The Brightest Fell Page 6

  Ruqaiya smiled archly. “No, he wouldn’t. But he won’t be able to do anything about it. You have a military background and an impeccable service record. If Fasih opposes your appointment, it’ll look like he’s still holding a grudge against the former Prime Minister and his family. And that’s not a good look, is it? Let’s see how Dr. Fasih likes a taste of his own goddamn medicine.”

  Abhijat stared at her. Then, he threw his head back and laughed. “You’re evil.”

  “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  The Prime Minister’s office – Papa’s office, Abhijat thought bitterly as they waited for the lift – was on the second floor of the Parliament House. Personally, he would have preferred to take the stairs, as he always had during the three years his father had occupied that office.

  But Ruqaiya was with him, giving him death glares that said she’d wash her hands of him if he didn’t play nice and follow protocol. “Don’t rock the boat,” she’d told him as soon as he got into the car with her. “Not yet, anyway.”

  He couldn’t wait until it was time for the boat to be rocked.

  They’d been frisked on their way to the elevator. He expected there’d be more checkpoints once they got to the second floor.

  It had clearly annoyed Ruqaiya. He supposed she was used to having undisputed access in these parts. What was more surprising was that it seemed to have annoyed some of the security personnel as well. One of the guards frisking Ruqaiya had offered, in a conspiratorial whisper, to give them her own gun if they were planning to assassinate the new Prime Minister.

  Ruqaiya had smirked and winked, and Abhijat had chuckled dutifully. But it had felt like only half a joke.

  The air was rife with tension, and Abhijat almost sighed with relief once the elevator doors slid shut, momentarily cutting them off from the rest of the world.

  “Stifling, isn’t it?” Ruqaiya muttered, pressing the button for the second floor. “Your father inspired loyalty, Abhijat. There’re still many people here who’d kill and die for him.”

  “How do you think he’ll take it? The Prime Minister, I mean.” Abhijat asked after a beat, imagining the scene that was about to unfold with a sense of malignant glee. If he couldn’t put a bullet through the man, he was damn well going to make life as hard for him as possible, and enjoy every minute of it. It was petty revenge, but that didn’t make it any less satisfactory.

  Ruqaiya grinned. “If there’s a tantrum, I’ll leave you to deal with it. You are the new head of security, after all.”

  Abhijat bared his teeth in a poor imitation of a smile. “It’ll be a pleasure, ma’am.”

  There was a metallic ping and the elevator doors parted, revealing the corridor leading up to the Prime Minister’s office.

  Abhijat had expected to see many things upon entering his father’s former office for the first time since his resignation.

  What he had not expected, however, was to see the Prime Minister perched on the desk in an oversized lilac sweater, his feet dangling off the edge of the large mahogany table and swinging in the air, as he gazed intently into a slim tablet in his hand.

  Jehan was tinkering with the device and taking notes into a notebook balanced on his thigh. As he tapped away on the tablet, he held a pen in his mouth while another was tucked behind his ear. Multi-colored ink stains marred his nose and his temple.

  He looked like a careless schoolboy struggling with homework, rather than an evil mastermind planning an illicit power-grab.

  For a brief moment, Abhijat wondered if it had all been one huge misunderstanding. Because this was the absent-minded but brilliant scientist his father had bragged about at family dinners for all these years. The type of man who could barely tie his own shoelaces without adult supervision, much less stage a vindictive political coup against his friend and benefactor.

  “Did we enter an alternate universe on the way here? Do you remember stepping through any mirrors?” Ruqaiya’s confused whisper jolted Abhijat out of his reverie, and he shook his head in an effort to clear it.

  It seemed to have had a similar impact on Jehan as well, because the Prime Minister abandoned his focused study of the tablet in favor of staring wide-eyed at the newcomers. He then blinked rapidly a half-dozen times before his mouth fell open, which in turn caused him to drop the pen he’d been holding between his lips.

  At this cataclysmic event, Jehan’s eyes widened even further and he dove forward to catch the pen, snatching it from the air half a second before it could hit the ground.

