He rushed at blinding speed towards the nearest policemen, shouldering two of them out of the way, sending them falling several feet away. A jab caught another in the chin, sending him flying a couple of feet in the air before he crumpled to the ground. The rest of the constables had frozen, intimidated by this sudden display of Arnab's powers. Just when it looked like Arnab could actually wade through them and get away, Upadhyay took out his service revolver and fired. Arnab tried to whirl out of the way but at so short a range, the bullet grazed his right shoulder. He cried out in pain.
Upadhyay was screaming to his men. 'The bastard can bleed! See that, you idiots, and kill him!'
As more shots rang out, Arnab dodged one or two before he felt a piercing pain in his left leg. Realizing that flight was the only option, he ran for home. More shots rang out, and as fast as he was, he could not outrun bullets. He kept running, oblivious to the pain, but after a few minutes, the pain and loss of blood took its toll and he slowed down to a bare trot.
It seemed to take all his strength to just stay upright, and as he staggered ahead, all he could think of was getting home. He was barely a few hundred meters from his apartment, but he didn't think he had the strength to make it, each step seeming an impossible effort. His right arm and both legs were drenched with blood, and he felt his vision blurring. Barely able to think straight, he made for the closest refuge he could think of.
He staggered up the stairs to Khan's home and knocked on the door. When Khan opened it, Arnab collapsed into the bewildered old man's arms.
SEVEN
When Arnab woke up, he was lying in total darkness, his throat so parched he was having trouble even swallowing his own saliva. When he tried to get up and find some water, an unbearable pain shot through his legs and he collapsed back on the bed. As he looked at the green-tinged view around him, he saw that he was lying on a bed, with his glasses on a table next to him. The room looked familiar, and with a start he realized that he was in Khan's house. That brought back memories of what had happened that night with Upadhyay and his men, and Arnab began to panic. Just how badly had he been hurt? How long had he been unconscious? And most importantly, how much did Khan know about his secret identity? He could see nobody else in the room, and he called out for water, but soon realized that with his weakened state, even he could barely hear his own voice. He mustered all the strength he could and pulled himself upright, holding onto the side of the bed for support. Step by agonizing step, he walked towards a table in the corner of the room where he could see a jug of water. As he came close to the table and reached out to grab the jug, he lost his balance and fell down, sending the jug crashing down to the floor with a cacophony of noise that shattered the quiet in the room. The lights flickered on and Khan rushed into the room.
'Are you okay?'
The old man helped Arnab back to his feet and guided him back to the bed. He handed Arnab a glass of water that he drank in one go.
'Easy, Arnab, easy.'
With the lights on, Arnab could barely see anything, and fumbled on the bedside table, gathering his glasses and putting them on. Finally, Arnab took stock of the state he was in. His right arm was bandaged as were both his legs, and he was wearing a t-shirt and shorts that weren't his. He looked up at Khan, his eyes asking the question that he didn't dare ask. Khan smiled in response and got up, opening the cupboard to take out a bundle that he put beside Arnab.
Arnab opened the bundle to find his sweatshirt and clothes, all covered with dried blood. As he held the sweatshirt up in his hands and looked up at Khan, the old man sat down beside him.
'You know, Arnab, there are many things about me that you do not know as well. My wife, Salma, died four years ago, after giving me thirty of the best years of my life. I have a son, Asif, who lives in Canada.'
Arnab could see the tough old boxer's eyes begin to moisten. Khan continued.
'He would be almost the same age as you. The fool has changed his name to Alex and refuses to stay in touch with the poor, old man who brought him up. Perhaps he is ashamed of me. Perhaps he blames me for not doing enough for him. Anyways, I have nothing to live for and not much I can say I did with my life.'
Arnab reached out to touch Khan's hand, but he pulled away. Khan got up and stood before Arnab.
'You have kept your secret well, and I will now help you keep it. I don't understand how you do what you do, but in these dark times, perhaps it is but a gift from the Almighty. Inshallah, if I can help you continue what you have started, then perhaps I can one day say that I did something worthwhile after all before I die.'
Arnab tried to thank Khan, but the old man shook his head.
'My son, no need to thank me. It is you a lot of people have to thank. Now you need rest to recover your strength, and then I will teach you a few moves you won't learn in the boxing manuals, so that when you meet the swine who did this to you, you can give them a gift from me.'
The old man laughed and said he'd go and get some dinner. Arnab asked him if anyone else knew.
'Not a soul. You were lucky, or perhaps charmed. Three bullets grazed you, but none went in. You lost a lot of blood but no lasting damage. I did the first aid and the bandages. It may not look pretty, but I treated a lot of cuts and bruises in my time in the ring, so I think you'll be fine.'
As Khan went out of the room, Arnab sat back, thanking his lucky stars, and also burning with anger within. With all that he had seen and heard in the last few months, he realized that he had never really felt this kind of fury. He had been going about his work with the kind of detachment that Arnab Bannerjee brought to everything he did. It had become something he had taken as another piece of work to be done, almost a night-job of sorts, to be done with diligence but without much emotion vested in it. Now it was something different. It was personal. He would not let Upadhyay and his men continue what was little more than cold-blooded murder any longer, and he realized that to do that, he would need to rely on more than just his strength and speed. He had learned the hard way that those were not enough when stacked up against men with guns.
When Khan re-entered the room, Arnab stood up, masking out the pain, resolve in his eyes.
'Khan chacha, I need to fight an enemy more dangerous than a few goons with knives. I need more than boxing skills to fight them. You were in the Army, right? Can you help me?'
Khan put the plate of steaming hot parathas on the table and smiled at Arnab.
'I was a lowly infantryman, so I can't teach you fancy tactics and theory. But I have been fired on and have fired back, and have grappled hand to hand with men far more dangerous than the ones you face. So yes, I can teach you a thing or two.'
Arnab called Jayantada the next morning, saying he was down with a bad case of the Flu and needed several days of being on antibiotics to recover. With winter vacations around the corner, he'd miss only a day or two of work, so he wasn't too worried about Jayantada noticing anything amiss. Arnab spent the next week at Khan's place, waiting for his wounds to heal, exercising to keep in shape, sparring with Khan and spending hours talking with Khan about combat tactics. Moving from cover to cover, flanking an enemy position, doing battlefield reconnaissance-it was all new to Arnab, but Khan was a patient teacher, and every time Arnab's concentration flagged, he'd picture Upadhyay's face. When Khan learnt of the full extent of Arnab's capabilities, he exclaimed in delight.
'My boy, you need to use your secret weapon more!'
Arnab had no idea what Khan meant so he continued.
'The fact that you can see in the dark. Everybody by now knows about your speed and strength, and this DCP now also knows that with the right numbers and firepower those can be defeated. What nobody knows about is your night vision-and there is no way anyone can know that unless you tell them. That is what you must learn to use to your advantage.'