Abhijat frowned. “Meaning?”
“The New Year’s party, of course. Think about it. An international gala event, covered by all the major media outlets and news agencies around the world. The place is going to be chock full of cameras. No better alibi in the world.”
“An alibi for what?”
She tipped her head back and drained her glass. “If there happened to be an...unfortunate accident at the Shian household back in Qayit, when people around the world could see live footage of Jehan Fasih discharging his prime ministerly duties in Maralana,” she shrugged. “Well, who could blame him? There’s no way he could be held responsible for the accident. He wasn’t even in the country.”
Abhijat flinched. His hands were shaking, and his mouth had gone dry. God, this wouldn’t do. With a tremendous effort of will, he forced his body back under control. “Without proof, these are just baseless allegations. Some might even call it slander.”
She smiled and leaned forward in her seat. “Tell me Abhijat, what do you know about Fasih’s mother?”
“Just that she left Naijan when he was a kid. I don’t see how that’s–”
She flicked open her handbag and withdrew a file. “Natalya Fasih, née Tarasov, has been living in her family home in the suburbs of Manganic for the past decade and a half. She never officially divorced Fasih senior. She’s lived a pretty quiet life, on the whole, never drawing much attention to herself.
“Until, less than a year ago, she purchased a bungalow in one of the fanciest neighborhoods in this city. That, and a couple of high-end cars. Strange, because officially, her only source of income is the meager retirement fund her late husband had set up for her. She’d inherited some property from her own parents, but all of that taken together wouldn’t have paid for even one of her two new cars.”
She handed him the file. “These are some recent transactions made through Mrs. Fasih’s personal bank account. Over the last six months alone, she has received no less than three huge payouts from the Central Bank of Maralana.”
“What for?” Abhijat asked, flipping through the file with a frown. He was no expert, but the documents looked legitimate enough. He wondered how Rinisa had managed to get her hands on them.
“Your guess is as good as mine. The most remarkable thing she’s ever done in her life was winning a beauty pageant more than thirty years ago. No reason why the Maralanese government should be paying her so handsomely for it now.”
“I understand what you’re getting at.” He closed the file and placed his palm over it. “But even if everything you’ve just said is true, these transactions could easily have happened without Jehan’s knowledge.”
Rinisa laughed. “Do you really believe that? What do you think they were paying her for? Being an exemplary citizen? The only thing Maganti can hope to get out of her is access to her son. And he wouldn’t pay her that kind of money for anything less.”
“I thought she and her son were estranged.”
“For over a decade, your father also thought Jehan was his trusted friend.”
His grimace produced a smile from Rinisa. She reached forward and covered his hand with her own smaller one. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. All I’m saying is that Fasih is an experienced player of this game.
“For the last ten years and more, he’d been projecting an image of himself that was good enough to fool some of the smartest people in the central government. What he did, it came as a shock to everyone who knew him, and most of those who didn’t. Those people weren’t amateurs, they weren’t stupid. And yet, none of them had ever viewed him as a potential threat. It wasn’t just your father who underestimated him.
“If he could fake a personality for over a decade, fake attachments and allegiances he never gave a damn about, well, what other parts of his life might’ve been a lie?”
Abhijat grunted noncommittally and looked away, draining his own drink for a moment’s reprieve. It wasn’t so much that he thought what she was saying was improbable. He hadn’t been lying when he told Rito that he didn’t trust Fasih. The thing was, though, he trusted Rinisa even less. Even if she was telling nothing but the truth, she had an agenda for telling it. And he needed to know what that was.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Even if I were to agree with everything you’ve said so far, Ms. Rayeek, that’s hardly conclusive proof of anything.”
“No, I suppose it isn’t. You know what would be, though?” She turned to look him straight in the eyes. “If you were to call your mother right now and ask her whether or not some young people claiming to be students of Qayit University have been visiting your home for some survey or the other, since you and your sister left for Manganic.”
Abhijat’s fists clenched in horror, his blood running cold. “No. That’s not–”
“How long has Jehan been associated with the QRI, now?” she asked, cutting him off. “How many years has he spent on that campus? And then there’s Sinya Haval, his childhood friend, now the accomplished head of the Comp. Lit. Department.
“Fasih can be charming when he wants to be. Is it so unbelievable that he might’ve made friends at the university? That over the years he might’ve gathered followers who’d be willing to do anything to support him?
