The Mohammeds – Mystery Thriller Book 2

TREACHEROUS BLOODLINE An Action-Packed Crime Novel

Rani Ramakrishnan

Copyright © 2022 Rani Ramakrishnan Copy-edited by Shivani Adib All rights reserved. Rani Ramakrishnan asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, institutions, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events and locales is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily agree with the views expressed by the characters. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, the author, except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews with appropriate citation. For information regarding permissions, write to [email protected] Front Cover design by 100 Covers ISBN: ISBN-13:

For the Brave Families Whom Covid Scarred

Acknowledgements Dear Reader, thank you for reading Treacherous Bloodline. If the Mohammeds drew you into their lives for some time, then for me it’s mission accomplished. Thank you, Mum and Dad. You inspire me to sit down at my computer every day and put my imagination into words. Your moral and emotional support is the backbone of my entire writing endeavour. Shivani Adib, thank you. As an editor, you are excellent. As a person, you are even better. As a member of my team, you are priceless. I want especially to thank you for your inputs – they always make me think! And for your patience, especially with this book. Your suggestions compelled some drastic improvements in the story and helped make sure that a much better version of the book reached the readers. It’s taken us almost a year to put this one together and you have supported me every step of the way. You are awesome. Thank you. Team 100 Covers, thank you. This is our second cover together and I am already looking forward to working with you again soon. Thank you, my friends and family. You have always been supportive and this time was no different. Last but certainly not the least, thanks to the Almighty for the inspirations and challenges because both have shaped the writer I have become. Thank you.

Prologue Sunday, May 15, 2016 LAWYER TURNS SLAYER The Karnataka Times Mangalore A heinous hate crime committed in the name of love shatters Mangalore’s serene Saturday night. In the dead of night, while the Arif Mohammed household slept, Kabir Mohammed, a lawyer by profession and one of the city’s bestknown human rights activists, sneaked into his brother Arman’s room, knife in hand. What followed was a horrific butchering of a sleeping Arman. Awakened by the ruckus, the rest of the family rushed in to find Arman swimming in a sea of his own blood. Describing the scene, a source close to the family said that Arman’s body was bouncing off his bed in pain. One arm had been chopped off and lay detached on the bed. Kabir had allegedly taken a swing at his brother’s head and hit his forehead, on the eyebrows. Blood from that wound flooded his eyes, nose, ears and mouth. The firm muscles of Arman’s abdomen had been sliced several times, exposing internal organs. His entire body lay twitching uncontrollably due to shock. His gut-wrenching cries of pain made even the neighbourhood dogs break into deathly howls, but Kabir, gripping his weapon with fierce determination, showed no remorse for his actions. Arman, himself a surgeon, was rushed to a hospital, where his condition was declared to be grave. Doctors admitted that his chances of survival were bleak and that, even if he lived, he was unlikely to make a full recovery. Aside from a severed limb, fractured

Rani Ramakrishnan skull and lacerated abdomen, the assault had damaged some of his internal organs, including his right kidney, liver and both intestines. Arman has received first aid and basic emergency treatment, but the invasive therapies he needs remain risky due to the extreme loss of blood and trauma caused by his many injuries. Doctors will observe his response to the medicines they have administered before operating on him. In the meantime, he continues to fight death with every breath. The city police have taken Kabir into custody. We await confirmation of the charges slapped on him. More details are expected to emerge in their press statement on Sunday, May 15. At the time of the crime, besides the victim and Kabir, their parents, siblings, grandmother, household help and Ms Nadia Sheikh were in the house. Ms Nadia Sheikh is Arman Mohammed’s fiancée and has been living in the Arif Mohammed household for a few months. Speaking on grounds of anonymity, a close friend of the family said that Kabir was opposed to Arman and Nadia’s upcoming wedding. Kabir, believed to be in love with Nadia, had been raising objections to their wedding for months. Nadia and Arman are college sweethearts. Arman went to the UK in 2010 to pursue higher studies. In his absence, Nadia and Kabir grew closer and Kabir interpreted this as love. Nadia is understood to have no romantic interest in Kabir. Unconfirmed reports suggested that the finalisation of Arman and Nadia’s wedding date triggered the attack. Arif Mohammed, a reputed lawyer, belongs to one of the city’s most illustrious families. His wife, Laila Mohammed, is an internationally acclaimed classical dancer and owns Mangalore’s most sought-after dance school. The family has a long history of being newsmakers, with their many achievements often making headlines. How will the family choose between their sons, and how did love make a human rights activist a murderer?

