Aegle (Ancient Greek: Αἴγλη): Meaning “Dazzling Light”. The most beautiful of the Naiads (Celestial Nymphs), daughter of Zeus and Neaera, by whom Helios begot the Charites. She is where creativity and kindness started. She signifies all that is good and right about mankind; in the oddest ways possible.
She had tested the drugs - conclusively. The drugs found in the hollow gold bangles. They were a derivative of Meth; but it was neither refined as Yabba, nor was it as fast acting as pure Methamphetamines, but with all and more of it’s aphrodisiac-like tendencies - it was something new and possibly far more dangerous than both combined. The street name, she had been told - was Y-crystals. As a scientist, she couldn’t but be impressed at the precise knowledge taken to cook this up - but as a CBI agent, she was horrified. Payal put down the sample, cleaning up after herself. The chemical composition had told them enough - this wasn’t a backdoor kitchen-lab cooked meth; no. This was sophisticated work: Done by a chemist excelling in his or her field and, this was the second time this week that this drug had been used intentionally to murder someone. Arnav sir and the others where there right now; Payal had come back with the samples. What did it all add up to?
She rolled down the sleeves of her simple grey shirt, before shouldering the darker ash-blue jacket and her bag. Nobody looking at her would think of a Glamazon, she knew. In her street clothes, she looked very... capable. Payal sighed, wondering why that felt like such an insult. She sighed again, slowly walking out of the CBI compound. She knew, why. It was her job as a scientist to ask questions, to establish hypothesis before proving a theory. It was that man with all that issues, the man with those rich toffee coloured eyes. NK Raina. Thinking of him made her despondent; maybe that’s why thinking about a man was the wrong thing to do. Payal had never thought of one beyond friendship up until now - she had wanted it all. Good grades, a great career. Men would have been stumbling blocks in her path. She wanted none. Now... she sighed. What was going on with her? Why would she be thinking ab0ut a man whose orbit had no space for a low paid government employee? Would he have looked at her if she hadn’t been decked in luxurious, borrowed plumes suited for more exotic birds rather than a plain brown wren like her? She didn’t think so. Unlike others, Payal didn’t really care about it, usually. Then, why did it smart today? She didn’t know... Something told her, that it was an answer best not known. She would rather focus on the Y-Crystal’s chemical structure. Once she would determine it, she would start searching for a chemist present in India good enough to make something so complex - there couldn’t be that many. The moment she tracked him down, she knew that everything would be alright. It had to be, really. Payal had worked for years to be where she was, right now. There were no safety nets waiting for her in the form of family fortunes to rescue her when she got bored with her job. This was all she had. The product of years and years of sacrifice. She wasn’t going to give up on it now, because some man with odd colored eyes was jamming her signals.
She noticed that her breathing was getting choppy, with a scientist’s curiosity. Why was that the case? Was it because she felt a latent sort of guilt for thinking about Arnav sir as she had, so ungraciously. She knew how hard he usually worked, after all. Or, was it because she was affected somehow by the thought of never meeting the man again? That man. Why was it important to meet him again? What difference did it make whether he found her interesting, or appealing or, not? She was, nothing but an investigator whose interest only lay in her investigation. Yet, wasn’t it an interesting phenomenon that she had taken up reading page 3 magazines - less for her movie stars, more for a much coveted glimpse into the life of a man who interested her ceaselessly.
What was it about him, she thought, irritated now. Was it those Mocha and Gold eyes that
had twinkled so beautifully? Or was it that slightly dimpled smile? Or was it the raw Animal Magnetism that he’d exuded? So effortlessly charming, and yet with a touch of dangerous iciness? She sighed, she’d never met a man before that had fascinated her so... He was like Carbon, she thought - one essential element with so many beautiful compounds - so many facets. Why wouldn’t she be captivated? Shaking her head, she had just stepped on the sidewalk, craving some coffee, some calorific dessert.. anything to get her mind off him, when she collided head-first into someone.
She looked up, irritated, her tongue ready to whiplash the person into a trembling mess on the roadside, and then... she was lost. She was lost in Mocha and Gold.