  “Brilliant! Should we clap?” drawled Ruqaiya, striding into the chamber and signaling for Abhijat to follow.

  Putting the tablet and the notebook aside, Jehan smiled brightly at her and hopped off the desk. “Madam Dehran!” he said, as if he had just noticed her existence. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “To the fact that you’ve acquired a new head of security, of course,” she grinned, beckoning Abhijat to step forward. “Excellent man. Military background. Impeccable record. I’d vouch for him myself.”

  “That I daresay you would.” Jehan extended his hand to Abhijat, smiling at him with guileless warmth. It was disconcerting. “I do hope you’ll like it here, Mr. Shian. And that you’ll stay…longer than your predecessor, at least. I never did learn what possessed him to leave. I’m not that bad a boss, I should hope.”

  Abhijat stiffened at the mention of his surname. Did Fasih recognize him? He didn’t think Ruqaiya had introduced him yet. A sideways glance at her convinced him that she was equally baffled.

  He grasped Fasih’s pale hand in his own and offered him a tight smile. “It’s an honor to serve you, sir.” The words stung his throat on the way out.

  Fasih waved a hand and laughed, hopping back onto the desk. “Don’t be ridiculous. And for the love of all that’s holy, don’t call me sir. It makes me feel stodgy.”

  “As you wish, sir. I mean…Dr. Fasih.”

  “Please,” said the Prime Minister plaintively. “Call me Jehan.”

  “Well, you two seem to be getting on swimmingly,” Ruqaiya interjected. “I’ll leave you to it, then. I have a meeting I need to attend in…” she checked her phone. “Fifteen minutes.”

  Abhijat looked at her through narrowed eyes, but she paid him no mind, turned on her heel and strode out of the chamber.

  “Tea?” Fasih said with a hopeful smile.

  A few seconds passed, and Fasih raised a questioning brow. Abhijat was being mocked.

  “No, thanks,” he said, his tone a little brusquer than he’d intended.

  The Prime Minister’s lilac sweater – two sizes too big at the very least – was complemented by a multicolored scarf that was looped carelessly around his neck. Overgrown dark hair fell into his eyes, making him look more like an unkempt puppy than the savvy schemer Abhijat had come to expect. He wondered if the man was stoned.

  He’d been thrown completely off his game. And he still couldn’t put his finger on what exactly was amiss. His hands itched for the comforting weight of a weapon.

  Fasih shrugged, and floated off to one corner of the room that had an electric kettle and some jars.

  Abhijat frowned. They hadn’t been there the last time he’d visited. He didn’t know why that bothered him so much.

  Setting the water to heat, Fasih leaned against the veneered wall and stared straight at Abhijat. In that moment, he looked more lucid than he had since Abhijat first laid eyes on him.

  “So, what made you decide to quit the military and return to the capital? Not that I’m not delighted you did, because I am.” He punctuated the words with another one of his earnest smiles. “But I was under the impression that you didn’t much like Qayit.”

  Abhijat stiffened, his skin prickling with unease. The only person who could have told Fasih about his thoughts on the capital was his father. He couldn’t believe the man was casually discussing their family gossip after everything that had happened. Everything he had done. “I’ve changed
my mind,” he said curtly.

  Fasih nodded as if that made perfect sense. “And do you like your new job?”

  “I’m hoping I will. Do you?”

  The younger man’s eyes widened imperceptibly, then he grinned. “I have a feeling I’m going to, now that you’re here. I’ve heard a lot about you, you know. Always wanted to meet you.”

  “The feeling is mutual, I’m sure. I’ve heard quite a bit about you as well.”

  Fasih poured his tea, his back turned to Abhijat. “Good things, I hope?”

  “Nothing but.” And less than a month ago, that would have been an honest answer.

  Chapter 4

  The swearing-in ceremony of the new Prime Minister was set to begin in half an hour.

  The forecourt of the Parliament House, where the ceremony would take place, was buzzing with activity. It was filled with politicians, businessmen, diplomats, and dignitaries of every stripe. Ministers and senior bureaucrats had arrived from every state of Naijan. Envoys from other countries were also present.

