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“Look,” he said, almost to himself, as he leaned forward, placed one hand on the screen at Aditi’s brow, cutting off her hair, another one on the lower half of her face. Left just the eyes, the rise of the nose, and the mouth.
“Look who it is,” he said.
Chapter 102
AAKASH STEPPED OUT of the shadows.
Nisha stared at him, hardly able to believe her eyes, and yet … it all made sense. Her head dropped back to the mattress with frustration, surprise, and, if she was honest with herself, even relief that although she was going to die she would at least die knowing the answers to her questions.
“You don’t remember, do you?” he said.
“I remember you from the Shiva Spa, Aakash. You lied about having no celebrity clients, didn’t you?”
He smiled, almost apologetically. “I’m afraid so. But I mean from before, when you fucked up my life?”
“‘Before’? You were a woman, then?”
He pulled a face, as though smelling something bad. “Don’t remind me. Yes, I was born wearing the wrong skin. Born a woman.”
“Born Aditi Chopra?”
“Very good, yes. You would have got there in the end, wouldn’t you? You know my famous mother, then?”
“And your famous father.”
Aakash chuckled and jutted his chin slightly, preening in spite of it all. He was a good-looking guy, thought Nisha. He would have been a devastatingly attractive woman.
“Back then Nalin D’Souza was a big shot in a law firm who abandoned her the moment she got pregnant. You were right about her. She was gutless. She left me at the orphanage when I was eight.”
“And she’s the source of your Durga fascination?”
“Fascination?” scoffed Aakash. He curled a lip. “Hatred is the word I think we’re looking for. Yes, Mother was a worshiper of Durga. ‘Pray to Durga if you’re ever in trouble, Aditi.’ And you know what? I did. And you know what good it did me? Fuck all. It brought me to the orphanage, where I met Elina Xavier—the enforcer from hell, who’d cane me mercilessly, hold my head under water, make me piss my pants with fear. She’d fly into a rage and try to strangle me with her bare hands.”
Strangulation, thought Nisha. That figured.
“Durga brought me the riots that burned me out of my home and took me into the clutches of Ragini Sharma. Durga brought me cops who raided the brothel. Durga brought me you, Nisha Gandhe.”
And now she understood. “Oh God. I busted you?”
“Yes!” he said, with a flourish. “Enter Nisha Gandhe, stage left, fearlessly raiding the brothel and ensuring I was prosecuted for possession of narcotics, even though the drugs weren’t mine.”
“I was a junior officer,” protested Nisha. “I was acting on the orders of my superiors.”
Aakash gave a short, dry laugh. “If you’re trying to say you haven’t earned your place as the ninth Durga, dear Nisha, then I must respectfully disagree. I kept trying to explain to you that the drugs weren’t mine, but you never listened.”
He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a yellow scarf. She felt a whimper build in her throat but stifled it.
Don’t give him the satisfaction.
Chapter 103
ALL AROUND THE car were spanking new structures—corporate towers shimmering with steel and glass facades. Albert Mills stood out like an eyesore, a desolate island of abandonment and neglect surrounded by a sea of prosperity.
This, though, was where a trace on Aakash’s cell phone had led them.
Santosh turned in the passenger seat. Behind him was Jack, checking his Colt, and Hari, who stared out of the window with a vacant, cloudy expression. In his lap he held his Glock, thumb stroking the safety catch.
“I don’t like the look of those guns,” said Santosh. “We need to take him alive. Aakash is the leverage we need to find out information about the attack.”
