39. Ishaan
THIRTY-NINE
Ishaan
Ishaan drove through the massive iron gates, a driveway that extended almost half a kilometer stretching ahead of him. In the distance, the house stood, a monstrosity that abutted the sea. He stopped the car in front of it and got out, staring up at Naveen’s Alibaug seaside mansion. The place was massive, light streaming out of every window and door. Music spilled out from the house, echoing into the darkness of the sea swept night. In the distance, the ocean crashed against the shore, a soothing wash of sound. Ishaan took a moment to take in the scene.
“You can hear us?” Virat’s voice filled his ear through the little device they’d stitched into the lining of his inner shirt. Ishaan murmured a quiet acknowledgement. At some point in the evening, they assumed he’d be stripping down and hopefully that would be one of the last articles of clothing to go. Ishaan had a listening device embedded in his underwear as well and he had to say, that was an uncomfortable thought.
Virat and his team were hidden away somewhere in the darkness that spread out around this palatial home. They’d gotten here ahead of Ishaan and he was pretty sure they hadn’t come through the gates like he had.
“Vir?” Ishaan murmured.
“I’m here.” The response was immediate, the sound in his ear crystal clear.
“I don’t get a good feeling about this.”
Before Virat could answer, Ishaan heard the front door open. He glanced over and saw Parash silhouetted against the brightly light door.
“Adajania!” He heard the hail in the distance and walked towards it. He slid one hand into his pocket, his fingers closing around the ring, Mayukhi’s ring, his talisman now. He rubbed it once for luck before pulling his hand out.
Hey,” he said, raising a hand in greeting. “How are you?”
“I am fucking fabulous man.” Parash was blown, his eyes bright, his hands jittery. He sniffed, rubbing his forearm beneath his nose before adding, “Tonight’s the night. Welcome to the club.”
“What club?” Ishaan asked, hoping the idiot was high enough to answer him but Parash only giggled, “You’ll see.”
Ishaan shrugged and followed Parash into the house, a very empty house.
“Where are the others?” he asked, his gaze darting around the luxurious yet cavernous space.
“What others?”
“The other guests? The rest of your gang? Isn’t this supposed to be some kind of boy’s night out?” Ishaan’s instincts were running haywire, his adrenalin spiking as he walked through the empty rooms, each one larger and more luxuriously furnished than the others.
“It is.” Parash giggled. “Boys night. We’re the boys. This is not a party scene man.”
“What kind of scene is it then?”
“A more intimate one.” Majid stepped out of a shadowy corner, dressed all in black and looking a lot like a lurking vampire. The only thing he didn’t do was yell ‘boo’. His stress on the word intimate had Ishaan’s skin crawling.
Ishaan forced a smile. “Hi Majid. Didn’t see you there for a moment.” It’s only then he noticed that Parash was wearing all black too. “Is there a dress code or something I didn’t know about?”
Majid laughed but didn’t reply, instead leading them over to the bar at the end of the room. “Would you like a drink?”
“Sure. A scotch neat, please.” The helper standing behind the bar, stepped closer to them. Majid placed their orders as Parash sprawled on the sofa in the corner of the large room.
“Where are the others?” Ishaan asked, taking the crystal glass with three fingers of scotch in it.
“Here.” The doors banged open and Naveen and Ashish strolled in. There was a round of greetings and then, Ishaan said, “You’re looking good, Naveen.”
“And I owe it all to you, my friend.” Naveen hugged Ishaan tight, uncomfortably tight. “Thank you for saving my life.”
“I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary.” Ishaan shrugged off the praise, his gaze going from one black clad person to the other. “I definitely missed the dress code memo,” he said now to their general laughter.
“Well, you’ll know next time.” Ashish toasted him with his drink, a sly smile on their faces.
Next time. Wonderful. Ishaan took a large gulp of his scotch, hoping for some dutch courage to get through the night.
“So, what’s on the agenda for this boy’s night?” he asked, leaning against the bar.
“Well, we’re just going to hang out. Did you have anything else in mind?” Naveen asked, sitting down beside Parash and crossing one leg over the other.
“No.” Ishaan took another sip. “I have nothing in mind.” He glanced around the room. “I thought there would be other people here.”
“Shut up with the people questions, Ish,” Virat’s tense voice murmured in his ear.
“We don’t let just anyone into our little circle.” Ashish smiled, clipping the end of a cigar before clenching it between his teeth. “We’re very selective.”
“I know,” Ishaan said dryly. “You certainly didn’t let me into your circle at school.”
“That’s because you were a poor, bug riddled loser then,” Parash cackled. Naveen flashed him a hard look and the cackling died away.