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Chapter 1

Kabir drummed his fingers on the table as he waited for his ‘date’, Nadia, at a popular seafood joint in Kadri Hills. She loved seafood and he loved to indulge her. Nadia had declined his offer to pick her up. The independent woman within her wouldn’t hear of such a thing. He’d grinned at her shocked expression when he made the offer and hadn’t pressed the matter. In many ways, Nadia was different from anyone he knew. The day she had entered his life was still vivid in his mind. He had been a few months shy of eighteen. The entire family had been enjoying a laid-back Sunday when the doorbell rang. Arman automatically shouted, ‘Jam, get the door’ while he hastily moved his queen out of Kabir’s knight’s reach. They were locked in an intense battle of chess. Their sisters Fiza and Meher were ripping their mother’s brains apart arguing over something trivial. Dad was bending over the crossword. Jam, a sixth grader then, protested, ‘I’m doing my homework. One of you open the door.’ Nobody budged and, within seconds, the doorbell rang again. ‘Jam, see who’s come,’ a loud bellow came from the kitchen, where Hema, their live-in household help, was cooking. Everyone else in the room smirked. Jam – their youngest sister, Tamannah – knew better than to argue with Hema. Making a face, she opened the door. ‘Hello, I am Nadia Sheikh. My bike has broken down. Please can I use your telephone to make a call?’ a soft female voice asked. Arman’s heart had flipped at the sound of the lilting voice, and he had turned around to see its source. After that, Kabir had had to wind up the game on his own because Arman had unceremoniously shoved an outraged Jam aside to help Nadia.

Rani Ramakrishnan Kabir had liked her too, but the raw wound of having been dumped by the girl he had hoped to marry someday hadn’t healed enough to take another shot at romance. Within months of their meeting, Arman had professed his love to Nadia. That, Kabir had discovered lately, was his life’s biggest regret. After graduating in life sciences, Nadia had taken up a job and saved money for her higher education. When Arman went to the UK for his master’s degree, she joined a part-time MBA course. Studying in the evenings and working during the day, she had doggedly pursued her goals despite economic constraints. Then she, along with a friend, had started a business. She had refused to accept seed capital from Arman, saying that all she needed from him was his moral support. Mortgaging her ancestral home, she had set up a factory to manufacture chemicals used in hospitals and laboratories. In the three years since, she had repaid her loan and expanded into a bigger facility. Kabir’s family had been wealthy for generations, and he had always had more than enough money at his disposal. Watching Nadia grow through her own efforts gave him goosebumps. She inspired him and her journey made him appreciate everything he had even more. Today, she wore a powder-blue suit with formal black pumps. In her right hand, she carried her laptop bag and, as she walked to their table, she shot last-minute instructions to an employee over the mobile, which she gripped with her left hand. The sight of Nadia the power dresser made his eyes sparkle. She had come prepared for the ‘working lunch’ she had requested. ‘Is this how you dress to meet clients?’ she asked, tut-tutting in mock horror at his ripped jeans, black tee with ‘I Dare’ stamped across the chest, and worn sports shoes. ‘What’s wrong with my clothes?’ he replied, jumping up to grab a chair for her. ‘Nothing, if you’re in college,’ she grinned, making herself comfortable. ‘Have you and Dad been exchanging notes?’ 4

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‘Ha ha, no. Did he ask you the same thing?’ ‘He has a hypothesis.’ ‘Do tell,’ she replied, signalling the waiter to take their order. That chore took a couple of minutes, but as soon as he left, she turned to Kabir with an expectant look. Shrugging, Kabir said, ‘He says I became a lawyer on the rebound, just to get away from everything that reminded me of … Her.’ ‘She has a name, you know.’ ‘I have erased all her memories from my RAM.’ ‘But somewhere in that CPU of yours you have hard drives jammed with her memories, along with those of your school and college and your passion for sports. And these rebellious clothes you wear are telling us loud and clear how much you miss being on the move. You weren’t built for a boring desk job, Kabir Arif Mohammed.’ ‘Thank you, doc. Care to prescribe a treatment for my prognosis?’ ‘Well,’ she said, tapping her chin with her index finger while giving him the once-over, ‘in my expert opinion, you are a lost cause, beyond redemption.’ ‘Nadia, you brat,’ he said, hooting with laughter. ‘It’s no laughing matter, Kabir,’ she said, leaning forward to tuck a stray strand of his hair behind his ear. He had secured his long hair in a ponytail at the nape of his neck, but shorter strands had a way of sneaking out. ‘A woman was selling strings of jasmine outside. I should have bought some for your hair. Look how long it’s grown.’ ‘Don’t you cast an evil eye on my precious hair!’ ‘Wait a minute.’ Nadia’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘You’re wearing an earring! Lemme see.’ She leaned closer to get a better look while he turned his head slightly so she had a clear view. ‘Oh, what a charming design! It’s very you, Kabir. I love it,’ she gushed and planted a soft peck on his cheek. Nearby, a camera clicked and captured the moment. 5

