Rust On The Astute Sword

Chapter Five

The newsroom of People’s TV buzzed with commotion and frenetic movement of editors and camera personnel. Their late night special program had just been wrapped. Mostly the program brought together many prominent party spokespersons, celebrities, renowned economists, and doctors who barked over each other over daily debatable issues and some people seemed to like it notwithstanding the heavy amount of noise pollution it created.

Deep, the host of the show, although cementing an exuberant smile throughout the show, was involuntarily jittery. A plump of a man with heavy hairs under his chin and absolutely nothing on his head, should have been anything but a journalist. Still his excellent craftsmanship in throwing counter questions earned him a position of a debater being hyped by his taut high and penetrating voice which always inched to higher decibels than either of his followers or contradictors. But today the ultimate debater felt as if he was losing his ground. His tone was strangely etiolated and his arguments felt a bit tarnished.

After removing the small microphone from the box plate of his white shirt, he took out his handkerchief to wipe his forehead. The overhead strong LED lights eyeing him with unflinching dominance made him feel as if his brain is banging inside his skull and an unpleasant buzzing befriended him. The air conditioner was active, but still the turnout of present situations drowned Deep in cold sweat.

He gulped down the last bit of the quiescent cold coffee and inhaled. The thick gush of cold air suddenly entering into his lung’s voids intermingled with the caffeine in his veins calmed his erupting brain and sharpened his senses. A flurry of colleagues removed series of printed papers from the glass table and the camera personnel turned their heavy lenses shut and the lights dimmed in intensity.

Deep got up from his thick cushioned chair, exited the news room and took the marbled stairs to the next floor often throwing a stiff smile at other colleagues congratulating him. He skipped the last one, stepping into the next higher level of the same floor which housed offices of the highest ranks. The corridor was deserted and few paces in front of the entrance the company’s logo, lit by dazzling neon red and a mix of gold, was proudly attached at the wall. Series of plastic pots guarded the doors in which the plantations were certainly creations of men.

He strode into the editor-in-chief, Manish’s room and reclined into a familiar looking ‘pooh’ chair. Strange fondness for anime, he thought. Manish wasn’t in his office, his maple leathered chair empty and a grey laptop was placed at the centre of the transparent glassed table where a variety of different files and some recorders, of almost every size out there in the market, were kept.

Deep’s eyes never moved from the vacancy they stared at. He kept on staring with his right leg over the left and his fingers tangled with each other.

At that moment, all he wanted to do was splash cold water in his belching veins. He wanted to scream and tear the head of his wife’s kidnapper, punch him to a pulp, slit his throat and poke his eyes out…

His fantasies would have lasted longer but the door opened noisily and a silvery voice spoke, “Deep…Ah! The show went exceptionally well, after that…eh…that.” He stopped; his face suddenly inquisitive. “Why were your fiery counter questions missing today, huh?”

The Editor-in-chief seemed like a model chiseled out of marble. Flawless features, characterizing with moderate cheekbones and precise dimples sat on a very fair and marginally square face which glistened with chocolate brown eyes. Towering at 5’9 and clean shaved, Manish flaunted a chest which could be veiled faintly even with a shirt. A casual yet grave looking metallic black frame adjusted to his classy looks, brewing an aura of sophisticated allurement. His seductiveness could coax any woman without the use of fingers. Incredibly, he was just twenty six and rising through the ranks rapidly.

Manish strutted to his chair. Deep sat praising him for a moment. He always did. Who wouldn’t praise a wunderkind?
Getting no response from Deep, Manish took the matter up.

“So, you want a leave. Is that right?” Manish demanded, giving Deep a thorough look. Placing his elbows horizontally on the top rail of his chair, he continued, “And you also want me to take up that matter for help to our manager?”

Deep framed his words carefully for some time as his leave depended on it and then spoke, “You are not unaware of the facts that the police aren’t helping. Instead they’re harassing me… They…They didn’t even take my statement till now. I have been receiving so many phone calls and…and threatening messages.” He paused for breath. “My wife is missing since yesterday…” His voice turned shaky and he slammed his clenched fists on the table although softly.

Manish uncovered the glass of water and placed it in front of him. Deep shook his head in angst.

The thought seriously disturbed Manish. He moved to the window. Placing a hand in his blue slack’s pockets, he stared out.
“I really can’t continue Manish…Try to understand man!” Deep didn’t look up.
But Manish was doing all but listening to him. “You see the lights, Deep.” He asked, lost.

“What?” Deep at first wasn’t sure what he had asked. Then he sighed and whispered something under his breath. He certainly didn’t have time for questions that were as useful as tits on a bull.