  The largest delegation had arrived from Maralana. Not that there was anything unusual about that, per se. Maralana was the largest of Naijan’s neighbors, by a significant margin at that.

  And considering that the two countries were on friendly terms, there was nothing amiss about Maralana sending a sizeable delegation to the swearing-in ceremony of Naijan’s Prime Minister.

  Only, the delegation that had arrived for Rajat’s swearing-in three years ago hadn’t been half as big.

  Abhijat’s gaze landed on one of the new-arrivals. Leaning slightly in, so that his mouth was close to Ruqaiya’s ear, he whispered. “Isn’t that–”

  “Rinisa Rayeek? Yup, that’s her.” The hostility was clear in Ruqaiya’s voice.

  The woman was fair, slender, and quite tall for a Zanyar. She had perfect, symmetrical features which made her look rather like a cyborg. Her shoulder-length black hair gleamed in the light of the LED lamps illuminating the venue. She wore a black, chiffon saree with a red blouse.

  “Well, she’s certainly dressed for a party. Why’s she here, anyway? Isn’t she the Deputy Chief Minister of Eraon at the moment? I don’t believe her term as Chief Minister begins until next year. Does it?”

  The state-level administration of Naijan was similar to the central system of governance. Every ten years, elections were held in which the people of the state voted to elect the next Zanyar and Birhani representatives. Each representative had a five-year term as Chief Minister and had to serve another five years as the Deputy Chief Minister of the state.

  As everyone voted to elect the representative from both communities, this ensured harmony and unity between both sides during election time. More importantly, however, it ensured that no state-level politician became powerful enough to try and secede from the union on ethnic grounds, as there would always be someone to counterbalance their influence.

  Typically, the current Chief Minister of a state would be expected to attend the swearing-in ceremony of a new Prime Minister.

  Ruqaiya sighed. “It doesn’t. But she’s got Henna Sameen wrapped around her little finger. She’d do anything Rinisa says. She probably convinced Sameen that she needs to stay back in Waimar to handle some crisis or the other. They’re always having crises down there. I’m sure something handy cropped up just in time.”

  Abhijat spared her a sideways glance but said nothing. It was no secret that there was corruption in Eraon, more so perhaps than in any other state. But he wasn’t sure if Ruqaiya was making an allegation against Rayeek in particular or if she was speaking rhetorically.

  “But why would she want to be here anyway? Fasih is just an interim PM. In all probability, he won’t last longer than a year.”

  “Oh, a year would be more than sufficient for Rinisa’s purposes.” Ruqaiya pushed a stray strand of hair behind one ear, her lips pressed into a thin line. “You know about the Vanya dam dispute between Eraon and Ishfana, don’t you?”

  “Sure. But what’s that got to do with Rayeek being here? Surely she doesn’t mean to try and persuade Fasih to come out in favor of Eraon. That kind of interference from the Center will cause all kinds of controversy. Ishfana and Zanya will be up in arms in no time.”

  Ruqaiya snorted. “Oh, she doesn’t want Fasih to do anything of the sort. In fact, she wants quite the opposite. I’d bet a good deal of money she means to try and persuade him to come out in support of Ishfana.”

  “What?” Abhijat frowned. “But why? Eraon will face a severe water-crisis if they lose access to that dam. Why’d she want that kind of trouble in her own state, just a year before she starts as Chief Minister, at that?”

  “She wouldn’t, if she gave a flying fuck about Eraon. Which she does not. She’s not even from there. She’s only been living in Waimar for a decade at most. She comes from a business family in Zanya, born and raised in Zealdan. They’re pretty well known too. You might’ve heard of them–”

  “Rayeek Pharmaceuticals, of course! How did I never make the connection?”

  “Well, they call themselves Rayeek Industries now. But yep, one and the same. Her family spent a hefty amount to get her elected as the Zanyar representative from Eraon. All so she could swing the outcome of the Vanya dam dispute in Ishfana’s favor.”

  “What for? Rayeek Pharmaceuticals is based in Zanya and their largest subsidiary is in Eraon. Why’d she cause trouble in her own state, during her own tenure, for Ishfana?”

