The Brightest Fell Read online

  Abhijat froze, and he could feel Rito go still beside him. The fact that this was against protocol didn’t bother him as much as the fact that Fasih had singled out not only him, but also his sister, and brought them deliberately to the notice of some random foreigner for no apparent reason. And yet, he knew Fasih well enough to know that he did everything for a reason.

  “And this, of course,” Jehan continued, seemingly oblivious to the reactions of those around him. “Is Madam Ivanovna, and her daughter Ludmila Maganti.”

  “I prefer Milli,” the girl said, smiling shyly at Rito, who extended her hand at once. As hands were shaken and greetings exchanged all around, something clicked inside Abhijat’s brain.

  Ludmila Maganti...daughter of Ivanovna Maganti, who happened to be President Maganti’s step-mother and the leader of the Opposition, one of his greatest political opponents in Maralana.

  It was rumored that Maganti had tried to have her – and his half-sister Ludmila – killed several times in the past, but to no avail. They always seemed to slip away from between his fingers.

  And now, Fasih was chatting up Madam Ivanovna like they were long lost friends, unexpectedly reunited at a party. Like he’d had no idea she would be here. He wondered what Fasih’s angle was, what he thought he could get out of the Maganti women. And why he thought involving him and Rito in his little game would be beneficial.

  Abhijat turned to his sister, only to realize that Rito had already retreated into a corner with Milli, and they were now talking animatedly about something that Abhijat couldn’t quite catch. He did, however, realize that they were talking rapidly in Birhani. Ludmilla spoke with a slight accent but kept up with the conversation easily enough. Rito’s cheeks were flushed and she was smiling brightly from ear to ear.

  Despite himself, Abhijat felt his lips twitch in a smile. It had been a long time since he’d seen Rito so free and unguarded, so unabashedly happy.

  A slim, feminine hand pressed down on his shoulder. Abhijat stilled. He forced himself to breathe, and turned slowly around, only to see Rinisa smiling up at him from behind a half-empty champagne flute.

  She wore a figure-hugging peach dress, and a plethora of complicated braids held her dark hair away from her face. A broad, silver choker around her throat was the only piece of jewelry on her person. “Have a drink with me,” she said, turning slightly to look at the bar at the opposite end of the room. It wasn’t so much a question as a command.

  “I’m afraid I can’t,” he said easily, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “As you can see, I’m on duty.” He spared a glance at Fasih, who was still chatting with Madam Ivanovna a few feet away. “It wouldn’t do to abandon my post.”

  Rinisa’s smile widened, and she took a single step closer to Abhijat, so that they stood flush against one another. Abhijat stood his ground, refusing to take a step back. This seemed to amuse Rinisa even more, and she stood on tiptoes until her lips brushed his earlobe. “Have a drink with me. You wouldn’t want to return to Qayit only to find your beloved parents have passed away in a tragic accident, would you now?”

  Abhijat took a small sip from the glass the bartender had handed him seconds ago. He didn’t even know what it was he was drinking, but it gave him an excuse to look away from Rinisa to try and get his thoughts under control. And for that, he was grateful.

  The drink burned his throat on its way down, a temporary distraction from the thundering of his own heart. Rinisa couldn’t be serious. She was just yanking his chain, testing how far she could go before he called her bluff. He knew all that, and yet...

  On this, he couldn’t afford to be wrong.

  Sitting on the stool beside him, her feet dangling in the air, Rinisa reminded him uncannily of Fasih. And of the fact that they were both far more dangerous than they seemed to be.

  “What do you want from me?” he ground out at last, after a few moments had passed in uncomfortable silence.

  “A very small favor, actually,” she said sweetly, taking a sip of her own reddish drink before setting it down on the counter. “I want you...need you...to ensure that Fasih doesn’t show up to the New Year’s gala the day after tomorrow.”

  Abhijat threw his head back and laughed. It sounded strained and bitter, even to his own ears. “Are you insane? Wait, don’t answer that question.” He shook his head. “I’ll do no such thing. And you, Ms. Rayeek, should be careful with your words. Someone might even accuse you of treason, if you keep saying things like that.”

  Rinisa leaned sideways towards Abhijat, and the tips of her fingers lightly touched his knee under the counter. “I’m not the traitor here,” she said softly. “And we both know it. I’m not the one who stole the premiership by destabilizing the central government based on manufactured accusations against the former PM.”

