d secnd post n i still dnt know wt to write abt...so i'll jst share a piece i wrote sm months bck in d dream of churning out a page-turner novel...now its jst dat...a dream...well newz...read on if u wanna...
n yeah one more thing...kindly leave me ur honest comments...
THE FIFTH ACE
26th December, 2007-New Delhi
RAW Headquarters The room Shirish Rathi found himself in was claustrophobically small. There was a small wooden table bang at the centre & five unmatched rickety chairs, one of dem on which he sat. The entire cell was hardly 6 paces square & the cramped space further cluttered up his mind, making it impossible to think or even feel. Frustration galled him, leaving no space for nething else. Nt. even fear.
Shirish lukd up at the fluoroscent lights buzzing overhead & wondered if some1 ws. watching him through a two-way mirror. He knew dere would be surveillance cameras inside d room, scrutinizing his every move. Shirish himself ws. no strngr to hidden cameras & abstract monitoring operations. He jst. wished some1 would show up. 35 mins. hd. passed & yet no1 hd. come 2 interrogate him yet.
So wat d fuck's going on, Shirish thought tersely as he lit up a cigarette & ran a hand casually through his hair.
He stared inattentively at d door & slipped in2 d recent past frm. where all d puzzling shit strtd...
22nd December, 2007- Central Delhi
Hyatt Regency, 8:54 P.M
The floor manager replaced d phone back into it's cradle fr a sec before picking it up again n dialling two digits, connecting to the basement kitchen. Two rings n it was answered.
The manager cut to businness wid a bark." Room no. 652. Suite. Y hsn't d food been sent yet? Its been 25 mins. u imbecile. Wt did I tell u abt dat room no.? I am warning u n u listen to me u retard, u hv got 300 seconds flat to get d grub to dat room. U get ur act straight. U hv got 300 secs. U hear me u moron? 300 secs."
There was a click as d manager slammed down the phone, his whole being trembling, sweat clinging to his business suit. He exhaled, trying to steady his chaffed nerves, an attempt dat was only partially successful. He exhaled again, n again until his body stopped shaking.
God, dnt let dat man get angry...please God....
Below in the kitchens, a butler hurried out wid d ordered room service on d tray on wheels, hurriedly ironing out his appearance, his manner repulsively bootlicking. He stopped in frnt of d lift, praying steadfastly fr d lift to come down, d abuses of d chef still ringing in his ears. The chef had been abused by the kitchen manager n he in turn, had turned it on to the butler.
6...5...4- the lift carried on its descent slowly...
The chef in his attempt to please the man in room no. 652's appetite had devoted an xtra 15 mins dan was requisite. The man, godknewwhohewas hd called once n chaos resulted...
Who was he? The man in no. 652??..nobody knew...he ws a honcho fr sure...his arrival hd disturbed the manager's equilibrum fr sure...who was he?...better off nt knowing...who cares??...
2........1.the lift downed to the basement where the butler ws still thinking n praying....
He never saw or heard anything, the first blow dat landed on his skull sent him staggering to the ground; he lurched on his feet, trying to stay upright. The second landed squarely on the top of his spine, sending him reeling in shock and pain. He floundered on his feet again before the third blow on his jaw sent his jagged thoughts into oblivion; he fell to the ground. Through his swaying visions broken through mist of pain, he saw a fragented figure above him holding somethng. Somethng long n heavy. Then his thoughts were immured in darkness.
An hour and 10 mins later, a floor steward found a butler strewed across d basement toilet- his face sporting a long n cruel red welt, a broken skull, concussions, unconscious. Within 10 mins, the floor manager who hd abused the kitchen abt room no. 652's order rushed to the man's room, his nerves on the precipice of crazed hysteria. The man in room no. 652 was stretched out haphazardly on the huge bed, his half-eaten food's aroma still detectable. His body was cold, his face n lips blue. The man was dead. The manager, frightened by his presence couldnt handle his presence of death. He passed out, his trembling body still shaking.
The doctors revealed cyanide poisoning as the cause of death. No1 knew how.