Rani Ramakrishnan Warm happiness bubbled inside Kabir. ‘Thanks, sweetheart. It’s one of a pair that belonged to my granddad.’ ‘Really? How come I’ve never seen them before?’ ‘Well …’ ‘Spill the beans, buster,’ she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes, as the waiter placed their first course – spicy fried prawns – on the table. While they tucked into the seafood, he told her the story his grandfather had loved to recount. Granddad had worn those earrings when he’d gone to meet Kabir’s grandmother for the first time. Theirs had been an arranged match, and his earrings had played Cupid on the occasion. Grandma had been a bundle of nerves that day. As soon as the groom’s family, which included the groom and his parents, uncles, and aunts – eleven people in all – had been seated, her mother had escorted her into the room. She greeted the guests and sat down next to her mother, all the while keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the carpet’s floral design. She was a badminton player and an avid sports enthusiast, a tomboy who preferred the outdoors to needlework. The effort of acting demure was excruciating. Her mother’s firm hand on her left wrist, reminding her that their guests had come to meet a refined young woman and not a hooligan, was the only force stopping her from looking up and acting normal. The agony lasted well over an hour, during which the women in the group wanted to know if she could cook, sew, sing …? To all these queries she responded by shaking her head in a vague way which was neither affirmative nor dissenting. Her actions bemused the groom, who had secretly watched her playing gilli with boys in the street the day before. She had cleaned them out fast and bossed around anyone who questioned her technique. The headshaking puppet before him was a fake for the benefit of the elders in the family. One of his nosy aunts noticed him peeking at the bride and began teasing him about it. Much to his embarrassment, everybody’s focus then shifted to him. Squirming in his seat, he tried to appear 6

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unaffected. Thankfully, before things got out of hand, his mother realised that the earring that had adorned his left lobe was missing. Worried, everyone busied themselves inspecting the individual threads of the rug to find the missing ornament, but all in vain. Much to the surprise of the seniors, the hitherto mute brideto-be then jumped up and began firing questions about when the earring had been seen last and where all its wearer had been. Then, with decisive confidence, she walked outside and checked amongst the guests’ discarded footwear. Sure enough, the missing ornament lay wedged in the doormat. Everyone applauded her. The groom promptly took off his other earring and handed over the pair to the blushing bride, with a promise to wear them only after they were married and she was around to find them again if necessary. His grandparents had enjoyed a loving and fulfilling marriage of over forty years before his grandfather’s untimely demise. His grandfather had gifted him the earrings with wholehearted wishes that they would play Cupid for him too. Kabir had preserved them ever since. This was the first time he had donned one of them. Today, he needed all the love and luck in the world. Nadia’s phone rang and Kabir stopped speaking. Their main course of fried rice with Szechwan sauce arrived while she was still on the call. After she disconnected, they discussed her work as they ate. The phone call had reminded her of the real purpose of their lunch meeting. She had a few minor legal questions, which Kabir dispensed with long before they finished the sumptuous food. ‘Mmm, this is heaven,’ Nadia said, digging into her lemon cheesecake mousse. ‘Now that we have taken care of work, let’s get back to your love-earring.’ ‘Is that even a thing?’ ‘Of course. I just coined the term.’ ‘Ha, right. Anyway, I already told you the story.’ ‘But you didn’t tell me why you wore one today.’ ‘To impress a certain young lady I am lunching with, of course. Why else?’ Kabir winked. ‘And? ’Nadia asked, raising her eyebrows in mock surprise. 7

Rani Ramakrishnan ‘Well, she likes the design and I am hoping she will say yes when I ask her.’ ‘How can I say no to such an adorable scoundrel?’ she replied, laughing. Taking advantage of her light mood, he brought up what he had come to discuss. ‘You should leave him,’ he said in a soft whisper that even his heart couldn’t hear. She gasped at his words. She had heard. He had lowered his eyes when he uttered the words, but now he looked up at her pained expression and reached out to her hands lying limp on the red-and-white checked tablecloth. Her fingers were ice cold. Keeping his gaze on her face, he continued, ‘Darling, I can’t see you in pain. Why are you being stubborn? Walk away from him. I will be with you every step of the way, come what may. You trust me, don’t you?’ For a few seconds, she sat as through turned to stone. Then, gently removing her fingers from his clasp, she stifled a sniff and muttered, ‘Can we talk about something else, please.’ He kept his eyes fixed on her, his eyebrows crossed in concentration, waiting for her to betray some sign that he had won her over. After what seemed an eternity, she said, ‘I can’t leave Arman, Kabir. You knew that would be my answer before you asked, didn’t you?’ She didn’t meet his eyes. His hand automatically went to the glistening ornament on his left earlobe. Even his grandfather’s lucky charm had failed him. ‘When you said you were sending over a poor client looking for work, I didn’t expect a burly six-footer,’ she said, changing the topic. Kabir nodded absently. Nadia refused to give up. ‘He says he worked in films.’ ‘He is from Bidar up north. The forts and monuments are a favourite with filmmakers,’ Kabir replied, making an effort for her sake. 8

