He suddenly felt a hot flash in his toes. Then his fingers. To shut down the loss of heat from the extremities, his body was inducing vasoconstriction — a reflexive contraction of blood vessels. But the muscles required to induce vasoconstriction had failed. It was causing warm blood to rush from the core to his extremities.
Santosh tried screaming but couldn’t be sure whether any sound was emerging from within him at all. His body seemed to have slowed down to a point where no physical activity was possible. The sounds that did emerge were slurred, almost as though he were under the influence of drugs or alcohol. He felt dazed. Disoriented. Confused. The effects of hypothermia had begun to set in.
He tried getting his mind to remain focused. He knew that if the hypothermia became severe, it would eventually slow down his respiration and heart rate, making him lose consciousness before the onset of death.
He attempted to recall what had happened before he’d passed out. He had met Ibrahim and had then received a blow behind his head. They had obviously brought him here later. But why was he in a morgue? Had he been assumed dead? Or were they trying to kill him by freezing him? Which morgue was he in? Did Nisha or Neel know he was in trouble?
Santosh felt suffocated. It wasn’t claustrophobia — it was his lungs giving up. He felt himself slipping out of consciousness. He imagined he was back in the hospital after the car accident in which he had lost his wife and son. Then he was back inside the Tower of Silence, battling Assistant Commissioner of Police Rupesh Desai, with the vultures circling overhead. The scene quickly changed. Santosh imagined he was at an Alcoholics Anonomous meeting. The members had surrounded him and pinned him down to the floor. They were attempting to forcibly pour whisky down his throat.
Santosh sensed his pulse slowing as he slipped into an abyss of darkness.
Finally, there was no pulse at all.
Chapter 65
“Hello.”
Maya Gandhe stood at the school gates, her school bag slung over her shoulder, a copy of her essay in one hand and her prize, an iPad, in the other. Heena was late but let’s face it, Heena was always late and, on this occasion at least, Maya didn’t really care. Friends filed past her on their way to school buses or for lifts home, teachers inched past in their cars, and every single one of them gave her a wave and a smile.
This is what it’s like to be famous, thought Maya. Being new at school had been hard — she and her mother had only lived in Delhi for three months — but now it was as though everybody knew who she was; as though she were a friend to them all.
And that, decided Maya Gandhe, was a great feeling, especially when it was earned — a result of her essay proposing, or at least arguing in favor of, a fairer health care system for all. People didn’t know her name because she was good at sport or pretty or any of the normal, boring reasons. They knew her name because she’d used her brain.
Mom would be proud, she knew. Very proud. And Dad? Well, wasn’t that funny. It wasn’t as if she’d stopped thinking about Dad. More that the thought of him had temporarily changed. Instead of his absence being like a darkness, it was as though he was looking down on her.
Looking down on her and smiling. Proud.
And now Mr. Roy, the Principal Secretary, the very man who had commended her on her essay and presented her with her iPad, had drawn up in his Audi, the window purring down.
“Hello, Maya.”
He didn’t have a very nice face. It was as though the smile he wore didn’t quite fit, but even so, it was Amit Roy, and he was... well, he was important.
“Are you waiting for a lift?” he said brightly, like someone trying really hard to be friendly.
“My nanny’s coming.”
He looked around. The crowds had thinned out. They were now the only people at the school gates. “It doesn’t look like she’s here.”
“Oh, she’s always late,” shrugged Maya.
“Why don’t I give you a lift?”
“Oh...” faltered Maya, “I’m not allowed...”
“Of course. Of course not, Maya.” He smiled his awkward smile. “Very sensible indeed. But you see, that puts me in a very difficult position, because I can’t in all good conscience leave you standing here. And besides, I was rather hoping you could read me your essay.”
“But haven’t you read it?”
His smile faltered a little, and later she would remember that moment, and think it was the moment his mask slipped. But for the time being nothing could ruin her sunny mood, and in a blink his smile had returned. “Ah, but I’d like a personal reading from the author, especially one whose ideals are so close to my heart.”
And so it was flattery that compelled Maya to get into the passenger seat of the Audi. That and the assurance that they would encounter Heena on the way.
He drove, taking directions from Maya and talking at the same time. “Remind me of the title of your essay?” he said.
“‘Health Care, Fair and Square?’” she answered proudly.
“Exactly. I was impressed to read such an egalitarian treatise from such a young mind.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what egalitarian means. Or treatise,” she said.
“It means you have a very fair mind,” he explained. “It means you believe everybody should have equal rights, regardless of their status in society, young or old, rich or poor.”
“I do,” she said boldly.
“And you get that from your parents, do you?”
“Yes,” she said, and pictured them together, Mama and Papa, feeling a great rush of love for them that threatened to bring her to tears right there and then.
“They must be very proud. What a shame they couldn’t make the prizegiving. Perhaps they will be at home, will they?”
“Later on, my mom will get home. Not my dad.”
“I see.”
The car slowed. “Do you know,” said Roy, “I seem to be more familiar with this area than I thought. I could take a right turn here and get you home more quickly.”
Maya was nervous about the idea and was about to say so when she caught sight of Heena on the street and before Roy could stop her was lowering the window and calling out to her.
From the corner of her eye she caught sight of the expression on Roy’s face.
That mask slipping again.
Chapter 66
The Lieutenant Governor, Ram Chopra, was sweating ferociously on his treadmill, feeling every single cigar and glass of whisky. God, these workouts hurt.
He was watching TV at the same time. Carrot and Stick, and Ajoy Guha was warming up for a sensational disclosure. Referring to notes through wire-framed glasses, Guha wore a determined look, like that of a soldier prepared to die in battle.
The words “Viewer discretion is advised” scrolled across the foot of the screen.
Oh yes, thought Chopra. What’s all this then?
Guha cleared his throat and said, “We at DETV have always believed in the primacy of the truth, no matter how it may affect anyone. Today we bring you footage that we have accessed through a source that shall remain unnamed for reasons of security. The footage is explosive, and we have had to blur out and mute portions of it in order to play it on national television. The person shown in the video is Mr. Amit Roy, the Health Secretary. Ladies and gentlemen, this is a man responsible not only for our hospitals and hygiene but also for the welfare of families. What you are about to see will shock you, and indeed you should not only be shocked but also outraged. I for one am absolutely sickened by it.”