Things came into Arnab's mind in a torrent. What Aggarwal had said about the India-Pakistan match being sponsored by his company; the fact that it was being held in Delhi; Arif's last words. It could just have been a coincidence, or it could just be the break he needed. He didn't know which was the case, but he did know that he couldn't risk ignoring it. With it being an India-Pakistan match, and with the Indian Prime Minister supposed to be attending it, there seemed to be a fair chance that this indeed was the intended target. Thousands of lives would be at stake, and now that he knew that Jayantada, Mishti, Chintu and his family would be there, it was more personal than ever.
On instinct, he took out his mobile phone to call Aggarwal, and then stopped himself, remembering the policemen who had been scouring the neighbourhood earlier in the evening. Arnab went out to a telephone booth across the street and dialled Aggarwal's personal number. As soon as he answered, Arnab got straight to the point.
'Sir, its me, your new brand ambassador.'
Aggarwal chuckled at his opening.
'So you did decide to agree to our partnership, after all.'
'Yes, but I need to meet you as soon as possible. There are several things I want to plan out, things that should help your match be the biggest media event you've ever had.'
Aggarwal seemed to be enjoying this new side to Arnab and he said, 'You are beginning to talk like my marketing people. Well, I'm there in Delhi tomorrow with some of them to plan our build-up to the match. Let's meet in the evening. SMS me and let me know where you want to meet, since I imagine you'll want to be as secretive as ever.'
As Aggarwal hung up, Arnab realized that his being at the match was only half the battle won. If indeed there was a major terror attack planned on the day of the match, he still had no idea what shape or form it would take, and honestly whether he would be able to stop it all by himself. He debated whether he should call Balwant Singh or not, finally deciding that no matter what enmity Balwant had towards him, the bottom line was that the man was a Minister and he could bring to bear far more resources to foil or prevent any likely terror attack than what Arnab could ever hope to achieve alone. As he dialled Balwant's number, he kept rehearsing in his mind what he would say, and wondering if he had indeed done the right thing on election eve by losing his temper and making a very powerful enemy. The phone was answered by Sharma, who seeing the unfamiliar number asked who it was. When Arnab told him and asked to speak to the Minister, Sharma exploded into a stream of obscenities.
'Have you lost your fucking mind? Do you realize what you have done? The Minister almost lost his seat because of your meddling. Thank God we had friends in the Election Commission otherwise he may just have lost the election. He will kill you if he ever sees you again, so I doubt he'd want to talk to you.'
Arnab didn't know quite what to say, but then he heard Balwant Singh's voice in the background, asking Sharma to hand him the phone. Arnab prepared himself for Balwant's temper and was surprised to hear the Minister talk in a cold, even voice. As he spoke, Arnab pictured a snake coolly waiting to strike, not wasting time or energy in any demonstrations of anger.
'So, my superhero, what am I do with you?'
Arnab tried to say something but Balwant continued as if he hadn't heard anything.
'I'm not as angry as I am curious. Why would you do something like this? Do you really think you were the only one I was relying on and that you could single-handedly play the hero? It was most inconvenient and cost me lots of money, but as Sharma told you, I still won.'
Arnab listened, waiting for what would come next, wondering if there was a chance Balwant would forgive him, only to have those hopes dashed by what the Minister said next.
'I have no intent of having anything to do with you. So don't waste my time.'
Arnab tried one last time.
'Sir, there is going to be a major terrorist attack at the upcoming Woodpecker Cup match. You must do something, maybe just cancel the match.'
Balwant's laughter echoed over the phone.
'You are pathetic if you hope that feeding me some bullshit information like this will save you.'
'Sir, I am not a liar, please listen to me', pleaded Arnab.
Balwant's last words said it all as he hung up on Arnab.
'I don't know if I'm talking to a liar or not, but here's what I do know. I am talking to a dead man.'
That left Arnab all alone to deal with whatever was going to occur on the day of the match. He spent the next day trying to plan out what he could do, trying to dig deep into whatever Khan had taught him, but soon realizing that taking on roadside Romeos and hired goons was very different from having to take on well-armed and trained terrorists. He was sure they would have a well thought out plan, and from what he had seen happen to Arif and Ali, that they would not hesitate before killing anyone who came in their way. For all the action he had encountered, Arnab had never really contemplated hurting anyone seriously, let alone kill anyone, and wondered what he would do when faced with ruthless killers. He thought of going to Khan for advice, but the memory of Arif's bullet ridden corpse stopped him in his tracks. Knowing Khan, the old man would insist on coming along and trying to help, and the last thing Arnab wanted to do was to put his friend in the path of a near-certain death.
