky answers. "We'll ask around. Some of the factories are still operating and there will be people walking about during the daytime. We just need to talk to them, especially the older men. They might know the land's history."
"So, now what?" Sunny asks. "Did we waste our time by coming here?"
"No." Lucky looks around. "Why does Sharma want this property and why does he want it now? Why didn't he show up a week, a month, or a year ago? Why now?"
Sunny's fingers fly over his tablet screen. "Arun Sharma is Rohan Saxena's agent. Rohan is in town this week. Maybe this has something to do with Rohan's visit."
Lucky continues to look around. "There's something here. I can sense it. I have the same feeling I always get when someone wants to buy a property but tries to hide it. Sharma wants this property and he wants it now. What's here?"
Sunny sighs and puts away his iPad. "You want us to dig it up even though we didn't find anything with the metal detectors, don't you?"
"Right."
Sunny turns and directs the men. They spread out and begin to break into the ground.
"Mona!"
Zoya is so focused on listening to Lucky and Sunny that she gasps at hearing Ayaan's voice. Luckily her helmet muffles the sound. She crouches down further against the wall.
"What is it?" she asks softly.
"Someone else is coming," Ayaan reports. "I can hear a motorcycle engine."
Zoya listens and hears the faint sound. She looks over the wall. The men are busy with their work and haven't heard the engine yet.
"What are the chances that the new person is just someone passing by?" she whispers.
"At nearly one in the morning in a deserted area like this?" Ayaan counters. "Not much chance at all."
"What's that?" A man shouts from the yard.
"Turn off the torches," Sunny orders.
The men turn off their flashlights and blend into the darkness. The sound comes closer and a motorcycle headlight appears at the end of the lane. The bike comes to stop beside the parked cars. The rider hastily turns his bike around with some difficulty in the narrow lane. He guns the motor but Lucky's men pounce on him and drag him off his bike before he can get away. They bring the man into the yard and turn their flashlights on him.
It's Rohan.
"I can't believe this!" Sunny gasps. "It's Rohan Saxena! What are you doing here?"
Rohan grunts and struggles with Lucky's men but there are too many of them. Sunny is open-mouthed as he stares at the superstar.
"Rohan, I'm a big fan of yours," Sunny gushes.
His father pushes him aside. "This is no time to ask for an autograph." He turns to Rohan. "What are you doing here?"
Rohan looks around as he continues to struggle. "I took a wrong turn. Which way is the cricket stadium?"
"Nice try," Lucky sneers. "I'm supposed to believe that the great Rohan Saxena wanders around Bhopal all alone at night and then just happens to show up at the abandoned lot his agent is trying to buy?"
"What's going on here?" Rohan demands. "Why are you tearing this place up?"
"None of your business," Lucky sneers. "Or maybe it is. Maybe Sharma isn't buying the lot for himself. Maybe he's buying it for you. What are you hiding?"
Rohan doesn't say anymore but continues to struggle. Lucky jerks his head towards one of his men. The man, who is big and muscular, curls his hand into a fist and draws it back.
"Wait!" Sunny steps between the man and Rohan. "Not his face! This guy is here for a charity visit. He won't be able to pose for pictures if you mess up his face."
"Do I care?" the man growls.
"He's a public figure, the most photographed man in Bhopal!" Sunny snaps. "People will ask questions if he has visible bruises. Rohan won't say anything unless he has to. Clearly he's hiding something or he wouldn't have shown up here in the middle of the night."
Sunny looks at Rohan as if expecting Rohan to confirm his guess. Rohan grits his teeth and looks away. The big man looks to Lucky who shrugs and nods. Sunny steps away and the man rams his fist into Rohan's stomach. Rohan gasps and tries to double over but the other men hold him upright.
"Raabert, we have to do something!" Zoya hisses.
"What can we do?" Ayaan demands. "There are ten guys in there. We're no match for them."
"Get your bike," Zoya orders. "We have to get out of here!"
"Come around to me," Ayaan urges. "We'll leave together."
"No, you get your bike. I'll help Rohan," Zoya counters.
"Help Rohan? How can you help Rohan?" Ayaan demands.
The man hits Rohan in the stomach again. Rohan moans in pain.
"Raabert, if you don't get your bike right now, I'm going to run into that yard and start screaming," Zoya threatens.
"You're insane," Ayaan mutters.
"Raabert, I'm getting up," she warns him.
"No, Mona, don't!" Ayaan's voice rises with his panic.
Zoya springs up from her hiding place and climbs over the wall.
"No, Mona! Stop! Stay down! I'm going, I'm going now. I'll get the bike in one minute!" Ayaan rushes down the lane, gasping so hard Zoya can hear him breathing over her headset. She jumps down from the wall and lands lightly at the far end of the yard. The men are too focused on Rohan to notice her.
"What are you doing here?" Lucky demands, stepping up to Rohan.
Rohan refuses to speak. Zoya creeps closer as the muscular man hits Rohan a third time. She yanks the digital camera out of her bag and fumbles to turn on the flash. She clicks a flash picture as she runs for the entrance.
"What? Who is that?"
The men turn away from Rohan and start looking around the lot. Zoya snaps another shot as she runs out the entrance and sprints up the narrow lane. The pounding of thundering feet follows her. A motorcycle headlight slashes the darkness and Ayaan pulls up beside her. Zoya throws one leg over the bike just as someone grabs her. She cries out.
"Mona!" Ayaan punches his fist into her attacker's face and the man lets go.
Zoya bounces onto the bike and throws her right arm around Ayaan. Someone grabs her left arm.
