roar. Then, their reaction gave way to loud murmurs and whispers as the screens showed the Prime Minister arriving at the stadium and making his way to the VIP box, flanked by commandos and other dignitaries.
Before the game could begin, Aggarwal himself took the mike, walking to the middle of the ground, exulting in what was already a sell-out crowd and what promised to be a huge windfall for his company.
'Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Woodpecker Cup game between India and Pakistan, where you can watch your heroes on the playing field. This is a historic moment when the two nations restart sporting relations.'
The crowd roared in approval as Aggarwal continued.
'Today, we have a special treat for you. Today, we will unveil the newest brand ambassador for Woodpecker. Today we join hands with a real life hero, someone who has won all our hearts by single-handedly standing up for justice. Today, we introduce you all to our own real life superhero. Our own Guardian Angel.'
There was almost a collective gasp as the camera swung to reveal a hooded figure standing on top of the railings above the stadium. Arnab could feel the evening wind blow into his face, standing at a height equivalent to a three-story building. He had changed and climbed the ladders provided as per his agreement with Aggarwal and he stood looking into the camera, his face an inscrutable mask hidden by the hood. Then, as a hundred thousand people looked on in stunned disbelief, Arnab sprinted to the other end of the stadium across the rafters placed along the railings, covering the distance so fast that the spectators saw only a blur of movement. As the crowd erupted in loud cheers, he climbed down a ladder, disappearing into a fire exit. He could hear Aggarwal announcing how the Guardian Angel would appear after each over and finally reveal himself in the closing ceremony, but he was barely paying attention. He had memorized the maze of tunnels and ladders that made up the maintenance, cleaning and fire exits in the stadium and as the match began, he began jogging along them, trying to keep a watch for anything untoward. As he passed behind the VIP box, he could imagine just how furious Balwant Singh would be to know he was there, but be unable to do anything to take his revenge in front of so many people. He did hope, however, that Upadhyay was nearby. His plans included inviting Upadhyay to the party.
Arnab kept his side of the deal with Aggarwal by popping up at the end of each over, to rapturous applause from the crowd. By the time the Indian innings was halfway through, Arnab had completed three rounds of the stadium, looking down from his vantage points. So far, he had seen no sign of trouble, but he kept reminding himself not to get complacent, or to try and see what was happening in the match. The level of applause and cheers he heard told him that the Indian innings must be progressing well, but he also realized that the crowd seemed to reserve even louder applause for him. Arnab had never thought of himself as someone who would love the spotlight, but the thought of his reputation finally being cleared in such a way in front of the whole nation gave him goose bumps. He was not sure he deserved such adulation, but he did feel a lot of people owed him after having turned on him so viciously.
A few more minutes passed, and Arnab was beginning to wonder if he had been barking up the wrong tree. Perhaps there was to be no attack tonight. Perhaps he had just read too much into what Chintu had said. Perhaps it had all just been no more than a coincidence. Exposing himself in the limelight once again, especially with Balwant now at his throat, was a high price to pay for the unfortunate coincidence, but it was hardly something he could not extricate himself from. Aggarwal would get more than his money's worth since the rafters on top of which Arnab was running were ringed with hoardings and banners for his company's brands. Arnab could then quietly disappear, and resume the life he had intended for himself. Join the bank and get on with a life that had nothing to do with the likes of Balwant and Upadhyay. Then there was the small matter of a suitcase filled with ten million Rupees. He decided to think about that later, when he got back home. Increasingly convinced that his patrolling was fast becoming a waste of time, he risked a glance at the match. With two overs to go, India was at 221 for the loss of two wickets, and the iconic Indian player Sachin Tendulkar was tearing the Pakistani attack to shreds, and fast approaching a hundred runs. The crowd roared with manic energy as the little master slammed a ball down the ground and reached 95. Arnab too found himself caught up in the excitement and stopped to watch.