By the time he left home to meet Aggarwal, Arnab had a rough plan in his head. If he was honest with himself, calling it a plan was being highly charitable. He wasn't even sure that the attack would occur on the day of the match, and if it didn't, all he would have achieved was to become a mascot for Aggarwal's beer brands and a big, whopping target for Upadhyay and his men, whom he was sure Balwant would have already turned loose after him.
When he reached the parking lot behind a mall where they had agreed to meet, it was close to ten at night. He saw Aggarwal from a distance, but the business tycoon had not come alone. There was a woman standing next to him, her back turned towards Arnab.
Arnab walked over to them and greeted Aggarwal. The tycoon looked at him with a start.
'My goodness, I never see you coming and you always make these dramatic entrances in the dark. Don't keep doing that or you'll give me a heart attack some day.'
He then turned to the woman with him.
'Mishti, say hello to the man who is going to bring in millions for our company.'
Arnab froze in his tracks on hearing the name, and as he looked carefully, he saw to his surprise that the woman with Aggarwal was none other than Mishti. Aggarwal continued.
'My friend, this is Mishti, our Marketing Manager. I thought she should come along to discuss what we do on the day of the match to launch you and our partnership in the best possible way.'
Arnab took a step back and then relaxed. There was no way Mishti would guess it was him, and wearing his hood, without his glasses, and in the dark, there was little chance that she would recognize him. The one thing he was worried about was her recognizing his voice, so he motioned for Aggarwal to come closer to him.
'Mr. Aggarwal, I need to talk to you alone first. You can then brief her.'
Aggarwal shrugged and walked with him to a bench a few feet away, where they both sat down.
'Sir, I may have some information that there could be a terrorist attack on the match.'
Aggarwal's eyes widened in alarm.
'Really? What do you know? Tell me!'
Arnab realized just how pathetic he sounded without any details to offer, and he was not sure he wanted to reveal his interactions with Arif lest it get him into even more trouble with the cops. So he just said that with it being an India-Pakistan match, and the Prime Minister in attendance, with the heightened tensions on the border and the recent spate of bombings and terror attacks in Indian cities, he had heard it could be a prime target.
'Isn't there any way you could change the venue or postpone the match?'
Aggarwal looked at Arnab with a quizzical expression, as if to see if he was joking. Finally he said, 'An event like this will get its share of threats. India and Pakistan are playing after many months, and both governments want to make sure it goes off smoothly. My security guys tell me we already have six threatening calls so far, and guess what, every single one of them turns out to be some joker looking for publicity. All the tickets are sold out, and there's no reason to cancel it. Also, with the PM there, this would be more secure than anywhere else in the city.'
He lit up a cigarette, and changed the subject, indicating that the topic was closed. Arnab was disappointed, but not really surprised. All it meant was that on the day of the match, he would have nobody else to look to for help. He outlined to Aggarwal what his terms and conditions were, and in ten minutes, he was on his way home, wondering if what he had in mind would be even barely sufficient when the time came.
***
The week leading up to the match seemed to crawl along at such an agonizingly slow pace that Arnab thought the tension would drive him crazy. While he tried not to think too much about what might happen on the day, there was no escaping the fact that he was headed into a situation that he was barely prepared for. Many months ago, when he had looked at himself in the mirror and contemplated what was happening to him, he had wondered if it was his destiny or a curse to be endowed with such powers. Now, he realized that whether or not it was his destiny, or just chance, it was indeed a curse to be in his position. When he had been just a middle-class librarian with nothing special about him, life had seemed simpler. Sure, he realized so much around was rotten, but the helplessness of knowing he could do nothing to change it in a perverse sort of way led to a sort of contentment, or acceptance at any rate. Ever since he had come to grips with his new powers, he had fooled himself into believing that perhaps he could make a difference, perhaps there indeed was a way one man could change things for the better. Now, bitter, defeated and having to be a part of that very system to achieve his objectives, he realized just how little he had understood about the way the world worked. If there was to be any redemption, it lay in foiling whatever attack was planned on the day of the match.
