Chapter 32 #2
To his credit, Atharva didn't even take a second to process. He crossed his arms — “Go on.”
“Mohsin Sheikh murder case.”
“How do you know this?”
“I have made new sources inside Awaami. I just got to know. They want to spring this on us out of nowhere.”
“When?”
“Most probably tomorrow. Maybe earlier.”
“Do they have any evidence?”
“I’m not sure. But they don’t need evidence to arrest for a cognizable offence, you and I both know this.”
“Do me a favour, keep this to yourself for now.”
“Of course,” Samar nodded, his blood charged. “What are we going to do?”
“I’ll let you know.”
“We have to tell Qureshi, Adil and Zorji.”
“I know.”
Samar stared at him. Was he not involving him in this? Was he not telling him how to defend him? Was he not trusting him?
Samar’s charged blood began to cool. He waited for Atharva to say something more, to give him direction, to lay out the plan. Nothing.
Samar nodded, turned and walked away.
His body was still thrumming. He didn’t know what to do with it. He didn’t even know what it was thrumming for right now. At the storm that was coming or at how Atharva had sidelined him in the first line of defence.
————————————————————
“You will have heard some rumours by now,” Atharva addressed them at the crack of dawn the next morning.
Samar stood by one of the glass walls. Qureshi and Zorji sat in the visitors’ chairs, probably only half as aware as he was at this point.
But the occupant Samar worked doubly hard to ignore was Iram Haider.
The Trojan Horse in their founders’ meeting.
Sitting quietly beside Adil on the sofa.
“Not particularly,” Zorji said. His code for ‘I know but I’d rather hear from you.’
“It’s true,” Atharva announced. Samar glanced at the clock. 7.05 am. He was going to be taken before 10 am as per the latest intel.
“What’s your plan?” Qureshi asked.
“The detention can be an hour or a weekend. More if they have something incriminating.”
“Knowing Sayyid Butt,” Zorji mused, “it will be something big. He wouldn’t throw a wide net for you.”
Atharva glanced at Iram. “I have a contingency in place. We cannot leave the President’s position empty at such a crucial time.”
“I agree,” Qureshi said. “Samar will calm the ruffles in your absence and handle everything well.”
“No!” Samar cut in. He couldn’t step into a position of power with Sayyid Butt after him. Right now, he had plausible deniability, the front of Atharva not giving him exposure to confidential strategies anymore. As KDP President, he would lose that.
“No,” he stressed. “I don’t think I am the right person at this point. Qureshi, take over. You have a better wave going on in Kashmir right now. After Atharva, the valley is your fan. With the cult craze for Mohsin Sheikh, we will need somebody like Qureshi to turn the tide.”
Qureshi remained silent.
“Zorji?” Atharva turned to their collective elder.
“You said you have a contingency in place. What is it?”
“Iram.”
“Are you serious right now?” Samar hissed.
“Hear me out,” Atharva sat back on his chair, looking so nonchalant.
“It is an emotional wave we are expecting. Strategy won’t work.
Who will the public stand behind? — A party wrongly accusing me, or my wife who has been slandered from day one and has taken it all gracefully, and still stands strong when I am arrested a day after our wedding? ”
“Iram, as Aamir Haider’s daughter, will also sway loyalists from the Awaami camp,” Adil piped up like the crony he was to Atharva.
“First of all,” Samar stated calmly, against every raging instinct. “She can’t even be present in this meeting. Forget founding member, she is not even a member.”
He didn’t even have a reprieve of a second before Atharva got to his feet, pulled his drawer open and walked to her with a bunch of papers — “Can you please sign these?”
She signed. Atharva signed after her. “She is a member of KDP now.”
“I do not endorse this,” Zorji asserted. “This is not democratic for KDP. Only a founding member can be nominated and appointed to President. Any other member must be unanimously elected by the Working Committee.”
Exactly!
“In case of an emergency, the president election need not be held under the Working Committee. The founding members can vote and elect the Interim President,” Atharva countered.
“You cannot run a party on emotion.”
“But elections are fought on emotion. And right now we are in the middle of an election.”
The room was plunged into silence.
“Qureshi,” Atharva called out. “Do you have something to say?”
“No.”
Samar stared at him. Qureshi did not meet his gaze.
“Then I put this to vote. I propose Iram Kaul for the post of Interim President of the Kashmir Development Party. All in favour raise your hands,” Atharva raised his hand, as did Adil. None of the rest of them did. Samar began to feel relief.
Then, he saw a hand rise in his periphery. Qureshi.
“Three out of five, majority garnered. Motion passed,” Atharva announced right as Samar stormed out of there.
