Weapon of Vengeance (14 page)

Jennifer looked up at him and smiled. Chance, even if he had wanted to, could not then have missed the similarity to Ruby, especially not after the catty remark Ruby had made.

The realization struck home. Hard.

“It's hot.” Jennifer fanned herself. “And I'm thirsty. Would you like some Coke?”

Chance was unable to enjoy the afternoon. Something gnawed away inside of him, constantly reminding him that there was unfinished, unresolved business with Ruby; something that needed to be put to rest. A part of him hoped she would call. Another part hoped he would never meet her again.

*   *   *

Ruby was fuming as she drove away. Chance's interest in Jennifer had hit her hard. She had no idea how confused Chance was in the months they had been together, trying to figure out why there was this part of her he could never touch, no matter how hard he tried to reach out. Once their initial burst of lust subsided and the Monday-morning reality of sustaining a relationship had fallen upon them, Chance came to realize that Ruby was always holding a part of herself back. However, he was not canny enough to know that she was fluctuating wildly between
Yes, I want him
and
But can I trust him?

But the fact that she had saved his life kept him from walking away. Which was why he had been so relieved when the agency sent him to Afghanistan. Then they slowly but steadily had drifted apart. They had been out of touch for several months now, but there was no closure.

And Chance had been on the verge of bringing it up when Jennifer walked up to them.

*   *   *

Ruby paced her hotel room, the cabal of conflicting emotions churning through her. Finally tired, she sat by the window, the mess of thoughts in her head as chaotic as the traffic on the Ring Road running past her window.

THINK DIFFERENT
! The massive billboard with an Apple advertisement across the road caught her eye.

JUST DO IT
! The equally massive Nike advertisement next to it exhorted her.

Out of the blue, things clicked together.

Ruby now knew that to get at the summit delegates, she would have to fight her way past her father and the man she thought she loved … had loved.

But they abandoned me, after all.

That thought renewed the fire in her belly.

But if push came to shove and one of them stood between the targets and me, would I be able to pull the trigger?

The question petrified the woman. Not knowing the answer confused the terrorist.

Would I have taken on this mission if I had known that my father was the one … or did I accept and come to India subconsciously hoping I'd run into him?

She realized she didn't know. Ruby moaned; the pain inside almost physical. A low, petrified cry for help. But no one was listening. She knew.

THINK DIFFERENT
! Her eyes would not abandon the Apple billboard. But thoughts continued to clash unchecked.

By late afternoon, these worrisome questions had coalesced into a pounding headache. Then pangs of nausea began to wrack her. She was exhausted by the time she lay down. Sleep came almost instantly. However, it was a restless, dream-infested sleep.

The man who had been haunting her dreams was still faceless. She tried but could not make out who it was—just that he had blood all over his face. Suddenly, Chance emerged from behind him. He too had blood on his face, oozing out from a neat, round, black hole between his eyes.

“Why haven't you spoken to your father yet? Just pick up the phone and call him,” he was saying, over and over, his voice a broken whisper. “Why are you hesitating? Don't you want to know how he is … what kind of a man he is … why he left your mother … and you?” His tone became sharp and insistent.

Ruby awoke with a start. Her heart was pounding and she was bathed in sweat, even though the air-conditioning was going full blast. After reaching for the mineral water on her bedside table, she took a long swig, draining the bottle. Still thirsty, she got up and pulled another bottle out of the mini-bar and drank that too. It made her feel better. Marginally.

She lay down again, but this time sleep was driven away by a new need to find out about her father. To understand who he really was. For so many years, confused by his abandonment, she had taught herself to avoid thinking about him …
convinced
herself to hate him … almost … but …
I need to find out.…
She knew she could not live without knowing any longer.

Why? Why did you leave? What did I do to grow up without a father?

Now the room was pitch dark. Though the curtains were drawn back, not even a speck of light filtered in. The darkness outside felt as deep as the darkness within her.

Now I have no one to call my own.

That thought hammered at her. She longed to reach out and talk to someone. Anyone.

Who?

There
was
no one.

Chance?

Her hand reached out for the phone. But she stayed it.
No.
She did not need the aggravation of feeling her way through whatever still existed between them …
if
anything still did.

What about Father?
He
was
her father, after all. Ruby dwelt on that for a long time.

Which father? The one who abandoned us? Who did not, even once, over all these years, bother to check on me … to come looking for me … to hug me … hold me … talk to me … to find out if I was alive.

Ruby felt confusion, hurt, and resentment building up. She fought them; damned if she would allow herself to cry over a father who did not even care whether she was alive or dead.

Did he?
Her mind again was playing tag with her, as it often did when she was upset.
Did he really not care?

She gave up trying to sleep. It was futile. She
needed
to talk to someone. Scrabbling through her bag, she retrieved the ticket stub with Chance's number.

He's met my father; he'll know what kind of person he is
.

She also hoped Chance would be happy to hear from her.

The phone at the other end began to ring.

*   *   *

Chance had just entered the bathroom and unzipped when the phone began to ring. He called out to Jennifer, who had joined him for a nightcap after another exhausting day of sightseeing. “Could you get that, please?”

“Sure,” Jennifer called back, reaching for the phone.

*   *   *

“Hello.” Ruby had heard it only once before, but she recognized the nasal American accent. “Hello,” Jennifer said again.

Ruby almost spoke. She would have, but her eye fell upon her wristwatch. The glowing dial showed a tad past midnight. She knew she did not need to speak to Chance to get an answer; it was staring her in the face.

Chance has moved on
.

She put down the phone and returned to her lonely, restless vigil by the window.

He also has left me.

Wetness began crowding her eyes. With an effort, she pushed it away.