"Raabert!" she screams out.
Ayaan turns in his seat but more men have caught up to them. They grab for Ayaan, nearly upsetting the bike. Suddenly another motorcycle revs to life. Rohan speeds past, plowing into the men, knocking them over and freeing Ayaan. Ayaan shoves away the man holding Zoya. She feels a piercing pain in her left forearm but ignores it to grab Ayaan. Ayaan guns the motor and they zoom away.
It takes a long time for Zoya's heartbeat to settle. Ayaan is equally shaken as he drives erratically, sometimes barely keeping the bike on the road, focused on putting distance between them and the men in the lot. Zoya becomes dizzy watching the scenery pass by them. Finally Ayaan comes to a stop. Zoya looks around and sees they are at the corner closest to the Khan Villa.
"Are you okay?' Ayaan asks, his voice still breathless and shaky.
"I...I think so." Zoya dismounts but her feet are unsteady.
"Do you need me to walk you to the door?" Ayaan asks.
"No, I'm fine. I'll let you know when I pass through the gates then you can leave."
"Are you sure?" Ayaan protests but Zoya is already stumbling down to her house. She slips through the gate and latches it behind her. Her left arm aches and barely responds to her commands. She ignores it to focus on locking the gate as quietly as she can.
"I'm inside," she informs Ayaan. "I'm safe now. In fact, I can see Mr. Khan still working in the living room."
"No offense, Mona, but Bhaijaan was right about you." Ayaan sounds exhausted. "You are a musibat magnet."
Zoya sighs but she's too tired to fight. "Good night, Raabert. Over and out."
"Good night, Mona," he responds. "Over and out."
She waits until the sound of his engine fades into the distance before she takes off her helmet and headset. Sharp pain spears though her left arm. Something wet and warm makes the helmet slippery in her hands. Moving as soundlessly as possible she trudges around to the back of the house, feeling strangely dizzy and disoriented. Stopping just inside a patch of light spilling out from the back door, she inspects her arm.
Her sweater sleeve is cut open and she has a five-inch gash running along the length of her inner left forearm, starting just past her wrist and reaching almost to her elbow. Blood has soaked her sweater sleeve and now drips down onto the cement. She stares at her arm in shocked dismay. Suddenly it begins to throb and burn painfully.
"That man knifed me," she gasps. "He cut me!"
She uses her other hand to hold the gash shut and looks into the house. Asad is still sitting in front of his laptop in the living room. Zoya tiptoes past the door to her bedroom. She reaches for the latch with her injured left arm while still holding the gash shut with her other hand then stops herself.
"No, Zoya, you can't do that," she mutters. "It's Rohan's room now. He might already be back and will know you followed him to the lot. Even if he's not back, there isn't a first aid kit in his room."
She pauses to think but her mind is fuzzy. Her head begins to throb in tandem to her arm. She sways and puts her arm out to steady herself, releasing her cut arm to drip blood down onto the cement. Her thoughts run together and her vision wavers. Suddenly a clear face appears amongst the blurry images.
"Mr. Khan!" Zoya whispers. "Mr. Khan has a first aid kit."
She turns for his room but runs into a wall instead. She stumbles back a few steps. It takes her whirling brain several seconds to realize that the object she ran into was too warm and yielding to be a wall.
"You do realize you were about to go into Rohan's room, don't you?" Asad's voice is harsh and controlled as he reaches out to steady her.
"No, I wasn't. I mean yes, I was. But it wasn't his room. It was my room," she babbles. "Then I remembered that it was his room now so I decided to go to your room. But not your room. That would be shameless. I wanted to go into your bathroom." She pauses as she tries to think through what she's saying. "But your bathroom is in your bedroom so I guess I am lacking in tameez and tehzeeb as you always say I am."
She sighs sadly and hunches her shoulders, waiting for him to explode at her. But Asad isn't listening. He stares at the blood staining his hand, his mouth falling open in horror. Not only is his hand bloody, but the front of his white kurta is soaked in it, too.
"Mr. Khan, you're bleeding!" she gasps.
Asad looks up at her, his face so pale and stark, it looks like a death mask. "That's not my blood." His voice is so choked it's barely audible. "It's yours."
"Oh, okay." Zoya nods as if that makes everything better. "I'm glad you're not hurt." She gives him a woozy smile.
He stares at her as if she's gone insane. "What happened?"
She holds out her injured arm. Her sweater sleeve is so soaked with blood that the torn edges pull away from the cut, revealing the deep gash that ends a bare centimeter away from her radial artery.
"Would you please get me the first aid kit, Mr. Khan?" she asks with perfect politeness. "I think I need a bandage."
She sighs in pained exhaustion and sags against him. His arms wrap around her, a gentle but unbreakable hold giving her the shelter her depleted body so desperately needs. She relaxes, finally safe in his arms, blissfully unaware that her injury stopped only a hair's-breadth away from death.
Author's Notes: As always, all mistakes are mine and made accidentally. This story is not intended to hurt anyone's feelings, culture or beliefs. Much thanks to my wonderful beta readers for their support, assistance and endless patience!
Also, thank you to everyone posting replies, sending me friend requests and writing me private messages. I don't normally respond to posts unless you've made specific points I want to address or if you ask me direct questions. Even so, please know I treasure your feedback and re-read it whenever I need motivation to finish a chapter. Feedback nourishes a writer's soul!
I hope and your families had a safe, relaxing holiday. Happy New Year!
Thank you,
Paly
Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi 2
Sports
Hollywood
124