“I’m sorry.” He said, as he gently held her by the shoulders, stomping on the urge to lean in and take another whiff of that unconventional scent of hers. What was it, really? Vanilla? No... she sure wasn’t just vanilla, he thought with a smirk. She was something... exotic. Amazon. Fire. He shook himself, now wasn’t the time. But he couldn’t get himself to release her, he just... couldn’t. He watched those gorgeous black eyes, lined with the thinnest layer of kohl, as they blinked in astonishment behind those green rimmed glasses. Did she think that those glasses would shield those beautiful depths? He wondered, amusedly. He was sure she had been about to rip him one when they’d collided, but somehow, her expressions had changed, amusing him further. Her frown had quickly disappeared, and a pretty blush had colored her cream and roses skin.
“We’ve met, haven’t we?” he asked, even as she kept on staring - those dark eyes sparkling in the watery sunlight. When she said nothing, he added, “You were at Mannan Saab’s party that night. Ms. Payal Mathur, right? I guess you don’t remember me - I’m NK Raina. Anjali Raizada Jha introduced us?” he trailed off bashfully. She nodded, mutely. “Its good to see you again Ms. Mathur. Are you a local? I need to find...” he made a great show of taking his phone out of his pocket and looking at it, “The Government IT office? You’ll have to forgive me. I’m very bad with directions. On top of that...” he awkwardly shrugged, “I’m late for meeting my father’s good friend Asgar Ali Saab for tea,” He looked at his watch again, tiny frown lines appearing between his brows. “Uncle is going to think that I’ve stood him up,” NK glanced at her again, eyes begging, “Do you suppose you could help me?” he handed her the phone containing the address.
Payal finally found her tongue, standing in front of the vision of masculine perfection, who had been haunting her for close to a week. Her cheeks and her ears, she noticed, to some surprise - were still burning. She extended her hand to grasp the phone, without even looking at it. “How do you do Mr. Raina?” she whispered, startled at how throaty her own voice sounded. “Of course I remember you. Nice seeing you again. Yes, I am a local - I work at the...” she shrugged towards the CBI office, “there... let me guide you. It’s quite close by actually,” and then she looked up to see him smiling. Brilliantly. “Why, thank you Payal! You’re a lifesaver! I had no clue that it was close!” He followed after her, leaving a respectable distance behind her. “So... The CBI, huh? That explains why you were with Anjali. Are you a friend of Arnav Singh Raizada’s?” he asked, smiling. “We were in school together. Funny, how we’ve never kept in touch afterwards.”
All too soon, they were there, NK was smiling at her beatifically.”Thank you Ms. Sharma, you saved my life!” While all she could do was awkwardly nod. Payal bade him a hasty goodbye, and had turned her back towards him, trying to walk - to escape as fast as possible. Away from the man who made her IQ drop down. Lose her vocabulary. She shouldn’t even be here. She had walked perhaps fifteen paces away, when she heard a thunder of footsteps pounding on the pavement. Payal turned around, surprised to see NK rushing towards her. “On the other hand,” he said, breathing fast, “I never much liked tea anyway and Ali uncle already thinks that I’ve stood him up. An hour late, you see,” He grinned again. “Payal, would you like to go somewhere for coffee? Its really nice to see you again. We never had the chance to talk the last time,” Payal opened her mouth to say no, all of Arnav’s warnings rushing back to her but when she spoke, all that came out was, “I’d love to, Mr. Raina,” and then, she stared, appalled. What had she done? NK hadn’t noticed it though. “NK, please,” he said, breezily. “Mr. Raina reminds me uncomfortably of my own father and grandfather - both of whom are living,” and before she could say as much as a boo, he had herded her towards his car - into the passenger seat. What had she done? Payal thought, panicked - looking out of the window. How was she supposed to handle this?
But then, he had slid into the driver’s seat, and practically dazed her with that full blinding smile of his, and every thought just seemed to... fly out the window. He was wearing a Grey checked sweater, over a pair of dark wash jeans. His bronze skin seemed even more... delicious in that attire, the unruly black hair flopping onto his forehead, his Mocha eyes glinting golden in the sunlight, as a gentle smile lit his beautiful face up. She felt an unfamiliar yet sensuously delightful shudder course through her, as she saw the muscles in his arms play under the Grey expanse and had to tear her eyes away from them. What was a girl to do? she sighed, exasperated with herself.
