Sunil almost grinds his teeth with frustration. “Our forensics had to send it out for specialized analysis. No matter, the suspicious thing is that the two men who were handling the toxin are now dead, before they could speak. And now . . .”
He trails off, frowning at the floor.
“And now?”
“I just intercepted a call on Jingo’s home line. Family First plan to kill the schoolgirls at twelve noon today with some kind of bio-terror attack. But I don’t know how. On tonight’s television news, Jingo is to wear his army uniform and prepare a speech unifying the nation against the attack, and by tomorrow, he will be the obvious winner even as the voting opens. Next, they want to push him toward a run for prime minister.”
“Election tampering?”
Sunil nods. My head is spinning. I don’t know what to think of him, what to believe.
“And Jingo knew this all along?” I ask.
“From the call, I would say this last part came as a surprise to him. But he didn’t argue.”
I look at my watch. Twelve noon is an hour and a half away. Eighty-nine minutes, to be precise. I stare at Sunil. His eyes meet mine, unwavering, as he speaks.
“I called you here because I think you and Kit-ma’am may have resources that we don’t have. I need your help—and Riya’s—to stop this, because I don’t know who I can trust in the police anymore. Jingo was once head of the police force and he may have friends all over the top ranks.”
I hesitate. Sunil pulls out his wallet and flips it open to a picture of a young woman in a university gown and cap.
“This is my daughter,” he says, and his face softens. “Jingo would have her and all young women married instead of at university. He would take away her chance to practice law, and have her stay home, dependent on the man she marries. He is a monster and I’ve been looking for a way to stop him and whoever funds him. But now I need your help.”
26
THE FIRST THING I DO is get hold of the recording of the call Sunil intercepted between Jingo and Family First. I upload it to Amber, then return it to Sunil. He doesn’t feel that Jingo has any idea what form the attack will take, but I’d prefer to get Amber’s confirmation about that. While I wait for her analysis, Li tells me that I can go ahead and tell Sunil that I have photos of Jingo that could be used to blackmail him. Obviously, I don’t tell him how I got them, not that I feel Sunil much cares.
“Photos of him with a lover?” he asks.
That surprises me, that he guessed the content of the photos.
“You knew he was having an affair?” I reply.
“No. But for the last few minutes, my phone has been pinging nonstop. Here . . .”
He swipes into the news notifications on his phone, showing me. I flick on my own local news app. An array of breaking news greets me—all of them Jingo-related headlines:
Military Hero Falls Victim to Fake News by Liberal Left Jingo Jain: Photoshopped Images “A Low Attack on My High Character”
Similar headlines continue to pop up, overlapping each other. No one even has these photos yet, but it seems clear that Jingo and/or Family First have decided to come out ahead of our threat to expose him.
“I can prove the photos are real. And we have video . . . ,” I begin, indignant.
“Even if we can prove the photos are real, do we want to spend the time we have bringing down Jingo?” asks Sunil.
In my ear, Peggy comes in: “Jessie, he may be right. There’s no guarantee that discrediting Jingo will protect the girls,” she says.
On that, I agree with Sunil to let the blackmail angle drop for now. In my ear, I’m being further instructed by Peggy to bring Sunil up to date on the virus and the fact that there is a trigger. He stares at me, openmouthed.
“What trigger?” he asks me, appalled.
“We don’t know yet.”
Sunil lets out a choice string of curse words in Hindi. Don’t ask me how I know that they are swearwords; it just always seems to be the first vocabulary I pick up, whichever country I get sent to. I don’t feel right telling him that Riya is carrying the toxin—that should be her decision to make. I call her and direct her to meet with Sunil, leaving them together outside Bandra Terminus while I race back to Ajay’s lab. Before I head off, I text a piece of software to Sunil and he obligingly opens it when I ask.
“This gives me access to your phone’s microphone. So I can hear you if you learn anything from Jingo, or if you need me.”
“Millennials,” Sunil grunts, grudgingly impressed.
On the way to Ajay’s lab, I check in with Thomas. The reality is that I don’t have time to listen in to Sunil’s phone, so Thomas will be on that. Watching over everything Sunil gets up to is also extra insurance for us. Since we’ve decided to trust him, it doesn’t hurt to keep tabs on him. Thomas confirms he has access and that he will keep me updated. It takes me fifteen minutes to reach my destination. I drop the motorbike right outside the front door and run in, hurrying my way through security and up to the top floor.
I burst out of the elevator just as the lab door opens.
“They told me you were coming up,” Raj says politely. His pleasantries fade away when faced with my wild-eyed stare. I hurry him into the lab where we met not two hours ago.
“Those girls are set to die—to be triggered—in fifty-nine minutes from now,” I tell him.
He makes a gasping sound and pulls at his beard. “We can’t even decipher the particle we have in that time,” he says.
“What about somewhere