It struck Arnab that he had stopped worrying about what would happen afterwards. He had almost forgotten about joining the bank, which at one time had been his dream job. He saw the suitcase filled with more money than he could ever imagine, but didn't really think about what he would do with it. Perhaps he was just so focused on the day of the match, or perhaps, he didn't really think he would live to see what lay beyond, since he would be in the markedly unenviable position of being in the sights of both the police and the terrorists.
As a result, he spent that last week trying to close the open loops in his life. He went to work every morning for three days, working at express speed to complete the project he had promised to finish before leaving. When he finally unveiled it to Jayantada, the old man told Arnab, his voice cracking with emotion.
'My boy, this will always remind me of you when you're gone.'
'I hope this does as well, Jayantada. Thank you for everything.'
Arnab handed over a bulky package to Jayantada, and when he opened it, he found a leather bound edition of War and Peace.
Jayantada chuckled and then hugged Arnab, not even trying to hold back the tears. To his surprise, Arnab found his own eyes fill with tears. He knew he would miss the old man, and as he wished him goodbye, he was glad he could at least restore Tolstoy to his rightful pride of place on the library's shelves. After all, it had been the unplanned demonstration of Tolstoy's boxing skills that had set him on this path to begin with.
Next on Arnab's list was a call to Mishti. She seemed to be very surprised to receive his call, but he felt none of the nervousness he had felt when he had spoken to her earlier.
'Hi Mishti. Jayantada told me about your upcoming engagement, and I wanted to wish you all the best.'
That broke the ice.
'Why, thanks Arnab! That's really sweet of you. What happened to your own plans?'
'Just a few days more and I'll know for sure.' He said, only half lying.
'Listen, Mishti, I am sorry if I hurt you in any way. I was just stupid, I guess. Perhaps I should have given some indication earlier of where I stood.'
He could almost hear Mishti's voice catch, and he cautioned himself. He just wanted to part on a happy note, not dig up past memories, so he changed his tone to a more cheery one.
'But all's well that ends well, right? You've got your knight in shining armour and I've got my own plans. Just be happy and all the best again.'
'Hey, Arnab, I will let you know when the marriage gets fixed, but do try and come.'
'Mishti, all depends on where my plans take me. But if I'm around, I'll be there.'
As he hung up, he realized that no matter how much he had tried to convince himself that he had forgotten about Mishti, he was wrong. Talking to her again brought back memories, and regrets, and he almost wished he had not called her at all. Well, there was no point in thinking about the past, was there? He certainly didn't have the time for it.
Finally, the day before the match, he went to meet Khan.
'Arnab, where the hell have you been? What are you up to?'
Arnab walked into Khan's house, lugging the suitcase Aggarwal had given him.
'Khan chacha, I am off on the mission and I came to say goodbye.'
Khan exploded in anger.
'Goodbye, my ass! I am going with you, wherever you're headed to. We are a team, remember?'
When Arnab looked at Khan, he surprised both of them with the tears that had welled up in his eyes.
'More than a team, Khan chacha. You're the closest thing to a family I've had.'
The old man's face softened, as he held Arnab's hand.
'My boy, take me along. You don't have to do this alone.'
'No, Khan chacha. This is something I have to do alone. I can't have you get hurt.'
'Then, my boy, I'll follow you.'
'I can run faster than you', said Arnab with a grin.
Khan laughed and as Arnab sat down, Khan disappeared, reappearing with a bottle of rum and two glasses.
'Then at least, you can get drunk with me.'
As he filled the glasses, Khan said that Arnab was making him feel old and useless.
'Not at all, Khan chacha. In case I don't make it back, I want you to carry on the fight. If I do, then, well, our team is back in business.'
The two drank till late, and Arnab went to sleep in Khan's living room. The next morning, Khan woke up to find Arnab gone and a large suitcase near his bed. A small note on the suitcase said.
'I trust you'll put this to good use in case I don't come back.'