NK looked over at her, as he changed gears. She was as beautiful in her simple grey shirt and trousers attire, with her shiny, glossy hair tied up in a bun at the back of her head, as she had been in that dress of Fire. Her skin glowed, her pouty lips invited... He bit back a groan. What the hell was he doing? He’d come to the CBI building, with Ali Uncle as an excuse, to see what exactly ASR was playing at, handing out his Personal Card to Billu. He had checked out everything he could get his hands on about every person working under Arnav, obviously. And had almost jumped with... excitement, when he found out that one Payal Mathur worked there too. And at that point, he had wanted to do anything to understand this mystery sitting next to him. Nothing helped. She was flustered, he noticed. Doesn’t date, her file had said - now he was sure of it. Maybe if he could embed himself into the daily life of Ms. Payal Mathur - he’d know what ASR was playing at. If the thought was an underhanded, sneaky one - he’d done worse. What he didn’t understand was why the thought of doing so with her soured his mood.
He shrugged, as he turned back to the road. Well, you had to do what you had to do. He wasn’t going to let Arnav Fucking Raizada play with his Billu. And he could do anything for Billu. Even if he meant he had to hurt someone as beautiful and captivating as the nymph sitting beside him for it. He sighed. Even if it meant hurting himself. Billu was his responsibility, and he would look out for her. It was his duty. He shook his head, as he heard Payal sigh heavily, and looked at her.
“You seem to be one of the quiet types,” he said, smiling at her, and was amused as she promptly blushed a pretty pink. “How am I supposed to enjoy my coffee if you refuse to talk, Ms. Mathur?” he asked, pulling on every ounce charm he possessed. And for some reason, his heart skipped a beat, as she smiled shyly, looking at him from under her dark long lashes. Hurting her was going to be one hell of a task wasn’t it? With any luck, she wouldn’t even know. However, NK Raina, destiny’s own child - didn’t think luck would favor him this time.
He strode down the airport lobby, where people looked up to see him, momentarily. Why wouldn’t they? It wasn’t everyday you saw someone that tall striding down towards you - nearly six five on his barefoot with the narrow face of a poet and black rimmed glasses that made you think of an accountant or maybe a lawyer. He may have been fair at some point but the harsh Delhi sun had marked him as her own - bronzing him lovingly. A man that noticeable, who knew would be able to fade into the woodworks at will? He could. It was one of the things that made Aman Mishra as invaluable as he was to his CBI team - second in command to his Boss - Arnav Singh Raizada. The only man who had his ear. Well, Boss... and Payal. She was the Forensic. One would think she would be a bit respectable to him, wouldn’t they? But No. That woman... well, plainly put, she was scary. Nice, but scary. Wouldn’t want to tap that. Aman shuddered. Wouldn’t want to be the one to cross her! He shook his head. Rajeeb Soni, Head of Customs. Killed with one injection. Poor Bastard. He was supposed to check through the office again, where Mr. Soni had been found dead, sitting in his chair, staring at the door, fear evident on his features, by his Assistant Head. She had called the Police in- and today was going to be interrogated. Boss was quite sure that the Prostitute that had been killed and this guy were connected somehow- not in the least because of the Y-crystals. But the Asst. Head had motive, and so, she was to be interrogated. Just covering all the bases, he thought.
He had walked into the office, as cat-footed as he always was. The body had been moved by the M.E. office so that was something at least; no doubt the Assistant Head woman would have been throwing a fit over it - would she faint? That would be an unnecessary stress on his time but like they say, he was - for better or worse, a bureaucrat and dealing with people - even other bureaucrats was what he did - because he had to. Diplomacy, he sighed, walking into the office. She sat there - looking nothing like he envisioned the Assistant Head he had envisioned. For some reason, that annoyed him greatly. Instead of chunky shoulder padded all purpose shirt, she had worn a printed, sheer mauve and cream shirt with a white wife-beater underneath. She had paired it up with a sleek pencil skirt that just covered her knees, with slits on both sides. From there came miles and miles of glossy legs straight out of vogue. There was not a pair of spectacles in sight. The face too... What a face! Butterscotch skin, with fine, clear hazel eyes and a pair of lips tilted in an unconscious smile. Aman always had a weakness for butterscotch and damned if that didn’t remind him just how much of a weakness it was too. It wasn’t often that Aman Mishra was caught off guard but finding the pampered model lookalike in the Assistant Head’s office put him on the backfoot. Who was this? Where was the Assistant Head? Was this a air hostess? If so, what was she doing in an active crime zone?
