THEY were already on their way out of the university when Tamana Minajri realized that she had agreed to follow her uncle.
"You are not safe here, anymore," her uncle repeated after Tamana stopped once they were outside the exit.
"No, wait," she said, "how did you even know I was in trouble?"
"Aah, Tamana, now's not. . ." her uncle sighed impatiently, momentarily turning his head left and right as vehicles passed by the freeway. "We really need to get going!"
"Not until I know the truth!"
"Alright, alright. The only thing I can tell you right now is that your father sent me to get you before he. . ." her uncle's words trailed off, not wanting to state the tragic obvious.
Richard Patel-or as Tamana had always called him all the times he would come to visit her and her father when she was little-Uncle Patel. He was a tall man with short dark hair, dark brown skin and always wore suits. On that fateful day, he was in black satin when he had received specific instructions from his brother to take his daughter somewhere safe.
"So you two talked?" Tamana sobbed, "did he sound like he was in trouble? What else did he-"
"Tam, please! We need to go. Now. I will explain everything later. I promise."
With that earnest response, Tamana reluctantly obliged and followed her uncle down the kerb until they rounded to the right side of the university's perimeter wrought-iron grilled wall where a black BMW was parked.
Richard Patel hurriedly opened the backseat door for Tamana then rushed over to the driver's door, made sure that no one was following them, got in and the BMW was soon reeling into the freeway.
Tamana stared down at the yellow and white stripes that partitioned the freeway lanes, absently watching them flash past her as the car drove on. She was no longer crying but the pain was still there, etched deep within her heart, threatening to tear her apart at any moment. Nothing seemed to make sense to her anymore. At one time, her uncle had asked if she was hungry and she might probably not have heard him but he still pulled over at a local restaurant and returned five minutes later with three plastic bags.
The rest of the one-hour journey was a quiet one, with Patel stealing several quick glances at the rear-view mirror to check how his niece was holding up and no further interaction was prompted between the two.
"We're here," Patel finally said, getting a little bit of Tamana's attention.
He pulled over the BMW in a fairly congested neighborhood in the city of New Delhi, where they were shadowed by tall apartment buildings and a partially cloudy sky up above.
It was a quiet neighborhood. Nobody seemed at all interested by the fact that a sleek black vehicle had been parked outside and a man in a suit had gotten out, followed by a young woman.
Tamana followed her uncle up a flight of stairs and into a large apartment building that stood one floor above a lobby stacked with grocery stores.
Once they were inside, Patel turned on the lights to reveal a spacious living room. Tamana noticed the white walls were filled with various kinds of abstract paintings set at intervals with two large shut windows. There were four sets of purple sofas arranged around a large glass table. A mini library with two five-foot shelves stood in one corner of the living room and a coffee maker in another corner.
"Do you live here, Uncle?"
"No, not really. It's more of a safe-house."
Tamana and her father also used to visit Uncle Patel and his wife, Deepika, who had always been very nice to her. They lived in Mumbai.
Tamana then guessed that her uncle may have been working when her father had talked to him. She never quite understood what her uncle did exactly for a living, except that he traveled a lot. Once he had told her that he was a businessman but then Tamana spotted him adjust something that looked like a gun to a holster attached to his belt. He must have been some kind of bodyguard but she never asked him that.
"We should be safe here," Patel said, offering Tamana a seat on the posh cushions of one of the sofas.
"You really need to eat something. I'm afraid we don't have that much time, " he set down the three plastic bags on the glass table.
"Time for what? " Tamana asked, raising her eyebrows, "you promised to tell me what's going on, Uncle. What happened to my dad?"
Uncle Patel sighed and took a seat directly opposite to Tamana. He looked at her, his face hardened but a little weary.
"Alright, here's what I know. I was working late last night when I got your father's call. He said he had been working on something important and that people were after him then he instructed me to come get you before the people who were after him got to you first and I-I almost failed him but here you are."
"That's. . . that's it?" Tamana was wide-eyed, taking in every word.
"No. There was one more thing. He said it was most important. That I get you out of India as soon as possible."
"What?" Tamana's voice came out an octave higher. She was about to ask why when her hand instinctively went over her right jeans pocket.
"There was something he sent me earlier today, " Tamana was digging into her pocket when Uncle Patel suddenly raised a hand, gesturing for her to stop.
"Don't. The less I know, the better."
"But Uncle-"
"Just as much as your father trusted me with getting you to safety, I think he wanted you to do the same with whatever it is he has entrusted you."
Tamana was about to protest some more but decided to ponder on her uncle's words. Clearly, her father had chosen not to tell his own brother about the document that was now in her hard drive for a reason.
"So you're saying that I should leave the country?"