  Abhijat stiffened in his seat. Whether it was because of what Rinisa was saying or the way she was touching him, he couldn’t tell. For some reason, he found both vaguely distasteful, although he knew she’d said nothing but the truth.

  Her hand resting lightly on his thigh, Rinisa leaned further into his space. “Why’re you so desperate to protect the man who ruined your family?” she whispered. “Destroyed your father’s reputation, your sister’s future...

  “What could Jehan Fasih possibly have offered you that’d make his actions acceptable? Forgivable?” Her voice turned suggestive, almost sleazy. “Was it money? Or perhaps something more...personal in nature?”

  Abhijat’s blood boiled in his veins. She was goading him, trying to get a rise out of him. He knew that. And yet, that knowledge didn’t change a single thing. “I’m not a sellout,” he growled through gritted teeth. His fists clenched under the counter. If they hadn’t been in public, he would’ve been sorely tempted to strangle her.

  “And yet, you refuse to move against him.” Her eyes remained fixed on the drink in her hand.

  “Protecting the prime minister is my job description, Ms. Rayeek. It’s my duty to make sure Fasih is safe. And I don’t need to forgive him to do my job. I may not be a sellout, but I’m not a traitor either.”

  She arched a delicate eyebrow. “And you’re willing to lose your family on the line of ‘duty’, I suppose?”

  “Vague threats don’t make for convincing arguments. And you’re beginning to sound a bit like a broken record now.”

  Rinisa smiled coyly and removed her hand from Abhijat’s thigh, placing her elbows on the counter and resting her chin on her interlaced fingers. “I don’t know about you, but murdering the former deputy PM qualifies as something more than a ‘vague threat’ in my book.”

  “That’s just speculation.”

  Rinisa chuckled primly, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “Ah yes, speculation. Everything about him seems to be just that, no? Did he frame Prime Minister Shian?” She raised one shoulder in a half shrug. “Did he manipulate and then kill Badal? Who knows? Did he conspire with his old friend to put your sister behind bars? Surely not.”

  She paused, and Abhijat could feel her eyes on him, gauging him. “Did he collude with foreign powers to bribe Badal and win his support, only to have him killed once he had outlived his usefulness and become more trouble than his worth? Why, what a treasonous thought would that be! Surely not something patriots such as yourself should think about.”

  A chill ran down Abhijat’s spine. He wanted to think she was lying, but she wasn’t wrong. Fasih had framed his father and had tried to do the same to his sister for his own ends. He’d gained the premiership through deceit and subterfuge, not giving a damn about the collateral damage he caused. And Abhijat knew for a fact how manipulative Fasih could be when he wanted to be.

  He didn’t want to believe he’d been working for a murderer all these months; that Naijan was even now under the command of a cold-blooded killer. But that didn’t mean what she was saying couldn’t be true.

  “The man they arrested for Badal’s murder has retracted his statement,” he said through grit
ted teeth, knowing full well how flimsy an excuse that was. He was clutching at straws, and Rinisa knew that as well as he did.

  “And it never occurred to you that he might’ve been bribed? Blackmailed?”

  The glass he’d been holding creaked ominously, and Abhijat set it down on the counter, lest it break in his grip. “Why’d he want to kill Badal now, after all this time? What would it achieve? Fasih already has everything he ever wanted.”

  “And hence, he has everything to lose. More so than he ever did before. So if Badal had suffered an attack of conscience, if he’d threatened to reveal everything to the media… There really was only one way out of that mess for Fasih.

  “And now, he knows that if he’s formally investigated for the murder, he’ll have to step down. If that happens, there’s a good chance that your father will be reinstated as prime minister.

  “Jehan knows as well as we do, how popular Rajat Shian was during most of his term in office. And his popularity has only grown over the last few months, after the initial outcry over those ridiculous allegations died down. If he loses the premiership to your father now, Jehan knows he’ll never win it back. And that is a chance he can’t afford to take.”

  “You say that like there’s something he can do about it. If the investigation turns up any evidence of his guilt–”

  “The investigation?” she laughed. “Who cares about the investigation? It wouldn’t go that far if Fasih has anything to say about it.”

  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.

  “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.