Not wanting to be politically incorrect - he cleared his voice and tried, “Ms. Kashyap? Ms. Lavanya Kashyap?” She stood up, in those killer heels that made her legs look even longer. “Yes, and you are, Detective...?” Aman’s lips upturned, a barely there. It wasn’t often that people realized who he was at first meeting. Most often they thought he was a lawyer or even an accountant. He’d been told that there was a certain monkish way about him that made them think of an accountant. The woman had a sharp eye, he thought catching her eye the shoulder strap that barely showed through his well cut jacket. Did she have the nerve required to kill as well? Instinct told him no, but Aman had always been far too methodical to merely rely on instinct.
“My condolences Ms. Kashyap. I am Detective Aman Mishra and I need to ask you a few routine questions about the murder,” she nodded and indicated for him to seat down. “Of course Detective Mishra, I understand,” she got up and paced. “Forgive me for not being seated, I’m finding this deeply disturbing,” she waved her hands around and eyes flashed animatedly. “Mr. Soni wasn’t even supposed to be here today, at my office - that too before I came in and I can’t imagine what just went down here,” her pace had quickened, Aman noticed even while filing that fact away for future reference in his head.
“How long have you worked with Mr. Soni, Ms. Kashyap?” she stilled and turned around to face him. “About two years, since I was transferred here. Six months of directly working under him ever since I had been promoted. He was... initially unsure about working with someone so much younger but I’d like to think he had come to accept it and we had been working together in relative harmony since then,” he nodded. Frictions.
“Why had he been in your office today Ms. Kashyap? Care to take a guess?” She looked at him straight in the eyes. “That’s what I’ve been wondering as well Detective. You see, I came back to find my door open. With keys that I had thought I lost and Mr. Soni dead inside. Mr. Soni’s office is not in this building Detective Mishra. He had no reason to be here unannounced,” Aman looked at her again.
“Ms. Kashyap, we need for you to come down at the station and give us your statement today, if you can manage it,” she nodded and he noticed that her fingers were trembling slightly when she reached out to shake the hand that he had extended. So that’s why she hadn’t been sitting down, he thought, very curious.
“Ms. Kashyap, it would be better if you didn’t suddenly take an extended vacation during the course of the investigation,” he murmured while leaving, having the pleasure of watching her eyes flash. Her cheeks reddened, even as she drew in a deep breath, no doubt to calm herself down.
“I am the Acting Head of Customs now, Detective Mishra,” she replied icily. “A government official can’t just leave town on a whim, as you should very well know by now. If you don’t, then I suggest taking a refresher’s course in Government and Politics,” he smiled politely at the dig and walked out. Curious.
Aman walked out, a rare wide smile on his face. Too bad he hadn’t met the Assistant Head under more... amenable circumstances. Things would have been a lot more interesting than they were at the moment. Not that it wouldn’t be a lot more fun now but for now, but he’d keep his nose clean. Pity. All that gleaming butterscotch of her skin... He straightened his glasses and faded into the crowd.
Arnav Singh Raizada was someone who was always sure and completely confident about each every action of his. Be it Professional or Personal. He always made sure that solid reason and unfailing logic backed every decision of his. Being a detective had taught him to not jump to conclusions based on mere assumptions, and yet not to discard assumptions altogether either. He pinched the bridge of his nose, as he closed his eyes and frowned in frustration. Then why had he done what he’d done that night, in the Mannans’ party? He sighed and looked up as a waiter in black put a glass of neat Whisky in front of him. It had been a long day. What with the Head of Customs at Indira Gandhi International Airport being murdered, finding no clues to connect the two murders of a Whore and a high paid and respected government official, apart from the means of killing- the injection of an illegal drug in high doses into their bodies, and of course, his own problem of Madame Butterfly who seemed to have taken permanent residence in his head. He shook his head and looked across the room.
