Page 102 of Born in Sin

One cloaked figure stepped forward. The minute he did, it became increasingly apparent that he was the one talking.

“I am the Andhanatha.” He spread his arms out wide. “I am the leader, the father, the head of all that you see. In this world, I am God.”

Kabir’s calm voice came through the speaker. “Thank you for inviting me to join you. I’m still not clear on what this group does or what this is about.” A pause and then he added hastily, “I do know that it’s a great honour to be invited.”

“What do we do?” the Andhanatha mused. “Who are we and what do we do?”

He paced the room, his robes swishing around his ankles. All around him braziers burned, red embers gleaming in their depths. The walls of the large, cavernous room were hung with ancient tapestries and antique weaponry. All of it set up for effect but clearly having seen no actual action. There was a lot of drama and theatrics but hopefully, not enough follow through.

“We are power. We are the past, the present, and the future. The people in this room run the country. We make the decisions. We hold the power of life and death over the millions of people populating this earth. And we are the only ones who matter.”

“Pompous dickhead,” Cara muttered.

“Sir.” Shaurya stood from his seat. “Deactivation of security systems complete.”

“We have only five minutes before the guard crosses us. Let’s wait.” Virat’s gaze was fixed on the Andhanatha. What was it about that particular cloaked man that was triggering his instincts?

“So, this is about business networking?” Kabir asked, his voice coming through clearly.

A deep booming laugh sounded. All around Kabir, the others chuckled and laughed in unison. The sound set Virat’s nerves on edge.

“We have no need for business networking. We are the entire bedrock of business in this country. We are the ecosystem that allows everyone to breathe. We are everything.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Virat’s eyes narrowed as he watched the Andhanatha, his instincts still prickling. “Get to the point, dickhead.”

“There are three things that run this world.” The Andhanatha held up one finger. “Money.” Another finger went up. “Power.” And finally a third, “Sex.”

“We are all three. From today, from this moment, the Sons of Andhaka will be your family, your friends, your world. In return, for the pleasure of belonging, you will have your everywish fulfilled. There is no law that you need to uphold. There is no punishment you need to fear. We are the law. We are the punishment. We are everything. It’s a new world order and we are the ones running it.”

“Thank you for including me in your…” Kabir seemed to be searching for the right word. “Brotherhood,” he settled on finally, apparently not wanting to go with twisted cult or fucked up secret society like Virat would have.

“Yes.” The Andhanatha clasped the shoulder of one of the men. “It is a brotherhood. And like with all circles that form, there must be an offering of faith and trust. We must know your value for us.”

“What would you like from me?” Kabir’s voice was quiet but steady.

“Today is not for your offering, my friend. All new initiates receive first, before they give. Your turn to offer will come and what is to be presented will also be specified. But that’s for later. Today, you join us in swimming in the deep pools of power.”

They watched as a large metal table was wheeled in, an unconscious woman lying on it, naked, spreadeagled and handcuffed to the table. It wasn’t their plant. It was some other poor woman.

“Tonight, this offering is yours.”

Virat caught Cara’s hand and squeezed. Her trembling fingers squeezed back.

The guard and the dog strolled just past the perimeter, their gaze focused on the lawns sprawling out around the house.

Virat raised the walkie. “Alpha team. Status?”

From the shadows, a voice crackled back, low, clipped, invisible. “Ready, sir.”

Vikram’s voice followed. “Snipers?”

“In position.” The faintest echo, but the message was sharp.

“Bravo team on standby.”

“Copy that.”

Inside the house, the Andanatha droned on, his voice oily and distorted by the voice modulator, as he monologued about legacies and dominion. But outside, the only voice that mattered was Virat’s.

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