Khaleel Datay's Blog - Posts Tagged "to-kill-a-spy"
Extract from: TO KILL A SPY
To Kill A Spy
CHAPTER 1
Mumbai, India
Jasminder Singh was by all accounts a battered woman.
Looking at her though, one could hardly tell. Tall, sun-bronzed, with a sensuous body perfected by professional tennis, she appeared the epitome of health. Her eyes were what gave her away. Always the eyes. Normally bright and shining with intelligence, they were dull and almost devoid of life.
Nick Winter admired her in the afternoon sun on Juhu Beach. He heard she’d started playing again, leaning on the physicality of the game as a therapeutic crutch. Despite everything she’d endured, she was still a beauty to look at.
In town for a few days at Pune University, he’d called to see how she was doing. The picnic at the beach was her idea. His old friend, Ray Desai, had kept an eye on her these last few months. Since the trauma of her capture at the hands of Chandrasekhar’s thugs she’d stayed with Ray’s sister. The reports were encouraging. She’d been seeing a counsellor to work through the hell they put her through. The fact that she started training again spoke volumes of her mental strength.
Her chestnut brown hair glowed red in the sun where they sat on the sand, the sea gently lapping at their feet. Children frolicked in the water, watched by anxious parents. Jazz picked out a mango from the basket and offered it to Winter.
“Thanks, you don’t get these in London. Mmm…” he said and started peeling it.
They sat on either side of the basket. The distance between them felt like a mile away. He cut the mango into portions and offered her some. He watched the tremble in her hand as she picked up a wedge of the sweet fruit.
“I heard you were back in practice,” he said, facing the sea.
“Yes I have. Why don’t you tell me about London?”
Her terse answer spoke volumes of her emotional state.
“Oh, you know London never changes. Always busy, always dark and rainy. Sometimes seems like it sucks the life out of you. Our obsession with the weather still endures, but then again, a lack of sunshine would drive most people insane.”
She ate quietly, enjoying the sweet mango. He reached into the basket for a bottle of water. She reached for a serviette. Their hands brushed. She drew hers away quickly, wincing at his touch. He so badly wanted to take her face in his hands, to kiss her, to reassure her she’d be fine. To tell her that he loves her…considering what happened to her, he dared not.
Not yet.
“How’s your shoulder?” she asked.
“It’s getting on alright. A bit of pain in the cold back in the UK, but over here its feeling much better thanks.”
“I never had a chance to thank you for what you did. All of you. Ray, Rasheed, and his mother, you’ve all been wonderful. You saved my life Nick, thank you. Not bad for a university professor.”
They both laughed. Hers was strained, though.
“Chandrasekhar’s still out there Jazz. This is not over. I promise you I will get him, and make him pay for what he did.”
Her hands flew to her face, contorted with pain, and filled with anxiety.
“No...no…Nick, please. They will kill you. Please, listen to me. Let it go. Please, I can’t lose you too.”
Nick Winter was in no mood for backing down.
“Not if I kill him first.”
CHAPTER 1
Mumbai, India
Jasminder Singh was by all accounts a battered woman.
Looking at her though, one could hardly tell. Tall, sun-bronzed, with a sensuous body perfected by professional tennis, she appeared the epitome of health. Her eyes were what gave her away. Always the eyes. Normally bright and shining with intelligence, they were dull and almost devoid of life.
Nick Winter admired her in the afternoon sun on Juhu Beach. He heard she’d started playing again, leaning on the physicality of the game as a therapeutic crutch. Despite everything she’d endured, she was still a beauty to look at.
In town for a few days at Pune University, he’d called to see how she was doing. The picnic at the beach was her idea. His old friend, Ray Desai, had kept an eye on her these last few months. Since the trauma of her capture at the hands of Chandrasekhar’s thugs she’d stayed with Ray’s sister. The reports were encouraging. She’d been seeing a counsellor to work through the hell they put her through. The fact that she started training again spoke volumes of her mental strength.
Her chestnut brown hair glowed red in the sun where they sat on the sand, the sea gently lapping at their feet. Children frolicked in the water, watched by anxious parents. Jazz picked out a mango from the basket and offered it to Winter.
“Thanks, you don’t get these in London. Mmm…” he said and started peeling it.
They sat on either side of the basket. The distance between them felt like a mile away. He cut the mango into portions and offered her some. He watched the tremble in her hand as she picked up a wedge of the sweet fruit.
“I heard you were back in practice,” he said, facing the sea.
“Yes I have. Why don’t you tell me about London?”
Her terse answer spoke volumes of her emotional state.
“Oh, you know London never changes. Always busy, always dark and rainy. Sometimes seems like it sucks the life out of you. Our obsession with the weather still endures, but then again, a lack of sunshine would drive most people insane.”
She ate quietly, enjoying the sweet mango. He reached into the basket for a bottle of water. She reached for a serviette. Their hands brushed. She drew hers away quickly, wincing at his touch. He so badly wanted to take her face in his hands, to kiss her, to reassure her she’d be fine. To tell her that he loves her…considering what happened to her, he dared not.
Not yet.
“How’s your shoulder?” she asked.
“It’s getting on alright. A bit of pain in the cold back in the UK, but over here its feeling much better thanks.”
“I never had a chance to thank you for what you did. All of you. Ray, Rasheed, and his mother, you’ve all been wonderful. You saved my life Nick, thank you. Not bad for a university professor.”
They both laughed. Hers was strained, though.
“Chandrasekhar’s still out there Jazz. This is not over. I promise you I will get him, and make him pay for what he did.”
Her hands flew to her face, contorted with pain, and filled with anxiety.
“No...no…Nick, please. They will kill you. Please, listen to me. Let it go. Please, I can’t lose you too.”
Nick Winter was in no mood for backing down.
“Not if I kill him first.”
