Chapter 18: The Loose End
The first installment of the "partnership" arrived in a sack of flour.
It was two lakhs in cash—a token payment from Satya to show "good faith" while the land registration papers were being processed.
In the back office of the bakery, Nanda counted the notes with trembling fingers. He stacked them into neat piles, his eyes wide.
"Two lakhs, Bhai," Nanda whispered. "Real currency. Not gambling chips."
Arjun sat on the desk, peeling an orange. He looked at the money with indifference.
"It's breadcrumbs, Nanda," Arjun said. "Satya is feeding us appetizers hoping we'll choke before the main course. Put it in the reserve. We need to pay off the night shift guards."
Shiva stood by the door, cracking his knuckles. "Why pay them? We own them."
"Ownership requires maintenance, Shiva," Arjun threw the orange peel into the bin. "Satya has agreed too quickly. He's a shark. Sharks don't share prey unless they are planning to eat the competition too."
Arjun's instinct was screaming. The deal was too smooth. The air in the prison felt heavy, like the static before a lightning strike.
Friday afternoon. 4:00 PM.
The weekly transfer bus from the District Court rolled into the main yard. It was the "Fresh Meat" parade. Prisoners hung around the fences, jeering and catcalling as the new inmates stumbled out of the bus, bewildered and shackled.
Arjun and Shiva stood near the water tank, watching. It was a routine—scouting for potential recruits or threats.
"Look at that one," Shiva pointed to a scrawny kid crying as he stepped off. "He won't last a night."
Arjun didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the last man stepping off the bus.
The man was in his late thirties. He was balding, with a jagged scar running down his cheek. He walked with a limp, clutching a plastic bag of belongings. He looked broken, his eyes darting around in paranoia.
Arjun's breath hitched.
The world slowed down. The noise of the yard faded into a dull roar.
He knew that face. He had seen it in the rearview mirror of the car before it crashed. He had seen it in the witness box, crying fake tears and lying to the judge.
The Driver.
Ramu.
The man who had jerked the steering wheel. The man who had sent Vikram and Anjali to their deaths.
Shiva felt the change in Arjun instantly. The calm, calculated aura vanished, replaced by a cold, radiating murderous intent.
"Arjun?" Shiva stepped closer. "What is it?"
Arjun didn't blink. His pupils were dilated.
"That man," Arjun whispered, his voice sounding like grinding glass. "The one with the limp."
"Who is he?"
"The Driver."
Shiva froze. He looked at the man. Then he looked at Arjun.
"The one who...?"
"Yes."
Shiva's face twisted into a snarl. "I'll kill him. I'll walk over there and snap his neck right now."
Shiva took a step forward, his massive shoulders bunching.
"Stop," Arjun grabbed Shiva's arm.
"Let me go, Arjun! He killed them! He's right there!"
"I said STOP!" Arjun hissed, tightening his grip.
Arjun took a deep breath, forcing the red haze of rage back into the box. He looked at Ramu, who was being shoved by a guard toward the Admission Block.
"Look at him, Shiva. Look closely."
Shiva stopped, breathing hard. He looked.
Ramu looked like a wreck. His clothes were torn. He was thin, gaunt. This wasn't a man who had been paid off and living a luxury life. This was a man who had been chewed up and spit out.
"If Virendar Rao paid him off," Arjun said quietly, "why is he here? Why is he in the same jail as the son of the people he killed? Rao is a Minister. He could have sent him to any prison in the state. Or set him free."
"Maybe he got caught for something else?"
"No," Arjun narrowed his eyes. "Rao is cleaning house. Ramu is a loose end. He's here because Rao wants him forgotten. Or dead."
Arjun turned away from the fence.
"We don't kill him, Shiva. Not yet."
"Why?!"
"Because dead men don't talk," Arjun said. "He knows who gave the order. He knows if Rao was alone or if someone else held the leash. I want answers before I want blood."
Night fell over Central Jail.
Arjun used his influence with the Head Warder to find out where Ramu was being held. Quarantine Block. Cell 4.
"Bring him to the Bakery tomorrow morning," Arjun ordered the Warder, slipping a five-hundred rupee note into his pocket. "Tell the guards he's assigned to the flour mill."
