“You did good out there.” Ruqaiya caught up with him moments before Jehan had exited the venue. They got into the car together, and she rolled up the screen separating the front of the vehicle from the back. “Touched on the La Fantome scandal, gave the press a gentle reminder without going overboard with it. Nicely done. All that remains is to see how Rinisa reacts.”
Jehan hummed and retrieved a bottle from a pocket behind the front seat, drinking deeply. His throat was dry, but more importantly, he wasn’t in the mood to be poked, prodded, and psychoanalyzed by his deputy.
“You know,” Ruqaiya continued, glancing out the window and ignoring Jehan’s silence. “The reporter who asked you that question…about Rajat.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her steal a quick glance at him. “I’ve never seen her before. And I know most reporters who’ve covered politics in Qayit for more than a few years, at least by face.”
He shrugged. “She’s probably new. Wasn’t exactly polished, was she?”
“Or subtle. Though I had a feeling you didn’t want her to be. People can be remarkably dense sometimes, and journalists are no exception. You have to hit them over the head with drama to make sure they got the point.”
Jehan let his eyes widen in innocent surprise, his mouth dropping open. “Are you suggesting I planted her there?”
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“I’m not suggesting anything. You’re the one doing all the suggesting. So you tell me.”
“Okay. Fine. She’s a friend of mine.” He rolled his eyes. “What’s your point?”
“I don’t have a point. Just a question. Why did you want to raise that topic today?”
“Well, someone was bound to say it sooner or later.” He sagged into his seat and stared pensively out of the window. “I spent the entire press conference saying that someone was trying to frame me for Badal’s murder, that I was innocent.
“And while that’s true enough, who has the most reason in the world to set me up, to want to see me ruined? In the eyes of the common man, who stands to benefit the most if I just happen to lose my position? Rajat, of course. He has every reason to hate me, and almost as much reason to hate Badal.”
Ruqaiya nodded thoughtfully. “And so, if you preemptively say on national television, in front of a million cameras, that you trust Rajat with all your heart, the media would be less likely to go after him. Is that it?”
“Partly. More importantly, if you do end up having to commission that pretty statue of my martyred self, Rajat would need to be reinstated as prime minister. And for that, he needs to be popular and trusted, and have a reasonably clean image, at the very least. He most certainly can’t be suspected of being a murderer.
“Else, it’d create a power vacuum at the center; and the last thing this poor country needs is to end up with someone like Rinisa as PM. And of course, Maganti would like nothing better than to have a puppet ruler in Naijan.” He turned to her with a self-satisfied grin. “Plus, it had the added benefit of making me look good, for magnanimously supporting my fallen adversary.”
“Talking to you is disconcerting,” she sighed, digging her phone out of her handbag. “I never know if I’m gonna get the altruistic visionary or the cutthroat opportunist. Or some bizarre combination of them both.”