"That is what your father insisted, yes."
"But where will I even go?"
"Hold on," Uncle Patel got up and walked over to the bookshelf and picked up a yellow folder.
"Here," he handed it over.
Tamana gasped. Inside, there was a passport with all of her details, five bundles of bank notes she had never seen before, a flight ticket and a hotel reservation.
"Shillings?" Tamana asked, raising one bundle of the bank notes, "what type of currency is this?"
"Take a look at your ticket."
Another gasp escaped Tamana's mouth.
"K-Kenya. . .I'm going to Kenya?"
"Your father's call came at an odd time. I would have booked you a flight as far as South Africa or even Nigeria but given the limited time, the only airlines leaving early tomorrow are Kenya and Tanzania. The Kenyan airline will be in operation at around seven a.m. while the Tanzania one will not be until the next three hours and we don't have that kind of time."
"Time?"
"The man who tried to kill you."
"It was a woman, actually; disguised as a man."
That part surprised Patel a little, evidenced by his one raised brow.
"If she was able to find you at your school, there's no telling how long it will take her to track us down again."
"You are a bodyguard aren't you?"
"What? No. I told you I'm a-"
"Businessman. Yeah, sure," Tamana retorted and her uncle was pleased to notice her acquired sense of humor, however slightly so.
"But what about my things at school? My friends? I have a thesis report due the end of semester."
"I'm afraid you'll just have to leave them."
Tamana felt her insides break apart. Her uncle took her arm, looking into her eyes.
"Hey, we would not be doing this if it wasn't absolutely necessary. I have never seen my brother love anybody else like you. Whatever it is that he gave you, you have to make sure it doesn't end up in the wrong hands."
"But I don't even know what it is?"
"That's why we have to get you out of here. To get you somewhere safe and that's when you will know what it is and what to do with it."
Tamana just stared blankly at her uncle through her glasses, momentarily trying to put together what he was saying.
They were quiet for a while before Uncle Patel turned to the table and began to take out packs of Kentucky Fried Chicken, fries and soda from the plastic bags.
"No more questions. Now eat. You will need all the strength you can get."
"I'm vegan," Tamana muttered.
"Right," Patel sighed, "almost forgot."
Together, they ate in silence after which Tamana dozed off immediately, already fast asleep on the couch. Patel got a blanket and covered her with it.
He had made himself some coffee when he began tracing back to when his brother had called him. His voice had sounded so calm as it always had. He had been ten years older than him, same father different mothers; always engrossed with work but always finding time to be with his family. His instructions had been clear: keep her safe. If only he had known that that would be the last they ever spoke. Richard Patel recalled one time when they had joked about their professions.
"Your work is going to kill you, spending all that time playing with bottles and dangerous chemicals in a lab, brother," Patel had said.
"Oh, but I'm not the one who has to carry a gun all day, driving around probably corrupt government officials," Akshay had responded before they both broke into laughter.
Now, as he cast a soulful look towards his sleeping niece, the joke had become a reality. Richard Patel set down his mug after the coffee's taste had turned sour in his mouth.
***
They were already on the road just as the sky began to light up with the rising sun.
Tamana had turned down breakfast, her mind taking in what lay ahead. They had left immediately at dawn, using as little time as possible. There was no packing of clothes or anything. Tamana would buy herself all that once she was safely out of the country.
They got to Indira Gandhi International Airport at around six a.m. and only had to wait a little longer before an automated female voice announced the boarding of the Air India flight passengers.
"So this is it?" Tamana said, adjusting her glasses. She was still wearing her maroon sweater, blue jeans and white sneakers. Her dark curly hair rested over her shoulders.
"Everything is going to be okay," Patel reassured her and Tamana hugged him.
"Will I see you again?" she asked in a small voice, still hugging him.
"I'll be there to pick you up once this is all over."
They ended their embrace and Tamana turned to leave when her uncle called out, "Be careful."
Tamana gave him one last long look and turned to join the rest of the passengers. She held onto the black satchel that housed her documents and the hard drive just as the automated female voice announced the final boarding call.
A stewardess helped her to her seat and Tamana was already strapped in when the Boeing-747 made for the runway. She inhaled deeply then exhaled. She knew her life would never be the same the moment that plane took off. What she did not know, however, was to what extent.
Richard Patel rushed back to his car, having done his part in what would soon serve as the first step in possibly saving the world. In his haste, he had failed to notice someone who had been standing a little further away from him while he had been at the waiting platform.
The person, a woman dressed in black, had been eyeing the flights that were taking off in the time period between six to nine a.m. Her hair was tightly pulled back and had on sunglasses. She had spotted the black BMW leave the airport, shortly after the final boarding call for the Air India flight had been announced.