"He's a new admission, Arjun Bhai. It's tricky..."
"Make it happen."
Arjun walked back to Barrack 6. But the unease in his gut hadn't left.
Meanwhile, in the High-Security Kitchen Block.
This was the territory of Billa.
Billa was a nightmare. He stood six-foot-four, a mountain of dark muscle and scar tissue. He was serving three life sentences for butchering a rival gang with a meat cleaver. He ran the prison kitchen, and unlike Arjun's bakery which ran on efficiency, Billa's kitchen ran on terror.
Billa sat on a crate of onions, sharpening a long, rusted knife against a stone. Schhk. Schhk.
A guard approached him. It was one of the corrupt ones on Satya's payroll.
"Message from outside," the guard whispered, not daring to look Billa in the eye.
"Speak," Billa grunted.
"The payment is done. Five lakhs deposited in your wife's account."
Billa stopped sharpening. He smiled, revealing paan-stained teeth.
"And the job?"
"Two targets," the guard said. "First, the Bakery boy. Arjun. Satya wants him gone. Make it look like a riot."
"And the second?"
"The new admission. Ramu. The Driver. He came in today. The Big Man wants that loose end tied up permanently."
Billa laughed. It sounded like rocks tumbling in a dryer.
"Bakery boy and the Driver," Billa tested the blade against his thumb. It drew blood. "Bread and meat. I'll cook them both tomorrow."
The next morning. The Bakery.
The ovens were roaring. The smell of fresh dough filled the air.
The side door opened. A guard shoved Ramu inside.
"Get to work," the guard barked and locked the door behind him.
Ramu stumbled, blinking in the heat. He looked around nervously. He saw twenty prisoners working silently.
And then he saw Arjun.
Arjun was leaning against a table covered in white flour. He was holding a rolling pin, tapping it gently against his palm.
Ramu squinted. He didn't recognize Arjun immediately. The last time he saw him, Arjun was a fourteen-year-old boy in a suit. This was a muscular man in prison whites.
"Ramu," Arjun said.
Ramu froze. The voice. He knew that voice.
"Who... who are you?" Ramu stammered.
Arjun walked forward slowly. The other workers stopped, sensing the violence in the air. Shiva stepped behind Ramu, blocking the exit.
"You don't remember?" Arjun asked, stopping two feet away. "You drove us to Kerala. You drove us to Shimla. You drove us off the bridge."
Ramu's face went white. His knees buckled.
"Arjun... Baba..." Ramu whispered, his eyes bulging.
"Don't call me Baba," Arjun said, his voice deceptively soft. "You killed them. You took the money and you killed them."
"No! No, please!" Ramu fell to his knees, clasping his hands. "I had no choice! They threatened my family! They said they would kill my daughter!"
Arjun looked down at the weeping man. He felt the urge to smash Ramu's skull with the rolling pin. It would be so easy. So satisfying.
"Who are 'They'?" Arjun asked cold. "Virendar Rao?"
"Rao... yes... but not just him," Ramu sobbed, looking over his shoulder as if expecting a ghost. "Rao was scared too. That night... he was on the phone. He was begging."
Arjun stiffened. "Begging who?"
"I don't know! The Big Man! The one from Delhi! Please, Arjun... I never got the money! Rao betrayed me! He framed me for theft and threw me in here to rot! He wants me dead!"
Arjun grabbed Ramu's collar and hauled him up.
"What Big Man? Give me a name!"
Ramu opened his mouth to speak.
CRASH.
The main metal doors of the bakery flew open with a deafening bang.
Arjun spun around.
Standing in the doorway was Billa.
He wasn't alone. Behind him were ten of his kitchen goons, armed with sharpened ladles, iron rods, and knives.
Billa stepped into the bakery, blocking the light. He looked at Arjun, then at Ramu. He grinned.
"Two birds," Billa rumbled. "One stone."
Arjun shoved Ramu behind him. He looked at Shiva.
Shiva picked up a heavy iron tray. He smiled.
"Finally," Shiva said. "I was getting bored of baking."
Arjun tightened his grip on the rolling pin.
The negotiation was over. The war had just kicked down the door.