Guest Story: The Flip Side Part 1
The car purred almost inaudibly, as it glided through the night It was a big, comfortable car – the kind a rich and successful man would own. Outside, the rain fell in a steady drizzle, the droplets illuminated by headlights. Giving the illusion of tiny silver bullets.
Sampat Kumar was a rich and undoubtedly successful man. He sat in the rear, leaning back against the leather, while his nephew Dilip drove. It had been a routine, busy day and now Sampat Kumar was on his way home. Normally his driver would do the job but today, his nephew had insisted on taking the wheel, saying that he had something personal to discuss.
There was a third person in the car – Dilip’s friend Babloo, a good looking, affable young man whom Sampat Kumar had met on a couple of occasions.
Sampat Kumar gave the contract agreement another cursory look (he already knew it intimately) and then placed it in the briefcase that lay on the seat beside him, alongside his neatly folded umbrella. He looked up, as he sensed the car braking and his nephew’s eyes met his in the rear mirror.
“I am stopping for a pee, uncle,” his nephew said.
Sampat Kumar nodded and the car juddered over some rough ground, before it came to a stop under a roadside tree. His nephew got out and started to walk around the rear of the car; at the same time his friend Babloo half-turned in his seat and reached for the handle on the rear door. Sampat Kumar frowned in confusion.
Suddenly, the door was jerked open and his nephew reached in and yanked him out. The action was so unexpected that Sampat Kumar was taken totally unaware.
Surprise turned to dismay, as he realised what was happening… the contract! He’d decided to give it to Aryan Developers while his nephew had wanted to give it to Sunshine Builders. He had even argued about it rather bitterly. The contract was worth thousands of crores.
Sampat Kumar’s mind recognized with blinding clarity- worth enough to commit murder.
His nephew held him upright as Babloo punched Sampat Kumar in the stomach. The old man’s knees buckled and he sagged, his hands reaching out and slipping over Babloo’s shirt first, and then moving downward. His fingernail snagging momentarily over something, before he fell.
Winded, the frail Sampat Kumar couldn’t put up any resistance as the two men dragged him to a spot about 30 yards away. The rain was joined now by a wind that keened eerily through the trees. The footsteps of the two men made soft squelchy sounds as they moved, their breath rasping in the night.
No man wants to be killed and Sampat Kumar tried to struggle. His hands scrabbled at the ground and his heightened senses felt something on his fingers… instinctively he clenched his fists.
The men stopped, Babloo holding him down while his nephew got up and looked around.
Sampat Kumar watched as his nephew Dilip picked up a large rock from the ground. It was the size of a small watermelon. His nephew walked towards him and raised the rock over his head.
In the second, before the rock crushed his temple, Sampat Kumar prayed.
It was a strange prayer. He didn’t pray for deliverance, or for the health of his children. Instead, Sampat Kumar prayed for a smart cop.
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