Chapter Seven Unbalanced
Chapter Seven
Unbalanced
Hasan summoned his crew leaders back to the shipping office to compile their notes so far.
He’d been in touch with Samina and Vinay as they’d conducted their stakeout of the police precinct, and what they had reported back had been less than promising.
A week ago, he would have secretly hoped that Zeyar’s plan had crumbled as well, just so he wouldn’t have to hear his brother gloat until the end of time.
But now, two weeks into Paranjay’s arrest, he would have gladly traded a lifetime of I told you so’s from Zeyar to have his brother back.
Once the eight had convened, Hasan tilted his head to Samina and Vinay. “You two go first,” he said. “Get the rest of the room up to speed.”
Vinay cut to the chase. “Attacking the police precinct is not a viable option.”
Hasan snuck a glance at Zeyar, expecting to see a smug grin. But Zeyar’s mouth was pressed into a flat line, which could only mean one thing: He didn’t have good news, either.
“Long story short,” Vinay continued, “Paranjay and his men are not being kept in the standard cells. They’re being held below ground, in isolation cells reserved usually for the most violent of criminals. At least one of Montrose’s men is scheduled on every shift.”
“Poppy Sutherland’s return has complicated things immensely, as well.” Samina’s lips puckered slightly, as though she’d bitten something sour. “The security measures have tightened, and there are more police per shift than usual.”
“Thank you,” Hasan said, permitting them to sit with a nod. “Jayendhra, Kaushal, Zeyar—any luck on your front?”
“None,” Kaushal said, confirming Hasan’s earlier intuition. His heart sank.
Jayendhra lay out tables of calculations. “We were able to collect on the debts owed from two men, and two more indicated they could repay us this week. Even so, if we set the cost at a hundred thousand crowns per prisoner, we could only realistically afford to spring five.”
“This, of course, doesn’t factor in what you learned, which is that Montrose has handpicked a guard on every shift,” Kaushal added. “With that in mind, our odds go from low to nonexistent.”
“So we’re back to square one,” Harithi said. “I told you from the start—we need to think out of the box on this one.”
Hasan had run out of patience. Nothing was going right. Despite his prayers and hard work, their position hadn’t changed in the last fourteen days. The gods mocked Hasan—he didn’t need Harithi to deride him too. “Do you have any suggestions?” he snapped at her. “No? Didn’t think so.”
Harithi pursed her lips. “I understand you’re frustrated, but that doesn’t mean you can lash out at the rest of us.”
“Frustrated?” He barked out a humorless laugh, crossing arms over his chest. “Harithi, my brother has been in the clutches of the police for fourteen days, and we still don’t have a plan to rescue him.
Frustrated doesn’t cover it. What if it were one of your brothers arrested?
Would you like it if all I had to bring to the table was I told you so? ”
Harithi bared her teeth at him. “My brothers will never be part of this world. You leave them out of this.”
“Okay,” Zeyar cut in, putting a hand on Harithi’s shoulder. “We’re not going to make any headway when emotions are running high.”
Harithi rolled her shoulder sharply, dislodging Zeyar’s hand. Her chair screeched back. Tossing her thick mane of curls over one shoulder, she stalked out of the office.
Hasan sighed, pushing his hand into his hair. His temper cooled, but the flash fire of his anger had burned up the rest of his patience. This meeting was pointless when none of them had anything worthwhile to share. “Unless someone here has an out-of-the-box idea, I suggest you leave too.”
The others exchanged glances, but eventually, they got up and left, one by one. Vinay patted Hasan’s back gently. “You’ll find a way,” he said, then disappeared into the night.
When it was just the two of them, Zeyar said, “That was unwise. We can’t be divided now, else we’ll never get Paranjay back.”
“We’ve been divided in our approach from the beginning,” Hasan pointed out. “Splitting into two groups, investigating two different plans.”
“And look how far that got us,” Zeyar said, gesturing outwardly.
“Look. I know we don’t see eye to eye. But we challenge each other, and that’s the only way either of us is going to come up with a solution outside of our usual methodology.
We can’t waste any more time or energy fighting each other. ”
Hasan sighed. Though he wanted to hit something, his brother was right—all their effort had to go into rescuing Paranjay. “We wouldn’t fight so much if you tried to see things my way.”
“I have tried to see things your way,” Zeyar said. “The issue is, your world is one of absolutes. Black and white. Enemy and ally. Right and wrong. You push your own ideals on everything. You can’t divide the world into fixed categories.”
Hasan’s brows knit as he tried to come up with a rebuttal. The best he could do was “And you don’t?”
“The only categories in my world are useful and useless, and I reevaluate them constantly.” Zeyar shrugged. “Whenever something fails to serve my objectives, it falls into the second category.”
Hasan paused, fiddling with a pen as he considered that.
He liked having a firm platform to stand on, a fixed set of rules that made the world make sense.
Zeyar’s method of living—where enemy could become ally on a whim—made him uneasy, like the ground beneath his feet was constantly shifting, throwing off his balance.
Maybe Zeyar was right about him and the way he viewed the world.
“Very well,” he said. “I see your point. I will be more open-minded—as long as you do the same. I want my ideas heard.”
“Fine,” Zeyar said, “as long as you bring your ideas to me before you enact them, instead of after. We need to make decisions together—not based on your personal moral code.”
“Deal.” Hasan took Zeyar’s outstretched hand, shaking it once firmly. Though they were objectively no closer to saving Paranjay than they’d been that morning, Hasan couldn’t help but feel like they had made a little progress, after all.