Chapter 10

2 years ago

varshaoforange

@varshaoforange

Within a few minutes and after a couple calls, Aryan had lined up three interviews for Imlie to conduct today, and this time he’d make sure to send the whole team with her instead of on their own, just in case the jungli managed to get lost again.

He walked out of his cabin and towards Imlie’s desk, Aditya hadn’t come back from HR yet, so this was Aryan’s perfect chance.

“Imlie” Aryan started.

Imlie looked up from her laptop, clearly frustrated that Aryan had interrupted her, “Kya?” (What?) Imlie was undoubtedly being more impertinent than usual, and she immediately regretted it. She hastily added, “Sir.”

Aryan didn’t acknowledge the rudeness in her tone one way or another and just handed her a clear folder with a list of three addresses and names, “These are the three actors and actresses you’re interviewing today. You can study their histories and plan your interview questions on the way to the first one. You’ll have a photo and video team with you, the editor of the entertainment section is planning to run these interviews back to back this week, so I’d leave now, so you have enough time to write them up.” Aryan didn’t pause during this little speech, he wanted to avoid giving Imlie any chance to argue against the assignment, and he wanted her out of the office as quickly as possible.

Imlie stood up and made a big show of squinting at Aryan. She stood on her tiptoes and put the back of her hand on his forehead. Aryan stepped back immediately at her touch, “What the hell are you doing?”

Imlie stood back and put on a confused face, “I was just checking to see if you had a fever because there’s no way Aryan Singh Rathore, in his right mind, would give out an assignment without any scolding or insults. Are you feeling okay?” Her face split into a wide grin.

Aryan rolled his eyes, “Kya tum apne boss se aise baat karte ho?” (Is this how you talk to your boss?) He had to fight very hard not to smile at her antics, yes, she was clearly still angry from this morning, but she was so weird that she couldn’t avoid making a joke if it presented itself to her.

Imlie nodded and put on a serious face, with a salute, she said, “Yes sir, I am ready, sir.” She put her laptop, recorder, and phone in her bag and picked it up. She grinned at him again and said, under her breath, “Thank you for this assignment, I won’t let you down.”

Aryan retorted, “No thanks necessary, clearly you know how to conduct interviews, and you have this assignment because of your skill with people, that’s it.” But by the end of his sentence, he was smiling a little.

Imlie put on a mock shocked expression, “Wait just a minute, I need to get a camera to capture this rare moment, I didn’t get it the last time it happened, it’s rarer than a solar eclipse.”

Aryan stopped smiling, and Imlie sighed, “One of these days I’ll make you smile and I’ll get it on video, Mr. Aryan Singh Rathore. That will be my revenge for all the mean things you’ve said to me, be ready.” She waved goodbye and met the photo and video team on her way out the door.

Aryan stood at her desk for a moment, he looked down at the place where her laptop usually sat, and then his eyes traveled to the space that Imlie reserved for her Sita Maiya idol when she had been secretly living here a month ago. Aryan had purchased a larger idol for Imlie’s room in the Rathore house, but he still bristled at the fact that her favorite idol, the one she’d brought from Pagdandia months and months ago, was now back in Pagdandia, lost somewhere because of Aditya Kumar Tripathi.

He unlocked his phone and went back to his cabin, he dialed a number, “I need you to make a trip.” The voice on the other end of the call asked where, and Aryan replied, “Pagdandia. When you get there you’re going to find a woman named Meethi, and I need you to ask her where to purchase something, I’ll text you the details, someone is coming in my office. Bye.”

The Delhi news and national news editors knocked on Aryan’s door and entered his office, “Sir,” one of them asked, “do you have a moment?”

Aryan nodded, “I do, please take a seat.”

They sat down and looked at each other, clearly hoping the other would broach the subject with Aryan.

Aryan looked at both of them, and then said, with a little bite to his voice, “I have a moment, not all day. What’s the problem?”

Finally, the Delhi editor cleared his throat, his name was Surinder Ahuja, “Mr. Rathore, I know you have final say on hiring and firing at Bhaskar Times, but we have to express concern at your decision to rehire Aditya Kumar Tripathi.”

This confused Aryan, both these editors had been big champions of Aditya’s work when Aryan first bought the paper, in fact, the national editor, Gaurav Joshi, constantly bothered Aryan with complaints that he might have been too harsh with Aditya at first.