“So what's new? Men do that all the time
.”
Ruby said it out loud, as though she needed to hear it to believe it. A long moment of suspended thought followed. Her father too had done that to her mother.
To me. He was no different.

Then she cried. And cried. Till she could cry no more.

A sharp spike of anger at Rehana jabbed her.
Why did you have to go and die? Why did you never tell me about my father?
Why had she always shied away from talking about him … about what had happened between them?
Why?

Ruby remembered asking her often when she'd been young. “Where is Daddy? How come he never comes home … and to my school like other fathers?”

“How do I explain to you, my darling? You're too young to understand.”

But Ruby was always old enough to know that her father was not there for her. She remembered the nights she had cried herself to sleep; a physical ache as she longed for that huge bearded man who held her close, who made her feel loved, wanted, and safe. The pain had been so intense, so hurtful, that she had tried to stop thinking about him.

That pain now returned. Even after all these years, it was still sharp. Perhaps sharper, since it had been ignored and suppressed so long.

And now Mom has left me too.

But no. As Ruby hit the end of her tether, Rehana reached out from beyond and pulled her out of the abyss.

“
Did I not always tell you, my child?” Ruby heard the constant rejoinder echo in her head. “Chance will never understand. Just as your father never did.
No one will.
… Our cause is our own.… That is the way it has always been. Nothing will ever get better, not unless we fight for it.
They
will not allow it to.” She would thumb toward Chance's photo on Ruby's bedside table. “Men like him. They are the ones who killed our family … who have been killing our people all these years. It was these bloody Brits who started it all.… If not for their support, the fucking Jews would never have had the guts.… I am telling you—Chance will use you and dump you … just as your father did. Remember that.”

The words seemed prophetic now.

A clap of thunder boomed out. Lightning lacerated the sky, intermittently lighting up the road outside.

JUST DO IT
! the Nike advertisement tugged at her.

I will show you … all of you … bastards.…
Hardening her heart, she got up and threw herself on the bed. The transition from confused woman to committed terrorist was swift.

Drops of rain began to hammer on the windowpanes. The drumming sound eventually dulled her into a deep sleep.

*   *   *

“Why didn't you tell me, sir?” Mohite's tone teetered on the edge of insolence.

“About what, Mohite?” Though it was past midnight, Ravinder held his peace.

“About the Israeli commando team that has reached Delhi and is now on the way to Amritsar.”

“Who told you about it?” Ravinder asked even though he knew; it had to be Thakur.

“I had gone to meet Thakur sahib when he mentioned it.”

“Need to know, Mohite.” Ravinder hardened his tone, just enough to let Mohite know who was in charge. “You didn't need to know. That's why.”

“Foreign agents are running around all over our country with guns, and I don't need to know? Thakur sahib thought it fit to let me know.”

“Then from now on, you can just ask him only to keep you informed!” Ravinder slammed down the phone.

 

DAY FIVE

Dawn was lighting the horizon when Ruby woke up. The rain had stopped but it was overcast. A stubborn sun struggled to make its presence felt.

Her eye strayed to her wristwatch.

Five days left for the summit.

Ruby suddenly felt she was bursting with energy, as though the night's rain had washed away her confusions.

She thrust herself out of bed. She knew what she needed to do.

*   *   *

The foul aftertaste of last night's call from Mohite was still in his mouth when Ravinder heard his mobile. He checked the calling number. He was not ready to talk with that asshole again … not the first thing in the morning, at least. But it was an unknown number. He depressed the green button, hoping it would not be more bad news.

“Good morning, Mr. Gill.” It was Ido Peled. He sounded excited. “We have heard from one of our sources in Pakistan that Saeed Anwar is going to be at a safe house near Lahore. Our director asked me to let you know that we would like to send our team in now.”

“Be my guest, Ido. I'll put out the word.” Ravinder suddenly felt lighter. This was the kind of news he needed to hear. “And all the best.”

“Thank you, sir.” Peled rang off.

I hope they get the bastard … dead or alive … one less problem for us to deal with.
He was dwelling on this happy thought when the phone rang again. This time he picked up eagerly.

The conversation with Sanjeev Nanda was brief. Ravinder knew that if Nanda said it was important and they needed to meet, it would be.

“Delhi Gymkhana,” he told the driver as he settled into the official Scorpio SUV. The red light on top of the car whirled as it slid through the traffic. Ravinder was not fond of it, nor of the siren his driver tended to use far too often. He winced as the driver gave another long hooting blast, trying to burn a corridor though the dense traffic. But the short drive to the gymkhana still took thirty minutes.

“Whatever this creep has to offer, it better be good,” Ravinder muttered as he entered the club.

Nanda was at the corner table in the gymkhana bar, where they usually met. Ravinder had to smile as he took in Nanda's snazzy Armani suit, the gold Rolex, and his diamond-embedded tie clip.
He has definitely changed,
Ravinder reflected.
Who says crime doesn't pay?

He remembered the first time they'd met.

Ravinder had been in Narcotics. All of five weeks in the department, totally green behind the ears, but full of energy. Nanda was the first crook he had ever turned.

They'd nabbed a Nigerian drug peddler with two kilos of cocaine. Taking a gamble, Ravinder had let him go. In the subsequent weeks, the Nigerian led them to ten others selling the awful stuff. Rather than round them all up immediately, and more eager to take down the kingpins, Ravinder had put them all under surveillance. That had led them up the food chain to Nanda, caught with enough coke to lock him up for a very, very long time. Ravinder then took another gamble, knowing that Nanda was not
the
big man, but someone who knew who the big man was. And Nanda was, of course, weasel enough to shop him to save his own hide.