Chapter 1: Himitsu-Bako
Chapter 1: Himitsu-Bako
(Himitsu-Bako: Japanese Puzzle Box often with a secret inside that can only be found after having solved the puzzle. Meant to foster patience. Or hide a secret not meant to be found.)
Song playing in the background: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=urhs98th8a0
The music was pounding, as he pushed through the writhing walls of moving bodies, sinuous curves, sheened with sweat. Glitters. Spangles. Silk. Men.Women. Any other time, he probably would have been interested in the curvy, scythe-like feminine forms moving to the beats. Why not? Now though, he had something else in mind. Far more stimulating than the mindless music on the floor, that would perhaps lead to another round of equally mindless but far more pleasurable activities in bed. No. Now his mind was about to get a workout; just what he had been craving for the past few days. Plus it would help shut out a pair of gold flecked emerald eyes that had been haunting him for the past three months. Witch eyes. She had been haunting him- haunting him from that day when he had seen her. And it irked him. Very Much. Arnav Singh Raizada- The Man of every woman’s dreams- could not get her out of his goddamned system- and he had only seen her once.
He pushed through another throng of riveting curvatures swaying to the hypnotic music until reaching the small private room at the back, shielded by a flimsy door. Without batting a lash, he pushed the door and moved into the blue light lit room where the body lay sprawled on the floor, face twisted grotesquely - as is in the case of a victim of cardiac arrest. She was naked. The room had that stale smell of sex. She wasn’t raped though, from what the medical examiner could garner - it was consensual but rough. Repeatedly. Had the sex caused her heart to stop? He didn’t think so.
The dead body was unnaturally pale, bloodless- purplish bruises coloring large stretches of the body. Her eyes were open- the irises were contracted, as if fear and realization had hit her just moments before she had lost her life. He bent down, his eyes scanning the floor intently- nothing. Dust lined the hardwood floor of the room- not a single drop or speck of anything else in sight. He frowned. He looked back at the woman lying dead in front of him- her lips open her limbs splayed apart, eyes dilated with what looked like fear. A thin platinum chain dangled at her left wrist- small and very expensive looking diamonds studded on it. Rich. He concluded, his eyes roving over the subject- but why dead?
He looked up and around again- his mind running through possibilities- discarding one after the other. “Cause of Death?” he snapped at the Medical Examiner Intern, and the kid almost jumped- but answered in a level voice. “Cardiac Arrest. But what caused that we can only estimate after we have her in the morgue.”
He raised an eyebrow at Aatish, the Senior Medical Examiner and the Man nodded, his eyebrows furrowing as he bent down and swabbed some blood of the woman’s thighs. Moved carefully around the room- taking in everything. What had happened in here? Surely, Sexual Intercourse- even Rough, was not enough to send a young woman into Cardiac Arrest! This was a murder... but he really didn’t have the motive. He looked up as the door was pushed open and Aman walked in.
“ID’d the vic, boss.” he said, and Arnav stopped himself from rolling his eyes. This guy was never going to stop calling him Boss. He jerked his head- and Aman went ahead. “Anahita Segal. High Society Prostitute. Works here. Lives in Nizamuddin East, alone. Comes from Yamunanagar originally. Family isn’t ready to own up.”
Aman shook his head and looked at the dead body, an expression of pity flitting across his face before the cold mask of an investigator fell down. “Was seen last with an unidentified Bald Man, coming inside the club- not seen after that- till she died.”
Arnav sighed. Well, it was going to be a long night. “Alright, let’s wrap up. Aatish, take the body to the Lab- I want the reports ASAP. Aman restrict this area, will you? And tell Ranjan to bring everyone in for Interrogation.” He turned around on his heel and stalked out of the room- his brow still furrowed as he thought about why someone would kill a Prostitute. Raking a hand through his hair, he glanced at his watch. 11.30 pm. Dadi was going to be really hacked off tonight. He’d promised her a Dinner together. Closing his eyes and sighing, he had just leant back against the wall, when he heard that hauntingly familiar voice again. The husky melody breaking through the haze of tiredness. His eyes snapping open he looked around.