As the fielders got ready for the start of the 19th over, Arnab looked behind him. Far below was a police checkpoint guarding one of the rear entrances to the stadium. There were four policemen on duty, who were probably cursing their luck at being so close to the action but not getting to watch a single delivery be bowled. One of them had a small radio on, and the four men were huddled around it, listening to the live commentary of the game. When Arnab turned his attention back to the game, the batsmen had crossed over and a quickly run series of singles brought Sachin to 98. The crowd waited with bated breath as the Pakistani paceman steamed in to bowl the next delivery. It was a nasty bouncer, one that landed at a good length, but then reared up like a striking cobra. A lesser batsman would have probably been felled by the express delivery, but Sachin hooked the ball. It was an edgy shot, but the speed of the delivery worked against the bowler, and the ball was sent flying over a fielder and beyond the ropes.
The crowd erupted in applause as Sachin raised his bat to acknowledge them. Arnab found himself cheering along, finally feeling that perhaps this was a day when nothing would happen other than a very special game of Cricket. He turned to see what the policemen below him were doing, and the world around him seemed to stop. The four policemen were lying face down on the ground, and there was a group of men, seven or eight in number, all dressed in police uniforms who were moving towards them. As Arnab watched, with a feeling of dread working its way through his spine like an electric current, the men dragged the policemen's bodies along the ground and hid them behind some bushes. Two of the men took the place of the policemen, and to any casual observer, it would seem like nothing untoward had happened. The other men moved into the stadium through the rear gate.
Arnab didn't want to believe it, but there was no disputing what was playing out before his eyes.
It had begun.
THIRTEEN
Arnab stood frozen with indecision and fear. There were two terrorists standing in plain sight, almost directly below him. The others seemed to have entered the stadium. The obvious choice would have been to rush down and confront the men he saw below him first. However, it was also obvious that they were just the look-outs. Those who were going to actually carry out the attack had already entered the stadium, and Arnab had no idea where they would be, since they could easily lose themselves in the hundreds of police uniforms inside. His mind raced, trying to decide on a course of action. A loud noise startled him, making him wonder if a bomb had gone off, but it was the fireworks display between the innings that had begun. As he cleared his mind, he realized that rather than thinking too much about a situation where he was already totally out of his depth, the best course of action would be to go with what he saw before him. He clambered down a fire ladder and landed behind the two terrorists standing near the rear gate. Both men were facing away from him, focusing on stopping any attempts to follow their colleagues inside, and not expecting an attack from within the stadium.
Arnab saw that both men were carrying AK-47s and realized he would need to make the most of the element of surprise that he had in his favour. He launched himself at the man on the right, landing a hard blow just between the man's shoulder blades. Something made him hold back a bit, since he still was not mentally prepared to cause fatal injuries to anyone, but the power of his blow was enough to send the man flying several feet. He landed face first on the cobbled road, his nose and teeth shattering on impact, the bricks having completed the task that Arnab had begun. While he lay motionless, his friend whirled to meet this unexpected threat. As he tried to raise his rifle, Arnab caught his left hand in a vice like grip, but the man kept resisting. Arnab was looking straight at the man's face through the struggle. He was young, clean-shaven and not much older than Arnab. What Arnab noticed though were his eyes, lit as if from within with hate and fury. As the man struggled to free his rifle, Arnab squeezed harder, feeling bones in the man's wrist crack under his grip. The man's eyes widened in shock as he finally dropped the gun. Arnab was so focused on the man's face that he barely noticed him whipping out a knife with his right hand. The man drove the blade towards Arnab's stomach, as Arnab looked on in horror, amazed at what strength of will, or fanaticism, was giving the man such reserves of strength. Arnab moved out of the way and felled the man with a sharp jab to the face, and stood over his adversary, wondering what kind of men he was up against.
He thought only a minute before deciding that this was not a situation he could handle on his own. He called Aggarwal, and heard the tycoon's blustering voice after just one ring.
