Vishank Rai was sweating. The previous night's events had brought him in the attention of his boss's boss which was not a good thing. Vikram Markande was not a man you would like to speak to once you have been part of such a big blunder.
"So you have absolutely no idea who the man was, or how he saw the sniper to save your sorry arse, son," Markande said.
"That will be a negative, sir," Vishank replied, another drop of sweat forming on his forehead.
Vikram Markande was the Director of RAW. He had been appointed ten years ago due to the untimely death of his predecessor by a rogue agent. He had filled in the big shoes with utmost dedication accompanied with unwavering ruthlessness. More people had been killed in these ten countries years than the previous thirty. But if there was one thing all the agents under him were sure of was that he was downright patriotic and they followed his every order very religiously. Patriotism was the only religion, faith and belief here.
"Have you figured out who the bullet was supposed to hit? Because as far as my fifty years of experience says, nobody would undergo such troubles to shoot a desk jockey such as you," Markande asked.
"That is what has been troubling us, sir. There was absolutely no one near me at that time. The PMs were inside the park and other agents were near the convoy. Even if the bullet had not grazed the man, it would have been meteres away from hitting the PMs," Vishank replied.
Vikram Markande was confused. In his ten year long reign, no one had ever attempted any potshots at the VIPs of the country. But apparently someone had tried to shoot the agent sitting in front of him, which was unheard of, and probably not even the correct answer. Markande hated the feeling of helplessness he was feeling now. Then there was the mystery man who had saved his agent and had vanished in thin air.
"The German PM?" Markande inquired.
"Was due on his flight the day after, but decided against it and hopped on it yesterday night itself," he looked at his watch "would have landed by now."
Markande nodded. "And has the sketch of the man come up?"
"Yes sir, of what I remember of him," Vishank replied.
"Good."
The men sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes when Markande's secretary burst into the office. "You should see the news, sir"
A feeling of dread started to grip Markande as his hand pressed the ON button on the remote.
"-was just back from a political visit to India and had gotten on a flight because of an attempted assassination on him. The bomb is being assumed to be in the car in which he was riding-"
Vishank gasped and stood up. Markande's secretary maintained a solemn face and the man himself looked as if he would pass out from shock.
"Oh my god!" Markande muttered.
He looked up and Vishank could have sworn that the man looked ten years older.
"Get me Kabir," Markande said weakly.