Manish turned around, his eyes suddenly glistening with zeal. “The lights sometimes conceal more things than the dark. We put our complete faith in the light, not caring to know the assets of the dark, just because we’re afraid to dive into a pothole with no exit on the other side.”

“What is this supposed to mean?” Deep couldn’t place it.

A puckish grin danced on Manish’s lips. He further asked, “How will you get out of the pothole without an exit?”

Manish started pacing around Deep. He went over to the walled cupboard, opened the glass door and removed a few files and a small paperweight. Hulk.

Deep was getting irksome. He simply said, “I don’t know!”

Manish clearly understanding Deep’s discontent finally turned to face him and then answered, “If you don’t happen to find any exist, the ultimate puzzle ends at the start itself. Almost all miss this common hyperbole.” He placed the Hulk back.

“Nice to know your philosophy.” Deep grunted.

Manish now went and plopped down on the chair. “Look, the manager knew about the kidnap, and it’s a freakish incident. We all have given our condolences to you. Did the manager give?... Did he even ask you anything on his own?”

Deep thought hard.  “No.” He couldn’t think what Manish was going to prove by this.

“Exactly. Where everyone believed him to hand you a leave or at the most help you in the investigation or use his prominence over the police, he simply asked you to continue your show.” Manish eyed Deep carefully now, his eyes never leaving Deep’s and his face evoked a blistering confidence. He knew his next words would surely rattle him to the core, he was finding alternative ways to break the matter more clearly to him, which seemed a daunting task itself, no matter what.

“He’s a busy man.” Deep shrugged.

“Or maybe, he doesn’t want you to find her.”

“Why would he want that?” Deep threw Manish an incredulous look.  

“Personal motives are not guaranteed but political motives obviously are.” Manish now opened his specs and kept them on his laptop, his eyebrows relaxing a bit.
“Political?”

“Yes. You see first” Manish went on to explain further, his hands picking up with his lips as if to explain some scientific theory, “Our debates were mostly concerning the state’s impotence in handling affairs. Our panel used to contain more people in favor of us, whereas now our voices can’t keep pace with so many people in favor of the NCP in our show.”

Deep gave a potent shrug. “Yes so?...We always can’t stand against the State Government… We’ve to hold neutral ground, shouldn’t we?”

Manish didn’t look contented. “But see, even those leaders go up to his room these days for a cup of coffee… Did he ever do that before?... Tell me Deep, did he ever allow anyone?”

Deep’s patience was running riots against him, still he kept his tone relaxed, “Doesn’t qualify that he’s behind my wife’s kidnap.”

“No, maybe he’s just a pawn in hands of the more powerful.”

Deep had enough. Suddenly he got up, pushed his chair out and thumped his outstretched palms on the brilliant glass table, “Damn it Manish, we’re talking about my wife here and you are continuously…”

Manish interrupted him, “I want you to hear this…” He clicked on a white play button and held one of those audio recorders. It was the size of a pencil sharpener. The speaker cracked something nonvocal.

After ten seconds, a faint voice of a man could be heard. The mutterings went on for more twenty seconds or so. And then another man whom Deep recognized as the debater from today’s show answered promptly. “Yes Karthik that’s the only way left.”

Deep’s eyebrows went so further up that any moment it could dissppear. He couldn’t believe his ears. “Are you sure it’s the manager?” He asked awkwardly.

“I heard him talking near the water purifiers after work. He was shouting at this man, and it’s him talking to that NCP shithole so I hastily took out my phone and recorded,” Manish managed.

“Manish I should have shown this to you earlier but I was afraid.” Deep now produced his own phone from his pocket and swiped it open. He passed it on for Manish to have a look.

A sms read: “Deep you don’t know me…But still I wanna make a small deal…You don’t ask any questions on TV and I won’t send you any of your wife’s parts…Or else something is coming soon for you!...I’m generous, ain’t I?... Meantime I wish you luck for you show!”

Something Manish saw which made him recoil. There was no number. The sender’s name read AVXYUXYU. Horrifyingly the audio and the threatening message had the same baseline. Their content highly similar. 

Deep confirmed, “I had the same reaction. This simply isn’t possible.”

Manish handed the phone back. “Hmm…I think we should investigate this ourselves. This appears to run down deeper than the roots.”

Deep thought for a while then tensely asked, “We can go viral with the recording. We can frame him, can’t we?”

Manish eventually put his glasses back on. Getting up from his chair he spoke, “Deep, if you just want to cut the leaf off, well and good, go ahead but I intend to pluck the entire plant out of the garden.”