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‘He said he worked in stunts and things like that. He could easily have passed for a thug, I suppose. Anyway, I hired him as a guard. Let’s see how he fares.’ Kabir thanked her. After that, they stuck to work-related topics. The rest of the meal was a strained affair with both of them avoiding the touchy topic of Arman. Neither wanted to hurt the other by bringing it up again. Arman was returning to India that night. That was the reason Kabir had pressed Nadia to make a decision that day. But she was right; he had known her answer would be a firm no. Anticipating that, he had already put another plan into motion. Now, everything depended on its success. A lone diner at a nearby table paid his bill as the duo exited the restaurant. The afternoon had turned out to be more productive than he had hoped. The unsuspecting Kabir was easy to follow and photograph. The last one hour had yielded a priceless photograph and some handy gossip. What did the next hour have in store?

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Chapter 2 Overcast skies and a light drizzle followed him as he drove the short distance from the restaurant to Mangalore’s famed Kadri Park. Smack in the heart of town, this refreshing green paradise was a favourite with health-conscious Mangaloreans who thronged its walkways every morning. Come evening, young parents and grandparents with toddlers in tow trickled in until the place was alive with noise and laughter. Kabir had been surprised when Raeth suggested this place for their rendezvous. At this time, the park would be practically empty and Raeth preferred crowded places where nobody cast a second glance at anyone. He purchased a ticket and entered. He had specific instructions about where in the park to wait. He crossed a few tourists enjoying picnic lunches and some young couples who had bunked college to hang out together. Neither set of people paid any attention to him as he passed. Now he understood Raeth’s choice of location. None of these individuals would recall anyone else from their visit to the park. The man from the restaurant followed at a safe distance. Why was Kabir at a park in the afternoon? Was he up to something? The profile of a lean form with a dusky complexion and short, windswept hair brought Kabir to a halt. Raeth had arrived before him and wasn’t wearing the standard baseball cap for the first time since they had met. The annoying cigarette, another trademark, was also missing. Sitting alone on a secluded bench, munching a sandwich while lost in thought, Raeth appeared vulnerable. Kabir couldn’t move. ‘Stop staring and get over here, man. I don’t have all day.’ Hearing the curt voice, Kabir sprang out of his trance and hurried to the bench. ‘I didn’t realise you knew I was watching.’

Treacherous Bloodline

The man on his tail stopped the instant Kabir spoke. Whomever Kabir was meeting wasn’t to be taken lightly. Going by Kabir’s reaction, the person on the bench had sensed company from a few yards away. That person could definitely spot an outsider lurking in the bushes as well. The man hid behind a tree, out of earshot, and watched the duo. Going closer was risky. He would have to make do with photographs of this meeting. Kabir sat on the bench with the lean person, who wore a casual, loose-fitting shirt and slacks. The face was hard to see as Kabir’s position blocked the view. Raeth shrugged. ‘Being aware of my surroundings is second nature to me. Comes with the turf, I guess.’ ‘Late lunch?’ Kabir asked, pointing at the sandwiches. ‘Something like that. I wanted to see you about this Harihar Sharma guy.’ Kabir sighed. No small talk even in a laid-back setting. ‘Sure, I’m all ears,’ he said. The sandwich box was extended in his direction but he shook his head. Raeth didn’t insist. Kabir had expected as much. He knew from past meetings that his companion had a whale’s appetite. ‘What do you make of this guy?’ Raeth asked. ‘He’s a bully who will do pretty much anything for money, but I don’t think he’s lying.’ ‘He is telling the truth. His medical reports came in two days ago.’ ‘Why didn’t you tell me before? Take action against the hospital and get this train moving already!’ ‘He even identified five doctors from our file. One of them was Arman.’ Kabir stiffened. How many times had he prepped himself for this moment? The different scenarios, the possible words that could be used, the nature of proof that could come up … in the end, hearing Raeth’s words still evoked disbelief. He curbed his instinctive urge to argue and counted to ten to calm himself. 11