Anamika Part IV Written by: Amrevis

The room offered a maze like portrayal of her diverse identities. Photographs affixed on the walls, lying on the shelves and on the center tables seemed to be narrating a twisted story, the story of her mysterious past. They depicted her in dresses she could not remember having ever worn, in company of people she could not recognize, in places she could not remember having ever visited.

What kind of mirage was this? Mrs. Madhuri Joshua or Miss Rose! Anamika or Mrs. Joshua… Married or unmarried! Did she kill her husband? Oh that man she had killed in the hotel could never be her husband. No way!

She entered the adjoining study, where there was a polished mahogany table with a computer on it. A shelf lined with books was standing against the wall. One of the books was The Carpetbaggers by Harold Robbins. An impulse led her to pull it out. Madhuri Joshua was scrawled on its first page. Was it her handwriting?

Struck by a feeling that it was, she took a pen from the bamboo pen holder and wrote Madhuri Joshua on the same page. The perfect match of handwriting was another proof that she was, in fact, Mrs. Madhuri Joshua. But what about Miss Rose!

She picked up another book from the shelf, then another, and another. All had her name on the cover page, written with the same flamboyant flourish, that she knew was her writing style. She rushed out of the study. In the dining room there was a long table with identical set of chairs arranged around it. On the wall there was a photograph, depicting her in a beautiful velvet dress, eerily similar to the velvet dress she was wearing now.

When at the hotel she had been surprised to find in the closet many dresses of her size, only now she was realizing that the dresses were of her size because they belonged to her. That hotel room was hers, same as this flat was. Both properties belonged to Mrs. Madhuri Joshua.

Her mind flooded with emotions provoked an inner struggle. She screamed, “Stop it! I am not Madhuri Josha. I am not married.”

Beyond the dining room was the bedroom, with a giant four-poster bed lying in the center. Was it this bed that she shared with Mr. Joshua? Her legs went numb with terror. Suddenly murmurs of a strange sexual zeitgeist filled her ears. Where were the sounds coming from? She looked around frantically. There was no one else in the room.

The sounds were being originated within the labyrinths of her mind. She was hearing voices from the past! Something had charged up her memories. Dim images from a lost past started floating into her mind. She saw herself entwined in his arms and legs. Her legs turned into jelly and she fell down on the bed.

His hands were groping her ample bosom; his red lips took turns on the protruding tips of the nipples, making them hard with desire. Slowly his lips moved downward, downwards to the fountainhead of her musk. His tongue became the key that unlocked the portals of her desire.

But the images floating into her mind dissolved abruptly to makes space for another train of memories that like a magic carpet transported her to a luxurious white yacht, floating mildly in deep cerulean sea.

*

A woman in her mid-twenties, slender and supple, with an alluring mouth, and eyes black as night, was lounging on a long armchair, laid out in the deck. Her feet clad in thin slippers were perched on another armchair that lay adjoining hers as she gazed nostalgically at the play of the sea waves crashing around her.

Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of a door opening. She turned around to see a well-built bald man with a scar emerge from the cabin. A beautiful blonde woman followed him.

“Enjoying the sea,” said the bald man.  

She nodded silently.

“She should enjoy the sea while she is still alive,” the blonde chortled.

The woman on the armchair looked at the blonde to say coldly, “I’m sure you’ll die before me.” 

“Oh I was just kidding,” the blonde blurted.

“I’m sure you were,” Anamika said sarcastically.

“You are such a nasty bitch…”

“Stop it both of you,” the bald man hissed. He looked directly at the woman in the armchair and said, “I have an assignment for you. You have to eliminate a businessman…”

“I have told you many times,” the woman interrupted, “I want out. I can’t do this anymore.”

“In this business once you are in, there is no way out. Now, don’t make me repeat the assignment.”

His face looked normal, his voice sounded well-measured, but having known him for so long, she could easily pick up subtle signs of the fury seething inside him. She knew well about the cruelty he was capable of, and she shivered with terror. But she had to say no. There was no way she was going to murder another man. After years of an emotionless life she yearned for something different.

Killing people for money had been her profession for the past ten years, since she joined Abu’s gang. When the very rich and the very powerful, wanted to eliminate their enemies they gave contracts to Abu, who got the hits executed through his gang of well-trained assassins.

Though she held passports, driving licenses, credit cards, etc in the name of Mrs. Madhuri Joshua, Rani, Babita Khan, Juliet Pickering and few others, her real name was Rose. Her parents were dead, run over by a drunken driver while they slept on the pavement. She was only thirteen years old, and with no money and no parents she didn’t know what to do. Abu came into her life suddenly and in no time he managed to win her heart. He was just a local thug then, but his penchant for violence and efficiency made him rise quickly in the criminal ladder. Having no idea the barbaric behavior he was capable of she allowed herself to fall in love with him. The crimes were small at first but it quickly escalated to extortion, assault, kidnapping, and eventually murder. She was only sixteen when she killed a man on his behalf.  

