The final one read, 'You must be busy, I guess. Well, write when you get time. Bye.'
Arnab sat back, feeling quite miserable. Here was an attractive, smart woman who wanted to be friends with him, and here he was, ignoring her, as he had been so caught up in his frenzied new routine. As he thought about it, he realized that, truth be told; he was not as keen on talking to Mishti as he had once thought he was. He still found her amazingly attractive, and was flattered that someone like her would show any interest in him, but the fact was that he just couldn't share what was actually happening in his life, could not let her in on what was the most important thing to have ever happened to him. He considered replying to her, but realized that trading platitudes seemed so shallow when he could not reveal who he really was and what he was really doing every day.
His dilemma was resolved by the headline on a newspaper in front of him. The 'Stoneman' had struck again two times in the last week. As Arnab read the article, he decided that this was at least one piece of unfinished business he would attend to.
It was about time that he put an end to the mystery of the 'Stoneman.'
***
That night he waited in vain for the 'Stoneman' to strike, but the next night he was lucky. Like the previous occasion, a single shawl-draped man was followed by two uniformed policemen carrying a corpse. As the policemen lay the body down on the sidewalk and the shawl draped man picked up a rock to bring down on the body's head, Arnab spoke up.
'So is this what the Stoneman mystery is all about?'
The policemen whirled around, searching in the darkness for who had just spoken. Arnab realized that both of them seemed to be not carrying any guns, so he stepped out of the darkness and in front of the men. One of the policemen advanced towards Arnab, his hand hovering near a riot baton hanging from his waist.
'This is police business. Get lost or you'll be in deep shit.'
Arnab stood his ground, and when the policeman took out the baton and came closer, his colleague rushed over to stop him.
'Dubey, that's the guy from the newspapers!'
Dubey now saw who he was up against and decided wisely that in this case discretion was the better part of valour. He put the baton away but still asked Arnab to leave.
'Look mister, this is official business. Don't interfere and leave now.'
Arnab was not going to give up so easily. He glanced at the dead body on the sidewalk. It was that of a young man, and while Arnab was hardly an expert on the matter, the two holes on his bloodied shirt seemed to indicate that he had been shot.
'What kind of official business is this? You bring a dead body here and bash its head in and pass it off as the work of some serial killer. What exactly are you up to?'
'You may be a superhero or whatever you think you are, but you're in way over your head. Don't get involved here.'
The speaker was the shawl-draped man, who had now discarded his shawl and stood before Arnab, holding a revolver in his hand.
'I am Inspector Pandey of Special Branch, and this is a national security matter. Leave or I'll have to shoot.'
Arnab had never thought things would get this far, and he certainly had no intention of hurting policemen, but now there seemed to be no other way out. In one fluid motion he ran at top speed towards Pandey, and before the inspector could raise his gun and fire, Arnab had snatched it from his hands.
'Inspector, I don't know what you're up to, but this ends tonight.'
Deflated, the Inspector motioned to his colleagues to gather the body and they began to leave. Arnab threw the gun at the Inspector's feet and left the scene at full speed. Later at home, Arnab replayed the events of the night and wondered what he could have done and whether he had really put an end to the Stoneman charade or just prevented one incident? He knew he could not just attack policemen, but there was something really suspicious going on. However, if he thought he had seen enough strange cases, he was in for a surprise. His phone buzzed and when he checked his inbox, there was a cryptic message waiting for him.
'Must meet. Most urgent government matter. We need your help. Time and place your choosing.'
Arnab replied saying he would meet the next night at 10. After some thought, he proposed they meet in the car park opposite Pragati Maidan adjoining the Old Fort. At that time it would be deserted, and if there was any whiff of trouble, then Arnab could speed away down the main road on the way to his house. He spent the next day thinking of who this mystery person could be. The words indicated that it was someone in the government, and indeed some newspapers had begun speculating that the government's silence on the Guardian Angel phenomenon meant tacit approval. Given that he was doing what the police had failed to do for years, there was even talk that the government was actively helping him with intelligence and support. Arnab knew that none of that was true, but this latest SMS got him thinking that perhaps the government did indeed want to work with him. He welcomed the thought. He had been waging a lonely battle for over a month, and was beginning to get tired. Getting some official help would be very welcome indeed.
He spent another tiring evening at Khan's makeshift gym practicing, and now more often than not, chatting with the old man. By now both Arnab and Khan had realized that Arnab was no natural boxer. He lacked the balance and hand-eye co-ordination to be capable of becoming any more than an interested amateur. However, Khan was happy that he had someone to talk to and pass on some of his skills to, and Arnab had learnt enough to land a half-decent punch and not just gawk at his opponent in a fight. What he lacked in skill, he made up in strength and sheer practice. He had never kept count, but having knocked out dozens of opponents had made him much more confident of himself and also much more in control of his strength. That evening, they finished early as Arnab wanted to be on time for his rendezvous, but as he was leaving, Khan mentioned the Guardian Angel for the first time since he had begun his training.
'Arnab, this superhero they talk about, it seems he is a bit of a boxer.'
Arnab stopped at the door, wondering if the old man was fishing for information. He decided that there was no way Khan could know and replied as if he knew nothing about it.
'Yeah, and they also say he can fly and is bulletproof.'
Both of them laughed, but as Arnab began to walk down the stairs, he heard the old man say to his back.
'He doesn't fly, but he is reputed to be move fast as a rocket and he does have a good right jab. I saw a photo in the papers, and I swear if I hadn't known better, it looked just like how you punch.'
Arnab's heart skipped a beat, but he forced himself not to panic and turned around to face Khan.
'Khan chacha, I haven't hit anyone since I got into a fight over a bar of chocolate with a cousin when I was in Kindergarten. I certainly can't fly and the last time I thought I was a superhero, I was walking around the neighbourhood with my undies on outside and a bedsheet as a cape as a five year old, pretending to be Superman.'
Khan laughed so loudly that he had to dab tears from his eyes.
'Go on, get out and do whatever you young people do nowadays.'
Arnab took a bus to Pragati Maidan and waited in the darkness for his man to arrive. When he finally saw someone enter the deserted parking lot, he put on his attire and followed him in. From a distance he could see that the man was alone, and smoking a cigarette. He kept pacing back and forth, kicking the gravel with his feet. Arnab guessed correctly that he was nervous. Well, that made two of them. In the darkness, the man seemed to have no idea that he was not alone, so Arnab waited for the man to turn his back and then stepped behind him.
'Hello. You wanted to meet me.'
The man jumped as if he had met a ghost and dropped his cigarette.