Different Senses (46 page)

Tushar threw himself into a
chair and pulling me down beside him. “I can cook too!”

“Yes, you can, but I’d rather
you wrote more of your music, which I can’t do, while I fed you,
which I can.”

“Yes, Lalit. You always make so
much sense.”

“That’s why I’m the manager,
Tushar. Javen, have some—”

A shockingly loud crash of
glass and splat of splintering wood interrupted him. I was already
headed for the ground, dragging Tushar to the floor with me. “Down,
down! Everyone, stay down, that’s gun fire!”

Ursemin dropped and I urged him
and Tushar to get under the heavy table, not because it would
really protect them, but because it would hide them. I called the
emergency number and gave the address. “We have shots fired.
Repeat, gunshots fired into the house. There are three civilians
here, exposed.”

“Don’t move, stay down. Police
on their way.”

Another bullet slammed into the
room, smashing a lamp high on the wall. Tushar shivered and huddled
close. “They’re trying to kill us?”

“Don’t know. Don’t move from
under here, okay? Stick with me, and do as I say. Lalit? You
too.”

“Yes.”

Seconds ticked by. Sirens in
the distance, and shouting—neighbours, possibly. Had Shardul’s team
heard? Were they under attack too? I called Shardul’s number. “It’s
Javen. Someone’s shooting at Ursemin’s house. We’re inside, police
on the way. Make sure your people are safe.”

“Are you?”

“No one’s hurt. For sanity’s
sake, keep down if you’re headed here.”

“Got it. Thank you.”

The room was now silent except
for our harsh breathing. No more bullets, though the sirens and
shouting were louder now.

“Is he still there?” Tushar
whispered. “What if he comes in?”

“Too many people watching. It’s
probably a long-range shot. The police are here. We’re safe,” I
said, hoping it was true.

My phone went. “Sri Ythen?
Lieutenant Dawil. We're outside the house. Is everyone safe?”

“Yes. No one’s come inside.
We’re in the living room. Front room with the broken window.”

“All right. Don’t move. We’re
coming in. Tell your companions we’ll need to check you all.”

“Understood.”

I looked at Tushar. “The police
are coming in. When they do, I want you to obey every command
quickly and silently. They’ll want to check none of us have guns,
or are concealing the gunmen. It’s standard.”

“But we’re the victims,”
Ursemin said.

“The gunmen could be in here,
forcing our cooperation. It’s okay. Follow my lead.”

Seconds later, the front door
burst open. “Police! No one move!”

“In here, lieutenant. We’re
under the table.”

I made the others stay where
they were until the police entered. “Come out from under there.
Slowly,” Dawil said. “Now, through to the kitchen. Stay low, move
quickly.”

I led the way, and once we were
safe away from the front windows, I identified myself to Dawil.
“I’m Javen Ythen.”

“I recognise you, Sri Ythen.
Can you vouch for the others?”

“This is Tushar Latangi
Omanand, and his manager Lalitchandra Ursemin. Neither is armed. I
am. I’m carrying a licensed weapon.”

“Show me.”

I revealed my holster, showed
my ID. Dawil was satisfied that none of us was the gunman. “We need
to get you out of the house. Whoever it is, could come back. Sri
Omanand, you’ve received threats before, I understand.”

“Yes! But not guns!” Tushar
shook as I put my arm around his shoulders. “Why won’t they
stop?”

“Try to stay calm, Sri
Omanand,” Dawil said. “We’ll take you to the station now to get
your statements, and then if you want, to a safe house for tonight.
Sri Ythen, will you staying with them?”

“Yes.”

“Javen, you don't have to, and
the press—”

“Damn the press. I’m sick of
lying. It’s not making you any safer.” I hugged Tushar close and
dared Dawil to comment.

Dawil told Tushar and Ursemin
to pack for a couple of nights away. As I watched Tushar sort out
his clothes, I called Shardul again, hoping he might be able to
suggest a safe place for them to stay.

“There’s a boarding house here
in old Hegal, run by good friends of mine,” he said. “Between our
surveillance and the police, we should spot any problem
coming.”

“I’ll let them know, if you can
arrange it. These people have a problem with a Kelon visitor?”

“Not if they know in advance,”
he said, giving nothing away in his tone. “No word on who is doing
this?”