As all his assassins, Abu had trained her well. She was proficient in martial arts, and in the use of the usual tools of assassination, guns, knifes, garrote, bombs and poison. She was good at her job. In her ten-year association with Abu she had not failed him even once. Slowly but surely she had turned into Abu’s most lethal assassin. But it was not as an assassin that she wished to spend rest of her life. She was done with killing people! She was done with Abu. She had started yearning for the sedate routines of a normal life.

*

“Not anymore,” she said, looking into his eyes. “I wish to have a normal life.”

“Normal life!” he exclaimed.

The blonde raised her eyebrows but said nothing.

“You know, get married, have children…”

“Get married to whom?” he interrupted.

“I don’t know. I will find someone.”

He turned away from her and started gazing pensively at the sea. She knew that this was the most dangerous moment. Would he let her live? Or would he try to kill her for wishing to leave him. If he tried to kill her, she would fight back. Her body did not betray her emotions but she was taut and alert.

The blonde had realized that this was not going to be just another yachting vacation; some blood would have to be shed, preferably it would be Rose’s.

“She has become useless,” she said peevishly, “What are you going to do about it.”

“We have a problem on our hands,” said Abu.

Rose saw that the veins on his forehead were throbbing, a sure sign that he was agitated. Was he about to attack? She slowly rose from the armchair. He took a step towards her. She took a step backward. The blonde laughed a raucous laughter.

“There is only one way by which you can leave me,” said Abu, “By way of death. Do you have a death wish?”

“Not particularly,” said Rose sarcastically.

“Then do as I say.”

“Never,” she panted.

His leg shot forward, but she was ready for him and she ducked to escape the blow. She could have hit him back, but she still hoped to talk him into sparing her life.

“Don’t do this Abu,” she cried. “Just remember we have been lovers.”

In blink of an eye he pulled out a revolver from the sheath built into the lining of his pants and shot at her. She somersaulted past the bullet. But the second bullet caught her in the thighs. She slipped and fell. The blonde picked up a glass, and struck Rose on her head. Abu delivered few hard kicks as she lay writhing on the deck. “I’ve spent so much money on you and this is how you repay me? You were a fucking no good street kid when I found you.” he said, before putting a bullet into her chest.

“I will get both of you first,” she cried. She tried to hit them with her legs, but having been shot twice, her strength was ebbing fast. They continued to pummel her with hard kicks for sometime before picking her up and chucking her into the sea. Rose gasped for breath as seawater poured down her gullet.

“Don’t let me die,” she cried desperately. Standing on the deck, they laughed as she struggled against the waves. Suddenly she saw that Abu was aiming his gun at her again, so she quickly dove into the water. Bullets flew past her and when she resurfaced the boat was gone.  

*

Her heart was beating like a windmill and sweat poured from her body. A recharged memory can be such a benumbing feeling! Like a video recorder her mind had just played the most grisly scene from her past. Now she knew how she ended up in the sea with a bullet in her body. She knew who she was. There was horror in her mind, but there was also the pleasure. She had survived Abu’s attack.

Abu was not as good as he thought he was. He failed to kill her in the ocean. He failed to have her killed at the harbor, when he sent his five henchmen to get her. And he had failed to kill her at the hotel, where he ended up being killed. Now her main tormentor was dead and she was free to pursue the normal life she craved for. She laughed triumphantly.

But was Abu really dead! Out of nowhere the question popped up in her mind. Her happiness evaporated. Abu was the most proficient fighter she had ever known. It had been just too easy for her to kill him. Did he really die when her knife slashed across his abdomen or was he only feigning death?

Maybe he was wearing a false abdomen to make her feel that she had killed him. Gripped by a frantic sense of urgency she picked up the phone and dialed the number of Hotel Fiona. She asked the operator to connect her to hospitality manager, Bunty D’Souza.

When Bunty came online, she asked him to go to the presidential suite and check on Vikram Kapoor.

Bunty confirmed her worst fears when he said, “But Vikram has already left.”

“Are you sure?”

“I met him in the lobby on his way out.”

“When did he leave?”

“An hour ago.”

She disconnected the line.

She had failed to kill Abu when she had a chance. But why did he feign death? What was his motive? He made it easy for her to kill him and his wallet was placed at a prominent place so that she could find it, get the address from the driving license in it and arrive here. Was it his motive to make her come to this flat?