And as he turned he saw her. Her Brilliant Emerald eyes wide, the gold flecks in them looking more pronounced. She looked even more... ethereal, in her simple grey button down shirt and denims. Her long hair was put up in a simple pony, twisted up from her neck with a claw clip. Her face devoid of make-up, glowing, as if it had its own aura. His eyes moved down her face to her neck- a thin gold chain visible just beneath her collar- her chest heaving up and down rapidly as if she had been running- or maybe because she was scared? She turned, her slender frame seeming to almost float along as she briskly walked away somewhere, her head craning up- as if searching. And he followed. He didn’t know why, but he had to get to her.
He watched her disappear between two hefty looking guys and followed, his brisk walk giving in to a light jog. He heard her again and turned.
“... Come on. Up you get.” She was standing near the bar, talking to someone- he leaned forward, craning his head to see if he could spot the person she was talking to. Suddenly he felt someone shove him and he stumbled, before steadying himself and walking on. He just had to get to her.
He walked over to the bar, and looked around. Then, swore ripely. His hands raking through his hair again. She was gone. Again.
He had come to the club to unwind. A drink, a dame and and most importantly, he had come to case the joint. The cameras. The security exits. The inner workings of club Jalapeno. The level of sophistication in terms of technology. He needed it all. Tomorrow there would be a big scale exchange of a smuggled good going down in this particular club - A foreign dignitary had smuggled it in from Nepal during the upheaval it was going through when the Royal Family was slayed. Even among all the death and blood, while he had been a guest at their house, he had stolen. Now, nearly five years later, with the heat finally dying out, he had finally become brave enough to sell it to the highest bidder. He and his partner had been hired to intercept the said good for a 30 percent of the selling price along with a flat rate for a smooth heist. The money didn’t appeal to him. He had enough of it. The pretty statue though.... He just might decide to keep it for himself if his partner didn’t have one of her honor among thieves moments. He closed his eyes and recalled the statue... What he had seen of it anyway. So pretty! Nand Kishore Raina’s fingers tingled, as it often did in the presence of beautiful things. He liked to consider himself a connoisseur of all that is beautiful. She certainly was... He closed his eyes and smiled. It was a Meenakshi of Madurai statue barely 8 inches tall. So beautifully detailed though! He smiled. Cast in the lost wax method, it was made up of pure gold, with a patina of time. No core of iron for this beauty. No. This was an old old statue... dated 750 BC, at least. His... the beautiful statue showed Meenakshi standing dressed in detailed, draped clothes and a long garland of malas wrapped around her neck. The mala was made up of studded rubies with uncut diamonds as the center. She was wearing a headdress that falls to one side, sculpted in rose gold with uncut diamonds etched in in a paisley pattern along with Alexandrites, Sapphires and Moonstones. Her eyes were polished onyx and lips, rose tourmaline. In her hand is a gold parrot, covered with dark blue green emerald feathers mined from Nepal. Perhaps the most beautiful aspect to him was Meenakshi's long braid going down the center of her back. She is standing in abhanga position in which the body weight is supported by one leg, with both feet standing on the ground with knee slightly bent and the other leg straight out. NK Raina was in love. He was always attracted towards petite, graceful ladies and she fulfilled the requirements on all fronts. He took a sip of his frosty brew, silently noting the front, the back, the employees’ and the emergency exits. Yes. He just might decide to keep the lady for himself. He was... he smiled, lonely.
He sat, mentally outlining the exchange. The process to him was no less intricate than a brain surgeon outlining his surgery. The twists, the turns. The subtle snips. His hands were no less steady as he drew them up. NK took pride in what he did.... outwitting the less gifted. His more... staid partner would perhaps call it stealing but hey... He had never considered himself staid for a moment of his life. Why do it now? So they were planning a heist - so much more interesting. One they would carry out without a hitch, he had no doubt and one, that wouldn’t warrant police investigation because - really - how would the ex-aid to the ambassador of India in Nepal explain what he was doing with a quarter of a billion rupees worth of antique? Check and fucking mate! I’ve got’cha pal. What can you do but go quietly into the night? What options do you have left? As he thought of the golden lady (as he had dubbed the statue) again, he smiled. Soon.