Tonight, he was at the Q’BA Bar in Connaught Place. The Black, Purple and White surroundings gave the place a sort of quietly cheerful ambience, The circular central bar was certainly impressive- and the cool night wind from the terrace was soothing, for once. A good place to sit and brood in- in short- while you had a strong drink.
He shook his head again, and eyed his drink. Swirling it around in the glass. Why the hell had he lost his head that night? So she had danced on a raunchy song- quite provocatively- who was he to judge her on that? True, he wanted her... Oh how he wanted her! But that didn’t mean he would make questionable assumptions about her... or judge her on her choice of... work. He sighed again. But somewhere, it smarted that she hadn’t called. Yet. A snide voice inside his head said decisively. Yet. It should only be a matter of time, after all. He was Arnav Singh Raizada, wasn’t he?
And just as he had raised the glass to his lips, someone slid into the seat opposite him, inside his booth. Someone, with long, long legs, encased in high waisted, finely tailored black Bleecker Pants, and tiny feet encased in cream pumps with cut-outs on the side with rhinestone embellishments. Gleaming, luminescent, porcelain skin playing peek a boo through long sleeved white lace top tucked in over a white and rose printed racer-back shirt. Tucked in at the waist, there was a belt - of sorts. One that resembled a red silk bow, like she was a gift wrapped and he couldn’t wait to undo her to see the goodies inside.
Someone, with captivating, ensnaring Emerald eyes- the same shade as the Spider Web Emerald pendant that gleamed at the hollow of her throat.
The glass suspended motionless at his lips, as his eyes widened. His mouth falling slightly open. Agape. Trust Madame Butterfly to be the one who crept up on Det. Raizada. An unheard of feat, until yet anyway. She raised one beautifully shaped eyebrow at him. And he lowered his glass, finally finding his voice. But just as the words were about to take off his tongue, an elegantly manicured, petite hand covered his mouth- Sending shivers of white hot desires racing through his very blood. The other hand plucked his drink off the table, and the Emerald of her eyes danced with frank and haughty amusement, and something more, as she took a long pull from it. Still eyeing him. And for the first time in his life, Arnav Singh Raizada found himself at a loss. His brain seemed to have gone into a temporary lockdown. His limbs and mouth refused to so much as acknowledge his commands- and still he stared at the green-eyed mystery in front of him. All his eyes could focus on was the hand holding the glass of whiskey and the odd ring she had on one of her digits. It was a diamond studded panther curled around a cloudy green stone of some kind. He knew how the panther felt, he thought with a jolt. Captivated. Rooted to the same spot.
She had placed the now half glass of Whiskey back, and leaned across the table towards him. Her hand travelling to his cheek from his mouth, as he got a whiff of her scent. Soft, seductive... mischievous. The pad of her thumb rubbed tiny circles at the corner of his mouth, and he resisted the urge to groan and close his eyes, giving in to her. “Assumptions, is a dangerous game, Mr. Raizada,” she smiled, as the husky melody of her voice sent yet another shot of desire flashing through his veins. Her voice lowered, as she came closer, her dark lashes lowered before she peeped at him through them. Anything but coy. Challenging. “You’ll never know who it’s making an ass out of- you, or me?”
He stared, still as granite. And she had withdrawn. After one last swipe of her thumb against his lower lip. Standing up, Winking down at him- she had turned and walked away. Elegant. Leisurely. And he still sat there. Staring.
After what felt like an age, sanity returned. And with it- came the need to get to her. In time. And he had leapt up, throwing a handful of notes down on the table, he dashed after her. And as he ran out into the cold night, he remembered another afternoon when he’d chased after the same vixen, he looked around frantically- tonight wasn’t going to be a repeat show. Not if he could help it.
And then he looked up as someone whistled past him. The car, a very familiar car, with the license plate that he’d memorised a few weeks ago. To the name of one Rajesh Koothrapali. With the Bane of his Sanity at the wheel, he stared as she pursed those generous lips and blew him a kiss before she drove off.
And once again, Arnav Singh Raizada had been left behind by the enigma that was Billu Rani, or Madame Butterfly as he liked to think of her.
Dammit!
