The Blue Bar (Blue Mumbai #1)(72)

Tara was a teenager when she fell pregnant, practically a child herself, and she’d not only given birth and raised a child, she’d made an entire life in a new place. She was here, trying to build their child’s future. And he’d thought of her as selfish and irresponsible. Another thought struck him just as she stood up.

“Who else knows about Pia?”

“Zoya, obviously.” Tara paused. “And Shetty. He mentioned he could arrange for her education if I went on the private dance assignment.”

Shetty. He shared all his information with the police. Did he know Pia was Arnav’s daughter?

“What’s wrong? Do you think Shetty took her? Is this because I refused?”

“It sounds like a planned attempt—they were following Zoya for several days.” He stroked her back. “We’ll find our daughter. I promise. You and Pia will never be on your own again. You have me.”

He must get in touch with the two people he could trust in Mumbai Police—Tukaram and Naik. And his star informer, Ali.





CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE


A knock at the door leading up from the stairs, and Bilal stood in front of him, his pants as sharply creased, his smile confident, like he’d never run away. Bilal always walked into his presence carrying a tray with a meal or a drink or a snack, as if to keep a demon appeased with offerings.

Bilal set the tray down and settled himself on a stool. No one else ever dared sit without permission.

He picked up the whiskey—Bilal’s offering—and leaned back on the swing, kicking gently on the terrace floor to set it in motion. The old man knew how to pour the whiskey right, with a large round ice cube, the size of a ping-pong ball.

“Bhai called. The police raided one of his garages,” Bilal said.

There it was. No small talk. He liked that about Bilal, but it also annoyed him. Others would take time to introduce a crucial topic because they were suitably respectful. Bilal had never been taken down a peg or two. If he had been, it wasn’t often enough.

“It won’t matter.” He let his body slide back farther. “They’ll close the case soon.”

“They found the van,” Bilal said.

“The van?”

That moron Rasool had fucked up again.

“The delivery van. He says they took it away. He’s trying to find out who the zero dial around him was.” Zero dial—a man who made a living ratting out his friends. The people the Mumbai Police called the khabri.

“What did you say to him?”

“It was the fault of his men. It had better not lead anywhere.”

“Did they have the van cleaned?”

“They washed it.” Bilal looked down, not meeting his eyes. “But they thought it would never be traced.”

That presented a problem.

“Rasool will handle it,” Bilal said. “I’ll never have to clean up another one, right?”

He wanted to say no.

“If you need to punish women, punish the real one. The one who is responsible. Why play dress-up with others?”

The Item Number. This was why Bilal was dangerous. He knew it all, and wasn’t shy about bringing it up.

“You know why.”

“No, I don’t,” Bilal said. “The other reasons aren’t true anymore.”

“They are, and will remain.”

“You’re afraid. Why don’t you admit it? You’re scared of her.”

He would have struck Bilal, but he was used to masking his emotions.

“Yes, I was.” He chuckled and turned his gaze to the twinkling stars. “Maybe I shouldn’t be. OK, check on her schedule. Let’s make her an offer she won’t refuse.”

Bilal left.

Dad used to say Go big, or go home. Maybe that was the way out of it all. Time for her star to twinkle out. And Bilal. If he could silence Bilal forever, Item Number would remain obscure, as would the other secret that had stayed his hand so long. Time to make plans.

He chose a spare phone and used one of the SIM cards he’d been given. After a while, the don himself came on the line.

“I would have called you today.”

“We think alike, Uhnna.”

“No, we don’t. We need to handle your pandu. He got away again—and he has the package you want.”

This was bad. “He kidnapped her? How did he know she’s the one?”

“He doesn’t. She’s his girl, I’m told. He’ll be there when we call her.”

He was going to get the Item Number, but he also wanted the replacement. She was a double of the Item Number, and she’d failed the three-minute deadline. The least she could do was dance for him. The Item Number couldn’t dance anymore. And even if she could, he wouldn’t bother to watch her. But that could wait.

“Use your leverage to make them stop investigating the case instead.”

“Are you sure?” Uhnna’s voice held a note of curiosity. “What about the girl?”

Once the investigation stopped, she would be easier to nab because unlike him, the pandu would soon lose interest in her.

Of course he wanted this woman, but he needed the bodies back in the ground even more. Along with nightmares of the Item Number, those women had chased him the past few nights. Silent, headless specters, flying at him as he ran.