23rd December, 2007-West Delhi
A guy prowled stealthily across d row of bungalows, dissolving into d depths of d cold night at d slightest of sounds. He reappeared & moved, disappeared & appeared over again. A half-moon was shrouded in the inert black sky, glimpsing out from b/w layers of cloud that drifted in d night breeze. The night was inhumanly cold & a low December fog further hung in d air, d chill numbing in sudden bursts of wind. D streetlights illuminated d whole area, bathing d streets in an eerie fluorescent halo in which moved d solitary vigilant of d night. So fluid & sudden were his movements dat he might hv. resembled an apparition to d unexpecting eye.
He finally halted in frnt. of one particular house. The house appeared peculiar in it's surroundings. D garden lukd unkempt wid d bushes growing wild,d vines creeping upwards, encircling & entrailing itself to d Asoka & Peepul trees growing heavenwards. D bungalow hd. an uncared 4 luk all in all. However, even though d house appeared an abnormality in it's picture -perfect surroundings, a Mercedes Benz SLK Convertible stood inside d 12-foot tall locked gate.
D guy moved suddenly, his running steps didn't make ne sound, his movement lithe & smooth, he hd. crossed d entrance to d house, shimming up d 12-foot gate in secs. Once on d oder side of d gate, he allowed himself to be swallowed by d darkness, listening wid strained ears fr. ne stray sound. All ws. calm & he breathed again. He stroved his eyes to adjust to d dark, dey did & he took everything in, his eyes darting back & forth, penetrating, examining. Once satisfied he moved cautiously towards d Benz.
He contemplated his nxt. step on d dust-coated verandah in d silent night. A cricket hooted somewhere idly in d frosty cold, it's voice magnified in d stillness of darkness. Stifling a yawn, he made up his mind & lowered his tools on to d cold floor.
"I'm sry svthrt. Really sry."-the guy whispered lovingly 2 d car & pulled himself below d Benz carefully, muffling ne sound & set to work.
23rd December, 2007-Panchsheel Flyover, South Delhi
A car moved drunkenly on the road, it's horn screaming it's helplessness as d driver suddenly slumped forwards, apparently knocked unconscious with head wilted on top of d steering wheel.The car moved in it's inebriated state, slamming into other cars even as other drivers swung out of d way, squalling out profane words of sudden shock.
Angry screams of outrage, however were drowned by d deafening cacophony dat hd resulted, every horn on dat side of d flyover blasting as d car moved up in it's sottish state up d flyover towards Nehru Place.D man went totally limp at d ht. of d parabolic curve of d flyover & d car slewed leftwards, uncontrollably accelerating to a magnanimous 107k's/hr.
Every living eye followed d car's trajectory in horror; d horn stopped howling as d car careened indocilely towards d concrete railings. With an ear-splitting screech of metal on stone, d Merc. Benz ricochetted onto d pavement & pummelled through d reinforced concrete bounds towards d skies.
Massive chunks of concrete fell earthwards as d boundary caved into d brute force of momentun of d car & d wheels of d Benz moved dizzily 4 just d smallest space of time as it stalled mid-air 4 a nanosecond, drawing d collective gasps of horror, fighting against d pull of gravity......& den d impetus of d car pushed it an almost graceful parabolic arc & gravity sucked it downwards at 312feet/sec.....
D Benz fell, 1600 kgs. of lifeless mass wid it's dead owner spiralling ungoverned onto d top of a DTC bus. D bus's glasspanes shattered; piercing screams of terror reverbated thru d air & d Benz fell wid a sickening crunch on to it's left & passing vehicles veered sharply out of d way, yelling abuse at nething & everythin.g. D Benz rolled, skidded & flipped over n over like a monstrous metal pancake over d abrasive surface, it's dead owner being flung unceremoniously around inside d car.
A mammoth explosion echoed as a great upthrust of scorching fire shot out of d Benz, ripping apart d roof in one stroke. D Benz finally halted on it's wheels, a satanic mess of convoluted flames & smoke. Every car stopped behind it & every car braked ahead of it, glancing bckwards.
Every single living eye stared hypnotised as d M-Benz SLK Convertible gave a last shriek of tortured metal & d fuel tank exploded with a bellowing roar; a fireball erupted frm. under d front bonnet dat mushroomed upwards until d Benz ws nothing bt. pieces of wreckage raining down frm. d skies.
.........TO BE CONTINUED