40. THE GAME #2
“That quest, the Crimson Tear business…” Uriah finally said one day when Drasko was back in India.
It was December 1890, and Drasko was planning to go back to Europe right away.
He resisted his Indian home, the empty walls and rooms, the solemn reminder of the losses he’d taken to be where he was now.
Only by night did he feel free. He shed his expensive suit, his tailored shirt, and jewel-encrusted rings.
He put on the kurta pajama and walked barefoot to the village nearby.
Asha had her own children, but always smiled softly and made tea for him and Rupesh.
She served them simple biryani and cold mangos that cooled during the summer heat, while he and Rupesh sat under the banyan tree in front of their bungalow and talked about life, sometimes all through the night.
Drasko often stayed there until morning, slept on the straw mattress, listening to the echoes of Rakshasa from the past. He woke up by sunrise, walked back to his house, and changed into a suit.
Then spent a day lost in work in the office or went to Golconda for business—anything not to be where everything reminded him of his past.
One day, Uriah, unusually agile, announced that he would take a tour of the river delta and revisit the mining sites, specifically, the Priya Corridor.
Uriah hadn’t paid attention to the laborers, nor did he know what was happening in the valley.
Drasko did.
Just the other day, he saw a report stating that the Priya Corridor was highly unstable.
Drasko wasn’t sure what made him keep silent about it, or perhaps, he knew, yet didn’t admit, that he would be a culprit.
He didn’t meet Uriah’s eyes when he heard the words. But an uncanny feeling saturated his entire existence, like a premonition. Rakshasa silently growled behind him.
For the rest of the day, Drasko sat in the office, deep in his thoughts. He smoked one cigarette after another as Rakshasa simmered in revenge.
The grim news came later that evening: a part of the Priya Corridor had collapsed, burying Uriah Mawr.
Even then, Drasko didn’t believe it. He ordered the corridor to be cleared, had the body dug out from under the rubble and brought up to the village. He studied the mangled remains of a white man with a caved-in face that was unrecognizable and, to his own surprise, didn’t feel a thing.
Finally, he walked up to the body, searched in the dead man’s bloodied suit pocket, and found the one thing Uriah had never parted with—his diamond watch.
At last, if only for a short while, the dark tidal wave of hate inside Drasko subsided. But it never quite went away. His business with Uriah wasn’t over yet.
With Uriah’s death came Drasko’s invisible coronation, all assets and shares of Mawr Diamond Industries now in his name.
At last, Drasko Mawr was the Diamond King.
Did the news bring him joy? Not a bit.
Every night, when business was over, Drasko did what had become a habit. He took off his expensive suit and jewelry, put on his simple attire, and, barefoot, walked to the village to have dinner with the only people he called family.
Only Rupesh understood what Uriah’s death meant. “Do you think you are finally free?” he asked.
Drasko shook his head. “Not yet.”
In the past years, Drasko had understood that Uriah was a hateful man, void of affection or compassion, a heartless executioner who often spent years stalking his prey.
He did things quietly, expertly, played God, just like he had done fifteen years prior at the Ol’ Days tavern in the Port of London when Drasko accidentally crossed his path.
Drasko had one last game to play, perhaps the most important one. Its true prize? A mystery.
Sometime before the accident, Uriah had sat Drasko down.
“I am sick and shall not last long. When I’m gone, you will inherit the Mawr business. But only if you agree to the game. I have important people overlooking it all.”
Uriah was wicked, indeed.
Drasko should have refused the offer. But he had nothing to lose and secretly sensed that Uriah would find a way to shackle him anyway.
“What sort of game is that?” Drasko had asked suspiciously.
“The Crimson Tear is worth more than any other jewel in the world. You are worth everything I’ve bet on.
To be a great man, you have to make sacrifices.
Then you are truly a king. I call it the Diamond Game.
In the course of several years, you shall receive letters, six of them in total.
Certain people will be involved. Certain tasks will have to be accomplished.
If you don’t comply, you will lose everything I’ve given you.
When it is time to reveal the Crimson Tear and put it up for auction, if you fail to do so, you will pay with your life. Rules can’t be broken.”
Completely perplexed, Drasko stared at him. “That is?—”
“A high price to pay, yes. But in exchange for grand power? Not so much.”
“Why wouldn’t I want to put the Crimson Tear up for auction? Unless I don’t have it.”
“Oh, you shall have it.” Uriah’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “That is the deal. When you know you have it, if you decide to keep it, you will trade your life for it. The Crimson Tear is meant to be auctioned. That is my will, and my people will see to that.”
Was it worth it? Drasko had a number of his own businesses going on. Mawr Industries? If he lost it, he wouldn’t regret it. And with as much hate as he had for the man, he wanted to prove him wrong, win this silly game, and finally be free.
Perhaps, in that moment, he didn’t realize that this was baiting, that the Mawr brothers were good at challenging others and knew Drasko too well—he had never backed away from a good challenge in the past. Not the Thuggees. Not Rakshasa. Not this.
Uriah smoothed a contract on the table in front of Drasko and picked up a quill and a razor. “We shall seal it with blood.”
Without hesitation, Drasko made an incision on his palm and watched the crimson tears drop onto the cream paper and mix with Uriah’s. Just like the day of Rakshasa’s attack.
“Deal,” Drasko said, sealing his fate.
Now that Uriah was dead, the game was about to begin.