Read Online Show Business by Shashi Tharoor - Free Book Online Page B

strikes him across the hand. He looks stupidly at a red weal rising on the back of it. Now it is Ashok who has the whip. “Dance, villain!” he barks. The whip descends again, and a streak of red appears on the villain’s cheek, competing with the gash of red across his narrow mouth. Pranay dances as the whip swishes repeatedly through the air, catching him on the legs, the arms, the behind. (The moralists in the twenty-five-paisa seats really enjoy this bit. You should hear them laughing and cheering in the aisles.)
    Abha picks up the revolver and tosses it to Ashok, who flings the whip aside. “Come on,” he says to the whimpering Pranay. “You lead us out.” Pranay, clutching his arm, hobbles down the corridor with Ashok’s gun pointing at his back. They reach a doorway guarded by two Black Cheetahs. A control panel embedded in the rock next to the doorway glows red. “That’s the way out,” Abha breathes. “The switch is on that panel.”
    â€œGo on,” Ashok orders Pranay with an ungentle dig of the gun into his back. “Tell your goons not to obstruct us, or you’ll end up with more holes than a Calcutta road.”
    Pranay hoarsely obliges. “Let them go,” he instructs the commandos. “Open the door.” Reluctantly the Black Cheetahs move toward the control panel.
    â€œStop!” There is no mistaking the voice. It contains enough gravel to resurface even Calcutta’s roads.
    The group spins around. Godambo stands there, huge and hairless, his cape swirling round him. There is no sign of the cheetah. “Don’t touch that panel,” he instructs his commandos.
    â€œB-boss,” Pranay bleats.
    â€œOpen that door, or Pranay gets it,” Ashok shouts.
    â€œThat incompetent? Who let himself be captured this way?” snarls Godambo. “Shoot him. You’d be doing me a favor.”
    The group is frozen in indecision. Godambo advances.
    â€œIf they try to move anywhere near the control panel,” he tells his Black Cheetahs, “shoot them. Even if you have to shoot Pranay first.” Pranay winces; his master laughs gutturally. “Drop that gun, Inspector Ashok,” he says. “Nice try, but it’s all over for you.”
    Ashok tries to look defiant, but the truth of Godambo’s conclusion is evident. The gun wavers in his hand.
    â€œLet me do it for you, mighty Godambo.” This is Abha! Ashok and Maya stare at her in shock. She pulls the gun out of Ashok’s surprised hand. “You didn’t really think I’d deserted you, did you, mighty Godambo?” she asks as she walks over to him, the gun in her hand.
    Godambo laughs with pleasure. “Agent Abha … ,” he begins, then stops as the barrel of the revolver presses into his ribs.
    â€œYou were saying … ?” Abha asks.
    (Maya smiles in relief, and the twenty-five-paisa seats erupt in cheers.)
    â€œDon’t be silly, Abha,” Godambo growls. “Think of your parents. Your home.”
    â€œI do,” she replies. “And I’m just trying to make sure you will no longer be in any position to harm them.”
    Godambo’s eyes turn round with rage.
    â€œTell them to drop their guns.” She gestures at the Cheetahs and presses her revolver in more deeply.
    â€œDo what she says,” grunts Godambo.
    The black-clad commandos drop their submachine guns. Ashok picks them up, slings one over his shoulder, and holds the other one. “All right, Godambo,” he announces. “You’re coming with us.” He turns toward the switch on the control panel.
    Suddenly, with a swing of his cape, Godambo knocks Abha’s hand aside. A swift blow to her wrist and the revolver falls to the ground. Godambo, clutching Abha like a shield, backs away toward the interior. “Now try and shoot me!” he laughs, as Abha flails helplessly in his grip. Ashok raises a gun, realizes