He could not be a part of this sham. Jammu election was right at their doorstep.
His handwork, his repute, his home ground were at stake.
He had an election to win, a party to protect, and a foolish Party President’s life to save.
————————————————————
“I have stationed men in and around the police station,” Faris relayed. “Atharva gave the orders last night after I requested.”
“Did you say I asked for it?”
“No. But he knew.”
Samar did not make the mistake of asking how. Atharva was so aware that he could map the next fifteen steps of the man in front of him. He only became blind in front of Iram Haider.
“Plant some men deep inside as well.”
“That is a little difficult. CBI is going to come soon. This place is going to be locked down.”
“Any movement from their side?”
“No. Interrogation hasn’t started yet.”
“Keep eyes and ears open. Food, water, medicine. Keep an eye on these three.”
Samar ended the call. A message popped up from Sayyid Butt.
SB
Let’s talk
Samar sat down in his chair in his office and pulled out his burner phone. He inserted a brand new SIM card and dialled.
“Hello?”
“Hello,” Samar intoned. “You came through on your promise.”
“And you failed.”
Samar remained quiet.
Butt’s heavy voice echoed — “Iram Haider is your President now and running meetings over your head.” Samar’s jaw clicked at that reminder.
“It happened that way.”
“And you think you will be able to turn the tide towards a coalition like this?”
Samar stalled. Iram looked like a novice, but she had held her own in their meeting an hour ago.
She had tried to undermine his authority and thrashed his proposal to safeguard Jammu from the dark cloud hanging over Atharva’s reputation.
For all intents and purposes, Atharva was now an accused in the murder of a sitting CM of the state, in the spotlight as he had been dragged to the police station for questioning.
It couldn’t get worse than this for a CM candidate’s reputation. Samar had said as much.
His other motive, the hidden one, was taking Atharva out of the line of fire. Sayyid Butt’s problem was Atharva on the Jammu trail. If Samar replaced him, it would cease to be a problem.
But Iram was fighting him like Samar was snatching Atharva’s birthright. Either Atharva had taught her too well in a single night, or she was proving to be a wolf in sheep’s clothing just like her father.
“This is not a conversation for the phone,” Samar countered.
“Then come see me.”
“Sufiyaan should also be there.”
A pause. Then — “Ok.”
————————————————————
“For fucks sake!” Sufiyaan swore, smashing his glass on the shelf opposite. Amber liquid slushed and shards of glass bounced off. Some books tumbled down. By now Samar knew this was nothing new. Sufiyaan broke stuff. Expensive stuff with expensive alcohol in it. Nobody said anything to him.
“You couldn’t even handle one good-for-nothing bitch,” he hissed, turning manic eyes at him.
“Atharva played two steps ahead of us and made her Interim President. She holds all decision-making power.”
“But how the hell did he know about his arrest beforehand? It was supposed to be dropped on him like a bomb. How did he know?!!”
Samar kept silent. His gaze flicked to and fro between Sufiyaan Sheikh and Sayyid Butt, two men who were polar opposites. One was smashing glasses and the other sat immobile, finger playing idly with his bearded lower lip as their party workers celebrated downstairs.
“Look at those fools,” Sufiyaan pointed, peering down the window. “They think we have won the election! Pig-heads. I swear if someone doesn’t stop them now…”
“Sufiyaan,” Butt thundered. “Let them be. Our party workers need a boost. It is a good sign. They feel like they may win finally. It is ok.”
“Ok? Ok? We trusted Samar to take over KDP. See what he has done! Taken over KDP, huh?”
“Do not jump to conclusions,” Samar clipped. “All is not lost.”
“No, but we cannot trust you to do anything as per plan.” Sufiyaan cooled down. “I will have to finish Atharva while I have him.”
Samar’s hackles rose. But before he could dig deeper into that comment, Sayyid Butt flicked his gaze to Sufiyaan — “Call it off.”
“Sayyid Chacha…”
“Whatever you have done, call it off. Now.”
“All a waste!” Sufiyaan muttered. “Every time! Every time!”
“If he is trying to kill Atharva in jail…” Samar threatened.
“Samar sahab,” Butt’s menacing voice echoed. “We gave you KDP on a platter. You couldn’t even digest that.”
“We did not agree to this… if Atharva is harmed…”
“Nothing will happen.”
Even as Samar accepted Butt’s word, he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. Sufiyaan Sheikh didn’t look like he wanted to budge today.
“Remove Iram. Get on top of Atharva’s party.” Butt ordered.
“It is not Atharva’s party.”
“Prove it. Use your power and remove her. That much you can do, right?”