***
The day of the match was more pleasant than any summer day in recent memory. The temperature threatened to get unbearable by noon, but by evening had settled at a comfortable level, helped along with by a brisk breeze blowing from the Yamuna river. The sky was clear, and commentators were already proclaiming that it was a perfect day for the match. A day-night affair, the match was to begin at six in the evening, and by the time it ended at about eleven, it was estimated that close to a hundred thousand fans would be crammed into the Jawaharlal Nehru stadium in Delhi, and several hundred million others would be watching the action on television.
Arnab had reached the stadium well before most spectators had arrived. Armed with a VIP Pass as he had asked of Aggarwal, he could access areas of the stadium where only a few others, the organizers and security personnel, could go. He had demanded this so that he could have freedom of movement, and Aggarwal had instantly agreed. His sweatshirt was tied around his waist, and his gloves were in his pocket. Aggarwal had asked him when he would make his grand entry, but he had given a counter-proposal that the tycoon seemed to love. Instead of one grand unveiling, they would wring as much entertainment as possible out of it to keep the media and crowds interested. Aggarwal would announce that the Guardian Angel would be present as his brand ambassador and in the break between each over would reveal himself in unexpected places. The grand reveal would come in the presentation ceremony at the end of the match, when he would hand over the cup to the winning captain and formally announce his partnership with Woodpecker Industries. That was still hours away, but what the arrangement meant was that Arnab had a free reign to reconnoitre every corner of the stadium, watching for where, and if, trouble struck.
As Arnab watched the first spectators file in, he was sure of one thing. No terrorist would be coming in disguised as a spectator. With the Prime Minister in attendance, there were rigid security procedures in place. Spectators couldn't bring in any bags or even bottles of water, and every one was subject to an x-ray and frisking. It made the task of getting the thousands of spectators into the stadium a painfully slow process, but the Cricket-crazy fans didn't seem to mind, as they waited their turn to watch their sporting icons in action. Not knowing where the attack may come from was frustrating, but Arnab tried to still his mind as he took in the stadium and where he would start his patrol. On his request, Aggarwal had procured for him detailed plans for the stadium, including where the security posts were going to be. Arnab had studied it till his eyes glazed over, and by now, he knew by heart where each access point was and the nature of security there. Some of the gates were to be guarded by the elite National Security Guard commandos, brought in given the number of VIPs in attendance. However, most of them were to be manned by the local police, and Arnab guessed that if the terrorists had done their homework, they would attack one of these gates.
As more of the spectators came in, Arnab made his way to the VIP box. From a distance, he could already see Aggarwal and Mishti there, but he did not go closer since he did not want to risk being seen by Mishti and being asked why he was there with a VIP Pass. As he watched, Balwant Singh, Sharma and Upadhyay arrived followed by at least a dozen policemen. Upadhyay was in uniform and instead of joining Balwant and Sharma in the VIP box, exited and was soon on his walkie-talkie, presumably going over the security arrangements for the day. Suddenly Arnab heard a loud roar, and turned to see both teams on the field, doing their warm-ups. When he saw Jayantada walking into the box, to be greeted warmly by Mishti, he walked away, losing himself in the milling crowd. The giant screens situated at either end of the stadium were now flashing footage of the toss being conducted on the pitch. Both captains were out in the middle, and as India won the toss and elected to bat, the crowd erupted in another roar. Then, their reaction gave way to loud murmurs and whispers as the screens showed the Prime Minister arriving at the stadium and making his way to the VIP box, flanked by commandos and other dignitaries.
Before the game could begin, Aggarwal himself took the mike, walking to the middle of the ground, exulting in what was already a sell-out crowd and what promised to be a huge windfall for his company.
'Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Woodpecker Cup game between India and Pakistan, where you can watch your heroes on the playing field. This is a historic moment when the two nations restart sporting relations.'
The crowd roared in approval as Aggarwal continued.
'Today, we have a special treat for you. Today, we will unveil the newest brand ambassador for Woodpecker. Today we join hands with a real life hero, someone who has won all our hearts by single-handedly standing up for justice. Today, we introduce you all to our own real life superhero. Our own Guardian Angel.'