For now, he looked at the pretty girl dancing in front of him, he’d bide his time. He was taking another sip of the drink when he saw a tall pretty girl walk by, expert eyes idly taking note of the clusters of diamonds hanging from the platinum chain at her wrist. Expensive. At odds with her midrange dress and shoes. He looked at her again, narrowing. She was high. He thought flatly. Eyes disoriented - dilated, hair messy. Not chic messiness, but the kind you get when you spend hours doing unmentionable activities. Club drugs. She was on some sort of club drugs perhaps. Es? Poppers? Y? He didn’t care. She stumbled, blindly reaching for the bald man at her side, pulling him in to kiss him with a gusto he wouldn’t place with a professional. And NK was right. He knew he was. Casing joints and casing people were similar activities. You picked up subtle clues and pieced together a whole picture. The girl in the little black dress over there? Weaving with the middle aged bald man was a well paid call girl. The same innocent looking fresh faced girl, who was sucking face with the man old enough to be her daddy. Either she had a major case of daddy-issues, or that girl was a fabulous actress, well paid enough to fake the passion she was putting on show for the world to see. Champion actress, he thought with a small smile. Prostitute. If he was wrong, he’d eat his watch, for now, he turned around, he’d like to be away from the bombed-out-of-her-skull woman. It wasn’t the prostitution that bothered him, people would be surprised to know - rather, it was the drugs. They brought back memories he would like to keep a lid on.
He took a sip from his glass, head bent as he mentally outlined how and where they would make their entrances tomorrow and from where they would leave. Together. Obviously. They made a pretty damned good team. Him and His Partner. Smart, Intelligent and quick on their feet- they were the best in the lot. And he wasn’t even bragging. With Her natural charm and smooth tongue and sharp mind with the agility of a cat and that highly crafty brain and his Natural ability to slink in and become a part of the crowd and Love for everything electronic matched with their easy rapport and long friendship- they made a formidable pair. He smiled. His first friend. And the truest friend anyone could ever have.
He stiffened as the drugged whore and her bald toy tumbled onto the stool next to him, averting his eyes even as the man slipped his hand up her barely there dress. He turned away when the moans started, and the man winked at him over her shoulder. There was something very wrong about that situation- well, apart from the pretty obvious wrong that was already going on. He dipped his head and concentrated into his drink- trying to ignore the horrific sounds they were making beside him- trying to drown their voices out by thinking about his task. Then, the man spoke- “Come on. There.” And he looked up as the woman rose up with him- more than half naked now. Her head thrown back- her eyes hooded. Her breath was uneven and she was trembling. His eyes narrowed- she was wringing her hands, her legs twining with each other repetitively, her hands going up and down herself, gasping now- and realization struck. His eyes widened as a long lost fear settled in the pit of his stomach. They walked away- and all he could do was stare. His hands trembling, heart beats increasing as powerful and painful memories pounded in his head. He had to get out of there. Now.
His hands shook as he pulled his cell out. Pressing 1 and putting it to his ear, his other hand going to rub his face. Eyes closing as relief coursed through him when she picked up at the first ring.
“NK? Weren’t you supposed to...”
“Khushi.” he rasped out. And he listened as she paused for half a second and then the rapid fire panicked questions started.
“NK? What happened? Where...?”
He gulped the lump in his throat down and closed his eyes. “Jalapeno.”
“I’m coming.” she said and hung up. She had always understood him. That was the best thing between them. They understood each other- no words needed. Like Twins.
3 comments
Wonderful chapter! We get to learn more about A, K and NK!! Going on to the next one :P
ReplyDelete- Maya
Wow. So arnav is a cop and khushi & NK partners in crime.
ReplyDeleteVery interesting.
Wow!! This is a cool story. Arnav and Khushi on opposite sides of the law. This is going to get VERY interesting :)
ReplyDelete