  Ruqaiya arranged the pleats of her cream-and-gold saree and frowned. “Like you said, her family has extensive business interests in Eraon. They’ve been expanding into different sectors recently, hence the change in name. One of these sectors they’re trying to get into is the bottled water industry. They’ve set up several factories in Eraon over the past few years.”

  “Oh,” said Abhijat, beginning to see where this was going.

  Ruqaiya nodded, a bitter smile on her lips. “Ishfana might want exclusive access to the water from the Vanya dam, but they don’t really need it. They have other water sources that’ll serve them well enough. Losing access to Vanya’s water would be an inconvenience for them, but not a disaster.

  “Unlike Eraon, which is far more heavily dependent on the dam as one of its primary sources of freshwater. Losing access to the water from Vanya would plunge Eraon into a full-blown water crisis, driving up the price of bottled water almost exponentially.

  “And that’s not the only source of potential revenue either. Rayeek Industries has for years been investing heavily in desalination technology and the related facilities in rural Eraon. Imagine all the demand on that front. The entire irrigation system will have to be revamped. They’ll be raking in billions, Abhijat, for years to come.” She looked over at Rinisa. “And she’ll be one hell of a rich woman. Well, a richer woman than she already is.”

  “At the cost of her own people…”

  Ruqaiya huffed dismissively. “As if she cares. Daresay she’s desperate now, after Fasih kicked Badal out of the game, just before his term was about to begin, at that.”

  “How’s that her problem?”

  “Everything’s your problem when you’ve got a finger in every pie. And that woman’s got more fingers than the world has pies. Her younger brother married Badal’s daughter six months ago.”

  “Ah. And did my father know about…all this?”

  Ruqaiya rolled her eyes. “Of course he did. Not that there was anything untoward that we knew of, or that we could prove, at any rate.

  “Rinisa doesn’t have the slightest interest in the development of Eraon, and most of the time she doesn’t even bother pretending to care. Not since she was elected to be the Zanyar representative from the state.

  “But her family has huge investments in Eraon. I’m talking multiple factories in more than half the districts. Their economic interests in the state have made her a force to be reckoned with, politically speaking.

  “For all intents and purposes, Henna Sameen is no
thing more than a figurehead anymore. Everybody knows Rinisa is the one with the real power. What she says, goes.”

  Abhijat shook his head. “No wonder Eraon has been in such miserable straits lately. We never had enough rations at the barracks, equipment was always being shipped, but never seemed to reach anywhere. I guess it all makes sense now.”

  Ruqaiya nodded. “She’s been trying to resolve the dam dispute in Ishfana’s favor for years. Not publicly, of course. Not the best spin doctors in the world could make that position sound acceptable at a rally or a press meet.

  “But everybody who’s anybody in the government or the bureaucracy knows what she’s really gunning for. And many of them have had their palms sufficiently greased to want to help her get it.

  “Your father had been stalling her for years, before this mess with Fasih started. But our hands are tied too. Rayeek Industries has directly and indirectly financed many government programs over the years. At this point, they’re practically a lobby unto themselves. There’s only so far we can push without getting major pushback from the other end.

  “And she’s like a bad penny that keeps turning up. Bloody impossible to get rid of.”

  “And Fasih? How does he play into all this?”

  Ruqaiya shook her head, bitter resignation in her voice. “Not hard to guess, is it? All these years, Rajat’s been doing everything in his power to protect the interests of the people of Eraon. And now that Jehan has removed one of the major thorns in her side, she probably feels like she can finally get what she wants. Get the Central Government on her side through Jehan and make him sign off on her plans for the dam. Probably even expects him to feel some sort of allegiance to her ‘cause they’re both Zanyar.”

  “Well, that’s unlikely.”

  “Does it matter? Allegiance can always be fostered through a sufficiently healthy bank balance. What matters is that all the work we’ve done over so many years will have been for nothing. If Ishfana wins the dam dispute during Jehan’s term in office, Eraon will be plunged into a water crisis that may last years, and devastate the state’s economy in the process.”