“No one saw a thing. The shots
came from a distance, most likely. Your people okay?”

“Yes, thank you. Javen....”

“What?”

“I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Thanks. I, uh, better go. They
want us out of the house.”

“Of course. Call me when you
know what they want to do.”

Tushar looked at me as I put my
phone away. “What did he say?”

“He has a place you can use, if
you don’t have something better.”

He wrapped his arms around
himself and shivered. “So long as it’s away from windows.”

I went to him and held him
close. “Scary, I know.”

“
Guns, Javen. Guns and
knives. What did I
do
to these people?”

“Nothing, sweetheart. Come on,
sooner we get out of here, the happier you’ll be.”

Someone had tipped off the
press, and as we were led out to the police vehicles, camera lights
stripped away any chance we had of making a quick getaway. Tushar
waved bravely to his fans and the photographers. I held him
defiantly, staring at the reporters while refusing to answer any of
their questions. Ursemin scurried ahead of us, but insisted on
Tushar and me getting into the police auto first. Cameras lit us
through the windows until the police drove us clear of the house
and the street.

Tushar didn’t like the police
station. Couldn't blame him, considering the experiences he’d had
with the police, and the reason he was there. Dawil, to be fair,
was pleasant and sympathetic, though whether my presence had
anything to do with that, I didn’t know. He spoke to Ursemin
separately, then took our statements with a minimum of fuss and
reassurances that stopped short of promising outright safety.

When we’d signed the record, I
asked, “What about Phanindra Benay?”

“The stalker? Ruled out. We’ve
had him under surveillance and he was the first person we checked.
He’s at home. Hasn’t left his house all evening. Oh, and there’s a
note here that I expect Lieutenant Mahre planned to pass on—Benay’s
got an alibi for the knife attack. We rechecked shop surveillance
footage and he was near his workplace at the time Sri Omanand was
assaulted. No way could he have done it.”

“Sri Tushar,” Tushar murmured.
“So there are two groups at least who hate me. Maybe three.”

The slight hysterical edge to
his voice alerted us, and I pushed the chai Dawil had arranged over
to him. “Drink this. You’re safe here. The police will make sure
you stay safe.”

“That’s right, Sri
Omanand...Tushar. The orders are to maintain around the clock
surveillance on you until this case is resolved.”

“
What if they never catch
the people? I’ll have to live under guard? I
won’
t. No one can live
like that.”

I put my hand on his back.
“Shhh. A few days, anyway. It still might be to scare you, make you
end your concerts.”

“Regrettably, high profile
entertainers such as yourself do run an added risk,” Dawil
said.

“It’s late, lieutenant, and
Tushar was already tired before all this. Can we wrap this up?”

“Of course. Have you somewhere
you wish to stay, or do you need us to arrange a safe house?”

“Shall I call Shardul-ji?” I
asked Tushar.

“Please. Or a hotel. You can
guard us in a hotel, can’t you?” he asked Dawil.

“Yes. We just need you out of
Sri Ursemin’s house so we can investigate it forensically.”

Tushar blinked at me, as if the
words meant nothing to him. “Looking for clues,” I said as I pulled
my phone out and pressed the fast code for Shardul. “Did I wake
you?”

“I was waiting for your call.
They would like to stay at the boarding house?”

“Yes, though Tushar said they
could stay at a hotel if it’s too much hassle.”

“No, my friends insisted he
stay here.” He gave me the address, which I entered into my reader.
“I’ve told them who to expect. I’ll meet you there.”

“Thank you.” I put the phone
away. “We’re all set.”

“Then let’s go. Thank goodness
there’s no show tomorrow,” Ursemin said, staring at Tushar in
concern.

“Lieutenant, you’ll keep us
informed?”

“Either I or Lieutenant Mahre
will, personally.”

“Governor’s orders?”

Dawil straightened and glared
at me indignantly. “Not that I know of, Sri Ythen. I don’t know if
anyone’s told your father about this...development.”

“Sorry, that was unfair of me.
Time to get to bed.”

Ursemin caught up with us
outside. “I’ve been taking calls. I think the best way to handle
all the media interest is to hold a press conference tomorrow.
Javen, if you wanted to be there, you could—”

“Make my position clear?”

