Rito would not have pegged Professor Sinya Haval as the type to have a clandestine affair. And yet, a clandestine affair was precisely what she appeared to be having. And having it with none other than the prime minister himself; one floor below her husband’s office, at that. Rito didn’t know whether to be scandalized or impressed.
Sinya kissed Jehan on the cheek, and a moment later, they sat down across from each other at the far end of the waiting room. An oddly chaste affair, if that’s what it was. Not that Rito had the best vantage point, peeping through the restroom door a few feet away, feeling a little like a pervert. But from what she could see, it looked more like a business meeting than a reunion of star-crossed lovers.
Barely a minute after Jehan’s entry, the backdoor creaked again – somebody really needed to get those hinges oiled if people were going to have clandestine meetings in here – and in walked Dileep Haval. Rito’s breath caught in her throat. A fistfight was not what she'd been expecting when she decided to follow Sinya to the QRI that morning.
Dileep Haval was a big man – broad shoulders, strong limbs, slightly heavy midsection. In short, the kind of man you wouldn’t want to brawl with; especially not if you were a tiny waif of a guy who looked like he’d be blown away by a strong wind.
Haval stepped into the room and stared down at his wife and his former best friend. Jehan rose to his feet.
Rito braced herself for the inevitable. Extricating the phone from her back-pocket, she wondered who’d throw the first punch. She wondered if it was immoral to hide in a restroom while a man got beaten to death a few feet away.
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Fasih moved forward. Haval stepped into his space, blocking him with his massive form. He leaned in, wrapping his huge arms around Jehan and lifting the other man clean off his feet.
It took Rito a moment to realize that they were not fighting. They were hugging.
She sagged against the tiled restroom wall, unsure whether to be relieved or confused. A ménage à trois wasn’t exactly what she’d signed up for, either. But she supposed it was better than witnessing a murder in broad daylight.
As Rito watched, Sinya retrieved three lunch boxes from her tote bag and passed two of them to her companions. Soon, conversation died down and the mouthwatering aroma of fried rice and sautéed vegetables filled the room.
Behind the restroom door, Rito’s stomach rumbled. She prayed the sound wasn’t really as loud as it’d seemed to her over-sensitive ears.
Twenty minutes of animated discussion and heated debate followed what had been – by all appearances – a very satisfying lunch. The three were huddled together, talking earnestly. Yet, their voices were low, and Rito could only catch about half of what they said.
Still, the little she overheard told her what she needed to know – that the stolen samples were currently being tested in Lab 307 of the Biochem Department, and that they were apparently more potent than Dileep had expected them to be.
He assured Jehan that he would have the results by the end of the week. Which meant Rito only had a couple of days to act, before the drugs were removed from the lab and became out of reach once again.
Sucking in a deep breath, she tried to prepare herself mentally for her very first burglary. As the trio exchanged hugs and dispersed, Sinya returning the empty lunchboxes to her tote-bag, Rito wondered if they served fried rice in prison.
She had a feeling they did not.