Lying For A Living

10

Vansh lowered his g*n. He had a history with the man. Over the years, even when Vansh was presumed dead, Vansh had maintain minimal yet friendly contact with Pathak. Vansh had taken a bullet for him a long time ago. And in turn, Pathak had helped him when he needed it the most, convincing RAW and IB to stop looking for him.

And yet there was another thing about Pathak, he was very, very loyal to his seniors. Vansh may trust the man, but it did not make him trust Pathak's seniors. He had no doubt that Pathak would sacrifice him if requested so by them. He walked over to the switchboard and flicked on the lights. He then walked over and sat next to the man on a chair under which a knife was strapped.

Amritansh Pathak had aged. His frame of an ex Special Forces Paratrooper had diminished over the years, and his eyes revealed that he had also aged emotionally, facing betrayals and backstabbing. Vansh knew that Pathak hated all the politics and infighting, but he was determined to serve his country as long as their was breath in his body.

He also understood what the IB wanted from him. Usually, RAW and tha IB steered clear of each other, not interfering in each other's jobs. But this time there would be problem. Since the German PM who was just back from India was killed on foreign grounds, RAW would take the lead, while the shot in the Victoria Memorial could also have been meant for the Indian PM, the IB would investigate the local aspect, leading a separate investigation.

"What have you made out of the situation yet, Vansh," the man asked.

"Not as much as I wanted to," Vansh replied truthfully.

Pathak nodded. "I feared that. I think RAW has already recruited you?"

Vansh nodded an affirmative.

Pathak sighed and continued, "We are also hoping you cooperation, Vansh. In return, you can expect the same from us. I guess we have something more than you have figured out."

Vansh leaned forward in his chair.

"The IB got an anonymous call a week before the PM was attacked. One of our low ranking officer got the call. The voice told that the country was in danger. And that if we did not listen to it, all would be lost," Pathak said.

"Voice?" Vansh asked. "Male or female?"

"Can't say. It was mechanical," Pathak replied.

"What was the IB's initial response?"

"Ignorance, of course. We usually have 20 calls like that, every week, claiming that the fate of the country is at stake."

"Then?"

"Then of course the PMs got shot at and we made contact. An email was sent to us. It said that take it to your best man. So I brought it here, to you, since none of my tech guys can figure it out," Pathak said.

"What is it?" Vansh asked.

"A crossword."

"Your guys couldn't solve a damn crossword?"

"Take a look at it. You got a laptop?"

"Yeah" Vansh lead the man to a table nearby where his laptop was on charge. The men stood by the table as Pathak took out a pen drive In a few seconds, a crossword lay on the Dell's screen. As Vansh started reading the clues, his heartbeat fastened. A German billionare. A US senator. A Pakistani youth activist. A South African MP. Vansh stared at Pathak, his face white with shock.

It was a small part of the list of people Vansh had killed as an X. In the crossword, he had to fill nineteen such names. Nineteen people he could not ever forget. Because they had all been innocent men and women. He had known that even as he had pulled the trigger on each one of them. It was a mission, he told himself. At least that is what I told myself, because I was too afraid to admit the truth.

Seeing the puzzle, he was so overwhelmed by guilt, regret and self-hate that his knees buckled. Pathak caught him before he could hit the floor. He lead Vansh slowly to a chair and brought a glass of water for him. Vansh slowly sipped from the glass. The crossword was rubbing salt on his wounds of regret and anguish.

"You all right?" Pathak asked, his voice showing signs of concern.

"Owen Scheilder," Vansh said quietly.

"What?" Pathak asked, confused.

"The German billionare, Owen Scheilder," Vansh said.

Pathak quickly hit the keys on the keyboard and the name became green, indicating a correct answer.

"How-" Pathak began, but he was interrupted by Vansh. "Miriam Walker, the US senator." The word glowed green again.

"Abdullah-ul-Haq. The Pakistani activist."

Green.

"Todd Wellman, the South African MP."

Green again.

With every name, the crossword became greener. When nineteen names had been correctly answered, the screen turned black and a question appeared in red: What do all of them have in common?

Pathak looked at Vansh for an answer.

"Killed by Vansh Rathore," Vansh said, his voice barely a whisper.