“Because we needed results. We were spending millions on this project annually. And the taxpayers wanted to know what the fuck they were paying for. The media hounded us for tangible results; the opposition smelt blood and spared no opportunity to bring up the matter of the Amven project during campaign speeches and televised debates.”

“And so, you pressured the researchers to deliver results.” Abhijat pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. This was all too much for one day.

Ruqaiya nodded. “Results that could be used to justify the expenditure; to prove to the media that the money was being invested wisely, for the benefit of the nation as a whole.

“And if we didn’t yet have the miracle drug that could wipe out violent crime, we could at least have a drug that could be used to effectively interrogate captured criminals and terrorists. That would compel them to cooperate with the authorities and reveal the whereabouts of their accomplices and associates.”

“A drug that enforced passive obedience, encouraged aversion to conflict,” finished Abhijat, comprehension dawning in his mind.

His companion nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Jehan wasn’t happy about it; almost left the QRI. Would have, I’m pretty sure, if it weren’t for your father.” She sighed, shaking her head. “But it was only supposed to be temporary, a placeholder until the drug could be perfected, Fasih’s original vision realized. We never meant to…it was never even supposed to be used–”

“Until the metro attacks changed all that.”

She smiled bitterly. “Yes. That’s what forced our hand. The nation was in uproar. Everyone wanted someone to blame for what had happened. People wanted revenge.

“We couldn’t be seen sitting on our hands, doing nothing. Justice by any means necessary, the press demanded. Well, what better means could there be than the Amven drug we’d been crowing about all these years? Even members of our own party campaigned for its use on the captured suspects. We didn’t have a choice.”

“Fasih was thrilled about that, I’m sure,” Abhijat snorted. “Tell me, was Badal one of the people who favored the use of the drug?”

“One of the most vocal of them, yes. Why do you ask?”

He shrugged. “That boy, Laihan…”

“Your sister’s friend?”

“Yes, him. He said the La Fantome was owned by Badal’s daughter and son-in-law, through some offshore subsidiaries.”

She frowned. “We can have that checked out. Shouldn’t be hard to confirm, if it’s true.”

“It’s not just that, though. Vyas called me this morning about that electrician–”

“You said he wasn’t talking.”

“He wasn’t, last time I spoke to him. I guess he finally caved under the NIA’s more…sophisticated interrogation techniques.”

“And?”

“He’s confessed to tampering with the electrical wiring in the balcony of the prime minister’s office. Back when he was working as an independent contractor with Dixit’s company.”

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“But, I don’t understand. The last time any electrical maintenance work happened around here…”

“My father was in office,” Abhijat said grimly, meeting her eyes.

“But that was ages ago. How–”

“I don’t know all the details yet. I’m meeting Vyas tomorrow, so hopefully I’ll know more then. But from what I understand, the exact timing of the fire was ensured by a plumbing trick. The pipes were being cleaned that day, remember? Somehow, it affected the wiring, which in turn started the fire. And it gave Sajal enough time to leave the city and hope that his involvement wasn’t suspected.”

Ruqaiya frowned. “Was the plumbing crew involved?”

“I don’t know. I’ll ask Vyas when I see him. They don’t hire independent contractors, but one of the employees could’ve been bought off. If so, he wouldn’t be hard to catch. My men have been keeping tabs on that company ever since the day of the fire. Small fish, Qia. They aren’t the ones we need to worry about.”

She tilted her head to one side, her eyes curious. “Did he name any names? Your electrician, I mean.”

“Not in so many words. Not to me, anyway. But the house he was staying at in Weritlan? Beautiful property, three bedrooms, huge bath, far beyond anything he should’ve been able to afford.” He pulled up a photo of the place on his phone and handed it to Ruqaiya. “Located inside a quaint little gated community developed by a real estate company owned by Badal’s second cousin.”

Ruqaiya groaned, flicking through the photographs. “God, if this is true, it’s worse than anything I expected. If this thing was set up before Rajat resigned…”

“Call it what it is, Qia,” Abhijat snapped. “An assassination attempt.”

“Meant for whom? If your father was the target, why not call the whole thing off after he resigned? And if the target was Jehan, well, how could Badal possibly have known that he would become prime minister months before the metro attacks? You think they planned this little power grab together?” she sounded skeptical.

“Nope. Because if they’d been in on it together, Badal would’ve had no reason to try and kill Fasih back then. He hadn’t yet lost the position of deputy prime minister or his seat in the Cabinet.”

“I never trusted Badal, but I’d never have pegged him for a killer. Didn’t think he had the balls,” Ruqaiya shook her head. “Why would he want to kill Rajat anyway? Becoming PM a couple of years early hardly seems worth the risk. Besides, he was right there when Rajat resigned. Why not change the plan?”

“Maybe because he couldn’t. I mean, he lost access to that office almost at the same time Papa did. And with Sajal living it up in Weritlan, maybe there was no one left to undo what had already been done. Or maybe he figured one dead prime minister’s as good as another.”

Ruqaiya nodded, looking thoughtful. “You know, if what you say is true, there is something we can do about it.”

“And what is that?”

“The Maralanese New Year is coming up next month. Luminaries from around the world will be attending that gala. Celebrities and politicians from every major country will be there. And you know who’s invited?”

Abhijat raised a questioning eyebrow, ignoring her dramatic tone.

“Badal and his family. They received a personal invitation from none other than Maganti himself. Or at least that’s what I’ve heard through the political grapevine.”

“But why? He was expelled from the Cabinet. He’s not even a minister anymore.”

“Good question.” She smirked. “That’s precisely what I’ve been wondering. But that’s not the point. The point, my naïve young friend, is that the Gods themselves couldn’t have presented you with a better opportunity for reconnaissance.

“Fasih will be there too, of course, as our new PM. And you’ll have them all in the same room – Badal, Maganti, Rinisa, and Fasih. You can go as part of Jehan’s delegation, nothing unnatural about that. Once there, you can maybe find out what Badal’s been up to, follow him around and see where he leads you. At the very least, you’ll learn more than you would here in Qayit.”

“I’ll think about it. Although I don’t know how happy Fasih will be about me tagging along with him to Maralana.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

He scowled. “If hanging out with that scheming, devious little shit is your idea of paradise, Qia, I’m worried about you.”

She shrugged. “Well, you have to admit it’s interesting. How does he fit into all this? What’s his angle here? What’s the endgame for this elaborate set-up he’s been weaving these past few months?”

“Believe me, I’d give an arm and a leg to know just what Fasih’s motives are.”