The Last Man

                                                                                   -1-

At ten minutes before eleven in the morning, the sky exploded into a carnival of the dark cloud that was instantly ready to blanket the city with water. The soft light shower turned the streets of Kathmandu to a mini swimming pool. December wind herded the people towards the comfort of their apartments and homes. 

On Ashan Chowk, the tall, thin man in the black rain slicker moved along with the rushing crowd to a rhythm of his own. He was walking rapidly, but it was not with the frantic pace of other pedestrians who were trying to escape the rain. He was free after a lifetime of purgatory, and he was on his way home to tell his family that it was finished. The past was going to bury its dead and the future was bright and golden. He was thinking about how their faces would glow when he told the news. As he reached the corner of the street, the traffic police ambered its way to show stop sign and he stopped with the impatient crowd. The man reached in his pocket to check his mobile phone. At that instant, someone clapped him on the back, a sudden stinging blow that rocked his whole body. The man started to turn his head to see who had hit him, and to his surprise, his knees began to buckle. In slow motion, watching himself from a distance, he could see his body hit the sidewalk. There was a dull pain in his back and it began to spread. It became hard to breathe. His cheek began to feel numb along with his fingers and hands. He opened his mouth to ask someone to help him, and a warm, red river began to gush out and flow into the streets. He watched in dazed fascination as it moved across the sidewalk and ran down into the gutter. The pain was worse now, but he didn't mind it so much because he suddenly remembered his good news. He was free. He was going to tell his family that he was free. He closed his eyes to rest them from the blinding darkness of the sky. The sprinkle of raindrops rapidly, but he no longer felt anything.          

                                                                                

-2-

Riya Shrestha heard the sounds of the reception door opening and closing and the men walking in, and before she even looked up, she could smell what they were. There were five of them. One was in his middle forties. He was a big mother, about five foot ten, and all muscle. He had a massive head with deep-set steely blue eyes and a weary, humorless mouth. The second man was younger. His features were clean-cut, sensitive with brown eyes. And the rest of them were younger, assuming to be in their mid-twenties. The men looked completely different and yet, as far as Riya was concerned, they could have come to deal with some serious stuff, because they were Police officers. 

They were fuzz. That was what she had smelled. As they moved towards her desk she could feel the drops of perspiration begin to trickle down her armpits through the shield of antiperspirant. She started to think, "Robin, he had kept out of trouble for over six months. Since that night in his pub when he had asked her to marry him and had promised to quit the gang." Riya tried to tell herself that they could not touch her. She was no longer some dumb hooker from Kathmandu that they could push around. Not any more. She was the receptionist for one of the biggest automobile dealers in the country. But as the men moved towards her, Riya's panic increased. There was the feral memory of too many years of hiding in stinking, overcrowded tenement apartments.  

At first glance, they saw only a young and nubile, tawny-skinned girl in a smartly tailored dress. Her voice was cool and impersonal. "May I help you?" she asked. 

Then Inspector Bijay Shah, the older one, spotted the nervousness running inside her and said in a cracking voice, "We're here to talk about a murder." "Murder?" A muscle in Riya's arm twitched involuntarily. "Chick! He had killed someone. He had broken his promise to me and gone back to the gang. He had pulled a robbery and had shot someone, or - was he shot? Dead?" She started a marathon inside her mind. Riya suddenly became conscious of it. Bijay was looking at her face, but she knew that he had noticed it. 

"We'd like to see Mr. Thapa," said the younger sub-inspector. His voice was gentle and polite and went with his appearance. She noticed for the first time that he carried a small parcel wrapped in brown paper and held together with string. "I'm sorry," she said, barely hiding her relief. "Mr. Thapa is in a meeting." "This will only take a few minutes," Bijay said. "We want to ask him some questions which we can either do it here or at Police Station." 

She looked at them for a moment, puzzled. What a hell could they want with Mr. Thapa? Whatever the police might think, he had not done anything wrong. Or, has he? 

-3-

It was three a.m. and the overhead lights in the police station bathed everyone in an unhealthy pallor. The room was old and tired and uncaring, saturated with the stale smell of fear that had accumulated over the years like layers of flaked paint. It was Riya's lousy luck that baster Inspector Thakur was sitting on the bench again. She had been up before him only two weeks before and had got off with a warning. First offense, Meaning it was the first time the bastards had caught her. This time she knew he is going to throw the book at her. 

A tall, quiet-looking man standing before the officer was saying something about a fat man in handcuffs who trembled all over. She figured the quiet-looking man must be a mouthpiece. There was a look about him, an air of easy confidence, that made her feel the fat man was lucky to have him. She didn't have anyone. The men moved away from the bench and Riya heard her name called. She stood up, pressing her knees together to keep them from trembling. Officer looked at Riya, then at the sheet of paper in front of him.

"Riya Shrestha, Soliciting on the streets, possession of marijuana, and escort." And he continues, "Kicking policeman right in his balls, that's a bold move"

"You were in here a few weeks ago, weren't you Riya?"

She made her voice sound uncertain. "I believe I was"

"And I gave you a warning."

"Yes"

"How old are you?"

She should have known they would ask. "Sixteen. Today's my sixteenth birthday. Happy birthday to me," She said. With confident. 

The tall, quiet man had been standing at a table at the side. He looked up and watched her for a moment. He noticed everything like, the way she talks with the officers, her body language, her fear in her eyes. Then he spoke to the inspector. Fifteen minutes later, the officer escorted Riya into the inspector's office, where the quiet man was earnestly talking to the inspector. 

"You're a bloody lucky girl, Riya," the inspector said, "You're going to get another chance. Mr.Thapa here will take your custody." 

So the tall mother wasn't a mouthpiece - he was a quack. He drove her to his bungalow, he wasted no time and directly talk her about business. "I'm impressed with your way to deal with troubles. I have some business troubles and since you know the streets well and how to play with this business," Mr.Thapa said, "I want you to work for me. And from now onwards, you would be selling my stuff." Here stuff means, marijuana, cocaine, and illegal weapons.               

-4-

Mr. Thapa also knows as "kaji dai" or "Raja" is one of the most notorious and active lord mafias inside Kathmandu valley. He has lots of political leaders and police officers inside his pocket. Smuggling, Marijuana, Cocaine, Betting, and many more. Every illegal activity was common and this was a family business. They were known as kaji's family. And were on war with Sand Mafia. Mr. Thapa, a man simple from the outside but a beast inside. And the question is still the same, "Can he kill someone?" 

Bijay was getting impatient. "How about it, miss?" he asked.

"I have orders never to disturb him when he's in a meeting," said Riya. She saw the expression that came into Bijay's eyes. "I'll ring him." She picked up the phone and pressed the intercom buzzer. After thirty seconds of silence, Mr.Thapas' voice came over the phone. "Yes?"

"There are two Inspectors here to see you, sir. They wanted to discuss Murder."

She expected a change in his voice, nervousness, fear. There was nothing. "Send them in!!" he said. He went off the line. 

She looked up defiantly with pride and confidence. "You heard him," she said

And the two inspectors went inside the office and met with Mr.Thapa.....