Prithvi... [Vol 3]

Chapter 65

A small jerk awakened Kundan Singh from a pleasant doze. He yawned as he looked at the passing scenery.  They were about to enter the precincts of the town. With any luck, the excitement lying ahead would make up for the acute boredom he had suffered during the trip.

The men made for very poor company. All of them had kept conversation to the minimum for most part of the journey. He had thought of asking their names, as he'd forgotten the ones mentioned by Vikrant, but had then decided to give them monikers based on their peculiarities. So Chewed-ear was driving, and Scarred-face and Baldie were in the backseat.

The return journey would doubtless be a lot more interesting because of the girl, he mused happily. It would be even better if they were returning with sweet memories of beating up Prithvi. It would be so wonderful to see that conceited fiend being thrashed black and blue.

That was why he hadn't told Vikrant about Indrajit's exact stipulation. Vikrant, in turn, had only told the men that they shouldn't murder Prithvi, not that they mustn't inflict grievous injuries. Kundan Singh dourly mulled that he wasn't going to stop them from smashing up that arrogant devil even if it led to the brat's death. If Indrajit questioned him, he could easily swear that the men hadn't listened to reason.

"Police."

The single word muttered by Chewed-ear snapped Kundan Singh out of his woolgathering. His gaze swung onto the road.

Four policemen were standing by the side of the road, talking to some people in ordinary clothes. A car and some bikes were stationed by the group.

Two uniformed men looked in their direction and strode onto the middle of the road. One of them waved an imperious hand, commanding them to stop and pull to a side.

Luckily, there was nothing in the car that could incite any suspicion.  The only weapon in the car was a knife, which was currently being concealed cleverly by Scarred-face. Vikrant had warned the men against carrying guns or any other dangerous weapon. Apparently, their fondness for firearms had gotten them into serious trouble with the police just one month ago, and he wanted them to keep a very profile for some more time.

Even so, it was tempting to ignore the order and make a getaway. But if the idiots sent out an alert to the rest of the force, and the background of the goons came to the fore, Kundan Singh knew he would land in trouble even before kidnapping the girl.

Absorbed in thought, he didn't see the men in the backseat exchanging tentative glances. The man with the scarred face started to reach for the concealed holster, but his bald friend shook his head slightly.

It was small and unlikely to be detected.

The gun would remain where it was.

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Kundan Singh waited until their car was sailing away from the policemen before grumbling under his breath. He had gotten worked up for absolutely no reason. The officers had enquired about their planned route and then brought forward a very old man. They just wanted Kundan Singh to give a lift to the feeble-looking silver jeweller who'd been stranded on the lonely road because he'd missed his bus.  They couldn't take him themselves as they were on their way for a task in the next town.