He awoke that morning, his face clearly displaying the displeasure at being disturbed in deep sleep. The annoying screech of the door bell had dragged him from the dark heavenly abyss of comfort to the view of a window pane rendered golden by the Sun. The late night meeting on the previous eve had ensured that he could only muster a three hour snooze.
It was his first stay in the newly built Guest Houses of the Intelligence Bureau. He was on the verge of busting a crime racket. He was working on this case for almost two years along with his colleague who also happened to be his best friend. A week before, his friend was murdered right in the middle of the street, in a bus full of people. The masked murderer had jumped off the divider on the street and grabbed the window rails of the bus with one hand and the bullet fired from the revolver held in the other had at a point blank range pierced his friend’s temple. In the next moment blood splashed everywhere. Before he could get a good glimpse of the murderer after wiping the blood off his face, the murderer jumped back on the divider, hopped into a car and fled. His pure-white shirt was rendered dark-red as he watched his best friend leave, forever. The case had now turned into a personal vendetta. He made sure that his family, the bereaved wife of his friend and her children were taken to a safe place. After that he had a late night meeting with his reporting authority, who, during the meeting, introduced him to his new partner. Tears rolled down his eyes as he saw his new partner take into possession the revolver that once belonged to his best friend. He briefed his new partner about the case in detail and then headed to the new Guest House, his make shift home till the racket was busted. He then cried himself to sleep.
As he dragged himself towards the door a lazy gaze at the wall clock informed him that it was 5 am in the morning. He opened the door. His new partner, with a glow in his eyes, uttered, “I received a call this morning. It was from an anonymous person calling himself an informer. This person wants to meet us and claims he can provide a lot of valuable information about the case.” He at once agreed to meet him. He got ready and they set out to meet the informer.
They arrived at the location, which turned out to be a godforsaken Motel on the outskirts of the city. As they entered the motel, he was surprised to see his new partner quite well versed with the tortuous corridors. His new partner then quickly pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door of one of the rooms. As he entered the room he was shell-shocked to see his reporting authority waiting for him. His new partner walked to the other side and stood next to the reporting authority. He sat on the chair, facing them, struggling to understand as to what was transpiring. “This racket, if busted, will harm the images of some powerful people. They don’t want that to happen. They are ready to pay as much as you want. Don’t be a fool like your friend. We tried to convince him first, but that fool never listened. They killed him. We hope at least you are learned enough to let go things that are tougher than what you can handle. You are a young officer, with a beautiful wife and cute children. Don’t you want to enjoy life with them. Time will heal your wounds, now that it will be accompanied with money, the healing will be much faster” his reporting authority remarked. “You B……….d” he yelled. His new partner now resting his stretched hands on the table yelled back ” You are talking to your boss, mind your language.” As his new partner stretched his hands the half arm shirt moved an inch, just enough to display a tattoo. He had seen that tattoo before! if only he could remember where. Yes!!, it was the same tattoo he had momentarily noticed in the arm of the murderer when he was hanging from the window rails of the bus. His new partner was the one who killed his best friend.
He was trained to control his emotions in such situations. He shook his head and raised it back. Calm and composed, he said ” Yes sir. I understand. I need to let go off things that I will not be able to control. But my job has given me one thing in my hand that I can control very well and that is………..” ‘BAM’ ‘BAM’ . Two bullets were fired from his gun and the pieces of brains of his boss and his new partner adorned the wall of the room, mimicking modern art.