'Yes, but I need to meet you as soon as possible. There are several things I want to plan out, things that should help your match be the biggest media event you've ever had.'
Aggarwal seemed to be enjoying this new side to Arnab and he said, 'You are beginning to talk like my marketing people. Well, I'm there in Delhi tomorrow with some of them to plan our build-up to the match. Let's meet in the evening. SMS me and let me know where you want to meet, since I imagine you'll want to be as secretive as ever.'
As Aggarwal hung up, Arnab realized that his being at the match was only half the battle won. If indeed there was a major terror attack planned on the day of the match, he still had no idea what shape or form it would take, and honestly whether he would be able to stop it all by himself. He debated whether he should call Balwant Singh or not, finally deciding that no matter what enmity Balwant had towards him, the bottom line was that the man was a Minister and he could bring to bear far more resources to foil or prevent any likely terror attack than what Arnab could ever hope to achieve alone. As he dialled Balwant's number, he kept rehearsing in his mind what he would say, and wondering if he had indeed done the right thing on election eve by losing his temper and making a very powerful enemy. The phone was answered by Sharma, who seeing the unfamiliar number asked who it was. When Arnab told him and asked to speak to the Minister, Sharma exploded into a stream of obscenities.
'Have you lost your fucking mind? Do you realize what you have done? The Minister almost lost his seat because of your meddling. Thank God we had friends in the Election Commission otherwise he may just have lost the election. He will kill you if he ever sees you again, so I doubt he'd want to talk to you.'
Arnab didn't know quite what to say, but then he heard Balwant Singh's voice in the background, asking Sharma to hand him the phone. Arnab prepared himself for Balwant's temper and was surprised to hear the Minister talk in a cold, even voice. As he spoke, Arnab pictured a snake coolly waiting to strike, not wasting time or energy in any demonstrations of anger.
'So, my superhero, what am I do with you?'
Arnab tried to say something but Balwant continued as if he hadn't heard anything.
'I'm not as angry as I am curious. Why would you do something like this? Do you really think you were the only one I was relying on and that you could single-handedly play the hero? It was most inconvenient and cost me lots of money, but as Sharma told you, I still won.'
Arnab listened, waiting for what would come next, wondering if there was a chance Balwant would forgive him, only to have those hopes dashed by what the Minister said next.
'I have no intent of having anything to do with you. So don't waste my time.'
Arnab tried one last time.
'Sir, there is going to be a major terrorist attack at the upcoming Woodpecker Cup match. You must do something, maybe just cancel the match.'
Balwant's laughter echoed over the phone.
'You are pathetic if you hope that feeding me some bullshit information like this will save you.'
'Sir, I am not a liar, please listen to me', pleaded Arnab.
Balwant's last words said it all as he hung up on Arnab.
'I don't know if I'm talking to a liar or not, but here's what I do know. I am talking to a dead man.'
That left Arnab all alone to deal with whatever was going to occur on the day of the match. He spent the next day trying to plan out what he could do, trying to dig deep into whatever Khan had taught him, but soon realizing that taking on roadside Romeos and hired goons was very different from having to take on well-armed and trained terrorists. He was sure they would have a well thought out plan, and from what he had seen happen to Arif and Ali, that they would not hesitate before killing anyone who came in their way. For all the action he had encountered, Arnab had never really contemplated hurting anyone seriously, let alone kill anyone, and wondered what he would do when faced with ruthless killers. He thought of going to Khan for advice, but the memory of Arif's bullet ridden corpse stopped him in his tracks. Knowing Khan, the old man would insist on coming along and trying to help, and the last thing Arnab wanted to do was to put his friend in the path of a near-certain death.
By the time he left home to meet Aggarwal, Arnab had a rough plan in his head. If he was honest with himself, calling it a plan was being highly charitable. He wasn't even sure that the attack would occur on the day of the match, and if it didn't, all he would have achieved was to become a mascot for Aggarwal's beer brands and a big, whopping target for Upadhyay and his men, whom he was sure Balwant would have already turned loose after him.
When he reached the parking lot behind a mall where they had agreed to meet, it was close to ten at night. He saw Aggarwal from a distance, but the business tycoon had not come alone. There was a woman standing next to him, her back turned towards Arnab.
Arnab walked over to them and greeted Aggarwal. The tycoon looked at him with a start.
'My goodness, I never see you coming and you always make these dramatic entrances in the dark. Don't keep doing that or you'll give me a heart attack some day.'
He then turned to the woman with him.
'Mishti, say hello to the man who is going to bring in millions for our company.'
Arnab froze in his tracks on hearing the name, and as he looked carefully, he saw to his surprise that the woman with Aggarwal was none other than Mishti. Aggarwal continued.
'My friend, this is Mishti, our Marketing Manager. I thought she should come along to discuss what we do on the day of the match to launch you and our partnership in the best possible way.'
Arnab took a step back and then relaxed. There was no way Mishti would guess it was him, and wearing his hood, without his glasses, and in the dark, there was little chance that she would recognize him. The one thing he was worried about was her recognizing his voice, so he motioned for Aggarwal to come closer to him.
'Mr. Aggarwal, I need to talk to you alone first. You can then brief her.'
Aggarwal shrugged and walked with him to a bench a few feet away, where they both sat down.
'Sir, I may have some information that there could be a terrorist attack on the match.'
Aggarwal's eyes widened in alarm.
'Really? What do you know? Tell me!'
Arnab realized just how pathetic he sounded without any details to offer, and he was not sure he wanted to reveal his interactions with Arif lest it get him into even more trouble with the cops. So he just said that with it being an India-Pakistan match, and the Prime Minister in attendance, with the heightened tensions on the border and the recent spate of bombings and terror attacks in Indian cities, he had heard it could be a prime target.
'Isn't there any way you could change the venue or postpone the match?'
Aggarwal looked at Arnab with a quizzical expression, as if to see if he was joking. Finally he said, 'An event like this will get its share of threats. India and Pakistan are playing after many months, and both governments want to make sure it goes off smoothly. My security guys tell me we already have six threatening calls so far, and guess what, every single one of them turns out to be some joker looking for publicity. All the tickets are sold out, and there's no reason to cancel it. Also, with the PM there, this would be more secure than anywhere else in the city.'
He lit up a cigarette, and changed the subject, indicating that the topic was closed. Arnab was disappointed, but not really surprised. All it meant was that on the day of the match, he would have nobody else to look to for help. He outlined to Aggarwal what his terms and conditions were, and in ten minutes, he was on his way home, wondering if what he had in mind would be even barely sufficient when the time came.
***
The week leading up to the match seemed to crawl along at such an agonizingly slow pace that Arnab thought the tension would drive him crazy. While he tried not to think too much about what might happen on the day, there was no escaping the fact that he was headed into a situation that he was barely prepared for. Many months ago, when he had looked at himself in the mirror and contemplated what was happening to him, he had wondered if it was his destiny or a curse to be endowed with such powers. Now, he realized that whether or not it was his destiny, or just chance, it was indeed a curse to be in his position. When he had been just a middle-class librarian with nothing special about him, life had seemed simpler. Sure, he realized so much around was rotten, but the helplessness of knowing he could do nothing to change it in a perverse sort of way led to a sort of contentment, or acceptance at any rate. Ever since he had come to grips with his new powers, he had fooled himself into believing that perhaps he could make a difference, perhaps there indeed was a way one man could change things for the better. Now, bitter, defeated and having to be a part of that very system to achieve his objectives, he