“Continue.” Aryan prompted.

Gaurav spoke this time, “I won’t lie, I have supported Aditya since he joined as a crime beat reporter ten years ago, but over the past year, his work has continuously deteriorated. And this isn’t even mentioning the mess he made of the Aatank situation. I know it wasn’t his fault that he was kidnapped and threatened, but from his internal report, he admitted to getting drunk the night before the interview, and a sober person would have noticed something off about the man who later turned out to be Aatank. When you demoted him to obituaries I was frustrated of course, but that was mainly because his refusal to so that interview of the Bollywood actress is just one example of his stubbornness. You mentioned it earlier this morning, in front of everyone…” Gaurav trailed off.

Aryan leaned forward in his seat, Interesting, he thought, the people who supported Aditya Kumar Tripathi at his own company are now turning against him. “I know what I said this morning to Mr. Tripathi, and now I know your concerns. Are you recommending he not be hired back?”

Gaurav and Surinder looked at each other again. Gaurav braved a response, “Sir, we know that nothing is going on between you and Imlie, however, Aditya has been acting unprofessional since his marriage to Imlie, not just since his divorce, and at some point it will become a serious liability for the paper. I mean, look at what he printed in the obituary section after what seemed like a misunderstanding. He defamed a woman, his wife at the time no less, in front of the whole city and nation. I just don’t see how it’s wise to bring him back, especially since it doesn’t seem like he resolved his situation with Imlie.”

Aryan leaned back in his chair and fought very hard to hide a grin that was so close to the surface, “Not to worry. Surinder, Gaurav, you two will have final say on Aditya’s assignments and his pieces, before me, of course. We’ll make sure he doesn’t make any more mistakes.”

The two editors did their best to hide their frustration at the situation and stood up.

“Okay sir, if you really feel like it’s a good idea, we’ll make sure to keep a keen eye on his projects and anything he pitches to us,” Gaurav said.

Aryan nodded, “Thank you, I know I don’t have a lot of experience in the journalism business, but what I do know is that credibility is everything, in journalism and in business. If Aditya Kumar Tripathi ever threatens the credibility of this paper again, he will be threatening the return on my investment. I don’t intend to let that happen.”

The two of them left Aryan’s cabin. As they closed the door, Aryan opened his email and looked at a request he’d received from a friend he knew who worked at a financial services company. The email was from a few days ago, and Aryan had already told his friend he’d work with the editors at the paper and get back to him soon. Today was the day he’d set his trap for Aditya Kumar Tripathi.

Aryan’s friend, Dev, had told him about a woman he’d met loitering outside his office one day. She’d told Dev about how she’d been carrying on an affair with the CEO of the firm, Sunil Khanna for the past year and a half, but recently, when she became pregnant, (Sunil was married with two kids and nearly two decades older than this woman), he’d pressured her into an abortion and then assaulted her when she refused. She’d lost the baby, and she was too afraid to go to the police. All she’d wanted from Sunil was money for her medical bills. She’d pulled herself back together after the assault and the loss of her baby. She hadn’t lost her job (she was a low-level legal secretary at a firm), and she’d managed to cut off contact with Sunil since the assault. But the medical bills became too much for her.

He had initially considered telling Dev to tell this woman, Aryan didn’t know her name, to just sue for the medical bills in court. Or to privately get Sunil to pay the bills in exchange for not telling his wife, but Aryan had done his research. From his other contacts in the financial services industry, he’d found out that Khanna was infamous for toeing the line with his accounting, and he was on the verge of being ousted from his CEO position because of it. The real problem the firm was having, though, nothing Khanna did was ever technically illegal, in fact, it ultimately worked out well for the firm and for his bank account, of course. And people in Delhi finance knew Khanna was more litigious than half the lawyers in India. However, finance was a cutthroat industry, not just in Delhi, and there were half a dozen senior people at Dev’s firm who would stop short of murder to move up in the world.

Aryan looked at the two emails he’d drafted: one to Dev and Surinder, the other from a burner account to Aditya’s Bhaskar Times email. The real story was the assault and affair, but if he got Aditya to take the bait, perhaps history would repeat itself. But this time, it would turn out differently for Aditya Kumar Tripathi…