Fasih emerged from the elevator in a purple cardigan that looked to be at least two sizes too big for him, with disheveled hair, and a pair of black slacks that had to be folded up at the bottom to keep him from tripping.

Abhijat raised an eyebrow. “Your aides allowed you to walk out of the suite in that?”

“I drugged them all,” Jehan winked, striding towards the car. “Where’s Prakash? And what’re you doing here? I told you, it’s just an informal brunch meeting. There’s no need for excessive security.”

“Prakash called in minutes ago to inform us that he won’t be able to make it. There’s been an emergency in his family. He needs to fly back to Qayit ASAP.”

“Oh?” Jehan retrieved his phone from his pocket and began typing. “I’ll tell Parul to make sure he doesn’t have any problems getting back. Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here, though.”

“I’ll be driving you. We couldn’t find a suitable chauffeur to replace Prakash at such short notice. Besides,” he continued, forestalling any arguments by holding the vehicle’s door open. “This way, you won’t need a separate security detail. Low profile, just as you prefer.”

Jehan’s eyes twinkled as he slid into the backseat. “You know me too well.”

As they drove through the congested highways of Manganic, Abhijat’s mind flashed back to last night’s conversation with Rinisa. She had said she’d ensure Prakash didn’t show up to work today. He wondered if she’d paid him off, or if he really thought there was an emergency back home. If he was honest with himself, Abhijat didn’t even know which one he’d prefer.

His body moved on autopilot, steering the car through the highways and flyovers of the foreign city without taking in anything apart from the slice of road right in front of him.

He’d asked Rinisa – after she gave him the address to which he was supposed to deliver Fasih – what she planned to do with him once she had him there.

He told himself it was idle curiosity, that he didn’t really care. Rinisa seemed to buy it too. She’d smiled impishly and clapped him on the back, had told him what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, before sauntering away from the bar to mingle with the other guests.

The fact that his hands shook on the steering wheel didn’t have to mean anything. Just the normal adrenaline rush preceding a potentially dangerous mission.

Rinisa had said she’d have the car adequately damaged, have him slightly roughed up so he could tell the authorities that the prime minister had been taken by force. That he’d tried to stop the attackers, to keep him safe. To do his job.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

It was natural to be anxious, under the circumstances.

He wished lying to himself was just a matter of coming up with all the logical reasons why this shouldn’t matter, why he shouldn’t care what happened to Fasih after he’d done his part in the job. He wished he could convince himself that he'd return to the hotel and sleep peacefully tonight, knowing he’d done what he had to, to keep his family and his country safe.

Last night, talking to Rinisa at the party, he’d been scared and enraged; had felt righteous fury coursing through his veins.

Now, he just felt defeated.

“You look gloomy today,” Fasih said, dragging Abhijat out of the suffocating quagmire of his own thoughts. “Or at least, gloomier than usual. I’d tell you to have a drink, if I didn’t think you’d be a grumpy drunk.”

“Getting your chauffeur drunk probably isn’t the brightest idea you’ve ever had.” Abhijat kept his eyes trained on the road. He refused to let himself glance at the rear-view mirror, to see what Fasih was doing.

This had to be done. He needed to do it. And he wasn’t sure he’d be able to, if he looked at Jehan’s face right now.

Fasih chuckled. “My history of not-so-bright ideas is long and glorious, as you once said. What’s one more item on the list, if it’ll get you to lighten up and stop looking like your dog died?”

Abhijat grunted in response.

Jehan leaned forward, his voice much closer to Abhijat’s ear. “It hasn’t, has it? Rajat never mentioned any pets, but for all I know I was just too high to remember.”

“No,” he said slowly, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “No, we – I don’t have any pets. I’m just worried we’ll be late for your meeting.”

“Horrible traffic, yes,” Fasih murmured, his voice farther away. Abhijat risked a glance at the rear-view mirror to see that he had leaned back, his body relaxed against the backrest. “This goddamn city’s like Qayit on amphetamines. Not a moment’s peace, is there? And on top of everything else, my phone’s dead.” He laughed. “Can you believe it? Of all the stupid problems to have. I’m sure I set it to charge before going to bed last night. But what do I know? I was too wasted to think straight, after the party.”

Abhijat hummed noncommittally, his heart thundering painfully against his ribs. In another few minutes they’d be at an intersection. If he turned right, they’d be ten minutes early for Fasih’s appointment with the finance secretary. If he turned left...

“So,” Fasih began, in a tone of mild curiosity. “Did your sister enjoy the party last night? Seems to have taken quite a shine to the Maganti girl. Not that I blame her, of course.”

It was an innocent enough question. And Fasih did know Rito had left with Ludmila Maganti last night. He was the one who told Abhijat about it, after all. There was no reason for Abhijat to think it was more than what it seemed – idle gossip. Chitchat.

Only, Abhijat knew from experience that Fasih didn’t do chitchat. Every conversation he was a part of, every point he raised had a purpose, whether or not you realized it at the time.

Over the months, Abhijat had watched this play out time and time again, with politicians, diplomats, and journalists being ensnared by Fasih’s seemingly pointless small-talk, failing to see the trap they were walking into until it was too late.

More often than not, it was harmless enough – Fasih trying to gain the upper hand in a negotiation or turn a critique into a compliment during a TV interview.

But when had Fasih’s maneuverings ever proved harmless, when it came to his family? And after everything he’d done, if he was planning to go after Rito next, to somehow use her attachment to Maganti’s sister to his advantage, as a tool for negotiation or–

Before he could finish that thought, the intersection came into view. His eyes on the road, hands steady on the steering wheel, Abhijat veered left.