The Prime Minister’s office – Papa’s office, Abhijat thought bitterly as they waited for the lift – was on the second floor of the Parliament House. Personally, he would have preferred to take the stairs, as he always had during the three years his father had occupied that office.
But Ruqaiya was with him, giving him death glares that said she’d wash her hands of him if he didn’t play nice and follow protocol. “Don’t rock the boat,” she’d told him as soon as he got into the car with her. “Not yet, anyway.”
He couldn’t wait until it was time for the boat to be rocked.
They’d been frisked on their way to the elevator. He expected there’d be more checkpoints once they got to the second floor.
It had clearly annoyed Ruqaiya. He supposed she was used to having undisputed access in these parts. What was more surprising was that it seemed to have annoyed some of the security personnel as well. One of the guards frisking Ruqaiya had offered, in a conspiratorial whisper, to give them her own gun if they were planning to assassinate the new Prime Minister.
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Ruqaiya had smirked and winked, and Abhijat had chuckled dutifully. But it had felt like only half a joke.
The air was rife with tension, and Abhijat almost sighed with relief once the elevator doors slid shut, momentarily cutting them off from the rest of the world.
“Stifling, isn’t it?” Ruqaiya muttered, pressing the button for the second floor. “Your father inspired loyalty, Abhijat. There’re still many people here who’d kill and die for him.”
“How do you think he’ll take it? The Prime Minister, I mean.” Abhijat asked after a beat, imagining the scene that was about to unfold with a sense of malignant glee. If he couldn’t put a bullet through the man, he was damn well going to make life as hard for him as possible, and enjoy every minute of it. It was petty revenge, but that didn’t make it any less satisfactory.
Ruqaiya grinned. “If there’s a tantrum, I’ll leave you to deal with it. You are the new head of security, after all.”
Abhijat bared his teeth in a poor imitation of a smile. “It’ll be a pleasure, ma’am.”
There was a metallic ping and the elevator doors parted, revealing the corridor leading up to the Prime Minister’s office.