She wanted to kick herself for not seeing through his gimmick. Was there a bomb hidden in the flat, about to blow her away? No, if Abu wanted her dead he could have killed her at the hotel. It had to be something else. Maybe it was a message.

She rushed into the study and switched on the computer. A cryptic message appeared on the screen asking for password. Instinctively her fingers moved on the keyboard punching in some letters and numbers. The computer accepted her password. She knew where Abu concealed his folder in the computer. She browsed to it, and clicked on the singular file that the folder contained.

Abu’s face appeared on the monitor. “Hi Rose,” he said with an evil grin, “This is not a recording that you are hearing. The computer is connected to my mobile phone and this is a live conversation. I can see you. The camera is concealed in the eye of the painting fixed on the wall. I am sure you can make out the glow of its lens.”

The wall opposite her had the painting of a one eyed pirate. She had no difficulty in noticing that the black of the pirate’s single eye was made out of a small lens.

“You bastard,” she hissed into the camera, “What kind of a game is this? What do you want form me?”

“What I want from you is obedience. I want you to realize you can’t run away from me. I can track you down and kill you any time I want. Now, you have to execute an assignment for me.”

“You tried to kill me at sea,” she screeched.

“You left me with no alternative. How could I let you live? You know my whole operation inside and out. I can’t take the chance of you squealing to the police for a little protection.”

“You tried to kill me at the harbor and you tried to kill me at the hotel!”

“What happened at the harbor was only a test. You were identified the moment you were off that steamer from Lakshawadeep. I wanted to find out if you still retained your fighting skill. That is why I sent five of my men to attack you. But you managed to kill them all. As far as the episode at the Hotel Fiona is concerned, I was only toying with you. Do you really think that you can kill Abu? You’re good at what you do, but not that good.”

“Innocent people are dying because you wanted to test me? You twisted piece of shit.”

“Shut the fuck up. Don’t give me this innocence bullshit. There are a billion Indians. Do you think anyone cares if five die? The only thing that matter in this country is if you’re richer than the person next to you.”

Her mind seethed with frustration. While he could watch her through the camera, she had no way of knowing, where he was, what he was doing, and how he planned to hunt her down. She was like a sitting duck exposed to his next attack, which she knew was coming.

“I am prepared to give you a second chance,” Abu continued, “I have a big assignment for you.”

“I would rather see you drop dead.”

“There is a bomb concealed in the flat. Don’t force me into blowing you into bits.”

She knew that he was not lying. Her life hung in a balance, if she said no; he would surely explode the bomb. But she had no intention to die. “Who is it?” she asked quietly.

“I knew that you will see reason in the end. You have to kill the man whose picture now appears on the computer screen.” Abu’s face faded out of the screen and the face of a middle-aged man of Caucasian descent appeared, first a frontal view and then the two profiles. Abu was back on the computer screen to say, “Got your man.”
“Yes,” she said. “Where will I find him?”

“He will be at Five Seasons hotel in Delhi two days from today. I have booked a room for you at the same hotel. Your tickets, fresh identity papers, other details and also the weapons that you may need to execute him are in a bag in the shelf behind you. Any questions?”

“How do you want me to kill him,” said Rose.

“As usual, I am going to give you complete freedom to decide. It should be neat and swift. You know I don’t like a mess.”

“My share of the hit?”

“Your life. If you fail I will kill you once and for all.”

She pulled out the bag from the shelf behind her. Along with bundles of cash, it had air tickets to Delhi, details of her hotel booking, a driving license and passport in the name of Mrs. Bharti Sheth.

“How did you land up on the name of Bharti Sheth this time?” she asked sarcastically.
“Just a woman I killed a week ago,” he said casually, “Don’t worry, her profile will fit you perfectly. Now you better get out. Bomb will go off in ten seconds.”

“You crazy bastard,” she screamed jumping up from her seat.

Abu laughed the loud raucous laughter that only a madman can. She rushed out of the study, into the dining room, the drawing room and in five seconds she was out of the flat. Without waiting for the elevator, she went rushing down the staircase. She had made it to the fifth floor when a loud explosion shook the building.

The door on the fifth floor opened and the same woman who had accompanied Rose up the building emerged with a fearful expression on her face. “My God Madhuri,” she cried, “What was that?”

“Looks like someone has ignited a Diwali cracker,” said Rose, before resuming her journey down the stairs. The traffic had come to standstill at the road in front of the building. People were gazing with awe at the flames gushing out of the windows on the building’s seventh floor. In the confusion, no one saw her emerge from the building and she easily lost herself into the crowd of onlookers.

Continue to Part Five

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