“Yes. A little cooperation now
in exchange for being left alone later.”

“Good idea. I’ll think about
it, but now I want to get this one,” I said, nudging a sleepy
Tushar, “and you somewhere you can put this behind you for a few
hours.”

“I don’t know what we’d have
done without you, Javen.”

“I’ll arrange a ride for you to
your accommodation,” Dawil said, coming up behind us. “Sri Tushar,
Sri Ursemin, you mustn’t leave that place without informing the
police stationed outside. Sri Ythen, we have to assume you might be
a target too. Uh...you and Sri Tushar together may make a more
tempting target.”

“If they want me to go home, I
will.”

Tushar looked up at me and
shook his head. “I won’t let these people drive you away. Stay...if
you want.”

I kissed him. “I want. There’s
your answer, lieutenant.”

“As you wish.”

Tushar rested against me for
the short journey, rousing only once to ask his manager if he’d
contacted Tushar’s father. Ursemin confirmed he’d sent a message of
reassurance. “Javen, what about your family?” Tushar asked.

“I sent my brother a quick
message earlier. Everyone else will hear on the news.”

“Oh.” He squeezed my hand but
asked nothing more. I was glad not to have to explain.

Shardul was waiting for us,
just as he promised, and Sri Ramanuja, his friend who owned the
little hostel. I introduced them to the officers accompanying us.
Sri Ramanuja then took the police, Tushar and Ursemin inside to
check the rooms, but Shardul put his hand on my arm to stay me.

“This worries me greatly,” he
said.

“You and me both. Benay’s
categorically cleared. Solid alibi for both attacks.”

“But that’s not what worries
me. We’ve been monitoring network chatter, as you suggested some
time ago. There was no increase in discussion or virulence before
either attack, and until the press broke the story, nothing after,
either. Whoever it is, isn’t boasting about it on the usual
channels.”

“It might not be racially
motivated.”

“
Hard to imagine what
else it could be, unless Tushar has
two
sets of sexually obsessed
stalkers.”

“Not as unlikely as you think,
Shardul. Look, it’s late, and I should go in and let him settle in.
Thank you for this.”

“It was for all of you, of
course.”

“Sure. I’m thanking you for my
slice. Um, Ursemin’s going to arrange a press conference. I’m
thinking of attending, going public with...you know.”

Shardul stiffened, concern and
a little anger coming from him. “You’re making yourself a target.
And him,” he added, though almost as an afterthought.

“Dad made me a target when he
became governor. The press already know about it, so anyone who
wants to take it amiss, can do that without any more help. But if
we give the press a few tidbits, that’ll buy them off for a while.
I wasn’t asking for your permission.”

“I’m not offering it. I’m
merely expressing concern.”

“So noted.” He pursed his lips
in irritation, so I added, “But I appreciate it. I know the risk,
but I want to protect him.”

“You’ve fallen fast.”

“And hard. He’s very
special.”

Shardul bowed. “Then may the
Spirit bless your relationship, and guide your path. Good night,
Javen.”

“’Night, Shardul.”

He headed off up the street
towards his home, pride and disappointment radiating from his
straight-backed and always elegant figure. I wanted to call him
back, have it out properly with him about Tushar, but what point
would it serve? I didn’t want Shardul to hate me over this. He was
important to me in so many ways, even if he’d firmly closed off the
one way I’d gladly have taken with him.

I rubbed my face. Time
for this later. Tushar needed me, and I needed him and a good
night’s sleep. With any luck, our mystery attackers would kill
themselves out of guilt and leave a handy note explaining their
motives, and then Tushar could go back to his normal life.
Whether
I
ever would, I had no idea.

~~~~~~~~

Madan said nothing as I stomped
into the office, threw off my coat, and fell onto my chair with a
sigh. “What?” I snapped.

“I watched the press
conference. I thought you handled things well.”

“That won’t be what my family
think. Fortunately I don’t care what my family think. Tell me
something normal.”

“My daughter’s pregnant.”

“Really? Wow.” Guiltily I
remembered I’d not been the least support to Tara lately, nor had I
done anything about finding my own place to live. “Okay, that’s
pretty normal. Uh, and congratulations. But I meant about this
place.”