Both of them laughed, and Khan once again brought out a bottle of rum. This time, Arnab didn't refuse and knocked back a couple of pegs, chatting with Khan late into the night, trying to forget, if even for a few hours, the situation he found himself in.
The next morning, Arnab decided to go to work hoping that, if nothing else, it would take his mind off his predicament. He found Jayantada in an unusually good mood, humming some old tune as he greeted Arnab.
'Jayantada, you seem really cheerful today.'
Jayantada turned to Arnab, grinning from ear to ear.
'Why shouldn't I be? The young man who is to marry Mishti came and visited us as he was in town visiting some relatives for a couple of days. He is such a thorough gentleman! Mishti and he make for such a good-looking couple.'
Arnab forced a smile, but wondered that if the day held more such pieces of 'good' news in stock for him, then it was going to be an even worse day than the one before. Oblivious to what was on Arnab's mind, Jayantada continued.
'She and her fiance are actually coming to Delhi again soon to work out some of the arrangements for the engagement, hopefully fix a date for the wedding and also to do some shopping. Plus, her company is sponsoring a major Cricket match and she's got passes to the VIP box for me as well. Ah, imagine watching Sachin bat from the best seats in the stadium.'
Arnab smiled as Jayantada talked with the enthusiasm of a schoolboy. He had never known that Jayantada was such a big Cricket fan, but as the old man reeled off statistics of the head to head record between India and Pakistan, he understood why Jayantada was so excited.
'Arnab, why don't you come with me? I have two passes, and my wife hates Cricket. We would have a blast.'
Arnab turned him down, claiming that he wasn't that much into Cricket. That was only a half-truth, since he couldn't bear to think of sitting and enjoying a game of Cricket while he knew that he had been a total failure in his mission. Also, he did not really relish the prospect of bumping into Mishti again.
Arnab got back home late in the evening, preferring to wile away his time in a bookstore before finally heading home. When he got near his apartment, he was in for a shock. There was a large posse of policemen in the area, including several carrying automatic weapons, and to his horror he saw that Upadhyay was among them, directing the men as they fanned out across the area. Many of them were asking questions of the nearby shopkeepers and bystanders while others entered the housing complexes ringing the adjoining market. Arnab stood silently watching the scene unfolding before him, trying to quell the rising sense of panic he felt.
How had Upadhyay known he was here?
Before he gave into his panic and did something stupid, he forced himself to calm down. Upadhyay clearly did not know his exact location; otherwise they would be at his door instead of searching every apartment in the area. But how had they even gotten this close? Suddenly his phone rang, and he took it out of his pocket to see a missed call from Aggarwal. Realization suddenly dawned on him as he understood how reckless he had been. Initially he had used the SIM card he had picked up only to receive text messages, but in the panic and excitement surrounding Arif and the terror plot, he had thrown caution to the wind and freely made calls to Balwant and Aggarwal. They must have traced the calls to the broad area where they had originated. It took a conscious effort of will for him to keep walking towards his apartment, but when he reached there, he realized he had been overreacting. There was no reason to suspect him, and unless he was stupid or suicidal enough to use the SIM card again, it would be virtually impossible to track him down.
The accumulated tension of the last couple of days got to him and he lay down on his bed, too exhausted to even go out to get something to eat. Just as he was about to go to give into his exhaustion and doze off, there was a knock at the door. Dreading that it may be the police, he opened the door gingerly, prepared to go down fighting if needed. He laughed out loud in relief when he realized that his visitor was Chintu, carrying a Cricket bat.
'Uncle, do you want to play with me?'
Arnab was in half a mind to refuse, but seeing the eager anticipation on Chintu's face he agreed, also figuring that it would help take his mind off the worries that had been consuming him. As they walked up to the roof, Arnab asked Chintu if it wasn't too late for him to be out, since it was already almost eight in the evening.
Chintu replied that it wasn't yet too late. When Arnab asked him how he knew that, Chintu looked up at him and answered in all seriousness.
'I know it's late when Mom shouts for me to come home.'
Arnab's tension dissipated in loud laughter as he and Chintu began a game of Cricket on the roof, a game that had certain peculiar rules laid down by Chintu, primary among them being the fact that he would always get to bat, and that he could not get out. Arnab indulged him and kept tossing the ball to him as Chintu proclaimed his score after every few minutes, and then theatrically raising his bat to celebrate crossing one hundred runs. Arnab was having so much fun that he wished everything else in life was so simple, so innocent. When Chintu tired of piling on the runs, he declared his innings at a self-proclaimed score of 634.
As the two of them sat watching the cars go by, Chintu told Arnab that his father was coming home on leave in a few days. Arnab had met the Major only once, and could sense the boy's enthusiasm at seeing his father again.
'He's taking us to see a Cricket match, you know?'
When Arnab didn't show the level of enthusiasm that he had expected, Chintu persisted, tugging at his arm.
'A big match. India versus Pakistan.'
Arnab looked at him and smiled, wondering if this was the same match Jayantada had mentioned.
'Do you like watching Cricket?' he asked Chintu.
'Only twenty-twenty! That's so cool!'
Something clicked in Arnab's mind, and he froze for a minute.
'Chintu, what did you just say?'
Chintu was taken aback by the sudden change in Arnab's mood and he stammered out his reply.
'Twenty-twenty. Don't you know what that is? That's the short version of the game when each side gets just twenty overs…'
Arnab didn't hear the rest of what Chintu said, as he rushed to his room, leaving his playmate sitting bewildered on the roof. When he reached his room, he shut the door and took in what he had just heard.
Twenty-Twenty.
Twenty. Twenty.
The last two words Arif had said to him before he died.
TWELVE
Things came into Arnab's mind in a torrent. What Aggarwal had said about the India-Pakistan match being sponsored by his company; the fact that it was being held in Delhi; Arif's last words. It could just have been a coincidence, or it could just be the break he needed. He didn't know which was the case, but he did know that he couldn't risk ignoring it. With it being an India-Pakistan match, and with the Indian Prime Minister supposed to be attending it, there seemed to be a fair chance that this indeed was the intended target. Thousands of lives would be at stake, and now that he knew that Jayantada, Mishti, Chintu and his family would be there, it was more personal than ever.
On instinct, he took out his mobile phone to call Aggarwal, and then stopped himself, remembering the policemen who had been scouring the neighbourhood earlier in the evening. Arnab went out to a telephone booth across the street and dialled Aggarwal's personal number. As soon as he answered, Arnab got straight to the point.
'Sir, its me, your new brand ambassador.'
Aggarwal chuckled at his opening.
'So you did decide to agree to our partnership, after all.'