“There are plenty of radical student organizations in Qayit University. Any one of them could’ve been manipulated or bribed into staking out the Shian house. After all, Rajat Shian’s address is a matter of public record.
“And maybe Fasih only wanted eyes on your father. But maybe he wants something more. Perhaps those students aren’t there to be mere spectators after all. Tell me, Abhijat, after what happened to Badal, are you willing to risk your parents’ lives on the assumption of Jehan Fasih’s innate goodness?”
With shaking hands, Abhijat withdrew his phone from his pocket and dialed his mother. The conversation was brief, tense, and made his throat clench with fear. Students from the university had visited the house, apparently for some survey they were doing for a political science project. They had just left half an hour ago.
“Do not let any strangers into the house until I get back, alright?” he all but snarled at her. Then, more gently, he whispered into the phone. “Promise me, okay? Promise me you’ll be safe.”
By the time he disconnected the call, Rinisa was gazing at him curiously. He wished he could tell his father what was going on. But he didn’t have any proof beyond Rinisa’s allegations and insinuations.
As likely as not, Rajat would refuse to believe him altogether. And even if he didn’t, he might do something that’d alert Jehan’s spies that something was wrong. It might spook them, make them do something rash or dangerous.
He couldn’t take the chance.
“Fine,” he breathed, turning to face Rinisa at last. “Fine, let’s say I believe you. But tell me, why the hell are you so desperate to help me? Am I supposed to act on the assumption of your innate goodness, instead of Fasih’s? ‘Cause I gotta tell you, Ms. Rayeek, those are some damn shitty options.”
She smirked, shook her head, and motioned to the bartender for another drink. “Far be it from me to suggest that I’m a good person, my friend.” She balanced the cocktail glass between her fingers, planted her elbow on the counter, and leveled an amused gaze at Abhijat. “I’m a bitch with an agenda, as you may or may not have realized. And therein lies the difference between me and Fasih.
“We’re cut from the same cloth, he and I. I’m just more comfortable embracing my flaws, such as they are. He wants you to think he’s a good person, maybe he wants to believe that himself.” She rolled her eyes. “Me, I have no such delusions. I’m not interested in goodness. All I want is revenge.”
“Revenge for what?”
“For what he did to my family,” she hissed. “From the moment he got the premiership, he came after me and my family. I didn’t move against him, not initially. I was on his side; I wanted to be his ally, to work together towards a common goal.
“But he just had to interfere with things that didn’t concern him. He systematically dismantled our businesses, impeded our operations, in Qayit and in the states. And I was okay with that,” she laughed. “Hey, it’s business. Somebody wins, somebody loses. That’s the game. But then he killed Badal–”
“My heart is breaking for your loss,” Abhijat intoned.
“He was family!” she whirled in her seat. “You of all people should understand that. He was my brother’s father-in-law, and a close friend of mine. And now he’s gone, he’s dead, because Fasih is playing a game he can no longer control.
“And if he’s allowed to continue, what’s to say that my brother won’t be next in the line of fire?” Her voice dropped an octave. “Or your sister, for that matter.”
Abhijat’s face must have shown some fraction of his emotions, because she smiled slightly and looked away. “I’m not an angel, Abhijat. But at least I’m the devil you know. I’ve nothing to gain by harming you or your family; I need your help to protect mine.
“Fasih, on the other hand…right now, your father is perhaps the biggest thorn in his side. If he can remove Rajat Shian from the picture, he has the world to gain by it. And everything to lose if he doesn’t.
“And he’ll have the perfect chance to do just that during the New Year’s gala the day after tomorrow; create the perfect alibi for the perfect crime. He’ll kill your father, Abhijat. Just like he killed Badal. And he won’t give a damn who gets caught in the crossfire.
“You’re the only one who can help me stop it. Stop him. And if you don’t, we’ll both lose everything we have.” She raised her glass. “Think about that.”
For a minute, Abhijat said nothing. His heart thundered against his ribcage, his mind in a whirl. He felt like a cornered animal, desperate, afraid, and ferocious. Ready to kill or be killed. And really, what other choice was he left with? He hadn’t noticed the trap closing in around him until it was too late. And now, there was only one way out.
Stop Fasih, or die trying.
His throat scraped raw, the bitter aftertaste of betrayal on his tongue, he made himself ask, “What do you need me to do?”