Location: Police HQ, Seelampur, Shahdara, New Delhi
ACP Aryan Singh Rathore leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair frustratedly. This was the sixth murder since he had taken charge of this district four weeks ago. Under ordinary circumstances, he wouldn't have cared since the dead guy was a notorious drug dealer with a rap sheet as long as his arm and in his opinion deserved the painful death he got. However intelligence sources had sent a warning last week that a new and more dangerous player had moved into the drug market in Delhi and he was executing his competition with ruthless efficiency to instill fear and create a monopoly for himself.
Nothing much was known about the new drug king other than the fact that he liked to maim and then shoot his victims in the stomach so that they would slowly bleed out instead of dying instantly. He was shrouded in mystery and no one alive had ever seen him in person. The only information that the police had been able to glean was that he called himself Kaka and manufactured the dope in a basement somewhere in Delhi and had an extensive supply network that extended beyond the state as well.
The wall clock on the grimy yellow wall of the Police headquarters chimed the hour. Rubbing his hands over his tired eyes, Aryan got up straightened the tails of his plain black shirt and headed out of his cabin. One of the perks of being an ACP, he could dress in casual clothes unless there was an meeting with his bosses or counterparts. Then he was required to be in full uniform.
The police constable outside his door smartly saluted him as did the other policemen that he encountered in the hallway and those behind their desks. Acknowledging their salutes he bounded down the steps of the station and got into his car. Even though the police department had allotted him a jeep and a driver, Aryan always preferred to drive himself in his own car because it helped him wind down after a hard day. Drumming his hands on the steering wheel of his BMW 3 series sedan at the traffic light he happened to casually glanced out of his window.
A small boy maybe 6 or 7 years old was going door to door of each car trying to sell red roses. Aryan frowned, it was past 9 o'clock and the little boy should have been home asleep not working the roads. He watched as the driver in the large car behind his jeep shooed the boy away. The little boy was desperately begging him to buy the roses and when he put his tiny grubby hands on the window of the car, the driver got more irate. He jumped out of the car and grabbed the little boy's hand and yanked him hard.
Aryan had had enough. He unfolded his 6 foot frame from his jeep and in an couple of quick strides reached the driver, grabbed him by his collar and shook him just like he was shaking the little boy.
The man started sputtering, "Leave me! Who are you? I will kill you for manhandling me."
"You are welcome to try" growled Aryan and the menace in his voice must have finally registered because the driver stopped struggling and swallowed a few times
" That urchin put his hands on memsahaab's white car and made it dirty. I was just trying to teach him a lesson."
Tamping down on the anger coursing through his veins, Aryan turned to look at the little boy who was trying to gather the roses that had fallen from his hand onto the road. Tears were coursing down his muddy face leaving tracks.
"Are you okay?" asked Aryan and the little boy nodded.
"What is your name?"
"Chotu, sahab"
"How much for the all the roses?"
"Sahab??"
" I asked how much for the all the roses"...
"Rs. 500 sahab".
Aryan let go of the driver's collar, flipped open his wallet and handed him Rs 500 along with his card,
"Tomorrow morning I want you to come to my office with your parents.. the address is in the card.. now scoot."
As the boy handed the flowers to Aryan he happened to glance at the card and nearly fell on his butt. He may not have understood the words in English but he definitely recognized the logo of Delhi police. Swallowing his fear Chotu took a couple of steps back and then ran away without a backward glance.
Once Chotu was out of sight Aryan turned his attention to the driver. In the few seconds that Aryan's attention had shifted away from him, the driver had pulled out a revolver from his back pocket and was now pointing it at Aryan's forehead.
"You messed with the wrong guy" he spat.
"Now you will pay. You don't know how powerful my master is. Even if I kill you now with one single bullet, my master has the power to make it look like an accident and I will go scott free" he sneered.
Aryan calmly took two tiny steps forward so that the gun was pressed against the middle of his forehead.
"Shoot" he commanded while staring right in the gunman's eyes.
The hands holding the gun began to tremble and when the driver wavered, in a quick motion Aryan snatched the gun from the driver and pointed it at him.
"If I shoot you now, I won't even call it an accident, I will call it a shootout and no one will even ask me why, so listen carefully to these three things. First I don't like people who treat old people, women and children with disdain.. second those who have the guts to shoot don't talk first."
As he turned to leave the driver asked "what's the third thing?"
Without turning his head Aryan said "let the third thing be a credit on you" and walked away.
Precap: Narmada Singh Rathore
YOU ARE READING
Conflagration
RomanceAryan Singh Rathore is the 29 year old newly appointed ACP for North East District of Delhi. He is one of the youngest officers on the force but has already garnered a reputation for being super calculative, sharp and athletic. His colleagues refer...