“Get a doctor to check him out.”
“Ok.”
“And do not go in front of him again, tell the new boys to handle him. And don’t touch him again. Leave him tomorrow, nothing should happen to him in the interim…”
He saw Atharva in his peripheral vision and startled. Samar cut the call and turned. Atharva was striding down the stairs and into the atrium.
“Atharva!” Samar met him midway.
He looked panicked. But in an instant, his face changed. It relaxed. “I am flying to Srinagar tonight itself. You and Qureshi handle everything.”
“Why?”
Tell me, trust me, share with me for once.
“There’s an emergency that needs my attention.”
“What emergency.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“More than tomorrow’s karyakarta meetings?”
“Yes.”
“Iram is also going with you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“Why are you hiding it from me?”
“Because it does not concern you. You and Qureshi handle tomorrow.” He stepped away and strode towards the Business Centre. Samar stared after him, bit his tongue, and did what he had not considered even as an option. He picked up his mobile and dialled the number.
“Murtuza.”
“Did you hear what has happened?”
“Which one?”
“Mohsin Sheikh is dead.”
“Connect me to his son.”
————————————————————
Flights were grounded. All roads south of Likir were blocked. Snow was everywhere. And the next day, even at 12 noon, Atharva was sitting on the Leh Airport in front of him. Samar stared at him, three of their members and Fahad loitering around. The two security guards stood alert but merged into the small, stranded crowd.
“Spit it out.” Samar tried one last time.
Atharva kept stewing, eyes on his mobile as he messed with it.
“Atharva.”
Atharva shot to his feet — “We are taking the afternoon train.”