There was almost a collective gasp as the camera swung to reveal a hooded figure standing on top of the railings above the stadium. Arnab could feel the evening wind blow into his face, standing at a height equivalent to a three-story building. He had changed and climbed the ladders provided as per his agreement with Aggarwal and he stood looking into the camera, his face an inscrutable mask hidden by the hood. Then, as a hundred thousand people looked on in stunned disbelief, Arnab sprinted to the other end of the stadium across the rafters placed along the railings, covering the distance so fast that the spectators saw only a blur of movement. As the crowd erupted in loud cheers, he climbed down a ladder, disappearing into a fire exit. He could hear Aggarwal announcing how the Guardian Angel would appear after each over and finally reveal himself in the closing ceremony, but he was barely paying attention. He had memorized the maze of tunnels and ladders that made up the maintenance, cleaning and fire exits in the stadium and as the match began, he began jogging along them, trying to keep a watch for anything untoward. As he passed behind the VIP box, he could imagine just how furious Balwant Singh would be to know he was there, but be unable to do anything to take his revenge in front of so many people. He did hope, however, that Upadhyay was nearby. His plans included inviting Upadhyay to the party.
Arnab kept his side of the deal with Aggarwal by popping up at the end of each over, to rapturous applause from the crowd. By the time the Indian innings was halfway through, Arnab had completed three rounds of the stadium, looking down from his vantage points. So far, he had seen no sign of trouble, but he kept reminding himself not to get complacent, or to try and see what was happening in the match. The level of applause and cheers he heard told him that the Indian innings must be progressing well, but he also realized that the crowd seemed to reserve even louder applause for him. Arnab had never thought of himself as someone who would love the spotlight, but the thought of his reputation finally being cleared in such a way in front of the whole nation gave him goose bumps. He was not sure he deserved such adulation, but he did feel a lot of people owed him after having turned on him so viciously.
A few more minutes passed, and Arnab was beginning to wonder if he had been barking up the wrong tree. Perhaps there was to be no attack tonight. Perhaps he had just read too much into what Chintu had said. Perhaps it had all just been no more than a coincidence. Exposing himself in the limelight once again, especially with Balwant now at his throat, was a high price to pay for the unfortunate coincidence, but it was hardly something he could not extricate himself from. Aggarwal would get more than his money's worth since the rafters on top of which Arnab was running were ringed with hoardings and banners for his company's brands. Arnab could then quietly disappear, and resume the life he had intended for himself. Join the bank and get on with a life that had nothing to do with the likes of Balwant and Upadhyay. Then there was the small matter of a suitcase filled with ten million Rupees. He decided to think about that later, when he got back home. Increasingly convinced that his patrolling was fast becoming a waste of time, he risked a glance at the match. With two overs to go, India was at 221 for the loss of two wickets, and the iconic Indian player Sachin Tendulkar was tearing the Pakistani attack to shreds, and fast approaching a hundred runs. The crowd roared with manic energy as the little master slammed a ball down the ground and reached 95. Arnab too found himself caught up in the excitement and stopped to watch.
As the fielders got ready for the start of the 19th over, Arnab looked behind him. Far below was a police checkpoint guarding one of the rear entrances to the stadium. There were four policemen on duty, who were probably cursing their luck at being so close to the action but not getting to watch a single delivery be bowled. One of them had a small radio on, and the four men were huddled around it, listening to the live commentary of the game. When Arnab turned his attention back to the game, the batsmen had crossed over and a quickly run series of singles brought Sachin to 98. The crowd waited with bated breath as the Pakistani paceman steamed in to bowl the next delivery. It was a nasty bouncer, one that landed at a good length, but then reared up like a striking cobra. A lesser batsman would have probably been felled by the express delivery, but Sachin hooked the ball. It was an edgy shot, but the speed of the delivery worked against the bowler, and the ball was sent flying over a fielder and beyond the ropes.
The crowd erupted in applause as Sachin raised his bat to acknowledge them. Arnab found himself cheering along, finally feeling that perhaps this was a day when nothing would happen other than a very special game of Cricket. He turned to see what the policemen below him were doing, and the world around him seemed to stop. The four policemen were lying face down on the ground, and there was a group of men, seven or eight in number, all dressed in police uniforms who were moving towards them. As Arnab watched, with a feeling of dread working its way through his spine like an electric current, the men dragged the policemen's bodies along the ground and hid them behind some bushes. Two of the men took the place of the policemen, and to any casual observer, it would seem like nothing untoward had happened. The other men moved into the stadium through the rear gate.
Arnab didn't want to believe it, but there was no disputing what was playing out before his eyes.
It had begun.