Was it Ishaan’s imagination or had there been a little extra emphasis on the word bug? He didn’t bother to respond to that, holding his counsel.
“But now, you’re rich, successful, and marrying one of our own,” Majid interjected, when the silence dragged on for too long. “And so, we’re okay with you being a part of our inner circle.”
“I’m honoured,” Ishaan murmured, allowing some of his sarcasm to leak through.
“So, let’s party man.” Majid slapped him hard on his back before dragging him over to where Naveen sat. For the next few hours, Ishaan pretended to drink an obscene amount of alcohol, refused countless offers of an array of drugs, and worked really hard to look like he was having a good time.
A large, buffet table was set up at one end of the room, laden with enough food to feed an army. But this lot were less interested in sustenance and more in whatever drug could get them tripping.
“Ishaan?” Naveen got to his feet and beckoned him over. Ishaan rose, shrugging off the joint Parash was waving in his face and walked over to where Naveen stood. “Come with me,” he said, walking out of the room. Ishaan followed.
They stepped out of the house and onto a small pathway that led to the beach. The cool, night breeze was welcome after the smoke filled rooms they’d just exited.
“I really am grateful, you know,” Naveen said. “To you.”
“I did what anyone would have done in that situation.” Ishaan’s hair lifted in the breeze.
“Please,” Naveen muttered. “You’ve seen these guys. None of them would have been in a fit condition to do anything for me.”
Ishaan stayed silent knowing there was no way to refute that with any sincerity.
“I want to give you a little gift,” Naveen said now. “As a thank you.”
“I thought being invited to this, being added to your inner circle was the gift.” Ishaan glanced back at the house, for some reason feeling uneasy being away from the circle of its light.
Naveen laughed, genuine amusement in his voice. “If we just wanted you to drink with us, Adajania, we could have done it in Mumbai. This, tonight, is special. We don’t let just anyone into our club.”
“What club? Like an old boys club or alumni club or something?”
“Or something.” Naveen grinned. “And we’re going to let you into it. Tonight.”
A dull roar sounded in the background and a speedboat sped up towards them, coming to a halt a little out in the water.
“Shall we?” Naveen asked.
Ishaan hesitated for a moment, his gaze going back to the house.
“Go,” Virat said in his ear. “We’re tracking you.”
Ishaan followed Naveen to the speedboat, the waves wetting his pants and making them stick to his legs. He sent Mayukhi a mental apology for ruining the suit that bore her label. They’d barely gotten into the boat before the man piloting it sped away. The waves crashed against it, throwing the nose up and having them focus on not going overboard. Ishaan glanced at the silent man at the helm of the boat. He was pretty sure he saw a bulge of a gun under his shirt.
Night closed in around them, the sound and light from the party fading away into the distance. Up ahead, he spotted a small bungalow, shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from a room at the back.
“Who does that belong to?” he asked Naveen.
“Everything belongs to me, my friend. I am the King of this Universe.”
The echo of those words sent a chill down Ishaan’s spine. Hadn’t Dhrithi told them that Varun had once claimed something to that effect?
The speedboat came to a slow halt, the motor cutting out. Silence descended upon them.
Naveen pointed to the house. “Let’s go,” he said.
Ishaan didn’t argue. He already knew there was no point. He only hoped Virat truly was tracking him or this looked like a one way ticket to nowhere. He got out of the boat, sloshing his way to shore, Naveen beside him.
As they approached the house, three figures detached themselves from the coconut trees bordering the property. They all wore black hooded robes that covered them from top to bottom. Ishaan stopped at the sight of them, standing silently to one side. Where the hell had they come from? There must be road access to this place then. His gaze scanned the area but it was too dark to see anything.
“Keep going,” Naveen said, giving him a slight shove from behind.
“What is this? Some kind of cult?” Ishaan asked, allowing his unease to percolate through his voice.
“Should have snorted the shit I offered you, man.” Naveen smiled, his teeth a flash of white in the darkness. “It makes this all even better.”
Ishaan hesitated on the step of the house, his heart beating like a war drum in his chest.
“Go ahead. We’ll be waiting for you out here.”
Seeing no other option available, Ishaan opened the door and stepped into the dark house. He walked through silent, empty rooms that smelled of dust and disuse, making his way slowly towards the room at the back, the only one with a light on. His instincts were screaming, his inner voice telling him to run and to keep running. Whatever was in that room was nothing good, nothing he wanted to see. And still, he kept walking, his step sure but hurried.
Then he opened the door, the sudden light blinding him. He blinked and cleared his vision getting his first good look at what lay in that room.
And his heart stopped.
Mayukhi sat, naked, blindfolded, gagged and bound to a chair, her head drooping against her chest, her entire body slumping forward.
Beside her feet lay a single, black mask.